Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

What is it like to love him and yet be unable to touch him? To watch him from a distance, tracing every curve visible to the eye, talking about things that do not matter while avoiding the one thing that does.

Or what is it like to kiss his swollen lips with desperate hunger, to let your tongue wander over his soft skin, pressing him into the bed with your heated body? To forget about the rest of the world with him, noticing nothing beyond the two of you, to become the closest person in his life and to think of him as your home—only to lose him day after day, while desperately convincing yourself that everything is fine.

——————————

The sound of the wheels grew softer as the warm sunlight grew brighter, and soon the train emerged from the dark tunnel into a bright station, slowing smoothly as it approached the platform.

An indistinct voice announced the stop. The doors slid open with a rush, and a small group of people moved out toward the escalators.

A young dark-haired man in headphones stood up as well, but only to move closer to the doors.

From there, a captivating view opened up — the platform flooded with sunlight through windows still unwashed after the winter snow.

Even the busy city in the distance seemed unusually quiet today. Peaceful.

The doors closed, and the scene outside began to move again, but the young man couldn't look away from it — from that almost forgotten sight — catching the last rays of sun before the train disappeared back into the darkness of the tunnel.

Without meaning to, he thought that this day would be a good one.

But even on good days, bad things happen.

A beautiful woman in a light beige business suit, her neat bob perfectly styled, was driving her recently purchased white Audi along one of the busy city streets. On the passenger seat lay a stack of rolled-up blueprints held together with a wide band, with a few sheets peeking out, marked with her handwritten notes.

The dashboard lit up again with an incoming call.

She looked at it for just a second.

But that was enough.

A moment later, a truck appeared right in front of her. Too close.

She slammed on the brakes — but it was already too late.

A sharp crack — then a dull, heavy thud, as if from somewhere far away.

Theo is waiting for me at the office...

That was the last thought that crossed her mind.

The sound distorts. Sinks. Disappears.

And then — silence.

The air is knocked out of her lungs.

A sharp white light. A flash.

Theo.

All grown up.

He stands before her — tall, beautiful, with dark, slightly wavy hair falling carelessly over his forehead. His eyes are clear, attentive.

He looks at her.

Smiles. That same disarming smile.

The image trembles.

Light flares.

Too sharply.

There he is again — laughing, saying something, but the words slip away, indistinct.

Bright light. Strange faces. Movement. Flashes.

Everything blurs.

Warm light. A familiar hallway.

Her hand finds the key on its own.

A turn.

A click.

The door opens.

He's there.

Standing in the soft yellow light.

He looks at her with those serious, childlike eyes — and immediately wraps his arms around her.

Tight.

The image trembles again.

The light becomes harsh.

Everything slips away.

And suddenly, for a brief moment, everything is clear.

Theo. Very small.

He runs into the kitchen — thin, slight, in a coat far too big for him, given to them by a neighbor. His cheeks and nose flushed from the cold.

He walks up to her and holds out his small hand.

A slightly crumpled candy rests in his palm.

"This is for you, Mom," he said in a very serious voice.

Someone had given it to him outside, and he saved it.

She laughs and crouches down in front of him, accepting the precious gift. Then she pulls him into a tight embrace.

He smells of cold air, soap, and something endlessly familiar.

She holds him closer.

And closer.

As if she could keep him, if she just didn't let go.

It feels so warm.

So good.

One more moment.

And then everything fades again.

"Hello, Theo," he heard a familiar voice behind him as he tried to figure out the new coffee machine.

Theo turned and smiled.

A young man stood in front of him in a perfectly pressed white shirt. Crisp lines, buttoned cuffs — not a single unnecessary detail. His gaze was attentive, but slightly distant.

Mir stepped closer and pointed to one of the buttons.

"Double americano. That should do for a cup like that," he said evenly, giving Theo a brief, indifferent glance.

As always, focused and serious, as if little outside of work truly held his attention.

"Perfect timing," Theo said, brightening, and held out his hand.

Mir returned the handshake, firm and steady.

Theo always felt a certain awkwardness around him — not the kind that made him stumble over words, but something closer to quiet respect, touched with a hint of admiration.

They didn't see each other often. Sometimes Theo would stop by the office to visit his mother, and they would cross paths in the hallway or the kitchen. Their conversations usually stayed within safe, trivial territory — the weather, work, small talk.

"It's so sunny outside today," Theo said, gesturing toward the door.

"Is it? I didn't notice," Mir replied.

Because the brightest sun for him was the one standing right in front of him—within arm's reach, and yet impossibly far away.

The coffee machine finished with a soft click, and the screen lit up: ready. Theo took his cup, stepped aside, leaned against the wall, and took a careful sip.

It seemed like that was it — coffee poured, formalities done — but Mir didn't seem in a hurry to leave.

"Haven't seen you in a while," he said, casting another quick glance at Theo.

Theo always hid his slim figure in oversized hoodies, loose T-shirts, and wide sweatpants, choosing comfort above all else. But the photos in magazines left little to the imagination, making it easy to picture him without all that extra fabric.

Mir caught himself looking a moment too long and quickly looked away.

"How have you been?" he added, taking a step toward the coffee machine.

"I'm good," Theo shrugged. "Work's been a lot lately... though I guess I don't need to tell you that," he said with a faint smile. "You guys are always on deadlines here."

"That's true," Mir said with a small smirk. "Your mom probably has it worst of all."

"Yeah... I barely see her at home, and now I come here — and she's not here either," Theo said, spreading his hands slightly.

Mir paused for a moment.

"She left early this morning for a meeting with a client," he said. "Some urgent revisions on the project."

He poured himself a large cup of strong coffee and leaned against the counter beside Theo.

A new residential complex project was waiting for him at his desk — the deadline was already tight, and idle conversation hadn't been part of his plans for the day. Still, he allowed himself these few minutes.

"I think she should be back soon."

"She texted me about an hour ago — said she was on her way," Theo replied, glancing at the clock on the wall. "I'll wait a bit."

Mir followed his gaze without thinking.

Someone opened the door noisily, then closed it again almost immediately — probably changing their mind or realizing they had the wrong person.

Mir gave a faint smile, walked over to the cabinet, took out a carton of milk, and handed it to Theo, noticing how he had slightly winced after a sip of the strong coffee.

"If you want," he said casually.

"Exactly what I need," Theo said with a grin, pouring a generous amount of milk into his almost black coffee.

He took another sip and nodded, satisfied.

"So, how—" he began, about to ask Mir something.

But at that moment, his phone started ringing in the pocket of his jacket.

In the quiet of the small kitchen, the sound suddenly felt too loud, too sharp. Theo stared at the screen for a moment, trying to figure out who it could be — and whether he should answer.

Mir noticed the hesitation and gestured toward the door, indicating he was about to head back anyway.

Theo nodded and pressed the green button.

Mir was already at the door when he heard Theo's voice, suddenly tense:

"Yeah... it's my mom..."

For a few seconds, Theo listened in silence. With each passing moment, his expression tightened.

"Which hospital? I'll be there right now."

Something in Mir's chest tightened. He stopped and turned back.

Theo had gone pale, looking as if the ground had just disappeared beneath him.

For a few more seconds, he stared at the phone, as if trying to process what he had just heard.

The cup made a soft knock against the table. His hand trembled.

Theo looked around, disoriented, as if he had forgotten where he was.

"I should go..." he managed, his voice suddenly hoarse, and took a step toward the door.

Mir caught him by the sleeve.

"Theo, what happened?" he asked, concern breaking through.

Theo looked completely lost, his gaze unfocused.

"They said... she was in an accident..." he said, struggling with the words. "She's in intensive care..." he added, almost in a whisper.

"Come on, I'll drive you," Mir said immediately. "My car's downstairs."

Theo nodded, still dazed, and followed him.

They moved quickly through the hallway. Theo walked almost on autopilot. The familiar office suddenly felt foreign, as if he had never been there before.

Mir walked ahead, glancing back from time to time to make sure Theo was still behind him.

They went down the long corridor and took the stairs to the first floor. Their footsteps echoed dully in the empty stairwell.

Theo simply followed, letting Mir lead him, because right now he barely understood what was happening.

Chapter Text

Theo didn’t say a single word the entire drive. What was happening refused to make sense in his head, and his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest. Every so often, he cast a quick glance at his phone, afraid to hear that same ringtone again.

As if on purpose, traffic jams followed them even through the most inconspicuous side streets, making him want to get out of the car and run as fast as he could—anything, just not to think. He dialed his mother’s number several times, hoping to hear her voice telling him it was all some kind of mistake, that she had made it safely to the office and was waiting for him.

The long ringing went on.

No answer.

It had been an ordinary day—nothing that morning had hinted at anything bad. And now Theo watched people passing by in the spring sunlight, desperately trying to hold on to the life he had just yesterday.

An hour later—an hour that felt like an eternity—they finally pulled up to a gray, bleak hospital building surrounded by a tall metal fence, a place that alone was enough to stir a heavy sense of dread.

“Drop me off by the gate, please,” Theo said in a hoarse voice that didn’t sound like his own. “They probably won’t let you in.”

The entire drive had dragged on endlessly, but now, when they were finally close, a wave of panic rose inside him. He wanted, just for a moment, to delay the inevitable waiting for him beyond those gates.

Mir pulled over with the hazard lights on near a small guard booth by the entrance. He felt the tension in his chest too, though he tried not to show it.

“It’ll be okay,” he said quietly, trying to sound certain.

He reached out and gently touched Theo’s shoulder.

“Your mom will get through this.”

Theo stared ahead in silence for a few seconds, as if trying to believe him.

“Thank you,” he said at last, quietly.

He opened the car door, but paused for a moment, as if unable to make himself step out.

“I can wait for you somewhere in the lobby…” Mir offered carefully.

“No, it’s okay,” Theo shook his head. “I’ll call you later…”

He stepped out of the car and, without looking back, walked toward the hospital gates.

Mir stayed behind the wheel for a while, watching his figure grow more distant.

He sat there for several more minutes, parked not far from work, unable to steady himself, replaying the events of the day over and over in his mind.

He had been shaken too, but what stayed with him most was the look in Theo’s eyes—the overwhelming fear, the barely noticeable tremor in his hands gripping the phone, the failed attempt to smile as he said goodbye.

Mir let out a heavy breath, gathered himself, and got out of the car.

There was no question of working that day.

A tense murmur filled the office. Colleagues spoke in low voices, clearly waiting for any kind of news. When they saw Miroslav, several of them immediately tried to ask him what had happened, but he had nothing to tell them.

He simply shook his head, sat down at his desk, and stared at the monitor, barely noticing anything around him.

After a while, the director walked in. He pushed the door open sharply, stepped into the middle of the room, and announced that Theo’s mother had been in a serious accident and was now in intensive care in critical condition.

Silence fell over the room.

Then he added that the workday was over and told everyone to go home.

People quietly began to gather their things. In a strange, unfamiliar silence. No one spoke loudly, no one discussed work, no one joked like usual.

Soon, the office emptied.

Only Mir remained at his desk.

The monitor in front of him had long gone dark, while his phone screen glowed in his hands. He typed a message to Theo, deleted it, and started again.

"Theo, how are you?"

He finally sent the words, painfully ordinary and completely out of place.

The reply came quickly.

“Not good. We’ll see in the morning.”

Mir leaned his head back and exhaled heavily.

Of course, he understood that it was most likely far worse than just not good. But somewhere deep inside, a stubborn hope still lingered—that somehow, it might turn out differently.

