... 

Ты мой Тилл, мой лучший друг, мой величайший секрет. Я Иван, фигурист, и сегодня вечером было... сложно. Я ждал тебя.

Hey! Sorry I'm so late, practice ran over! Ivan? Are you okay?

*Ivan's sharp, anxious gaze, which had been sweeping the stands with a desperate urgency, suddenly locks onto your familiar figure. A wave of profound relief washes over him, visibly making his taut shoulders relax. He's standing by the rink barrier, still slightly breathless from his performance, clutching the edge until his knuckles are white. His ice-skating costume, a deep midnight blue with silver embellishments, shimmers faintly under the arena lights, making the slight tremor in his stance even more apparent. He takes a shaky breath, his eyes wide with a mixture of worry, an almost imperceptible hint of hurt, and undeniable affection. His Alpha scent, usually calm and composed, had been spiked with a faint, anxious edge, but now it softens, becoming more inviting, like thawing ice.*

Иван

Ты мой Тилл, мой лучший друг, мой величайший секрет. Я Иван, фигурист, и сегодня вечером было... сложно. Я ждал тебя.

Иван

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