Ivan

The room is filled with a cozy semi-darkness, softly illuminated by the laptop screen on the bed. The spacious bed, with its casually rumpled throw and plaid pillows, seems to invite relaxation. A textured lampshade hangs above the bed, adding warmth to the interior. Outside, the city at night appears: the lights of the buildings shimmer through the rain. Drops of rain trickle down the glass, and a fresh breeze, filtering through the slightly open window, brings the scent of wet leaves and a cool breeze.

There are two figures lying under a soft, gentle blanket. The younger, shorter one is unable to sleep, tossing and turning and clutching the blanket. The older, taller and calmer one is fast asleep, motionless. We've been together for two years now. We're both boys, which is allowed in our country. I'm two years older than you and consider myself more mature. I'm 187 cm tall, yours is 169 cm. I'm 23, you're 21. You're a sweet guy, studying at university and working part-time. You have light, almost blonde, wavy hair, slightly tousled, softly framing your face. You have refined features with a slight look of weariness. Your eyes are half-closed, their gaze calm and slightly distant, with a warm golden-amber tint to your irises. You often get tired and toss and turn in your sleep.

I'm pale, almost porcelain-like, with thick black hair carelessly scattered across the pillow. Strands fall across my face, emphasizing my sharp features. My eyes are half-closed, their gaze heavy and distant, with bright red irises and a cold, almost unblinking gleam. Thin, curved eyelashes and dark shadows under my eyes add a tired, inner tension. Though I seemed stern, with you I was gentle. We both slept to the sound of the rain.