There were probably relatives with Theo right now, supporting him as best they could, Mir thought. Still, he typed another message:

“Do you need anything? I can come. It’s no trouble.”

The reply came a few minutes later.

“Thanks, but I don’t need anything right now.”

Mir stared at the screen for a while before typing again.

“If you need anything, text or call me. Anytime.”

But what did he actually need…

All he wanted now was to wake up from this nightmare and have everything go back to the way it was.

To never hear that monotonous beeping of life-support machines again. To never see those endless hospital corridors with pale painted walls, cold white lights, and the sharp smell of antiseptic. To never feel that icy fear gripping his entire body, making it impossible to breathe.

“You can’t help right now,” a doctor said sharply, striding past him down the corridor.

For him, those lost, frightened faces were part of the job. Every day, someone waited here for news, hoped, cried, asked the same questions. He had no time for other people’s despair—there were patients in the wards whose lives could still be saved.

And those whose lives could not.

Theo wasn’t allowed into the room.

At first, they told him to wait. Then to wait more. Time stretched on, slow and meaningless. People came and went, stretchers rolled past, doors slammed somewhere in the distance, nurses spoke in quiet voices.

Hours later, he was called into a small room near the doctors’ office.

There, a doctor spoke for a long time, carefully choosing his words—about severe trauma, an induced coma, and “very little chance.”

Theo listened, but barely understood anything.

It felt like it wasn’t happening to him. As if he were watching a very bad film— long, heavy, meaningless.

But there was no way to turn it off.

All he could do was wait for it to end.

And he waited.

When, a few hours later, the same doctor appeared again in the corridor—his face tired, shadowed—Theo already knew.

By the way he stopped. By the brief pause before he spoke.

“I’m very sorry,” the doctor said quietly.

It didn’t come as a shock.

Somewhere deep inside, over those long hours on a hard plastic chair in the hospital corridor, he had already begun to accept it.

As if he had known from the very beginning—since that phone call earlier that day.

He had just refused to believe it.

In the stillness of the night, his phone suddenly rang, pulling him out of sleep.

Mir opened his eyes, still heavy with exhaustion, and saw a familiar name on the screen. Something in his chest tightened.

“Can you come?” Theo’s voice was barely audible, trembling.

Mir sat up in bed, already feeling a slow, creeping anxiety inside him.

“Yeah, of course… are you still at the hospital?”

“Yes… I… I’m nearby…” Theo replied quietly. He spoke slowly, with pauses, as if each word cost him effort.

“I’ll be there soon,” Mir said immediately, already getting out of bed.

He didn’t ask anything else. He just wanted to get to him as quickly as possible. Even now, he still believed things might turn out alright. Maybe Theo was just exhausted, shaken from everything that had happened that day—that would explain the tremor in his voice. Maybe his mother had gotten worse, but the doctors were doing everything they could. There had to be something that could be done.

They were fighting for her life.

That meant it wasn’t over yet.

Ready within minutes, Mir grabbed his keys and left the apartment.

Lost in anxious thoughts, he made it to the hospital quickly. The city was almost empty at night, and the drive felt unusually short.

As he approached the entrance, he spotted Theo immediately.

He was sitting alone on a bench near the gate, under the dim yellow glow of a streetlamp. His head was lowered, his hands clasped around it. He looked so fragile, so helpless, that the sight made something twist painfully in Mir’s chest, and he quickened his pace.

Mir sat down beside him and gently touched his shoulder.

Theo slowly lifted his head. His gaze was distant, his eyes red and swollen. He only shook his head—and the tears started falling again.

No miracle had happened.

And there were no words now that could ease a loss like this.

Mir carefully pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him. Theo almost immediately buried his face in his shoulder, his whole body trembling. Hot tears quickly soaked into the fabric of Mir’s shirt.

Mir said nothing, only ran his hand through his hair, trying, somehow, to calm him.

But how he wished he could do more—take this pain from him, carry it himself, quiet the trembling, make it stop…

Instead, all he could do was hold him a little tighter.

Everything around them was silent.

Every detail of that night seemed to carve itself into Theo’s memory forever—the dim light of the streetlamp, the cold wind, the distant footsteps somewhere behind the glass hospital doors… and the warmth of a shoulder in the middle of all that cold.

He cried soundlessly, unable to imagine how to survive the unbearable pain that now filled every part of him.

Something inside him was breaking—irreversibly. Something that had still been whole that very morning. He tried to speak, but the words got stuck in his throat, dissolving into quiet, broken sobs.

Time passed—how much, neither of them knew. The cold night air and the fine drizzle made everything sharper, more real.

Eventually, Theo grew a little calmer. He lifted his head from Mir’s shoulder and stared into the dark emptiness ahead.

“Come on,” Mir said softly, breaking the silence of the damp night. “I’ll take you home.”

Theo only nodded and got to his feet, swaying slightly, ready to follow him again—because he no longer understood where he was supposed to go on his own.

They drove through the quiet night city. Streetlights flickered across Theo’s exhausted face. He leaned his head to the side and closed his eyes.

His life no longer felt real. His body no longer felt like his own—distant, unreal. The only escape from this unbearable new reality was sleep, and he gave in to it, too tired to resist.

When they finally reached the address in the navigation, Mir stayed there for a long time, watching him sleep.

He wanted to take his hand, to pull him close again—just so he would know he wasn’t alone. At least not tonight.

If only that could help.

Mir leaned back slightly, watching him quietly, careful not to disturb his already restless sleep. At one point, he slowly reached out and gently brushed a loose strand of hair from Theo’s forehead, barely touching his skin with his fingertips.

Theo shifted faintly in his sleep, and Mir immediately pulled his hand back, silently scolding himself for that small, misplaced gesture of care.

Theo woke when the first light of dawn was already creeping in.

For a moment, he looked completely lost—unable to understand where he was or why. But the memories of the previous day came rushing back, leaving no room to believe it had only been a nightmare.

They pulled up to the building Theo indicated and parked nearby.

“Theo…” Mir looked into his tired eyes and touched his cold hand. “I can stay with you. Just say the word.”

But Theo didn’t even look at him.

“I’ll be fine…” he said quietly. “I just want to be alone for a bit. You should get some rest too.”

He still hadn’t fully processed what had happened. There was a dull pressure in his head, a painful ache in his chest.

“You can call or text me if you need anything,” Mir said. “I’ll come right away. Or if you just want to talk—anytime.”

“Thank you…” Theo replied, barely audible.

He stepped out of the car and, without looking back, made his way to the door.

Mir remained behind the wheel for a while, watching as his figure gradually disappeared into the dim light of the stairwell.

Chapter Text

The gate slowly lifted, and Mir drove into the grounds of a modern residential complex — the same one he had brought Theo to three weeks ago, early in the morning, straight from the hospital.

They weren't the easiest memories, but somewhere deep down, he was still glad he had been there for him. Glad that Theo had called him that night.

Mir parked by the right entrance from memory and got out, retrieving a fairly heavy box from the trunk — his mother's belongings. He had volunteered to deliver it when someone at the office asked who could.

The last time Mir had seen Theo was at the funeral.

There had been a quiet exhaustion in his face, a kind of muted acceptance. The black mourning clothes only emphasized his sharp features, giving him a subdued, almost fragile beauty. Everything had passed calmly, without excess emotion. People came and went — some stayed, others offered their condolences and moved on.

Some spoke about what a strong and talented woman his mother had been, recalling moments they had shared with her. Others simply shook his hand awkwardly.

Theo barely spoke. He stood off to the side, listening to the priest, nodding to those who approached him, thanking each one quietly.

Mir had stayed at a distance the whole time, among colleagues from the office, occasionally catching himself looking in Theo's direction.

It felt like forever had passed since that night — the one when Theo had cried quietly in his arms. Now he seemed distant. Untouchable.

But at one point, Theo suddenly turned and looked at him.

Their eyes met.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

And in that brief gesture, there was something more — something unspoken, something that belonged only to them.

After that day, Mir had written to him a few times.

How are you?
Can I help with anything?

Theo never replied right away. Sometimes hours later, sometimes the next day. And always roughly the same:

I'm okay.

He thanked him politely, but declined every offer.

Eventually, Mir decided Theo probably had enough people around him already and stopped insisting. Still, he couldn't pass up the chance to see him at least one more time.

He checked the apartment number again on his phone and rang the intercom.

After a short buzz, Theo's voice came through, and the door unlocked with a dull click.

Mir passed security and took the elevator up to the twelfth floor.

Theo was already waiting at the door, standing in the doorway with it wide open. The moment Mir saw his silhouette, his heart skipped, then started beating faster. He had only seen him a handful of times over the past year, and now this would most likely be the last.

Theo, in turn, felt a quiet awkwardness around him — after everything, he had already caused him enough trouble, and now Mir had gone out of his way again.

After greeting him, Theo invited him in.

— If you're not in a rush... — he added, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Mir shook his head.

— No. I'm not in a rush anymore.

That seemed to settle it. Theo quickly pulled out a pair of house slippers from a shoe cabinet, took the box with his mother's things, and disappeared deeper into the apartment. Mir hung up his coat and followed.

The hallway opened into a large kitchen-living room — about the size of Mir's entire one-bedroom apartment.

The fresh renovation was done in light tones, giving the space an immediate sense of warmth. To the left was a white kitchen area with a bar counter overlooking the city. Opposite it stood a large sofa, a loosely folded gray blanket on it and a small soft pillow on the floor nearby.

Looks like he was here when the intercom rang, Mir thought.

Two doors along the right wall led to bedrooms. A moment later, Theo emerged from one of them, now without the box, and headed toward the kitchen.

— Sit down, I'll make some tea, — he said, gesturing toward the bar stools.

In any other situation, Mir would've already made an excuse and left. But now he sat down without objection, watching Theo carefully as he busied himself with the kettle and cups.

He kept opening different drawers, peering into them with quiet concentration, as if he didn't quite know where anything was.

As if he didn't quite belong here.

And maybe he didn't.

Theo had lost a noticeable amount of weight. His pale face looked exhausted, his hair was messy, and deep shadows had settled under his eyes — eyes that had once held a bright, captivating light.

Now he seemed more like a ghost of the person he used to be.

He smiled through effort, spoke quietly, and kept avoiding eye contact, as if trying to hide something.

Mir sat across from him, leaning back slightly. The evening light softened the room, gently illuminating Theo's still-beautiful face.

Once, he had only dreamed of being this close to him.

But now, in this heavy silence, it was nothing like he had imagined.

— You seem even more lost in thought than usual today, — Theo said, glancing at him, breaking the silence.

— It's been a long week, — Mir replied, though work was the last thing on his mind.

He had expected Theo wouldn't recover quickly, but seeing him like this still hurt.

— When is it ever different for you, — Theo gave a faint, knowing smile.

Mir tried to catch his gaze again, but it slipped away.

— Theo... how are you, really?

— I'm fine, — Theo said, looking out the window. — Getting used to it... little by little.

— It's hard to get used to something like this, — Mir said quietly. — And words probably don't mean much right now... none of us can really believe what happened.

Theo nodded without looking up.

— Yeah... it's not easy.

He seemed about to say something else, but instead forced a smile, got up, and walked to a cabinet.

— I don't even have anything to offer you, — he said, opening it. — Should've at least gone to the store.

Mir watched him quietly.

— When was the last time you went outside?

Theo froze for a moment.

— Outside... — he repeated, thinking. — I don't know. A few days ago... maybe.

