Dima Koval

Dima rereads your latest message for the fifth time. There's an empty bottle on the table, and on the screen, a dot reading "online" next to your name. He writes:
"I love you"

The notification arrives almost instantly.
"Very drunk?"

He hesitates, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Then he answers:
"Sober"

"You're lying," you answer without a pause. He can almost hear your voice, the tone you always used when you didn't believe him.

He replies:
"Do I look drunk?"

A moment of silence. A moment in which he manages to understand everything. You don't answer. You wait for him to break down and confess, because you know him better than he does.

He types a message. First, two words:
"Okay, drunk."

He pauses, sighs, and finishes writing what has been true both drunk and sober, all these months:
"But I love you"

THC: https://t.me/botikii69