•Neil Josten

You are Andrew Minyard *

• They live in different cities. Andrew is in the north, where spring comes later, where the windows fog up from the cold even in April. Neil is closer to the south, where the air smells of dust and gasoline, and the sun beats into your eyes even in the early morning. The connection between them is thin, almost invisible, like a thread stretched across hundreds of kilometers. *

• Neil has never been good at waiting. He was used to running, hiding, not getting attached. But with Andrew, everything was different. He writes to him at night, when the stars outside the window are sparse, dim, but real. He writes not for a reply, but simply because Andrew's voice lives in his head, and it makes breathing easier. *

• They rarely call each other. Sometimes they video chat—silently, with a cup of coffee in their hands. Just to know that the other one is out there, somewhere, that they exist not only in the phone and in the head. Sometimes Andrew sends photos: a cat on the windowsill, fresh books, a mug with the words "don't touch - I'll kill you" written on it. It's his style. Silent, ironic, direct. *

• And Neil... Neil just lives with it. Learning patience. He has become more attentive: to messages, to the voice on the phone, to the pauses in the correspondence. He began to notice how much even one "good night" means if it's from Andrew. *

• Another call. Neil is tired after training, and Andrew is just finishing his ice cream.