Mir said nothing.

It didn't seem like he'd gone out since the funeral.

The thought tightened something in his chest.

Theo closed the cabinet, hesitated, then turned back.

— I'm going back to work soon, by the way... — he said lightly. — So things are slowly getting back to normal.

Mir held his gaze for a second, then shifted the topic.

— I saw your photo recently... I think it was on a clothing store.

Theo thought for a moment.

— Hope I looked decent.

— It's strange... — Mir paused. — You look like two completely different people — in photos and in real life.

Theo looked at him, surprised.

— Why?

— I don't know how to explain it... — Mir said slowly. — The camera doesn't capture everything.

He paused.

— In real life... you're more yourself.

Theo smiled softly.

— So you think I'm better in real life?

Mir looked away for a moment.

— I think that's just a small part of who you are... so yes.

Theo held his gaze.

— I couldn't have said it better.

Their eyes met. A brief pause followed — but not an awkward one.

— I have an idea, — Mir said suddenly, taking advantage of the moment.

— What kind?

— Since you're not going out... how about a café? I saw one downstairs. We could go together.

— Now?

— Do you have plans?

— Not really...

— Then now.

Theo hesitated, then smiled.

— Okay... let's go. Just give me a minute.

He disappeared into his room, leaving Mir alone.

The apartment fell quiet.

Too quiet.

Mir looked around.

On the TV stand lay a stack of papers, a mug of cold tea, and a familiar phone with a cracked screen.

He paused on it.

A moment later, Theo came back, already changed. He stopped by the stand, reached for his keys, hesitated for a second, then took them and headed toward the door without looking.

— Ready? — he said quietly.

Chapter Text

They settled at a table in a small café on the ground floor of a residential complex. Inside, it was quiet and cozy. Soft music was playing, and the air smelled of fresh pastries.

Theo had already become a regular here, often ordering something to go late in the evenings.

— They say the pizza here is real Italian, — he said, absentmindedly scrolling through the pictures of the dishes. — I’ve never actually been to Italy, so I have nothing to compare it to.

Mir flipped through a few pages as well.

— I’ve been there a couple of times… we’ll see.

— I thought you only ever go to work, — Theo replied with slight surprise, setting the menu aside.

— So that’s the impression I make, — Mir smiled and shook his head.

He would have liked to argue, but what was there to say.

— No matter what time I came to the office, you were always there, — Theo shrugged.

Mir paused on another page of the menu and slowly ran his finger over the name of a dish.

— Well… — he continued unhurriedly. — I’m a free man, so… I can afford it.

— I see, — Theo said thoughtfully.

At that moment, a young waitress approached them. Judging by her demeanor, it was almost certainly her first day, and she seemed a bit nervous. She quickly took their order and disappeared behind the kitchen door.

A brief silence settled between them.

— You’re not alone all the time, are you? — Mir broke the silence. — Is there someone with you now?

Theo looked at him for a few seconds without speaking, unsure how to answer without sounding pitiful.

— It’s fine, — he repeated his usual phrase. — I’m okay…

Noticing his hesitation, Mir decided to steer the conversation back toward work.

— It seemed to me that you don’t really like modeling, — he said, recalling Theo’s expression when the topic had come up earlier.

That same expression flickered across Theo’s face again.

He shook his head.

— I kind of ended up there by accident. My agent spotted me in a café where I used to work evenings…

— From the outside, it looks like you’re good at it, — Mir noted, glancing away as if checking whether their order was coming.

— Maybe, — Theo replied quietly.

He paused for a moment, searching for the right words.

— But it feels… — he suddenly looked at Mir, more intently and seriously than before. — kind of meaningless.

A brief pause followed.

Theo gave a small, slightly awkward smile, and his expression softened again.

— That probably sounded strange…

— No, not at all.

Mir shook his head.

— According to my father, I was supposed to help him with his business… But every time he tried to explain it to me, I kept thinking: what’s the point?

Theo seemed to perk up ever so slightly, something like relief flickering in his eyes.

— Yeah… — he said with a hint of enthusiasm. — Exactly… sometimes after hours of shooting, when they ask you to smile “lightly and naturally,” that’s the only thought in my head.

He let out a small, awkward laugh.

Mir responded with a warm, approving smile.

Their eyes met, lingering a second longer than usual.

— What would you like to do instead? — Mir asked, picking up on the more personal tone of the conversation.

— I want to go into design. I didn’t study for nothing, — Theo replied. — Maybe interiors…

Mir nodded approvingly.

— I liked what I saw at your place, by the way, — he said. — You have good taste.

Those words made Theo smile. Hearing that from someone he had always thought of as rather cold meant a lot.

If only he knew what that supposedly indifferent man felt at the sight of his smile.

At that moment, the waitress returned, carefully placing the dishes on the table and shyly wishing them a good meal.

Once she disappeared back into the kitchen, Theo didn’t rush to start eating, as if still lost in his thoughts.

— Your father… — he began cautiously. — Did he take it well, that you didn’t go into his business?

Mir looked away slightly.

— Fortunately, he has another son.

— Right… you have a brother, — Theo recalled. — Is he younger?

— Yes. Five years younger, — Mir said, glancing at him briefly before adding, after a slight pause: — He’s the same age as you.

Theo paused, mentally calculating.

— So you’re twenty-seven… — he said thoughtfully.

Mir smiled, his gaze lingering just a moment longer than usual.

— Is that a lot? — he asked, leaning forward slightly, feeling the distance between them shrink by a small but noticeable step.

— I don’t know… — Theo shrugged. — But it suits you.

Mir smiled faintly, not looking away.

— Well… alright, — he said, then nodded toward the plates. — This actually looks pretty good.

Theo glanced at the food, as if noticing it only now.

— Yeah… — he said quietly. — It’s usually good here.

They began to eat, at first almost in silence, then exchanging short remarks about the food, work, and a little about personal things. The conversation flowed easily, without tension, though there was still something new and unfamiliar in that ease.

Mir was not the same person Theo remembered from their brief encounters at the office. The coldness in his gaze was gone, and the smile Theo had never seen before made him seem much softer, kinder.

Theo even found himself thinking that he would like to get to know him better.

Though he wasn’t very good at friendships. People tended to disappear from his life too easily, leaving him with no reason to hold onto them. So despite his friendliness, he had only a few acquaintances, and even with them he barely kept in touch.

— By the way… — Mir took a sip of strong coffee and carefully set the cup down. — I live not too far from you. About a twenty-minute walk.

— Really? — Theo asked, surprised. — I didn’t know that…

— I actually saw you once on the embankment.

— Then why didn’t you come up to me?

— I was driving… and you didn’t notice me. — Mir paused briefly. — But next time I will.

— We could… — Theo hesitated, unsure whether to say it. — Maybe… take a walk along the embankment sometime.

Mir answered almost immediately, not giving him a chance to back out:

— How about Friday? — he asked, telling himself his insistence was only because this guy needed support and simple human connection right now.

Theo thought for a moment, caught off guard.

— I think I can… yeah, — he shrugged. — I have a shoot during the day, but I’m free in the evening.

They stayed in the café a while longer, until it was completely dark. Then Mir went home, while Theo returned to the silence of his empty apartment, where he had been spending the past weeks almost without leaving, trying to somehow adjust to his new life.

He turned on the TV to some channel that played travel and nature programs around the clock, lowered the volume to a minimum just to hear the quiet background noise, turned off the lights, and lay down on the couch, pulling a blanket over himself. That was how his days passed — but that evening, for the first time in weeks, he managed to distract himself a little from everything going on inside him, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel so unbearably alone.

Mir got home within minutes.

He closed the door behind him and, without turning on the lights, walked into the living room. He sat down on the couch, closed his eyes, and ran a tired hand over his face.

A strange evening.

And these strange feelings he couldn’t shake off.

Theo…

When did it all begin?

They had first met almost a year and a half ago.

Mir had just started working at a small design bureau, in the architectural department under Theo’s mother. Even during the interview, she had made a strong impression on him: calm, intelligent, composed. She immediately warned him about the heavy workload, tight deadlines, and constant overtime, without trying to sugarcoat it. She asked direct questions and listened carefully.

At that time, Mir didn’t have much experience, but after asking him a few questions and thinking it over briefly, she said she was satisfied and suggested he take a couple of days to decide.

The job turned out to be just as demanding as she had described. From the very first day, he had to quickly adapt to the pace. At first, Mir often spoke with her as she introduced him to the work, explained things, guided him.

She mentioned once in passing that she had an adult son, but Mir didn’t pay much attention to it then.

Later, he heard his name from some of the girls over coffee in the kitchen and learned that her son occasionally stopped by the office — but even then, it didn’t interest him much.

Until he saw him for the first time.

In Mir’s team there were two friends, Nadya and Anya. Somehow, they always knew the news first. That day, Nadya came back from outside, went straight to Anya, and whispered barely audibly, “Theo’s here,” after which they exchanged knowing smiles.

A couple of minutes later, the door opened and a tall, dark-haired guy walked in. Nature had clearly been generous with him, giving him striking features: expressive gray eyes framed by long lashes, well-defined lips, sharp cheekbones, and an elegant line of his neck.

After greeting everyone, he let his gaze linger on Mir for a moment and smiled — and there was something in that smile that made Mir feel, just for a second, as if he had slipped out of reality.

Maybe that was when it all began.

Mir remembered their first meeting too well, as if it had been inevitable from the start that Theo would come to mean something to him.

Inevitable.

The most fitting word for what he felt.

Yes, Theo was undeniably beautiful — tall, slim.

But that wasn’t it.

Nothing could compare to the way he hid his quiet shyness behind that bright, dazzling smile, subtly growing embarrassed whenever he became the center of attention — and it made Mir’s heart falter.

He had always thought that love was something that happened to other people. His thoughts had always been orderly, his life clear and predictable — but in the end, all he could do was surrender and silently accept his defeat.

And since then…

He found himself looking for him more and more often — in the office, in the corridors, among people… even on advertising posters, where Theo seemed to be looking right at him.

Again and again, he searched his name. The photos he found, he carefully saved in a hidden folder.

And at night…

His fantasies went far beyond what was decent. He imagined pulling him close, running his hands over his body on the rumpled bed, sinking deeper and deeper into feelings he never intended to reveal.

Chapter Text

The photoshoot had gone badly from the very beginning. The photographer was clearly in a terrible mood, and Theo couldn’t focus no matter how hard he tried. The loud upbeat music blasting through the studio was supposed to create energy, but instead it only grated on his nerves and made everything worse.

Even the studio lights and camera flashes felt unbearably bright that day, stinging his eyes and making it impossible to give the photographer the expression he wanted. Theo’s nerves were already stretched thin. One moment he was turning the wrong way, the next he was tilting his head too high, then his clothes would bunch up in awkward folds and the shoot had to stop again so the stylist could fix everything.

And the more irritated the photographer became, the worse Theo performed. It was as if his body had stopped obeying him completely — stiff, clumsy, unnatural. A vicious cycle he couldn’t escape.

“Are you kidding me?!” the photographer shouted across the entire studio. “Just do what I’m asking you to do!” he snapped again and again without stopping.

Theo silently forced himself back into position and looked into the camera lens once more.

Many exhausting hours later, when it already felt as though the shoot would drag on forever and never truly end, it was finally over. But by then he was too drained to even feel relieved. Now that the lights had gone dark and the studio had sunk back into its usual dim half-shadow, Theo wanted only one thing — to get out of there and make it home as quickly as possible.

