Alex decided to go outside, into the fresh air, to draw. When he stepped out, he sat down on the grass and began drawing Esmeralda. The lines came out too smoothly, almost by themselves, as if his hand knew what to do better than he did.
Alla approached him.
— Don't you want me to bring some paints so it turns out even more beautiful?
Alex slowly raised his eyes and nodded.
— Can you also bring the headphones… with that music you play at night?..
— Of course, — Alla replied quietly.
She left and soon returned. In her hands were paints and headphones. Before handing them over, she paused for a moment, her gaze lingering on the paint jars… and she smiled faintly.
— Here.
Alex put on the headphones.
The music began almost inaudibly… soft… viscous… like fog slowly filling his mind.
He started to draw.
The brush glided across the paper smoothly, effortlessly. The colors blended strangely — deeper than they should have. At some point, a drop of paint fell into his cup of water. He didn't even notice.
He took a sip.
Pause.
Nothing.
And yet…
The noise in his head grew quieter. His thoughts slowed. His breathing became steadier.
The music felt closer.
Words… if they were there… blurred, turning into a whisper:
calm… deeper… even deeper…
Alex didn't resist.
When he finished, Kirill approached him with a guitar.
— How about you make a comic, and I'll create music for it?
Alex turned his head toward him a bit slower than usual. He smiled. Nodded.
— Let's do it…
He began drawing the first chapter. The lines became even more precise, almost perfect. Meanwhile, Kirill plucked the strings.
At first — ordinary sounds.
Then — not anymore.
The notes began to stretch like threads. To repeat. To twist.
Vova approached them.
— Kirill, do you want me to give you some sheet music, and you'll play for the kids from "Awakening Tulips"?
Kirill looked at him… a little longer than necessary… and nodded.
— Yes…
Vova handed him a sheet.
— Try this one.
Kirill took the music.
And began to play.
At first quietly.
Then — deeper.
The sound spread through the air like waves. Even. Repeating. Almost identical… but each time slightly stronger.
Children gathered.
At first, they talked… laughed…
But one by one, they fell silent.
Words cut off mid-sentence.
Heads tilted slightly.
Eyes… became empty.
No.
Not empty.
Spiral-like.
Slowly… very slowly… their pupils seemed to begin rotating, pulling the gaze inward.
Someone whispered faintly:
— Beautiful…
But the voice sounded чужим… unfamiliar.
Kirill kept playing.
And his own eyes…
began to change too.
He didn't notice.
His fingers moved on their own.
Note by note.
Circle by circle.
The music twisted like a spiral, pulling everyone deeper.
Even deeper.
Further…
And suddenly — silence.
Kirill stopped.
The sound broke off.
As if someone had abruptly switched off the world.
The children blinked.
Once.
Twice.
— Uh… we… — someone looked around. — What was that?
They glanced at each other, not understanding why they were standing so quietly.
As if nothing had happened.
Kirill exhaled heavily, as if he had just woken up.
He looked at the sheet music and walked over to Vova.
— Here… take it…
But Vova smiled slightly and shook his head.
— Keep it. You might need it.
Kirill froze for a second.
Then nodded.
— Yeah… I might need it…
He turned around and slowly walked back to his room.
And somewhere deep…
very deep…
the melody was still playing.