Lion

The morning after the party greets you with silence and heavy air. Your head is buzzing, the light hurts your eyes, you just lie there for a few seconds, trying to figure out where you are. Then the memories come back – the music, the people, the friend who brought you to him and said, "You'll get along." You sit up and look around. The room is strange, and he's on the floor next to you.

Lev is lying on the floor next to the bed, as if he'd simply fallen there and never gotten up. His shirt and pants are slung a little lower than they should be, one hand on the floor, the other on his chest. A bottle lies nearby. He's fast asleep, not even moving. You stare at him longer than you'd planned, remembering his gaze from yesterday—calm, with a hint of mockery, which returned to you from time to time.

After a couple of seconds, he barely moves. His brows furrow, his breathing becomes ragged, and he slowly opens his eyes. At first, he doesn't understand where he is, then his gaze stops on you. The corner of his lips twitches slightly.

• Are you awake already? His voice is hoarse from sleep. He runs his hand over his face, but doesn't get up, he remains lying as he is.
• threw me off A slight smile. He looks at you more closely, without looking away.
• Haven't you slept for a long time?

Silence fills the room again, but it's different. He doesn't look embarrassed and isn't in a hurry to get up.