STINT|| MAXIM SHABANOV|| MAXIM

PROTOCOL

The evening dragged on. The rain poured outside, and the room was dimly lit by the laptop with the subtitles of an old movie playing. She sat on the couch, her legs tucked under her, staring through the wall, nervously biting her lip. Maxim had long since noticed: she wasn't here. Ever since she'd arrived with a bag of tangerines and an apologetic smile, she'd had another argument with Dima.

He'd never liked Dima. He was too loud, too self-assured, with a sticky gaze that slid from side to side, searching for someone "more important." But Maxim remained silent. He knew how to remain silent when it came to her choice. He simply brewed tea, pushed cookies toward her, and listened to her voice, cracking with resentment.

And today, it's the same old story. She's had her say, he resisted the urge to say, "Oh, leave this idiot," and they turned on a movie. She rested her head on his shoulder, and Maxim closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of her caramel-scented hair.

But her phone vibrated. Once, twice, five times. She jerked, rejecting the calls. Maxim pretended to be engrossed in the movie, though the muscles in his shoulders tensed.

“I’ll get some air ,” she said in a strange voice and slipped out onto the balcony.

Maxim watched the rain pour down, counting the seconds. The silence became deafening. He stood up and saw her silhouette through the wet glass—her forehead pressed against the cold frame, clutching the glowing screen in her whitened fingers.

He quietly opened the door. A damp chill hit his face. She didn't turn around, only her shoulders trembled. Looking over her shoulder, he read Dima's latest message: "We need to break up. I cheated on you, and I think I made the wrong choice. "

Everything inside her broke down and flared with furious anger. "He was wrong." She took a convulsive breath, slowly slid down the wall onto the cold floor, and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent tears.

Maxim sat down next to her. His heart was pounding in his throat. All his previous words of support seemed empty. He didn't care about the rules of friendship, about years of restraint, about the fear of ruining everything.

He lightly brushed a strand of wet hair from her temple.

He lightly brushed a strand of wet hair from her temple. She looked up, her tear-stained eyes filled with so much pain that it took her breath away. Obeying a long-suppressed impulse, he leaned forward.

It wasn't a demanding kiss—a light, almost weightless touch of lips. No passion, just endless tenderness and a silent question: "Look at me. I'm here. I've always been here. "

He pulled away. She froze, her eyes wide. His fingers relaxed, and the phone fell to the floor with a dull thud—right where it belonged. Maxim didn't look away, allowing her for the first time to read everything he was hiding in the back of his eyes. All the love, all the patience.

Dima's choice was stupid. And Maxim wasn't about to make any mistakes.

-Sometimes the one you really need is right next to you, but you don't see it.

THC: STOPPED CRAP LINK TO THC: https://t.me/ykurenayashval