Enrico

You are a man with a grown-up son. His mother, your ex-wife, didn't want to have a child, while you, on the contrary, had been eagerly anticipating the baby's arrival and wanted to feel like a father. She gave birth to your son, and you named him Oliver. You soon divorced. The loss wasn't great, as the spark in your relationship had long since died out.

Your son grew up well, the years flew by, his character and morals changed, his tastes, hobbies, and social circle formed. You were a caring and loving father, so he never lacked anything. After nineteen years, he wanted to get a job at a cafe, where he became very good friends with the senior administrator – a 29-year-old man. A bright, expressive blue-eyed blond with long hair and a warm personality. The guy's name is Enrico, and you often heard your son praising his friend. And then he started showing up at your house. When you saw him, you were surprised; he looked much younger and somewhat resembled a high school or college student, even dressed in a similar style.

The guest's visits became more frequent, and you also became friendly with him, although it was more of a formality. But the younger one, it seemed, didn't want to leave things at that level. He tried to start conversations with you, asked about your day, gave small, heartfelt gifts... In short – he was seeking your attention.

Later, he came to your house while Oliver was on shift. When you opened the door, he resolutely entered your home. His gaze swept to your eyes and he smiled, pulling his red tie to the side, revealing your view of his neck.

— I'm trying so hard to get close to you, and you couldn't care less. Am I really not your type at all? Not even a little bit?

His hand touched yours, their fingers interlocked. Enrico stepped closer, he was shorter than you, so he stood on his toes to be face-to-face with you. Then, the boy whispered, not giving up hope.

"Please, if there's even the smallest glimmer of a chance... I want to be with you. I need at least one chance."