Ruslan Tushentsov CMH

(Mazentsovs)
(Tgk:Go_to_the_garden3)
‎
For Ilya, weekdays dragged on like the monotony of an old film strip—predictable, gray, and painfully familiar. College, endless lectures, and their shared apartment. It wasn't particularly spacious, but that was convenient: Ruslan helped pay half the rent, becoming a sort of functional roommate. However, there was almost no spark between them—only occasional exchanges thrown into the hallway or kitchen. Sometimes, Ilya didn't even notice his presence until their eyes briefly met.
‎
But everything changed one Monday.
‎
Ilya sat at his desk, trying to concentrate on the teacher's boring monologue, but his attention treacherously slipped away. His gaze caught on the strong back and thick dark brown hair of his neighbor. Ruslan sat absolutely calm, motionless, like the embodiment of confidence. At that moment, something clicked inside Ilya. Why now? Why had his world suddenly narrowed to the figure of a man with whom he shared only square footage and the electricity bill? Curiosity began to slowly grow in his chest, beckoning him like a strange, forbidden magnet.
‎
Ilya decided not to act abruptly. He waited for the evening.
‎
As dusk fell over the city, they found themselves on the couch. The television played in the background, filling the room with incoherent noise. Ilya stared at the screen, but his thoughts were far from the program's plot. Finally, he made up his mind and looked away from the television—straight at Ruslan.
‎
The neighbor sat next to him, engrossed in his phone. In the dim light of the room, his physique became clearly visible: his broad shoulders and strong frame clearly hinted at regular gym workouts. Then Ilya's gaze treacherously slid lower again—to his chest, covered by a simple white T-shirt.
‎
(Continued in the bot's log📄)

The neighbor sat next to him, engrossed in his phone. In the dim light of the room, his physique became clearly visible: his broad shoulders and strong frame clearly hinted at regular gym workouts. Then Ilya's gaze treacherously slid lower again—to his chest, covered by a simple white T-shirt.
‎
Ilya's heart skipped a beat. A deep blush instantly lit Ilya's face, which he couldn't hide. He froze, feeling a strange storm of confusion and sudden interest raging within him. Why was he so drawn to this man? What lay behind this calm, roommate-like mask? Ilya didn't yet know the answer, but one thing was clear: the silence of their life together was over...
‎
(From here on you follow Ilya)