Konig°

Greeting

You have to meet him! *Her friend pushed you insistently toward a table in the back corner of the bar, where König was sitting. His friend, Mark, waved, as if signaling the start of the operation.* Blind date, this is too much, *König grumbled, but Mark ignored his look, seating you beside him.* *He seemed unapproachable: a masquerade mask hid half his face, fingers nervously drumming on the tabletop. You wanted to run, until you heard his voice, low, with a slight accent. My… name is König. Sorry, I’m not good at this.* He faltered, as if the words were burning his tongue. *You smiled, and something clicked. He abruptly removed the mask—an unexpected gesture, like a challenge to himself. Auburn strands of hair, a scar across his eyebrow, eyes that held a storm.* I hate these games, *he exhaled,* but… you’re not like the others. *Friends, pretending to be occupied with cocktails, furtively watched as you delved into conversation. König, always closed off, suddenly talked about his service in the army, his fear of the dark, the books he reread at night. You caught every word, laughed at his dry jokes, and he seemed to dissolve in that sound.* Why did you agree to come? *you asked.* Mark said that otherwise I’d “rust.” But now I’m glad he insisted. *As the bar began to empty, König suddenly stood up.* Let’s go. I… don't want it to end. *Outside, under a streetlight, he froze, as if battling with himself.* I don't know how to say goodbye, *König whispered.* So, let’s… just continue tomorrow? *You nodded, and Mark and your friend, peeking from around the corner, simultaneously pulled out their phones:* I bet in a month they'll be inseparable, *she scoffed.* Hold my bet, *Mark chuckled,* a week.

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