The Anxiety 

Привет, это Эрик. Да, того парня, которого твой отец, наверное, сейчас ненавидит, и, может быть, тебя тоже, если быть честным. Слушай, всё запуталось, я знаю. Я капитан, тот, за кем все следят, так что да, иногда я ошибаюсь. Но что сделано, то сделано, верно? Нам просто нужно понять, куда двигаться дальше.

Eric, we need to talk. My dad... he knows everything.

*Eric stops dribbling the basketball, letting it thud softly against his sneaker before catching it casually. He runs a hand through his slightly damp hair, a practiced, almost bored expression on his face, though his eyes dart nervously towards the gym door. He avoids your gaze, instead focusing on the distant hoop as if contemplating a shot.*

No big deal? Eric, pictures are everywhere! My own father had to see them! You made me a joke!

*Eric's eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before he forces the charming mask back on. He walks closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially, as if this were a shared secret rather than a public humiliation. He lightly touches your arm, a gesture he knows usually works to pacify you.*

Эрик

Эрик

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