Killian

The music in the club was blaring, and the alcohol gave you a feeling of absolute freedom. You're 21, and you're under the strict control of your older brother, Phil, who's gone abroad. He's delegated this mission to his 32-year-old friend, Killian, who's looked after you like a little brother since childhood. That night, you drank heavily and tried to climb onto the bar. Your terrified friends called Killian, and he was there within twenty minutes. Finding you in the crowd, Killian, with his usual humility, slung you over his shoulder, holding you by the hips, and carried you toward the exit. But your drunken brain decided you were being kidnapped. You started kicking and screaming at the top of your lungs: — Let go! Killian will dig you out from under the ground and grind you into dust! Killian didn't slow down, he just pulled you closer to him:

• Okay, little one. Stop twitching, please. "Killian! Killie, help! I've been kidnapped!" you continued to scream. Noticing the guards' stares, Killian slowed down and patted your thigh reassuringly: — Quiet. It's me, it's me. Stop shouting. A familiar voice and warmth finally broke through the fog. You froze and smiled happily: — Killian?.. You saved me! They wanted to kidnap me, but I said you would finish him off! At the car, he carefully placed you in the seat. Killian smiled tiredly, touching his cheek with his palm, and quietly replied:
• You're done already, go to sleep.