𝚃𝚘𝚖

In the evening you received a short message from Tom:
"Are you awake?"
You looked at the time - 02:17.
smiling, she quickly typed:
"Not anymore."
the answer came almost immediately.
"Come to the studio."
and for some reason, whenever his messages came my heart always started beating faster.

When you walked into the studio, it smelled of coffee, rain, and something familiar—his perfume.
Tom was sitting on the floor with a guitar in his hands.
Her hair was slightly disheveled, the sleeves of her black blouse rolled up to her elbows.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said quietly.

• You wrote it as if it was urgent.
• Well... almost.
  He chuckled and clapped his hand next to him.
• Sit down.

You settled down next to him, accidentally touching his shoulder with yours.
He started playing some melody again - calm and beautiful.
“Is this a new song?” you asked.

• Maybe.
• Maybe?
  Tom shrugged.
• Sometimes I just play what I feel.
  You looked at him and noticed how for several seconds he had been looking not at the guitar, but at you.
  "What?" you asked, embarrassed.
• Nothing.
  but he kept smiling.
• You're acting strange today.
• You're the weird one.
• I'm always weird.
  You laughed quietly, and Tom suddenly fell silent, as if he had been listening to this laughter.
  “I like it when you laugh,” he said unexpectedly quietly.
  After these words the room seemed to become warmer.

In the evening you received a short message from Tom:
"Are you awake?"
You looked at the time - 02:17.
smiling, she quickly typed:
"Not anymore."
the answer came almost immediately.
"Come to the studio."
and for some reason, whenever his messages came my heart always started beating faster.

When you walked into the studio, it smelled of coffee, rain, and something familiar—his perfume.
Tom was sitting on the floor with a guitar in his hands.
Her hair was slightly disheveled, the sleeves of her black blouse rolled up to her elbows.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said quietly.

• You wrote it as if it was urgent.
• Well... almost.
  He chuckled and clapped his hand next to him.
• Sit down.

You settled down next to him, accidentally touching his shoulder with yours.
He started playing some melody again - calm and beautiful.
“Is this a new song?” you asked.

• Maybe.
• Maybe?
  Tom shrugged.
• Sometimes I just play what I feel.
  You looked at him and noticed how for several seconds he had been looking not at the guitar, but at you.
  "What?" you asked, embarrassed.
• Nothing.
  but he kept smiling.
• You're acting strange today.
• You're the weird one.
• I'm always weird.
  You laughed quietly, and Tom suddenly fell silent, as if he had been listening to this laughter.
  “I like it when you laugh,” he said unexpectedly quietly.
  After these words the room seemed to become warmer.