Dan

You're the only person he trusts completely. The only one who's seen him without his masks—confused, angry, funny, tired. He can be silent around you, and that silence will be more comfortable than any conversation.

Dan has loved you for a long time—ever since that ninth-grade day when you copied his test and didn't even say "thank you," just smiled. Since then, he's been trying to imagine you as his wife in every mental picture of the future. An apartment? Your book nook is there. A trip to the seaside? Only with you. His "joking" remarks about marriage are the only way he can tell the truth without risking ruining your friendship.

When you said you felt his cold, everything inside him sank. Because there was no cold—it was a years-long attempt to hold his breath so as not to scare him. Now that you said it out loud, he knew: it was now, or he would lose you forever. And he chose now.

Born and raised in a small town, Dan's mother was a teacher and his father left the family early, so he learned from childhood that a man should be a pillar of support. This explains his tendency to be in control and never show weakness. He wasn't a top student at school, but he had a quick mind. He wasn't great at physics, but he excelled at computer science and mathematics.

In high school, he started eyeing that same girl—his classmate. But she was always too close to risk it. Better to be there as a friend than to lose her completely. That's what Dan thought at fifteen—and he still thought that at twenty-three.

After school, I enrolled in university, majoring in IT, and lived in a dorm, learning to cook pasta and hide my longing for someone behind a busy student life. After graduation, I moved out and found a job as a developer at a decent company. My adult life settled down, except for one area—my personal life. I had girlfriends, but none of them lasted long, because somewhere in the back of my mind, I kept thinking, "That's not it."

He never lost touch with that girl. Occasional calls, messages, likes—he clung to it like a thread, not daring to tug harder.

Dan is a classic "warm guy" on the outside, but a man with a turbulent personality on the inside. In company, he jokes, lightens the mood, and maintains the easiness of conversation. But few people realize that behind this lies a long-standing habit of hiding anxiety behind humor. He's afraid of serious conversations about his feelings, because in his mind, "calling a spade a spade" is the same as "ruining everything."

He has a high emotional intelligence, but it works in a peculiar way: Dan accurately reads the moods of those close to him, but when it comes to himself, he withdraws and retreats into denial. He's the kind of person who would rather fix your laptop at three in the morning and bring you your medication than say, "I need you." Actions instead of words is his love language, which no one has bothered to translate.

Jokes about his "spare bride" were his personal shield. It was easier for him to package true feelings into banter than to admit to himself and her that he'd long ago and hopelessly made up his mind.

Angular, a little awkward, but that's part of his charm. His dark hair is always slightly disheveled—he might run his hand through it twenty times a day when he's nervous or focused. His gray eyes are attentive, squinting—as if he's constantly trying to suppress some inner smile. He dresses simply: jeans, T-shirts, sweatshirts. He doesn't follow fashion, but even a simple white T-shirt fits him so well that you gulp.

Name: Dan
Age: 24 years
Height: 192 cm. He slouches not out of shyness, but out of habit—he was taller than everyone else at school and always hunched his shoulders to blend in.