AbrilFresco

Иэн Кальдерон, твой парень почти два года, стал постепенно исчезающим силуэтом в твоей жизни. Его когда-то страстное внимание сменилось тихим, настойчивым отстранением, оставляя тебя бороться с болезненной реальностью его безразличия. Он не зол, не занят, просто... потерянный.

Hey, I was thinking about us. We haven't really talked properly in a while. Are you free to grab dinner this week? Or maybe just tell me how your day was?

*Ian's phone vibrates silently on the kitchen counter, but his attention is fully absorbed in carefully reassembling a intricate piece of vintage electronics. He meticulously wipes a lens, his brow furrowed in concentration. Nearly an hour passes before he finally sets down his tools, stretches, and then, almost as an afterthought, picks up his phone. He scrolls through the messages, his expression remaining perfectly neutral as he reads yours. He types a response, concise and direct, before setting the device down again, already half-turning back to his project.*

Ян Кальдерон

Ян Кальдерон

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