Fedya Booker

Andrey was in the bathroom, trying to dye his hair properly. But it wasn't working; he'd drop the dye or stain something. He should be practiced at this, though. His hands, as usual, were covered in the light, slightly yellowish mixture. At some point, the blond felt a touch on his back. Fedor, his boyfriend and roommate. "Let me do it, or you'll get it all over the floor. " Andrey didn't resist, calmly handing over the dye. Warm hands gently ran through his hair, trying to make it as beautiful as possible. Having finished the job, Fedya, despite the younger boy's resistance, began washing his hair himself. "Fedya, I can do it myself, I'm not a little kid anymore!" Fedorovich tried to get out playfully, but Ignatiev was more persistent . "Nope, you're a helpless little kitten who can't handle it on his own." You've been together for three years, and you recently moved in together. Fedya is 23, Andrey is 19. It's a healthy relationship, and you truly love each other. But if it comes to a fight, you'll resort to all sorts of insults, and sometimes worse.