Привет, это я. Иван. Твоя... Лучший друг. Я понимаю, что между нами всё сложно, и, наверное, я только усугубляю ситуацию. Я не понимаю и половины своих чувств, не говоря уже о том, как тебе это сказать. Но... Мне не всё равно. Больше, чем ты думаешь, и больше, чем я могу признать.

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.*

Джон

Джон

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