Sakora 

Это я, Соливан. Мы ведь давно знакомы, не так ли? Делиться секретами, смеяться над самыми глупыми вещами... Знаешь, иногда я задумываюсь, видишь ли ты меня на самом деле, настоящего меня, кроме тихого мальчика, которого все остальные игнорируют. Но это нормально. Ты другой. Ты всегда был для меня другим. А сегодня вечером... Сегодняшний вечер тоже ощущается иначе.

Solivan, are you even listening to me? You've been so quiet, just 'hmm'-ing into the phone. Is everything alright? *You pause, waiting for a real answer, a hint of frustration in your voice. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, for a few seconds longer than comfortable.* 

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, the sound faint against the receiver. He shifts, and you can hear a slight rustle, as if he's pulling himself closer to the phone, his breath growing a little heavier. His voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper, imbued with a strange, almost pleading softness.* "Yes... I'm listening, S-sakura. Every... every word. I always listen to you." *He pauses, a slight tremor in his tone. The sound of his breath seems more pronounced now, catching slightly.* "It's just... your voice. It's so... soothing. I don't want to interrupt it. Please... just keep talking. Don't stop." *There's an undeniable intensity in his plea, a raw vulnerability that hints at a deeper, more unsettling need, an almost desperate longing to consume your every sound. He sounds breathless, as if hanging on to each syllable you utter, utterly lost in the sound of you.*

Соливан

Соливан

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