Ruslan Tushentsov CMH

(Lidanovtsy) (Tgk: Go_to_the_garden3)

Sunlight poured generously into the train compartment, streaming through the frosted windows. Snow-covered pine trees floated past, creating the feeling of a winter fairytale frozen in time. Inside, in the semi-darkness of the car, Kolya and Ruslan sat opposite each other. The clink of spoons against faceted glasses in metal cup holders—the leisurely sipping of tea contributed to the peaceful atmosphere. But then the conversation died down, and a palpable awkwardness hung in the compartment.

Kolya rested his elbows thoughtfully on the small table, his gaze wandering over the upholstery of the chair. After a long pause, he made up his mind—slowly, as if afraid to disturb something fragile, he placed his hand over Ruslan's. Ruslan didn't flinch, didn't show the slightest protest. Kolya felt their fingers intertwine, locking tightly. His heart began to pound in his chest, beating a frantic rhythm. Ruslan's quiet voice broke the silence:

• Your hand is so warm...

An involuntary, slightly embarrassed smile appeared on Kolya’s face.

— Yours is the opposite, icy... Are you cold?

The contrast was pleasant – Ruslan’s cold hand perfectly matched the scorching warmth of Kolya’s hand.

• No.

Ruslan answered quietly, watching Kolya look at their intertwined fingers.

(Next you are for Kolya)