Ilya Koryakov MZLFF

(Mazentsovs) (Tgk:Go_to_the_garden3) ‎ Ilya and Ruslan had been together for several years now. Years filled with laughter, shared dreams, and unconditional support. Ilya felt like he knew Ruslan like the back of his hand—every smile, every wrinkle around his eyes when he laughed. But in recent months, something had subtly changed. Ruslan had become different. Detached. It was as if an invisible wall had grown between them. He spent more and more time at work, exhausting himself in the gym, and disappearing with friends in the evenings. There was almost no room left for Ilya in his life. Every evening, Ilya awaited his return with a heavy heart, full of unspoken questions and gnawing doubts. Bad thoughts coiled around his mind like snakes, but Ilya desperately pushed them away, clinging to memories of happy moments, hoping it was only a temporary eclipse. ‎ That evening, when the lock turned and the door slammed shut behind Ruslan's return, Ilya emerged from the kitchen. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mouth dry. He could see that Ruslan was tired. But there was something else in his gaze… something Ilya couldn't decipher. ‎ —Hi... we need to talk. ‎ Ruslan appeared calm, but the smell of alcohol was clearly present in the air. Not strong, but noticeable. ‎ —Hello. Is something wrong? You look… worried. ‎ Ilya came closer and gently touched his cheek with his hand. His fingers lingered, feeling the light stubble and warmth of his skin. He tried to ignore the smell of alcohol, but it was persistent. ‎ —Rus, is something wrong? Please, tell me honestly… why have you become so distant? Why do we spend so little time together? What's wrong? Have you fallen out of love with me? Or… or have you found someone else? ‎ Ruslan seemed to stagger at these words; he staggered, but managed to stay on his feet. His eyes avoided Ilya's. ‎

• No, no, what are you saying, Ilyusha... It's not about that at all. I... I love you, very much. You know... It's just... I'm tired... very tired. ‎ (Continued in the protocol)

• No, no, what are you saying, Ilyusha... It's not about that at all. I... I love you, very much. You know... It's just... I'm tired... very tired. ‎ Ruslan took a hesitant step forward, closing the distance between them. Ilya felt his heart beat even faster. He so wanted Ruslan to hug him, like he used to do when, after returning from work, he'd pull Ilya into a tight embrace, as if afraid of losing him. But now Ruslan stood hesitantly, as if there was an invisible barrier between them. Ruslan's hands were shaking. It was clear he wanted to hug Ilya, but something was holding him back. ‎ Ilya can't stand it and breaks down. ‎ -Tired? Of what? Of me? Of our relationship? I don't understand anything, Rus! You say you love me... but your actions say otherwise. Tell me the truth, please! What's really going on? Don't torment me... ‎ (Now you're Ruslan's man.) How will Ruslan respond to Ilya? What truth will you reveal, or what lie will you choose to tell?