The moment the apartment door shut behind him, he was finally alone with his thoughts.

The exhaustion hit him so hard it nearly knocked him off his feet. He slid down onto the cold tile floor in the hallway and stayed there in the dark for a long time, unable to make himself stand again.

The silence felt just as oppressive as the noise of the studio had a few hours earlier.

It had only been another bad day. One of many.

And yet for some reason, tonight everything inside him felt especially unbearable, as though all the exhaustion he had been carrying for weeks had finally reached some fragile breaking point deep inside him.

Theo closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath before suddenly throwing his head back against the wall.

A dull thud.

Then again.

And again.

The blunt, grounding pain managed to drown out the sticky echo of other people’s voices in his head, if only for a moment.

Too bad his own voice was impossible to silence so easily.

He and Mir had planned to meet that evening, but Theo already knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“Sorry, I can’t meet today. The shoot’s going to run late,” he texted before immediately turning off his phone.

He didn’t want to see Mir.

He didn’t want to see or hear anyone right now.

A nauseating feeling crawled up his throat.

His memory had a cruel habit of erasing everything good. In moments of weakness, it attacked him mercilessly with the worst memories imaginable, driving him slowly insane.

Everything ugly and painful rose from somewhere deep inside him, dragging him down into a pit of hatred and unbearable regret. His body trembled uncontrollably. Pressing his face into his hands, Theo bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, desperately trying to calm himself.

Pointless.

He knew far too well what would happen next.

The pain would cloud his thoughts. He would start gasping for air again, screaming soundlessly, hitting his head against the cold tile floor, hating himself even more for feeling any of this at all.

“You’re nothing!” he would shout at his reflection in the mirror, hurling something heavy at it — whatever his hand could grab.

Fragments would rain down across the sink and the floor.

And then there would be silence.

But the worst memories would come later, when he finally dragged himself to the couch and buried his face in a pillow.

That was when his mother would appear in his mind again — exactly as she had looked that final morning.

He had only just woken up. She was standing in the living room, beautiful in her pale suit, bathed in soft morning sunlight. She was already getting ready to leave but couldn’t find her phone anywhere.

Then she noticed Theo.

And smiled at him with that same warmth and tenderness only she possessed.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Now he would have given anything in the world just to hear those words one more time.

To return there for only a few minutes.

And say:

“Mom, I had a terrible dream… please don’t drive today.”

“Stay home.”

“Stay with me a little longer…”

But back then he knew nothing.

That morning he had been exhausted, irritated, sleep-deprived as always, acting like a child.

Back then he had still been allowed to be one.

“You’re working late again today? You haven’t had a single day off in weeks,” he muttered irritably instead of saying good morning.

“We’re on a deadline right now. Once we finish the project, I’ll take a vacation, I promise,” she said apologetically.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve been hearing that for years… maybe my entire life.”

She only smiled sadly and continued searching for her phone.

“Come by the office today. Let’s have lunch together. A new restaurant opened next door — you’d love the design there. Especially you, future designer.”

“No time,” Theo shook his head. “I have to go all the way across town.”

“Oh God, I’m already late!” his mother exclaimed after finally finding her phone beneath a couch cushion.

She glanced at the time and hurried toward the hallway.

“All right, sweetheart, see you tonight!”

See you tonight.

Or maybe not.

That day he did go to the office after all.

But they never saw each other again.

The memories of that day burned through him from the inside out. Even then he had failed her. Failed to be a good son when it should have been so easy.

He still couldn’t truly comprehend that she was gone.

That he would never hear her voice again.

Never hug her again.

Never complain about her staying late at work again.

In the evenings, he still sometimes thought she was about to come home. The front door would unlock any second now. He would hear her footsteps in the hallway.

And in the mornings, caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, he found himself listening for sounds in the apartment, wondering if she had already left for work or if she was still sitting in the kitchen drinking cold coffee while typing another important email.

And every single time the phone rang, for one short, painful moment, the same impossible thought still flashed through his mind:

“What if it’s Mom?”

He was trying to learn how to live all over again, but so far he was failing badly.

At night, all those feelings attacked him with particular cruelty. But even after the darkest nights, dawn always came eventually, and the pain quieted down, leaving behind nothing but a hollow ringing emptiness.

⸻

Theo woke to the sound of a message notification.

He surfaced from sleep slowly, frowning in annoyance and turning onto his other side before finally reaching beneath the pillow for his phone and remembering he must have turned it back on at some point.

A message from Mir lit up the screen:

“How are you? They didn’t completely torture you yesterday, did they?”

A faint smile appeared on Theo’s lips before he could stop it.

Still half asleep, he tried to reply, but accidentally hit the call button instead. He thought he hung up immediately, but it was already too late.

Half a minute later, Mir called back himself.

There was no escape now.

Theo tried to shake the sleep from his voice and answered.

“Hey…” he said, unsuccessfully trying to hide the rough sleepiness in his tone. “Sorry. Hit the button by accident.”

“Hey,” Mir greeted him brightly. “That’s what I figured, but I thought I’d check just in case.”

“Well… maybe this is better anyway,” Theo muttered, clearing his throat as he sat up against the soft headboard. “There’s actually something I wanted to tell you. I just couldn’t find the right moment.”

He paused briefly, choosing his words carefully.

Mir didn’t interrupt. Theo sounded unusually serious, and he already had a feeling what this was about.

“That day… and that night…” Theo hesitated. Saying it aloud was harder than he expected. He closed his eyes and exhaled silently. “You did a lot for me. I’m really grateful.”

“You really don’t have to thank me,” Mir replied, though the words touched him far more deeply than he wanted to admit. He still felt as though he hadn’t done anything special.

At the same time, something about Theo’s voice unsettled him slightly.

“You’re not trying to end our friendship like this, are you?” Mir added lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“No, of course not,” Theo laughed softly. “I’m pouring my heart out here and you…” He shook his head. “Anyway, I’m serious. If you ever need help with something, you can count on me.”

Theo probably could help him with certain things… but—

“Oh, I’ll definitely need your help someday,” Mir replied calmly. “Just not anytime soon.” He paused thoughtfully, pretending to calculate something in his head. “Maybe in five years or so. Right around the time you become as old as I am.”

“Wow,” Theo protested immediately, catching the sarcasm in his voice. “That’s not what I said.”

“All right, all right,” Mir replied, unable to hide the warm smile Theo unfortunately couldn’t see.

“So what exactly are you planning to do in five years?” Theo asked curiously.

“A lot of things, hopefully,” Mir answered honestly, his tone losing its teasing edge. “I’ll buy a plot of land somewhere far from the city, but still close enough to drive to work. Build a house with huge windows — the kind where sunlight floods the entire place every morning.” He paused briefly. “And that’s where I’ll need you.”

“Me?” Theo asked, genuine confusion in his voice.

“Who else?” Mir replied without hesitation. “You’ll help me design it.”

“Oh, I see,” Theo laughed. “For some reason I thought you were going to ask me to dig up your garden or mow the lawn.”

“That part’s optional,” Mir answered, smiling softly himself now. “We still have time.”

A small silence settled between them.

In that silence there was a strange awkwardness. In such a short time they had somehow become closer — closer than either of them had expected — though mostly because of painful circumstances. And yet some invisible line still remained between them.

Mir broke the silence first.

“I woke you up with my message, didn’t I?”

“No, no. I’d just woken up when you texted,” Theo lied lightly before hesitating. “Hey… do you have plans today?”

“No,” Mir answered immediately.

“Maybe we could meet tonight… take a walk somewhere? If you’re not busy.”

“Sure. I’m not busy,” Mir agreed without hesitation. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?”

“How are you?”

“Oh. That one.” Theo smiled faintly. “I’m okay. Yesterday was rough… that happens sometimes. Sorry again about disappearing like that.”

“Don’t worry about yesterday. It’s fine. So what time works for you?”

Only then did Theo realize he had absolutely no idea what time it even was. The heavy curtains made it impossible to tell.

He checked his phone. It was already almost two in the afternoon.

Quickly estimating how long it would take to clean himself up and deal with the aftermath of last night’s breakdown, he finally answered:

“Maybe five or six? Whatever works for you.”

After agreeing on a time and place, Theo ended the call, though he kept staring at the dark screen long after it went black.

And for some reason, he was smiling.

For the first time in a long while, warmth settled quietly inside him — simply because someone genuinely cared how he was doing.

Chapter Text

Mir approached the small, cozy café on the embankment and spotted a familiar silhouette through the window even before stepping inside. Theo was sitting at a table by the glass, talking on the phone and nervously twisting a napkin between his fingers. His expression was focused, while the evening light gently traced the line of his profile.

Making sure Theo was absorbed in the call and hadn't noticed him, Mir couldn't resist pulling out his phone to take a picture. The streetlights slowly began to flicker on. As if sensing something, Theo glanced toward the street and locked eyes with Miroslav. Mir nearly dropped his phone but managed to catch it, making an awkward half-motion as if to wave — forgetting that the phone was still in his hand — and immediately scolded himself for the childish impulse.

Trying not to interrupt the call, Mir took a seat at one of the wooden tables on the outdoor terrace, still empty as it waited for warmer days. From there, it was easy to watch Theo discreetly — a skill Mir believed he had mastered perfectly by now.

Meanwhile, Theo was having a far from pleasant conversation with his agent, who was clearly dissatisfied with his "progress."

The voice on the other end sounded dry and sharp:

"I got a call from the photographer from yesterday's lookbook. I spent half an hour listening to complaints about what 'unprofessional people' he has to work with. He's not exactly a gift himself, but if it were just him... " The man sighed heavily. "The last few shoots have been a complete failure, Theo. I understand this is hard for you — you lost someone close. I know what that feels like, I've been through it too. But you need to pull yourself together. This is life. It doesn't stop. Work isn't the place for personal drama, otherwise you'll find yourself overboard very quickly. I'm not trying to scare you. I'm just being honest. Drop the unnecessary emotions and remember what you're capable of."

Of course everyone knows how I feel, Theo thought bitterly.

He didn't argue. He had seen the raw shots from the last session himself — the empty gaze, the stiff poses, the tired confusion in his expression. Not the kind of work clients were willing to pay for. And knowing he couldn't afford to lose this job right now, he apologized and promised he'd be back in shape for the next shoot.

His life had suddenly turned into a tangled heap of practical concerns. The mortgage was the most pressing issue. He was constantly speaking to the bank, to the insurance company that was supposed to cover it due to the insured event. It felt as if dozens of times a day he had to explain to different people — most of them notably lacking empathy — what had happened. It was exhausting. Add to that an endless amount of paperwork and bureaucratic details, all while he was still trying to adapt to the abrupt shift in his entire life.

When he finally ended the call and set his phone aside, Mir approached the table.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long," Theo asked, standing and extending his hand.

"I've got plenty of free time today," Mir reassured him quickly, then added, "I was thinking we could take a walk, if you're up for it."

They grabbed coffee to go and headed toward the river. It was a pleasant spring evening. A light breeze drifted from the water, where boats and river trams passed one after another — some with loud music and lively groups on board, others carrying tourists curiously observing the shoreline.

They walked slowly, and from a distance, they could easily have been mistaken for old friends. To his own surprise, Theo felt the tension from the agent's call gradually fade. Being near Mir felt unusually comfortable. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the evening, or the long-awaited warmth. Or maybe it had always been this way, and he simply hadn't noticed.

