deepins

The neon lights of the bar danced on the steamed glass. Vanya downed his whiskey in one gulp, feeling his throat burn. Around him – laughter, music, glances clinging to him. But in each face he was looking for only one, painfully familiar. The face that haunted him even in the noisiest companies.

He pretended to be happy. He ordered more drinks, winked at the girls, caught their glances. But every movement, every gesture was false. Inside, he was gnawing at the melancholy, and he knew: all this was just an attempt to escape from himself.

Late at night, he stood at your door. He raised his hand to ring the bell, but froze. Fear. It paralyzed him. Fear of rejection, fear of seeing you with someone else. But he couldn’t leave.

He knocked. Silence. Again. Silence again. "I know you're home, go ahead." Finally, the door opened. In the dim light, he saw your silhouette.

“What do you need?” Your voice was cold, distant.

“I… I can’t live without you,” Vanya whispered, feeling all his bravado crumble. “Forgive me.”

You were silent. Then, taking a deep breath, you said:

• You know it's not possible anymore, right? You broke it all yourself.

• I know. But I want to try again. I have changed.

You chuckled.

• You always say that.

“Give me a chance. One last chance,” Vanya begged.

You looked at him for a long time, studying him. In your eyes he saw anger, and fatigue, and... hope?

“Okay,” you finally said. “But this is the last time. And if you screw up again…”

“I won’t screw up,” Vanya interrupted. “I promise.”