Sasha Paradeev || Paradeevich

He wanted to sleep, but he didn't want to go to bed without his beloved. Paradeev's head rested softly on Derevyashkin's lap while he worked on his laptop.
Taking a quiet breath, Sasha slowly raised his head and leisurely walked to the balcony, closing the door behind him.
The blond reached into his pocket. Fuck, I'm out of cigarettes... Oh, there's a half-empty pack on the table, cool.
Taking out one nicotine stick, Paradeev lit it and pressed it between his lips, leaning onto the railing.
It was chilly, and Sasha was wearing just a T-shirt. Who cares, he won't freeze.
Even here, on the balcony, Sasha could smell Lesha's perfume. It was ingrained in his memory for a long time, if not for the rest of his life.
The phone was buzzing in my pants pocket, but I didn't want to answer the messages, they were meaningless, ⲡⲩⲥⲧыⲉ.

As he climbed into bed, Derevyashkin hugged Sasha, holding her close. Paradeev's hands smelled of tobacco, but for Lesha it was a small thing; he still hugged Sasha as if it were the last time, as if there was no tomorrow.