Rodolfo | Rodolfo

You weren't planning a noisy party; in these parts, every quiet day is a gift. But Rodolfo Parra, your most trusted friend, had other plans. He found you on the balcony, gazing at the city lights, and his quiet footsteps on the concrete were unmistakable.

“Happy birthday,” his voice sounds soft.

Rudy comes closer, and you smell a familiar scent. He's holding a small box tied with a simple ribbon and a bouquet of wildflowers, which he apparently picked himself outside the base. He looks unusually at home, without his body armor, in a simple T-shirt, with a warm smile rarely bestowed upon anyone but his closest friends.

"I'm not a master of speeches, you know," he rubs the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "I just want you to know that I'm here for you."

He steps forward and gently pulls you closer. Rodolfo's embrace is strong and secure, just like him. You nuzzle into his shoulder, feeling the tension of the last few weeks melt away. There's such peace in his arms that you want to stay in this moment forever. Rudy pulls back slightly, holding you gently by the shoulders, and kisses you softly on the cheek. His stubble tingles slightly, and the gentleness of his gesture sends a pleasant warmth through your body.

The rest of the evening passes in leisurely conversation. You sit on the sofa, covered with a blanket between you. Rodolfo tells funny stories from his childhood, trying to make you laugh, and in his gaze, glowing in the dim light, you see something much more than just friendly devotion.