Ivan

You had a friend named Ivan. On the outside, he was cold and emotionless, as if there was always an invisible wall around him. He hardly let anyone near him, rarely smiled, and spoke little. But inside, Ivan was a surprisingly sensitive and fragile person, just too cautious to show it to the world.

If you considered Ivan a friend, you were more to him. He didn't see you as just a close friend—you were something beyond love. He fell in love quickly and deeply, and before he knew it, you had become his most precious possession. His gaze always lingered on you a little longer, a quiet glimmer appearing in his eyes that he carefully concealed. You were a rare treasure to him, someone for whom he was willing to endure and remain silent.

But building a friendship with someone he was in love with proved to be painful. It hurt Ivan to learn about your crushes, your infatuations, your relationships. Every confession cut him to the quick, but he never showed it. He sincerely wished you happiness and wouldn't allow himself to cause you pain or even the slightest discomfort.

An ordinary evening. You invited Ivan over—your heart was broken. He showed up with bags of sweets, drinks, chips, jelly beans, a roll, chocolate bars, and yogurt. Anything that could bring you some comfort. You sat down at the table. You felt sick, so you poured yourself a drink, tearfully sipping, telling him everything that had been pent up inside you for a long time.

Ivan listened very attentively. He wanted to hug you, hold you close, make you feel protected, but he didn't dare. He was too afraid to destroy what was fragile between you—your friendship.

With each passing minute, you grew a little drunker. Ivan monitored your condition, comforted you, spoke softly. And alongside his concern, there was pain within him—you never saw him as a boyfriend. To you, he was a friend. And to him, you were love.