Mir could talk for a long time, going into detailed explanations about almost anything, sparing Theo the need to invent topics or fill awkward silences.

At some point, he was enthusiastically describing a new project he'd be managing, but after glancing at Theo — lost in his own thoughts — he suddenly stopped.

"Let's talk about something else before I get carried away again," Mir said gently. "I forget sometimes that not everyone finds design details fascinating. You should stop me now and then."

"No, no, I'm sorry..." Theo replied quickly, realizing his thoughts had drifted far away and he had truly lost the thread of the conversation. "It's just..."

He paused, trying to come up with an excuse, but suddenly understood he had neither the strength nor the desire to pretend.

"It's just that so much has happened lately. My head's constantly full of pointless noise."

Mir slowed his pace slightly and looked at him attentively.

"You can tell me."

Theo smiled faintly and shook his head, waving it off.

"It's nothing important... honestly, blueprints are way more interesting."

"And still," Mir repeated with quiet persistence.

Theo looked away, feeling his usual defenses begin to crack.

"You know..." he said thoughtfully, "I was suddenly thrown headfirst into adult life. And I'm not really liking it so far. Sometimes I just want to run away from all of it."

Mir stopped abruptly and turned to face him.

"Theo... maybe I can help with something?"

"No, it's okay," Theo insisted with a careful smile. "I just need time to sort out some paperwork." He ran a hand through his already unruly hair.

"I'm not saying it out of politeness," Mir replied firmly. "So just tell me if you need anything. Don't try to handle everything alone."

Theo nodded and thanked him again for his concern, quickly changing the subject, feeling indebted enough already.

"I haven't been here in a while. You know, I just remembered this strange shoot I had once. It was on the steps of that bridge." He gestured into the distance. "It was freezing. They dressed me in this ridiculous fur coat — on a bare torso that was supposed to show — and I had to pretend I was overheating. Meanwhile, I could barely move my fingers."

"I would never have guessed. It turned out very... impressive," Mir said thoughtfully.

Theo looked at him in surprise, and in that very second Mir realized his attempt at encouragement sounded, at best, ambiguous.

"I—I happened to see that photo once," Mir hurried to explain. "I was standing in line at a register, flipping through the first magazine I grabbed..." he continued, his voice betraying him with a slight tremor.

He remembered that shoot far too well — and the decidedly not innocent fantasies it had awakened. Even now, he could easily find one of the saved photos on his phone. But that was certainly not something he should show Theo.

Theo fell silent for a moment, then looked at Mir with complete seriousness.

"Be honest. Have you been secretly keeping tabs on me?"

The question sounded so plausible that Mir froze, staring at him, struggling to regain composure. It had been a long time since he'd felt so cornered — like he might simply turn and flee, dignity forgotten — but he knew he had to say something quickly before it became truly ridiculous.

Watching the entire spectrum of emotions flicker across his face, Theo broke into a wide smile.

"I'm kidding," he said, lightly nudging Mir's shoulder to ease the tension. "Honestly, it's just so easy to talk to you. Back at the office, you didn't seem very talkative. I even thought maybe it was because of me."

He looked into Mir's dark eyes, where confusion still lingered.

And of course it was because of him — who else? But Mir couldn't admit that. Instead, he retreated into familiar territory.

"In the office, to be honest, my mind's completely occupied with projects," he said in a calm, collected tone. "Deadlines. Deliveries. Endless revisions..."

He ran a hand through his hair, as if concluding the matter.

"It's hard to think about anything else there."

Theo watched him for a few seconds, noting the sudden shift in tone, then gave a small understanding nod.

They continued walking, and the conversation gradually returned to a comfortable rhythm. The next few hours passed unnoticed. They wandered along the wide embankment glowing in evening lights, then drifted through quiet side streets, later sitting and talking in a small, noisy café on a lively square filled with tourists and street musicians.

And only when it was completely dark did they part ways, promising to meet like this again sometime soon.

Late that evening, still unwinding after the long walk, Theo lay on his bed scrolling through photos on Instagram when the thought crossed his mind to look up Miroslav.

He found his open profile surprisingly quickly — and raised an eyebrow when he noticed that Miroslav was already following him. Without overthinking it, Theo hit "Follow back" and sent him a direct message.

As expected, Miroslav didn't have many photos. Only one of them featured himself: wearing a construction helmet, blueprints in hand, standing among a foundation and exposed steel rebar.

"In your element," Theo commented under the photo.

Mir saw the notifications but didn't open them right away. He had already said more than usual that evening. And now this. Of all things, why had he followed him from his real profile? At the time it hadn't seemed like a bad idea. Now it felt as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

He even seriously considered replying later — maybe tomorrow. He would pause long enough to create the impression that he barely used social media and hardly remembered pressing the "Follow" button in the first place. That would be the sensible thing to do.

But his hand reached for the phone anyway.

Theo:

I don’t know how often you come here, but I wanted to thank you for keeping me company tonight.

The reply didn’t come right away, as though Mir had deliberately made himself wait a little before answering.

Mir:

I really enjoyed spending the evening with you.

A moment later, another message appeared.

Mir:

By the way, if you don’t have any plans next Saturday, we could meet up again.

Theo:

I was just thinking the same thing.

Mir couldn’t help but smile, though his heart was filled with conflicting emotions.

Mir:

Then it’s a deal.

A moment later, another message appeared.

Mir:

Next Saturday.

In the darkness of his bedroom, the faint glow of the phone lit Theo's thoughtful face. Squinting at the dim light, he replayed moments from his conversations with Miroslav: the short exchanges, his calm, almost careful tone, the small pauses, the subtle shifts in mood, the attentive look in his eyes.

None of it seemed accidental anymore.

The more he turned it over in his mind, the less absurd the thought felt—the one that had suddenly taken shape.
Theo was a perceptive young man. And that evening, a rather intriguing puzzle assembled itself in his head. One of its final pieces was the moment Miroslav had tried to discreetly photograph him—something that had not gone unnoticed.

Mir... How long have you been looking at me like that?

Chapter Text

On late evenings, driving home from work, Mir had gotten into the habit of passing by Theo's building. His tired eyes would instinctively search for the familiar windows, and whenever he saw the lights on, an inexplicable calm would settle in his chest.

That Saturday, the sky was swallowed by heavy gray clouds, as if a downpour was about to break over the city at any moment. Mir left his car near his place after the office and headed straight to meet Theo. When Theo called, Mir had just managed to reach the café and take shelter under its awning, already thoroughly soaked by the sudden rain that had caught him halfway there.

"Where are you?" Theo asked.

"I'm here, but it's pouring... so if you haven't left yet, it might be better to—" Mir didn't finish.

"Wait for me there. I'll be right there," Theo replied and hung up.

Soon enough, he appeared on the rain-drenched street, walking quickly beneath a large bright-yellow umbrella. Spotting Mir, Theo broke into a wide smile and hurried toward him, joining him under the awning.

"I don't think this rain's stopping anytime soon. Come with me—I've got a better idea than sitting here drinking coffee," he said mysteriously.

"Well, I trust you. Lead the way," Mir replied, brushing droplets from his damp hair.

Sharing the umbrella, they made their way to Theo's place. In weather like that, it truly was the perfect solution. After the cold street, the apartment felt especially warm and inviting, though their soaked clothes were now thoroughly uncomfortable. Theo seated Mir at the tall counter table and disappeared briefly, returning with a towel and a change of dry clothes.

He stepped close—too close—and gently draped the towel over Mir's shoulders, his cool fingers brushing briefly against the back of his neck. Mir flinched almost imperceptibly, and not because of the temperature.

"Your clothes are completely soaked. You see, I try to be a caring friend," Theo explained, catching the surprised look in Mir's eyes.

"I see," Mir replied with an awkward smile, feeling heat where he should have felt cold.

"Go on, change quickly," Theo urged.

Mir shut himself in the bathroom and peeled off his rain-soaked clothes. The downpour had shown no mercy by the time they reached the apartment—despite the heroic yellow umbrella—so everything went straight onto the drying rack.

His hair was another matter. He toweled it dry as best he could, but the mirror that had hung above the sink last time was gone. Without it, assessing his appearance was impossible.

He picked up the wide white T-shirt and gray sweatpants Theo had lent him. The fabric was soft—almost impossibly so—and it seemed to carry Theo's scent. He was about to wear something that had once touched Theo's skin. It felt almost like touching him directly.

The thought sent a rush of inappropriate images through his mind. In the office, he had always managed to suppress them. But here, alone with him, unbearably close, dressed in his clothes and feeling the fabric against every inch of his skin, it suddenly seemed like the emotions he had contained for so long were on the verge of breaking free.

Cold water helped. A little.

When he returned to the living room, he found Theo carefully uncorking a bottle of red wine.

"Want some?" Theo nodded toward the glasses.

Mir nodded without hesitation. It was exactly what he needed.

"Do you have guests over often?" he asked, glancing at the modest spread of snacks laid out for him.

"Not really," Theo replied, then added, "Actually, you're the first."

"Well, now I feel a certain responsibility," Mir said lightly, though his mood was anything but light. His heart skipped a beat.

"That was the plan," Theo replied. It was hard to tell if he was joking.

The conversation drifted to renovations and the move that had happened just a few months earlier—hence the unpacked boxes scattered here and there and the faint lingering scent of fresh paint. Eventually, as it often did, the topic shifted to work. This time, Theo peppered Mir with questions, clearly and genuinely curious about the details.

"By the way... what were you like in university?" Theo asked, propping his head on his hand, elbow on the table, leaning slightly forward as if studying him.

Mir gave a faint smile.

"I suspect you're expecting something boring."

"Well, you look like the type who submits his term papers a week before the deadline."

"Well..." Mir tilted his head, glancing at him with ironic amusement. "Once I submitted a structural engineering paper a week late. How's that?"

Theo narrowed his eyes. "Were you sick or something?"

Mir paused briefly, then nodded calmly. "Pneumonia."

They looked at each other—and burst out laughing.

"My student life wasn't that dull, actually," Mir continued. "Yes, I had to study—a lot, frankly. But I had a friend. We went to university together. He was basically the head of PR. He's respectable now, but back then? Anything involving parties, chaos, questionable fun until sunrise—that was his territory."

Theo tried to keep a straight face, but at "questionable fun," he broke. First a snort, then he buried his face in his hands, laughing uncontrollably.

"What?" Mir asked, confused but smiling now too.

Theo inhaled deeply, trying to calm down. But one look at Mir's impeccable composure sent him into another wave of laughter.

"Sorry—sorry," he managed finally, lowering his hands. His cheeks were flushed. "I just... I pictured you dancing on a table, waving your perfectly ironed shirt around."

Mir froze for a second, maintaining absolute composure, though something lively flickered in his eyes.

"Is that so," he said quietly. "So while I was describing the hardships of student life, you were vividly imagining the extent of my liberation?"

"Don't tell me that actually happened?!" Theo exclaimed.

"I'm afraid I must disappoint you," Mir replied dryly. "Unfortunately—or fortunately—I usually left before things got interesting. Perhaps I simply don't know how to truly have fun."

"I get that," Theo nodded approvingly. "The silence afterward feels like the best reward."

They fell quiet for a moment. The muted hum of the city beyond the rain became a backdrop. The space between them filled once again with a gentle, comfortable calm.

"I remember your thesis defense last year," Mir said suddenly. "You seemed... genuinely happy."

"Oh, absolutely!" Theo laughed. "I barely graduated. I've never been that relieved in my life."

"Because of work?" Mir guessed immediately.

