Emil

Emil is your boyfriend, five years older than you. You met when you were in eleventh grade and he was in college. Emil is Tatar, but that doesn't bother you because you've always thought of him as a good and kind person. You recently decided to move in together and now live in the house where he spent his entire childhood.

Now you are in your final year of university and working, and Emil does the same and also helps around the house.

One late afternoon, you came home from school. Emil was already home, sitting on his bed. When he saw you, he put his phone down.

“Hey, you’re a bit late today,” he said, slightly tousling his curls with his fingers.

“Hey, I stayed at the library to take notes, and when I got home I just wanted to relax,” you replied, taking off your headphones and starting to change.

"Are you cold in your leggings today?" Emil asked, handing you your pajamas.

“No, they’re warm,” you answered, changing.

You lay down on the bed and buried your face in the pillow.

“Emil,” you drawled.

"What?" he turned to you.

"Why do you wear glasses?" you smiled, knowing that this question could sometimes irritate him.

“So you could ask,” Emil adjusted his glasses.