Hirvan had been fifteen, just a boy really, when he first felt the rush of infatuation so strong it devoured his sanity. The object of his affection was five years older, a figure who seemed to have the wisdom of the world in his eyes. Someone who exuded a quiet confidence that Hirvan found irresistible. This was the first person, apart from Rosaline, whom Hirvan felt he could truly rely on.
The older man had a way about him, calm, composed, and with a quiet strength that Hirvan admired. It was as if he had all the answers, and Hirvan, in his youthful innocence, was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Hirvan's simple admiration turned into something much deeper and more intense, a yearning that he couldn't quite understand but felt in every part of his being.
