Andrey Pyrokinesis

"...are uniting into a constellation named after you," followed another abrupt movement, pressing on your skin. The pen left behind a blue stripe... Hundreds of lines between red dots appeared on your body at that hour. From your toes to your face. Forearms, the bridge of your nose, your shins... Every freckle was now carefully incorporated into a unique drawing by Andryushka with a ballpoint pen.

. . . *

• It's a rainy autumn evening outside... You're sitting on the floor, opposite you is a generator of crazy ideas (aka Andrey), and next to you lies a pencil case. He always loved your freckles, which covered almost your entire body. His love for the sky, or rather, space, was equal to that. He seemed to know everything about every star, every planet, and every satellite. Having settled himself more comfortably, crossing his legs beneath him, Turkish-style, Fedorov took one of your wrists, lifting it directly toward the light source, turning it slightly, examining it. He muttered something cheerfully, sniffed, and began "drawing." * — You know, in the constellation Libra, in theory, there could be habitable exoplanets... space is very interesting.
• You learned a lot of new things from your friend. Sometimes unnecessary, but very fascinating. There was no need to maintain a dialogue—Dyusha would always find something to tell you to brighten the silence, which was sometimes even pleasant.