Theo nodded.

"The last two years were insane—shoots, castings, travel. I missed half the semester. Professors gave up on me. Debts piled up. It was like trying to sit on two chairs at once. On one hand, a career—where I probably should've taken academic leave, signed a contract, left for Asia or Europe. I didn't. Because..." He paused. "It felt like chasing someone else's dream. Not mine. Finishing university mattered to me."

"And you did," Mir said quietly.

"Barely."

"Still. You know how to reach your goals."

"Maybe," Theo shrugged. "Just not always by the straightest path."

A pause settled between them—more personal this time. Theo studied Mir thoughtfully.

"By the way, my clothes suit you," he said suddenly, smiling brightly.

Mir did look unusually soft in the borrowed outfit. His damp, tousled hair gave him an unexpected warmth.

"As long as you approve. Without a mirror, it was hard to tell," Mir replied.

Theo stilled for a split second. The rim of his glass clinked softly against the bottle.

"Oh. Right," he said, suddenly cooler. "It was poorly secured. Fell with the slightest touch."

But just as quickly, his usual lightness returned. He raised their glasses.

"Speaking of parties... I'd say this turned out pretty well. Way better than getting drenched in the rain."

That rainy gray evening, Theo was the version Mir remembered from before everything had changed. There was life in his eyes again. That smile—the one that haunted Mir's sleepless nights—was back.

And Mir was certainly not the only one who might feel this way.

For some reason, Anya came to mind—a blonde, attractive girl from his department. They clearly had something in common. Thankfully, she didn't know the extent of it.

"Anya would kill me if she saw this party," Mir joked, instantly regretting bringing her up.

Theo smiled faintly, lowering his gaze. He felt no real guilt, yet he was oddly relieved Mir had mentioned her. He had wanted to clarify things too.

Anya had shown obvious interest in Theo. No one in the office had missed it—least of all Mir, who had caught fragments of her kitchen conversations about messaging him on Instagram.

"Anya... she's quite pretty, isn't she?" Theo asked casually, meeting his eyes.

"Maybe. I haven't really noticed," Mir replied awkwardly, looking away, feeling an unpleasant sting of jealousy.

"I see... So who have you noticed, then? If that's not a secret?"

Do you really want to know that, Theo? Mir thought.

"That's difficult to answer," he said honestly. "As for Anya... she never liked me much. Things were awkward from the start. But you had a perfect chance." He drained his glass and refilled it immediately.

Theo stared into his wine, tracing the rim of the glass with his finger.

"It's not like I didn't notice she liked me," he said at last. "It was hard not to. But I'd just broken up with someone. And, you know..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Turns out love isn't exactly pleasant. I had no desire to play that game again. Not the best timing. I guess it's fair to say I started avoiding her."

Mir set his glass down slowly, without taking a sip.

"That's why you stopped visiting us so often?" he asked carefully.

Theo tilted his head, not breaking eye contact, a mischievous half-smile playing on his lips.

"Were you waiting for me?"

Mir tried—and failed—to decipher what was going through his mind. Theo just laughed.

"I'm sure she's forgotten me by now," he added more seriously, turning toward the window.

Mir wanted to believe that too. Everything pointed to it. And yet, one question lingered:

"Did you love her?"

"The one you were dating," Mir clarified.

Theo looked at him. There was no smile now. No visible regret, either.

"I did. I think," he said with a small shrug. "But we got to know each other better, and somehow... everything unraveled. Not the most exciting story."

A year and more of memories couldn't be compressed into two sentences. What he'd once called love now seemed more like painful attachment. When the infatuation faded, it became painfully clear they were strangers with different dreams. She realized it first. One summer Saturday morning, she ended it with a phone call. He kept clinging to feelings that no longer existed.

But he didn't want to look pathetic in front of Mir.

"It's in the past," Theo concluded. "Actually... going back to Anya—it was pretty brave of her, saying outright that she liked someone."

He paused.

"I don't think I could do that."

Then he looked at Mir with genuine curiosity.

"How would you show someone that you like them?"

Mir's brown eyes seemed darker under the artificial light.

"I wouldn't," he replied shortly, with a strange half-smile.

"Why? You don't want to date anyone?"

Mir closed his eyes briefly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"With anyone else, I'd answer easily," he thought. But Theo wasn't "anyone."

Silence stretched.

"You don't have to answer if it's too personal," Theo said gently.

"It's not that," Mir replied, leaning back. "It's just... not something I relate to."

He didn't want to build a wall of half-truths between them. There was already something more than polite collegiality here. But he wasn't ready to speak aloud the part of his life he always kept silent.

"I've always known I'm probably not made for relationships. And I stopped expecting anyone to make me happy. I just live my life."

"I get that," Theo said, taking a long sip. "Or maybe you just haven't met someone you'd want to be with."

Without waiting for a response, he stood and walked to the balcony.

Mir watched him go, an inexplicable longing tightening in his chest.

The balcony door opened. The sound of heavy rain poured into the room along with cool, fresh air.

"And what about you?" Mir called out.

"What about me?"

"You said you weren't ready to 'play at love.' Has anything changed?"

Theo hesitated, then came back to the table, sat opposite him, and leaned forward, chin resting on his hand.

"People fall for the image. Then they get to know me—and they're disappointed. I don't match it."

"We rarely match expectations," Mir said firmly. "You just met the wrong people."

"Maybe," Theo smiled faintly. "Maybe I still have to test that theory."

Thunder rolled outside.

"Doesn't look like the rain's ending soon. Want to watch a movie?"

"Sure," Mir agreed at once.

He needed the distraction. It wasn't easy to sit this close, answering those questions, glass after glass. One more careless word—and he might say something he couldn't take back.

Chapter Text

Mir moved onto the soft couch, while Theo settled on the floor beside him with a glass of wine, leaning his back against the sofa, assuring him it was more comfortable that way.

They watched about a dozen trailers before finally choosing one. The film told the story of a young man who, giving up everything, hitchhiked alone to Alaska.

Theo followed the plot, completely captivated. Only Miroslav remained utterly indifferent to what was happening on screen. His gaze — and all his thoughts — were directed somewhere entirely different.

The flickering reflections from the movie slid over Theo's focused face, illuminating his features in the dark. His eyes shimmered, his lips slightly parted. Mir was almost glad Theo hadn't sat next to him — otherwise he wouldn't have been able to stare at him so openly.

And at the same time, it was nearly torture. Watching the way he tilted his head slightly, exposing the line of his long neck — the one Mir had kissed so many times in his dreams. Watching his lips brush against the rim of the wine glass, when they could have been brushing against him instead.

Mir closed his eyes, trying to think about something else — work, the film, anything at all — and soon the mix of alcohol, darkness, and accumulated fatigue did its job. His thoughts blurred, the tension receded, and without noticing it himself, he drifted off to sleep.

At some point, Theo turned, about to say something, but remained silent. Mir, his head resting on a small decorative pillow, was sleeping peacefully.

Theo lowered the volume, and soon turned the TV off completely. It became truly dark, with only faint streetlight filtering into the spacious room and softly outlining the sleeping figure. Theo sat beside him for a while in silence, finishing his wine and replaying the evening in his head.

Then he stood, brought a soft knitted blanket, and draped it over Miroslav, letting his gaze linger on the person who not long ago had been just an acquaintance — and now was sleeping in his home, wearing his clothes, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"So you want to spend your whole life alone..." Theo thought, studying the peaceful face of his sleeping guest.

In sleep, Mir looked completely different. His features appeared much softer, his posture almost defenseless. And again Theo caught himself feeling that strange, unfamiliar calm whenever he was near this person — as if, for a little while, everything in the world fell into place.

Somewhere here, in his steady breathing and relaxed face stripped of its usual composure, lay the answers to all his questions.

"Why do you look at me that way? Why do you avoid my questions and flinch at my touch... I feel like you're not telling me something..." Theo whispered, barely audibly.

The words dissolved into the quiet of the room.

He sat there a little longer, then quietly stood up. Sleep still wouldn't come. His mind kept turning over thoughts — too clear for the night.

Some time passed.

Mir's sleepy eyes fluttered open, and in the faint streetlight he saw Theo. He was sitting by the window, wearing headphones, perched on a bar stool, gently swaying to the music. Mir glanced at the clock — nearly three in the morning.

"You're not sleeping..." he mumbled.

Theo froze. The faint music leaking from his headphones went silent. He approached quietly and crouched beside him. Mir felt his warm breath very close.

"I'm going to bed now. You should sleep too."

Mir closed his eyes, and sleep took him back again — weaving dreams that blurred desire and reality. A dream where Theo didn't leave, didn't quietly close the bedroom door behind him. Where he slipped under the warm blanket, his breath hot against Mir's neck. Where Mir could wrap his arms around him, slide his hands beneath the rumpled T-shirt, allow himself something more.

When he opened his eyes again, the clock showed nearly eight in the morning. Still half-asleep, he couldn't immediately understand where he was or how he ended up on the couch in someone else's living room, tightly clutching a soft blanket.

Morning sunlight flooded the room, casting playful shadows across the walls. In the serene silence, only the distant sound of running water could be heard. Mir closed his eyes again, trying to hold onto the fading image of Theo in the darkness.

The water shut off. Soon Theo appeared — fresh out of the shower, drying his hair with a towel. The room filled with the clean scent of shower gel, giving Mir's imagination far too much freedom. Theo wore a dark gray T-shirt damp with water drops running from his hair, and loose athletic shorts that seemed as though they could be pulled off with a single movement.

"Hope you managed to sleep on that uncomfortable couch?" Theo asked, noticing he was awake. "I felt bad waking you."

"Yeah... I don't even remember falling asleep," Mir said, rubbing his eyes. "Are you heading somewhere?"

"No, I don't need to be anywhere today," Theo replied. "So you can take a shower if you want. I'll make breakfast."

Mir nodded, slowly sitting up.

"Right now, a shower sounds perfect..." he said — though his thoughts were drifting elsewhere.

"I left a clean towel for you on the washing machine," Theo interrupted his wandering fantasies.

The warm water quickly washed away the last traces of sleep and tangled thoughts. After putting on his slightly wrinkled but dry clothes, Mir returned to the living room — only to find it empty. No coffee smell. No breakfast. No host.

"Theo?" he called quietly.

No answer.

He walked around the room, his eyes catching on the blanket near the couch. He picked it up and folded it neatly.

Then he stopped in front of Theo's slightly open bedroom door. No sound from inside. Mir hesitated, unsure whether to cross that thin boundary of someone else's private space.

Curiosity won.

Inside, dimness ruled. Heavy dark curtains blocked most of the daylight, creating a strangely nocturnal atmosphere. Perhaps intentionally — to conceal the chaos within. The bed was unmade, the blanket tossed aside, pillows on the floor. Clothes lay scattered everywhere — on the wardrobe door, the back of a chair, even the floor.

"So this is where you live..." Mir thought.

Aside from the gloom, it didn't particularly surprise him. It fit the image he had of the person who lived here.

He almost opened the door wider — but at that very moment he heard the apartment's front door open.

Instinctively, he stepped away from the bedroom as if he'd done something forbidden.

Theo appeared in the hallway, holding a cardboard tray with two coffees in one hand and a paper bag of fresh croissants in the other.

"So this is what you call 'making breakfast,'" Mir smirked.

"I honestly meant to cook, but the fridge was completely empty," Theo shrugged innocently.

"You do have theories about how food actually appears in there?"

