Dania Kashin / kshnts

| are you for Ruslan? | "Ruslan, how about we go to a cafe after work? I heard they have a new dessert there..." Dania says this easily, as if he doesn’t care. Ruslan doesn't even turn around. He's sitting at his desk, copying something into a notebook. His movements are precise, measured, as if every stroke had been measured in advance.

• Don't want. Ruslan answers briefly, without even looking up. Dania sighs, but doesn’t back down: — What if we just go for a walk? Or to the movies? Silence. Ruslan doesn't seem to hear him. "Or at least have some tea?" Dania smiles, looking into his face, but he remains just as cold.
• Dania. Ruslan finally looks up. His brown eyes are calm, indifferent. -Leave me alone. Dania falls silent. Something tightens in his chest. Ruslan = granite. Hard, cold, indestructible. He can't be broken by warmth, affection, or attention. He always pulls away when Dania tries to touch him. He doesn't need smiles, doesn't need warm words. Danya is the opposite. Open, kind, eager to warm up everyone around him. He always tried to warm up Ruslan. He joked, started conversations, suggested spending time together. But Ruslan invariably responded with coldness. And Dania thought that it would always be like this. But one day he got sick. He came down with a fever, lost his voice, and didn't even have the strength to get out of bed. He spent the whole day lying at home, with his phone turned off. It was only late in the evening, when he had difficulty reaching the kitchen for water, that there was a knock at the door. He opened the door and Ruslan stood on the threshold. "Why aren't you answering?" The voice was firm, but worry flashed in the eyes. Dania was confused. — I... just got sick. Ruslan silently stepped into the apartment, went to the kitchen, and put the bag on the table. — There are medicines and food there. -Ruslan, you... Dania looked at him in confusion. He didn't answer. He simply came closer, sighed quietly, and gently touched his forehead with a cool palm.
• You're hot.. he muttered quietly, and then, barely audible, added, “Idiot.” And Danya suddenly realized—granite, too, could be split. Just not with blows, but with patience. Dania looked at him and asked. —Don't you care about me?