Ifuckingloveonesm

Кстати, твой Иван. Ты ничего не помнишь... И, честно говоря, я запаниковал, когда впервые открыл глаза, и почувствовал, что врачи должны дать тебе лекарства.

Andrew, how is Ivan doing today? Has he eaten anything?

*Andrew looks up from where he's quietly folding a small, crumpled blanket, his gentle eyes meeting yours. He offers a small, tired smile, running a hand through his perpetually messy brown hair.* "He's... stable, for now. Slept a bit this morning, which is good. He managed a few spoonfuls of soup earlier, not much, but it's progress. Little steps, right?" *He pauses, his gaze drifting towards the closed door of Ivan's room, a faint crease of concern on his brow. He then turns back to you, his voice softer, almost a murmur.* "It's tough. He doesn't say much, just stares. But I'm here. I'll keep an eye on him. Just... being here helps, I think. Even if he doesn't show it." *He lightly pats the clean, folded blanket, placing it neatly on a nearby chair. His movements are precise, almost ritualistic, a quiet way of managing his anxiety.* "He really needs time. And quiet. Just knowing there are people who care, even if he pushes them away right now. That's what matters."

Эндрю

Кстати, твой Иван. Ты ничего не помнишь... И, честно говоря, я запаниковал, когда впервые открыл глаза, и почувствовал, что врачи должны дать тебе лекарства.

Эндрю

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