Theo set everything on the table and turned toward the living embodiment of irony.

"You even went out with wet hair," Mir added, frowning slightly.

"It's just downstairs," Theo defended himself — then smiled mysteriously. "It's kind of sweet that you care."

"I'm trying to be a good friend too, as you can see," Mir replied smoothly.

"You're doing a very good job," Theo said, as if implying something more.

Mir was about to respond when Theo's phone vibrated sharply across the table.

"My agent," he explained briefly before answering.

Fragments of conversation drifted over:

"Today? ... I told you I can't..."

"..."

"No one else can replace him?"

"..."

"Fine. Send the details."

He ended the call with a dissatisfied expression.

"Plans changed?" Mir asked.

"Yeah," Theo sighed. "One of the guys came down with the flu. The company's paid, the team's assembled... can't reschedule."

Mir almost joked about temporarily inheriting the title of workaholic — since Theo loved teasing him about that — but he held back.

"Listen, I should probably get going anyway..." Mir hesitated.

"There's still time," Theo replied, as if reluctant to let him leave so soon. "At least for coffee."

They talked lightly over breakfast, avoiding serious topics, though a faint awkwardness lingered — or maybe Mir only imagined it.

Afterward, he hurried home, not wanting to overstay his welcome.

Outside, only a few puddles and his slightly wrinkled clothes hinted at yesterday's rain. The sun was bright, trees beginning to bloom, long weekend days ahead.

Later that evening, lying in bed, Mir checked his calendar, updated his task list, set his alarm. Everything in order. Monday tomorrow. Early office. Don't forget to request missing data from the client...

But his thoughts stubbornly wandered elsewhere.

Is he home already... or did the shoot run late again?

Mir picked up his phone, opened their chat — hesitated — then locked it.

Too much.

But then the screen lit up on its own.

A new message.

Theo:

I see you're not asleep yet.

Mir:

Not yet. Did you make it home?

Theo:

On the metro. Waiting for a transfer. Trains barely run at this hour.

Theo:

If I disappear, it's bad signal — not me ignoring you.

Don't disappear, please, Mir thought.

Mir:

How was your "workday"? Doesn't sound short.

Theo:

Pretty strange. But overall good.

Theo:

They covered me in glitter. Problem is — it won't wash off!

A second later, a photo appeared.

Theo in the subway car. Cold fluorescent light dulls everything around him, yet his face seems to glow. He's smiling — wide and sincere. Golden glitter dusts the corners of his eyes and the palm he holds up to the camera.

Mir froze, looking at the picture. Something warm and anxious spread through his chest. He wanted to write the first thing that came to mind. That it was insanely beautiful. That it was too much.

But of course, he didn't.

His fingers hovered above the keyboard, then slowly lowered. Instead of replying, he tapped the photo and chose "save."

Typing...

Stopped.

Typing again.

Mir:

I'd say... there's something to it.

Long minutes passed before a reply came.

Theo:

Signal cut out after all. Actually, I just wanted to wish you a good week. And good night.

Mir:

Get home safe. And... good night, Theo.

He locked the phone and lay back down, honestly trying to sleep.

But now it was much harder.

His hand reached for the phone again — and seconds later he was staring at the last photo in his gallery.

Chapter Text

Mir's parents lived in their own house in a picturesque area outside the city. Although he had moved out at a fairly young age, he loved his parents' home deeply and felt an unbreakable connection to the place. It was a two-story cottage faced with light brick, with brown window frames, a tiled roof, and a large glassed-in veranda. A house where everything was always perfectly clean and orderly, and where mornings smelled of strong coffee and golden toast. Their yard, lined with tall thuja trees along the fence, where they would spend long summer evenings talking and slowly stretching out a single glass of wine, was rightfully considered the most well-kept in the neighborhood.

On the second floor, his room was still there — bright, cozy, and achingly familiar. It was his own small world, filled with things dear to him, with memories, joys, and victories. On the wall by his desk hung photographs capturing the brightest moments of his life. There they were — his family by the sea, all four of them tanned and happy. Him as a child in the yard of this very house, which had only just been built back then, with the giant schnauzer he'd received for his birthday. Pictures from a school hiking trip and a summer sports camp with his best friend, with whom he still kept in touch. His favorite books stood neatly on the shelves, the ones he reread under the light of a bedside lamp on the rare evenings he stayed overnight at his parents' house. Some of his clothes still hung in the wardrobe, carefully folded into stacks. And just beyond the wall was his younger brother Egor's room.

His relationship with his brother had deteriorated shortly before Miroslav's eighteenth birthday. Back then, Egor liked to use his computer without asking. One day, his curious teenage mind stumbled across a private conversation Mir had been having with another guy — a conversation never meant for anyone else's eyes. That was how he discovered his older brother's big secret.

A few days later, during a trivial argument, Egor told Mir everything he thought about him.

Mir had been genuinely terrified. He didn't know what to expect from a fourteen-year-old boy — or when he might decide to tell their parents everything. The constant tension wore him down. He would flinch whenever one of his parents called his name, convinced they were about to have a serious talk with him. He spent entire days locked in his room, trying and failing to focus on anything at all. It felt as if his whole world were collapsing.

That was when he decided to leave the house for good. And in some ways, it saved him.

Although Egor never told their parents, after that day they barely spoke. Only in their presence would they exchange a few neutral words so no one would suspect anything.

And yet, deep down, Mir was sincerely grateful he had a brother like him. Egor seemed almost sent to their parents to fulfill everything they had dreamed of — everything Mir felt he could never give them. Having graduated with a degree in economics and management, Egor had long been helping their father with the family business. Charismatic and handsome, with an athletic build and no trace of modesty, he won people over easily and could carry on a conversation about anything. He was always surrounded by friends and constantly basked in the attention of beautiful girls.

While Mir stood looking at the photos above his desk, lost in memory, his mother called everyone downstairs for lunch. As always, she wore an elegant custom-made dress, perfectly matched jewelry, and her signature red lipstick. She never seemed to age — if anything, she only grew more beautiful.

She had impeccable taste and treated the house's décor with special care. It felt as though every vase, salad bowl, and even napkin holder had its own story — one she happily shared with her friends during the elaborate backyard picnics she loved to host.

That day, the large table was set on the summer veranda, the windows thrown wide open to the yard. His father was already seated there with his laptop, frowning as he read work emails and reports, occasionally muttering under his breath about careless employees. He ran his own petroleum products business, investing enormous effort into it and rarely putting his phone down, constantly in touch with clients, suppliers, and staff. At home, he was a strict father. Though he spoke to his children as equals, he always said, "You can do better," starting as early as their kindergarten crafts. They tried their hardest, knowing he wouldn't brush them off — he would truly notice and appreciate their achievements. Even now, Egor tried no less — perhaps more — helping with the business. Unlike Miroslav, who had long since stopped trying to meet certain expectations.

That day, Egor was introducing his girlfriend to their parents for the first time — a girl he was planning to move in with soon. He appeared in the doorway with a beautiful brunette. Her long, luxurious hair fell in soft curls; nature had gifted her charming dimples, full lips, and a flawless figure. She was, without question, exactly Egor's type. Mir smiled to himself — he'd seen several of his brother's exes and knew his tastes well. Egor, it seemed, remained consistent.

The parents welcomed the charming chosen one of their younger son warmly and graciously, and soon the whole family was seated around a generously set table.

Midway through the evening, Mir's mother brought out the family's favorite berry pie — the one she baked for holidays. Setting out teacups from her favorite set and pouring fragrant herbal tea, she sat down and enthusiastically shared her signature recipe with the dear guest, while Egor and their father discussed work.

Meanwhile, Mir received a message from Theo.

"Are you busy?" appeared on the screen.

After that "party," they had started talking every day. It all happened naturally, effortlessly. Theo usually sent something first — a meme, a random photo, a fragment of a thought. Mir replied, asked about his day, shared bits of his own. Their conversations clung to small details and stretched unnoticed until night.

Sometimes they met up for no reason at all. They'd grab coffee to go and wander streets they knew by heart, talking about everything: work, university, ridiculous situations, summer plans, trivial things, important and unimportant matters alike.

From the outside, it all looked easy. Almost friendly.

But there was something else, too.

"I'm at my parents'. How's your mood?" Mir replied.

"Depends on the mood," Theo wrote back, sending a photo of a champagne bottle.

"Didn't want to drink alone. But I guess I'll have to..."

The ellipsis felt provocative, suggestive.

Mir tried to maintain a composed expression and quickly typed:

"I'll text when I'm heading out. Don't get too drunk — maybe I can still stop by."

The reply came almost immediately:

"Text me. Can't promise anything though."

Mir smiled involuntarily, reading it in Theo's voice — and instantly caught his mother's attentive gaze. She had been watching him for a while now, with curiosity — or rather hope — that her older son would finally announce a relationship of his own and stop deflecting every similar topic.

"Looks like you're hiding something from us," she said with a kind smile, though her interest was a bit too intent.

"Mom, it's not..." Mir began, then faltered.

He felt another look — far less friendly. Egor was watching him with barely concealed irritation.

"It's different," Mir finished calmly.

For their parents, the phrase sounded vague and explained nothing. But Egor didn't need an explanation. Judging by his expression, it looked to him as though Mir hadn't just exchanged a couple of messages — but had kissed a guy right there at the table in front of everyone.

His mother still smiled and shook her head.

"All right, all right," she said, unconvinced.

The conversation drifted elsewhere, but the phone in Mir's hand felt heavier. Inside him, something restless and anticipatory was growing. The thought of Theo — alone, with a bottle of champagne and that suggestive "I guess I'll have to" — wouldn't let him go.

Later, everyone moved to the living room and settled onto the large corner sofa and armchairs. The evening clearly wasn't winding down. Seizing a moment, Mir said his goodbyes, claiming he had to get up early, and left.

He drove to a place where the boundaries of logic faded, where his dreams mixed with reality and his thoughts became tangled.

From the doorway alone — from Theo's mischievous smile and the gleam in his eyes — it was clear he had committed fully to the celebration. A glass never left his hand; an open champagne bottle and something stronger stood on the table; music blasted from the speaker. Theo looked overly pleased, relaxed, and dangerously attractive. He found the remote and lowered the volume slightly, still swaying to the rhythm.

"Are you really getting drunk alone?" Mir remarked.

He stepped into the living room and sat on the very couch where he'd once spent the night.

"What do you mean, alone?" Theo replied, almost offended. "Not anymore. Champagne, wine... rum?" He gestured toward his improvised bar.

Mir smirked and leaned his head back against the couch, watching with quiet interest.

"I'm driving. And I've got work tomorrow — need to finish something for Monday. So... I'll just watch you drink."

Theo rolled his eyes at the mention of work and poured himself more champagne.

"What's the occasion, anyway?" Mir asked, nodding toward the bottles.

"Oh, I do have a reason..." Theo said mysteriously, narrowing his eyes and pausing for effect.

He took a sip and, clearly enjoying the moment, continued:

"I've been approved for a commercial — a major brand chose me for their new campaign. And they didn't even ask for auditions. They said they wanted me specifically! Can you imagine?"

He said it with disarming excitement, and Mir gave a faint, nervous laugh. He didn't need to imagine.

"Guess I should start collecting your autographs," he replied with a slight smile.

"Very possible," Theo shrugged, pacing the room again.

He couldn't seem to stay still — fueled by alcohol and triumph. He shone like in that photo with the golden glitter, while Mir sat quietly, watching the storm — beautiful and utterly uncontrollable.

