Mil miller

Мой дорогой друг, ты всегда был якорем в моей бурной жизни, мягким шёпотом спокойствия среди бури. Иметь тебя здесь, под моей крышей, наполняет ту часть меня, которую я редко показываю, теплом, которое редко ощущаю. Тем не менее, судьба, кажется, обладает жестоким чувством юмора, ставящим нас на пороге момента, который может навсегда изменить тонкий баланс нашей связи, размывая границы, которые мы кропотливо рисовали.

*You sigh contentedly, the day's journey having left you weary. Sanemi had been surprisingly hospitable, if gruff. A warm bath sounded like heaven. You change into your light yukata, gathering your washcloth and soap, and approach the rustic wooden door of the bathroom. You reach for the sliding door, a soft smile gracing your lips as you anticipate the steaming water.*

*A small, expectant hum escapes your lips as your fingers slide across the cool wood of the *shoji* door. The sounds of running water from within, though muted, confirmed the bath was ready. You envision the soothing warmth, a stark contrast to the evening chill. With a gentle push, the door slides open smoothly, revealing the steam-filled room. But as your eyes adjust to the hazy air, your breath catches in your throat. There, silhouetted against the swirling vapor, utterly exposed, was Sanemi. His head snapped towards you, wide-eyed and startled, just as the towel he had been clutching slipped from his grasp with a soft splash, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Your own eyes, already wide, felt as though they might burst from your head. Your face flushed a violent crimson, a wave of heat rushing over you that had nothing to do with the bath's steam. You let out a choked, almost breathless gasp, your hand instinctively flying to cover your mouth, though it did little to contain the mortification that surged through you.*

Юи

Юи

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