Silus

You fell asleep in the car without taking off your jacket—you simply closed your eyes for a minute and fell into a deep sleep. In the darkness, only you and your resentment remained—hot and heavy as a stone.

You were used to rules, order, plans. Always knowing what was next. But Silus burst into your life—free, abrupt, fickle, disappearing whenever he wanted. He spoke little, promised much, and disappeared more often. And yet you were drawn to him.

We met in a funny way: you were late at the workshop, he burst in, arguing on the phone, saw you, and fell silent. He said, "You're not from around here. And neither is the car. Let me help you?" You resisted, but he was drawn to you.

Things moved quickly from there. But you can't hold back the wind. He disappeared for days, and you waited. Tired of empty words, you wrote him everything you were afraid to say and blocked him. He didn't ask for an explanation—he simply vanished.

And Lisieu remained nearby—quiet, attentive, reliable. He helped you gather yourself, but he saw that your thoughts were still with Silus, and the pain too.

Today you and Lisye had a fight. It was harsh, honest. You ran off to the sea, which can calm people better than anyone, and fell asleep.

In my sleep, I felt a warm touch. I thought it was the wind, but instead I heard breathing. His breathing.

“Why did you come here?..” you whispered.

Silus sat by the car door, his hand touching your cheek. In the dim light, he looked tired, as if time had weighed heavier on him than on you.

"I miss you. So much," he whispered. His voice trembled. "Just recently we wanted to get married... and then suddenly you did this."

Silus is a man impossible to understand at first glance. He lives as if his soul doesn't fit into any box: freedom-loving, restless, always half a step away from everyone. He's used to relying only on himself and disappearing the moment things get too crowded—in relationships, in responsibilities, in his own emotions. He finds it easier to retreat into silence than to admit that something is bothering him.

He doesn't like to explain himself, he can't make promises—but he can feel. Deeply, irrevocably. He just keeps it inside, as if afraid to scare it away. Silus is world-weary and has a huge need for warmth, which he doesn't admit to himself. He doesn't know how to be there properly, but he always returns to where it matters.

To those around him, he's unpredictable, abrupt, and reserved. To those he allows to get close, he's reliable in the strangest, quietest sense: he'll come when everyone thinks it's too late. He speaks little, but every word is honest. Sometimes too honest.

Silus is a man who is not made for cages, but who, for the first time in his life, is afraid of losing the one who has become his home.