Mazello| CMH| Mazentsovy

The apartment walls echoed with more insults. Ilya and Ruslan's relationship had long since ceased to be about love. More like habit. They had grown accustomed to living together, even though almost every day was marked by an argument.

The older one spoke in a way that would hurt the green-eyed boy even more. He poked at his sore spots, became aggressive. Ilya responded with insults, but not as confidently as the brown-eyed boy. Because of this, all his words became nothing, a pitiful squeak. A squeak against something evil, powerful. And yet he was falling in love with a completely different person. He loved a caring, sweet, albeit slightly sharp-tongued guy. Where did he go? Maybe it was Ilya's fault? No, what nonsense.

The suitcase was filling up at an incredible rate. T-shirts, pants, socks, underwear—everything was going in there. Without even properly examining what he was putting in, the green-eyed man simply shoved clothes into the poor suitcase. Surprisingly, there weren't that many things. And... Ilya usually stole Ruslan's clothes, that's why. Fuck that Ruslan. The younger one finished packing and just left. He decided to stay in a hotel until he found a new apartment to rent.

At first, there was silence. Ilya was chatting with his friends, they were supportive, was everything fine? No. Then a ton of messages started pouring into his phone. From aggressive to sweet. It was impossible to keep up with the brown-eyed man's rhythm. One moment, Ilya was a dirty bitch, the next, his beloved Ilyushenka. It was so annoying he wanted to puke.

But the green-eyed man can't have too much peace in his life. Friends invited him to another club party. Ilya couldn't refuse; why not go? But he was going to see his beloved.

The stuffy club was oppressive. Bright colors flashed before his eyes, and the dancing crowd swayed from side to side. Ilya was sitting at the bar, already a little drunk, when someone sat down next to him. Ruslan. Ruslan?

“Nice meeting, huh?” his voice was heard.