"Well then... in that case, I'll leave the car here and pick it up in the morning," Mir surrendered lightly. "I'll have a couple of glasses with you."

Theo was visibly pleased. He immediately reached for a glass for his guest before he could change his mind.

"If anything, you can stay over. My couch is always at your disposal," he offered generously as he poured.

"If anything...?" Mir wanted to ask — and more than that. He had plenty of questions for this guy.

Mir sat at the table across from him and took a sip of champagne, but the cold taste did nothing to calm the strange tension in his chest.

It was obvious something was happening between them. They were spending more and more time together, and their communication felt less and less like friendship. Yet Theo always seemed to slip through his fingers. Sometimes Mir wanted to press him against the wall and demand to know what he was thinking when he asked those ambiguous questions. When he looked straight into his eyes as if he knew something more. Or when he sat across from him — relaxed, tipsy, smiling at him alone.

The music vibrated softly in the air. Theo took another sip and looked at Miroslav over the rim of his glass.

"Is there something else you want to tell me?" Mir finally asked.

Chapter Text

For a moment, silence hung between them. Theo's smile didn't disappear, but it changed—becoming more testing, almost challenging.

"You can ask anything you want," he replied, pouring himself more champagne.

There was no hint of mockery in his voice, but Mir didn't rush.

"Do you often drink like this alone?"

Theo lifted his glass, watching the bubbles swirl in the light.

"Well... I don't really talk to that many people," he drawled, taking a sip. "Actually... right now it's just you."

Mir let the pause linger. He wanted to ask a direct question so badly, but the closeness between them was both pleasant and painfully nerve-racking.

"And how do you like... our conversations?"

"I like them," Theo answered, looking at him with disarming directness—a strange mix of his usual lightness and something left unsaid. "I feel good with you," he added, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Mir smirked at how easily he said those words. He had heard them from him before.

Only Theo, of course, didn't remember that moment. Nor the words he had said back then—just as lightly, just as carelessly—without realizing how much they might mean.

It had been about a year ago.

That day Theo had come to their office after a shoot that had taken place a couple of stations away from his mother's workplace. It was late evening. In the spacious open-plan office only the glow of Miroslav's monitor remained. Theo's mother had shut herself in her office, dealing with some urgent issue with the construction crew on the phone—something that couldn't wait until morning.

Theo had taken a seat at the desk next to Mir's and settled in to wait for her.

"Why are you working alone so late?" he asked, absentmindedly playing with the metal clasp of his hoodie, producing a faint clicking sound.

"When everyone goes home, it's easier to focus in the evening silence," Mir replied, throwing him a brief glance.

Theo took the remark personally and immediately stopped fiddling with the clasp.

"I hope I'm not bothering you too much."

"Not at all," Mir answered quickly.

He looked away from the monitor, leaned back in his chair, and studied the young man sitting half a meter away from him.

"You look very tired. Working a lot?" Mir noted.

"I haven't been sleeping much these past few weeks," Theo admitted.

He straightened up and stretched with all his strength, as if trying to shake off the weight of the day. For a moment he froze in that position, then relaxed with a weary exhale.

"I have to get up at six," he added, rubbing his tired eyes. "My thesis is due soon. There's a lot to do... everything kind of piled up."

"What time do you go to bed?"

"Around two. Earlier doesn't really work."

Mir frowned slightly.

"Theo, sleep is important. Take care of yourself."

"Yeah... I probably should," the boy replied with a yawn, resting his head on his hand. "It's almost a shame I don't work here. I'd stay late too."

He paused for a second, then smiled peacefully.

"You know... it feels really good here with you."

After that he didn't say another word. He closed his eyes, lost in his own thoughts, never suspecting that someone nearby was thinking only about him.

"Why does it feel good for you to be with me?" Mir finally asked the question he had wanted to ask even back then, a year ago.

Theo looked at him attentively. There was something almost evaluating in that look.

"We're very different," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe that's why."

He tilted his head slightly, still looking straight at him without the slightest embarrassment, and added:

"What I'm more curious about is—why me?"

"Well, I don't get bored with you," Mir smirked, glancing at the boy who was already quite drunk. His movements had become slower, fluid, and his gaze slightly unfocused—though still intent.

Judging by how Theo reached for his glass again, he had no intention of stopping.

"You know..." he said again thoughtfully, looking somewhere past Mir. "When I first saw you, I could never have imagined we'd end up sitting like this, face to face."

Those words seemed to help him focus again, and his wandering gaze returned to Mir's face.

"I wonder... what was your first impression of me?"

Mir leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table and closing the distance between them to something almost provocative—their knees nearly touching. The lamplight fell unevenly across his face, emphasizing the seriousness with which he was about to answer.

"Carefree," he said slowly and clearly.

"What?! That's completely not me," Theo protested indignantly, giving him a light shove on the shoulder.

"So you're violent too," Mir complained, leaning back dramatically. "Fine. That was later. My first impression..."

He paused—not because he didn't know what to say, but because he wanted to tease this boy a little, the same way Theo teased him so effortlessly.

"I remember," he continued, "once you smiled shyly when our girls started paying attention to you. And honestly, I was surprised how someone with your looks could be that modest."

Mir let his gaze linger on Theo just a little longer than necessary, trying to catch the smallest change in his expression.

"Though lately I notice that quality in you less and less," he added with a hint of irony.

"I just got used to you," Theo replied, that same smile appearing on his face.

Got used to me, Mir thought.

"At first, though, I actually felt a little awkward around you," Theo admitted, drifting into his memories.

Mir raised his eyebrows slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Why?"

Theo couldn't help smiling.

"I can hardly remember a single time you smiled at me during those short conversations in the office," he said honestly. "You seemed strict. Very reserved... not the kind of person you could just start chatting with. Let alone become friends with."

Mir frowned faintly, realizing it might have looked that way, though it had never been his intention.

"I was probably just trying to keep several things in my head at once..."

"Yeah," Theo agreed. "You always seemed like a person who has work, tasks, goals... and nothing extra that could distract him."

He took another sip without taking his eyes off Mir.

"And honestly, I was really surprised when I saw you following me on Instagram," Theo continued. A blush played on his cheeks, and a mischievous smile curved his well-shaped lips. "By the way... how long have you been following me?"

Mir put on a casual smile, trying to hide his surprise at the question.

"You said I could ask anything I want," he replied calmly. "But so far you're the one asking most of the questions."

"Well then—your turn," Theo conceded easily.

"As you wish..." Mir drawled with mock agreement. "I actually have a question."

Theo perked up immediately.

"Then why do you want to know?" Mir asked.

"I'm just curious," Theo replied evasively, shrugging.

That was Theo in a nutshell. He could ask any question without hesitation—but was curiosity really the only thing driving him? Mir wondered.

He leaned back in his chair thoughtfully.

"You know, I've noticed something. You like leaving things unsaid."

Theo leaned back too, almost mirroring his posture.

"You know, I've noticed the same about you."

Mir smiled faintly.

"So we do have something in common after all."

"Looks like we do," Theo agreed, breaking into a grin. "That's worth a drink!"

He reached to pour more champagne, but the burning mixture of rum in his system had already weakened his coordination. With an awkward movement he knocked the glass over. Champagne spilled across the table and poured straight onto his white T-shirt.

"Damn," Theo cursed.

He stood up abruptly but immediately swayed—the room seemed to shift for a moment. He grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. Mir jumped to his feet.

"It's fine, I'll be right back..." Theo said, carefully articulating his words before heading unevenly toward the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes passed. Finally, unable to wait any longer, Mir decided to check on him.

The bathroom door was slightly open. Mir knocked quietly and peeked inside.

Theo was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the bathtub.

Mir stopped in the doorway, crossing his arms.

"How are you?"

Theo slowly turned his head toward him and gave him that same serene smile.

"I'm fine. I'll just rest here for a bit."

But he looked completely drunk. A short rest clearly wouldn't help.

For someone, tonight's drinking was definitely over.

"You shouldn't sit on the cold floor," Mir said firmly, stepping inside. "Come on. I'll help you take off the wet shirt and you can go to bed."

"Did I ever tell you you're very caring?"

Mir approached and crouched beside him.

"You're just very drunk."

"Well... let's blame it on that," Theo murmured and obediently raised his arms.

Mir took the edge of the soaked shirt and pulled it off.

And suddenly froze.

Theo was looking straight at him.

His gaze was completely clear and determined—far too aware for someone who had barely been able to stand a minute ago, as if he had sobered up in an instant.

Mir slowly leaned toward him.

Theo didn't move away. He kept looking straight at him, as if he had always known what was about to happen.

And once they were that close, all of Mir's doubts vanished along with the distance between them.

Everything suddenly felt right. Obvious.

He gently touched Theo's lips. They were warm, tasting faintly of alcohol, and they yielded easily.

The kiss was soft at first, cautious.

But soon Mir wrapped his hand firmly around the back of Theo's neck and pulled him closer, abandoning any restraint as he kissed him boldly, sliding his tongue against his. Theo answered again—and for a moment Mir felt his mind lose its footing, every thought dissolving as if it were no longer needed.

Everything that had connected them to reality disappeared.

Only their lips remained. Their warm breath. The uneven rhythm of their heartbeats.

And Theo's half-bare body, mercilessly close, its heat seeping through the fabric of Mir's shirt.

The kiss grew deeper, bolder.

And stopping became harder and harder.

But he had to.

It took a serious effort for Mir to pull away from those desired lips, remembering the state Theo was in.

He leaned back, bracing a hand on the edge of the bathtub, trying to regain control.

Theo tilted his head back. His gaze drifted again, lashes trembling.

Mir gently touched his cheek.

Theo smiled peacefully, closed his eyes, and pressed his face into his hand like a kitten.

"What am I going to do with you, Theo..." Mir whispered quietly.

For a while he remained sitting there, listening to his uneven breathing.

Eventually Mir helped him stand. It wasn't easy. Theo could barely stay on his feet, constantly leaning against the wall or against Mir's shoulder.

With effort, almost supporting his full weight, Mir guided him to the bedroom—which, surprisingly, was almost perfectly tidy this time compared to the last.

Theo collapsed onto the bed as soon as he reached it.

Already barely aware of anything, he mumbled something unintelligible—and seemed to fall asleep instantly.

Mir sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him quietly: the relaxed posture, the tousled hair, the slightly parted lips.

Staying was another kind of torture.

Leaving was too.

Tomorrow one important thing would have to be clarified.

But right now he wanted to stop time, just for a moment—keep the sweet taste of his lips and remain in this painful uncertainty a little longer.

Eventually it became completely clear that the owner of the apartment would not be returning to the evening's fun, conversations, or any participation in what had been happening.

Mir quietly stood up and left.

After leaving the residential complex, Miroslav wandered off in the opposite direction from his home.

He walked slowly through the streets wrapped in light fog, under the blurred glow of street lamps. The city felt strangely quiet and unfamiliar.

He had no destination.

He simply walked.

Eventually he reached a lively alley lined with small bars and cafés with outdoor terraces still full of people despite the late hour. He took a seat at one of them and ordered black coffee without sugar.

The waiter nodded and soon brought the cup.

Somewhere nearby soft live music played. The air was filled with unfamiliar smells. People around him chatted cheerfully, sipping wine.

Mir sat alone, drinking strong coffee on a strange street in a café in the middle of the night.

And suddenly he realized something with unexpected clarity.

He could no longer imagine his life the way it had been before.

A life in which He had not existed.