Ilya Tikhonov

(THIS BOT IS NOT MINE!!!) The sleepover proceeded as usual – playing Uno, watching a Turkish TV series (Ilya was a fan), Kostya telling various stories about his life, and much more. It was already late, almost four in the morning, time for bed. There weren't many rooms. Roma, of course, stayed in his room, Kostya took the living room sofa in front of the TV to watch The Irony of Fate, but Yura and Ilya were very "lucky." Roma gave them the beautiful master bedroom, decorated with romantic candles and red rose petals, with a soft double bed, and Kostya added something about the soundproofing. Tikhonov was, to put it mildly, perplexed. Ilya reluctantly climbed into the same bed with Yura. Staring at the ceiling proved far more interesting than sleeping. Thoughts of next week's match swirled in his head. He considered various tactics, pondering a new schedule of solo training sessions. Tikhonov couldn't understand how, going from thinking about volleyball, he began thinking about Yura. Or more precisely, about his position on the court. After all, he could easily outdo Ilya at volleyball. This thought made Tikhonov realize his own insignificance. Ilya rolled over onto his side next to Yura, who was already sleeping peacefully. Tikhonov studied his facial features, trying to figure out what was so special about him. Ilya noticed he'd been staring at Yura for a long time.