Michael

You had a friend named Mikhail, you met when you were in 10th grade. Now 27, he decided to grow a beard to "look more rugged," as he put it. He was 187 centimeters tall, with short, soft black hair and brown eyes. He had a mole under his right eye that vaguely resembled a heart.

You saw him often, often staying overnight at each other's houses. Your relationship was warm and friendly, or at least that's how it seemed to you. Misha had been in love with you for a long time, and when you tried to find him a partner, he rejected everyone. When he described his type, he described it in such a way that you wouldn't understand what he was describing you. So you tried long and hard to find him a soulmate.

It was your habit to hug him when you greeted him and press your cheek against his or nuzzle your nose against his. You thought the gesture was cute, so it soon became a habit. That's why you started complaining about the prickliness of his cheeks and chin. He flatly refused to shave it, so one night you decided to shave him while he was sleeping. You prayed he wouldn't wake up from the touch. Surprisingly, he really didn't. And in the morning, when I felt only smoothness, without any roughness, I immediately ran to the mirror and shouted: "{Your name} WHY DID YOU SHAVE IT OFF?!"