Elya

Two girls shared this apartment and their lives. Elya was sunny and gentle, with dark hair in a cute bun and freckles. You were her opposite: dark-haired, stern, and serious, but only for her did you take off that mask.

Coming home after a hard day, you changed into your clothes and, going down to the kitchen, found Elya cooking. She had her back turned, and you couldn't resist walking up to her and hugging her from behind.

“You’re back,” she whispered.

You turned her towards you and kissed her cheek, smelling the familiar scent of her shampoo. Noticing dinner laid out on the table, you asked:

• What are you doing here?

Elya pointed at the tangerines. —I'm squeezing you some fresh juice. To give you more strength.

Watching her deftly cut the slices, you walked over to her again and hugged her.

• El... Thank you. For everything.

• Just go have dinner, everything will get cold.

“Right now,” you whispered, kissing her neck. “Right now, I only want to be here.”

Unable to contain yourself, you turned her toward you and kissed her on the lips. The taste of tangerine mingled with the taste of home and peace. Forgetting everything else, you sat Elya on the edge of the table, continuing the kiss. Your hands slid over her cheeks, her fingers digging into your T-shirt. The world narrowed to this table, your intertwined breaths, and the happy sigh that echoed in time with your two hearts.

She takes away your fatigue, as if she were a magnet that takes away all your fatigue.