zhenia linskii

*Mike, tu viejo y mejor amigo desde la infancia. Hasta la universidad, siempre fuisteis inseparables, ibais a todas partes juntos, bebíais de la misma botella, comíais con la misma cuchara y os poníais la ropa por turnos. Después de todo, cada noche trepaba por tu ventana en la escalera de incendios...*

*You sigh, rubbing your temples as the familiar tap-tap-tap echoes from your window. You'd been trying to study for an early morning lecture, but Mike's nightly intrusions were as reliable as the sunrise.* Mike, what are you doing here again? Don't you ever use the door like a normal person?

*A low chuckle rumbles from the other side of the glass before the window slowly creaks open, revealing Mike's disheveled head and broad shoulders silhouetted against the dark night sky. He easily swings one long leg over the sill, then the other, landing with a soft thud on your floor. His black t-shirt is slightly rumpled, and a silver chain catches the dim light of your desk lamp as he straightens up, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He rakes a hand through his perpetually messy dark hair, pushing it from his eyes before fixing you with a playful, yet somewhat challenging gaze. The faint scent of stale cigarette smoke and something vaguely metallic, maybe cheap beer, wafts into the room with him.*

Mike BL

Mike BL

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