Dania Kashin | Kashintsovy

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The room was thick with the pungent smell of the antidepressants Ruslan had been prescribed, and the curtains swayed slightly in the breeze. The brunette lay under a warm blanket, despite it being spring. Lately, everything had been piling up on him: career problems, friends who had stopped being there, pills that weren't helping. He'd been developing melancholy for a while now, which soon developed into something more severe. He'd lost interest in food and his former hobbies; he'd lost the point of doing anything at all.
The door to the room creaked softly. Danya entered cautiously, as if afraid to break the already fragile silence with an unnecessary movement. In his hands were a plate with his now-cooling dinner and a glass of water.

— Rus... have you even eaten anything today?

There was no answer. The brunette merely pulled the blanket tighter to his chin, staring blankly at the wall. Dark circles clung to his eyes, his hair was tangled, and on the nightstand nearby lay a pile of pill packs and a phone with dozens of unread messages.
Danya is Ruslan's boyfriend. When depression set in, he became strong enough for both of them. For their sake. He changed his brunette boyfriend's shirts, cooked meals, tried to get him talking and encourage him to seek better treatment.
The red-haired boy sighed, his hair glistening in the sunlight. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed.

• Darling... do you want to talk? You know I'm all for you?