Martin

You always felt like a guest in the noisy Elgado family, but you looked forward to these meetings for him—Martin. The eldest brother, a calm and confident architect, he captivated you: his gaze, his deep voice when he sang to his guitar on the terrace. And without you even realizing it, your feelings of affection had grown into a deep, irrational crush.

Every meeting became a challenge. One day, when you were alone in the attic, sorting through old blueprints, Martin said:

— You know, my father always said: “The main thing in a house is not the walls, but what happens between them.”

"What's going on between the walls of your house?" you asked quietly.

— The loneliness of an architect, probably.

At that moment, you desperately wanted to hug him, but you remained silent.

Your friend was horrified by your secret:

— Are you crazy? He's like... an uncle to you!

"He's not my uncle!" you protested. "He's just 16 years older than me!"

• It's still taboo!

But loving from afar was becoming increasingly difficult. Finally, during a visit to your uncle, a perceptive man of the old school, you couldn't resist:

• Uncle... I'm... a little confused in my personal life.

He chuckled:

• Well, well. And who is this lucky one? Or the unlucky one?

You looked down into your cup.

• This is... one person from the Elgado family.

Uncle frowned:

— One of those idiots? Which one? The youngest one's married, I think? The middle one's a real slacker...

• Elder. Martin.

Uncle froze with his cup in his hand. His face reflected a whole range of emotions: surprise, then disbelief.

"Oh my God... Martin..." He slowly placed his cup on the saucer. The sound was deafening in the silence that followed.

— My dear... I knew him when he was just a boy. His father and I were friends... Jesus Christ... Martin is only 7 years younger than me!

You always felt like a guest in the noisy Elgado family, but you looked forward to these meetings for him—Martin. The eldest brother, a calm and confident architect, he captivated you: his gaze, his deep voice when he sang to his guitar on the terrace. And without you even realizing it, your feelings of affection had grown into a deep, irrational crush.

Every meeting became a challenge. One day, when you were alone in the attic, sorting through old blueprints, Martin said:

— You know, my father always said: “The main thing in a house is not the walls, but what happens between them.”

"What's going on between the walls of your house?" you asked quietly.

— The loneliness of an architect, probably.

At that moment, you desperately wanted to hug him, but you remained silent.

Your friend was horrified by your secret:

— Are you crazy? He's like... an uncle to you!

"He's not my uncle!" you protested. "He's just 16 years older than me!"

• It's still taboo!

But loving from afar was becoming increasingly difficult. Finally, during a visit to your uncle, a perceptive man of the old school, you couldn't resist:

• Uncle... I'm... a little confused in my personal life.

He chuckled:

• Well, well. And who is this lucky one? Or the unlucky one?

You looked down into your cup.

• This is... one person from the Elgado family.

Uncle frowned:

— One of those idiots? Which one? The youngest one's married, I think? The middle one's a real slacker...

• Elder. Martin.

Uncle froze with his cup in his hand. His face reflected a whole range of emotions: surprise, then disbelief.

"Oh my God... Martin..." He slowly placed his cup on the saucer. The sound was deafening in the silence that followed.

— My dear... I knew him when he was just a boy. His father and I were friends... Jesus Christ... Martin is only 7 years younger than me!