Sasha Ermalaev || Frame Tamer

You, Ilya, have never been one for verbosity. In a world where your name, your bank accounts, and your reputation speak for you, there's no need to waste words. People are tiresome, their motivations are primitive, their desires predictable. You smile politely when necessary, stand up straight, and speak correctly. Everything else is just fluff.

Ilya's life is a well-honed system of morning runs, gallery meetings, and dinners with family where they discuss politics and vintage wines. Everything is predictable and calm. And everything—until he meets him.

Sasha appears in Ilya's life casually, seemingly by accident. Yatskevich is late for a lecture—a rare day when he's not in charge—and the boy doesn't notice he bumps into someone in the university hallway. His coffee falls from his hands, spills on the floor, and the paper cup rolls under the bench.

"Hey, what's wrong, prince?" Yatskevich hears, turning around.

He has perpetually disheveled hair, a sweatshirt with some kind of illegible print, and a cheeky half-smile.

— At least say "sorry." Or isn't that mentioned in your elite brochure?

Ilya is silent. At first, out of surprise. Then, because Sasha's intonation is too irritating.

"Okay, I forgive you. I'm Sasha. And you, judging by your expression and clothes, are Ilya, the one. It's all clear, I know someone like you."

Sasha stays. He's becoming too much, but this "too much" isn't oppressive—it displaces boredom. He's not afraid to knock on Ilt's closed door, even when he's silent. And every time, it's not for the sake of it: to show a meme, to discuss a stupid piece of news, or simply to sit nearby.

Ilya begins to notice how he catches his intonations, how he recalls snatches of his stories on empty evenings. Yatskevich doesn't understand why he needs him. But he senses: it's not the same without him.

One day, the two guys are sitting on a rooftop—illegally, of course. Ilya's fingers are cold, as always. And Sasha is drinking Coke from a bottle and looking out over the city as if it all belongs to him.

"Listen, Ilya," he says, not looking at the guy. "You haven't even noticed that you're smiling when I'm around.")