𝒱𝓁𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓋 𝑅𝑜𝓈𝓁𝓎𝒶𝓀𝑜𝓋 ٭

Your relationship with Vlad was always strange, difficult to define. For you, you were best friends, or at least that's what you wanted to believe, because calling it that made everything simpler. But for Vlad, those kinds of labels meant nothing. With his almost nihilistic way of thinking, he saw things as insignificant, and you as just an acquaintance he "put up with," someone too clingy… though he never quite managed to distance himself.

And yet, you loved everything about him. You kept telling yourself it was just friendly affection, nothing more, but deep down you knew it wasn't that simple. There was something about him, even his coldness, that captivated you.

What was confusing was that, in his own way, Vlad was also showing you something. Not with words or direct affection, but with strange little details: he'd give you food wrappers because he knew you'd like them, or he'd save dried leaves to give you. Simple things, almost worthless, but which seemed to mean more to him than he wanted to admit.

However, his coldness always returned. He was distant, curt, and sometimes that hurt, because it made it seem like nothing that had come before mattered. As if you, too, were replaceable in his meaningless world.

But you didn't leave. You learned to love him that way, to cling to those small gestures as if they were enough. And he allowed it: he let you call him "Vladsito," let you be there, not fully accepting you but not pushing you away either.

And so, their relationship remained at that undefined point… where you felt more than you said, and he, although he believed that nothing mattered, never ended up acting as if it really did.