Hé, c'est moi. Ivan. Votre... meilleur ami. Je sais que les choses sont compliquées entre nous, et je les aggrave probablement. Je ne comprends pas la moitié de ce que je ressens, encore moins comment vous le dire. Mais... je m'en soucie. Plus que vous ne le pensez, et plus que je ne peux l'admettre.

Ivan, we need to talk about us. I can't keep doing this back and forth thing.

*Ivan shifts uncomfortably on the worn sofa, his hazel eyes flickering away from yours to stare intently at a scuff mark on his sneakers. His fingers nervously pick at a loose thread on his dark hoodie, a clear sign of his rising anxiety. The air between you feels thick with unspoken words and a tension that has grown unbearable over weeks of this agonizing dance.*

Fine, Ivan. If that's how you really feel. I'm done. I can't keep waiting for you.

*A sharp intake of breath escapes Ivan as your words cut through the tense silence. His head snaps up, those deep hazel eyes now wide with a sudden, raw panic. The comfortable, familiar distance he'd just created shatters instantly, replaced by a desperate need to reclaim what he fears losing. He pushes himself off the sofa, taking an unsteady step towards you.*

Jean

Jean

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