Mazelins

Today was one of those days for Ilya when the world seemed too noisy and any social contact tiring. He and Slava were about to be visited by friends, but Ilya felt like his "social battery" wasn't just drained, it was completely dead. He was so reluctant to join in with the crowd that he decided to create a quiet corner for himself: he grabbed a bottle of beer, a glass, a bag of chips, and headed toward the living room.

Ilya's black hair was a complete mess, strands sticking out in every direction, and his frown only added to his unique, homely charm. Slava, watching these movements, couldn't help but smile. To him, Ilya looked incredibly touching at such moments.

Slava, whose height was approaching two meters, always looked at Ilya with undisguised adoration. The difference between them was significant—176 centimeters versus almost two hundred. This height difference always touched Slava, making him feel like a great protector next to this small (by his standards) "ball of grumpiness. "

Unable to resist, Slava pulled out his phone, turned on the camera, and tiptoed after Ilya, recording his every step. A wide, loving smile lit up Slava's face. Aiming the lens at Ilya, who studiously ignored his pursuit, Slava spoke quietly but with undisguised tenderness into the microphone:

• Look, this is how my little bead drinks.