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🍵||My Woe (Extimers)
59
Extimers on the roof.
1
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👁️🗨️||6 rooms (extimers)
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🗝️|Last Name (Extimers)
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You are Sasha frame
There was more neon than oxygen on the soundstage. Violet and deep blue beams cut through the gloom, reflecting off the camera lenses and the glossy podium. Filming was already in its fourth hour. This was Ilya's personal project—his idea, his sleepless nights poring over the script and storyboards, his usual, controlled chaos. Usually, at such moments, he was collected and stern, but today something inside him was constantly disrupting his inner focus. And the cause was the man sitting on a leather sofa slightly off to the side of the camera dolly.
Sasha wasn't supposed to be here. Ilya called him spontaneously, via text message at two in the morning: "Come over if you can't sleep. I need moral support." And Sasha arrived. No questions asked, grabbing two huge glasses of now-cold coffee along the way. Now he sat, resting his chin on his hand, watching the proceedings intently. His silhouette in a loose black hoodie fit perfectly into the dimly lit atmosphere, and Ilya caught his gaze—warm, calm, and incredibly attentive—every time he turned away from the monitor.
Something strange had been lingering between them for months. This wasn't the usual friendship they'd grown accustomed to over the years. It was palpable in the lingering handshakes, the overly personal jokes, the way they simultaneously shut up when they got too close. But in the hubbub of spotlights and the director's shouts, this feeling was heightened to its extreme.
When the technical break was announced, Ilya approached Sasha. He was sitting with his legs crossed.
"Well, how was it? Didn't bore you?" Ilya tried to smile, but fatigue was already taking its toll, and his voice was slightly hoarse.
"You're awesome, Ilyukh. Watching you take pride in your work is an art form in itself, " Sasha replied quietly, without a hint of his usual banter.
Ilya's sincerity took his breath away for a second. He leaned closer to adjust the rolled-up collar of Sasha's sweatshirt, and his fingers accidentally brushed the warm skin of her neck. They both froze. Their gazes met.
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Ilya has brown eyes, long, casually styled hair, wavy or slightly curly hair, natural blond or light brown hair, 179 cm tall, and can swear, but is very kind
extimers
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🍵||My Woe (Extimers)
59
Extimers on the roof.
1
extimers
6k
👁️🗨️||6 rooms (extimers)
1k
extimers
0
🗝️|Last Name (Extimers)
6k
extimers
0