They settled at a table in a small café on the ground floor of the residential complex. The place turned out to be quite cozy; they served thin-crust pizza, pasta, and all kinds of salads. Theo had already become something of a regular there, often ordering takeout late in the evenings.

  “They say the pizza here is authentic Italian. I’ve never actually been to Italy, so I can’t compare, but it’s really good,” he said, studying the pictures in the menu without much enthusiasm.

  “I’ve been there a couple of times… We can compare.”

  “I thought you only ever went anywhere for work,” Theo replied, surprised, setting the menu aside.

  “So that’s the impression I make?” Mir smiled and shook his head. He wanted to object, but in truth it was mostly accurate—he hadn’t taken a vacation in a year and a half, maybe two.

  “What other impression could there be?” Theo shrugged. “No matter what time I came to the office, you were always there. As if you didn’t even have a home.”

  “I do have one, actually,” Mir protested, though he made a mental note that Theo’s tone sounded almost teasing. “But you’re right about one thing. I’m single. I can manage my time however I like.”

  “I see… well, that does sound reasonable,” Theo replied thoughtfully. They had never really touched on personal matters before, and he had no idea what Mir’s life looked like outside of work. He had always had the feeling that Mir didn’t rush home after long days—but now the picture became clearer.

  Just then a young waitress approached their table. It was probably one of her first shifts; she seemed visibly nervous. She took their order quickly and disappeared behind the kitchen door.

  “Yes, you’re right—there are definitely advantages to that,” Mir continued, returning to the topic. “I take it you’re the same?”

  Theo had lost the thread and didn’t immediately understand the question.

  Mir rephrased it, though this time it sounded more direct:

  “You’re not on your own all the time, are you? Is there someone in your life right now?”

  Theo looked at him in silence for a few seconds, unsure how to answer without sounding pathetic.

  “It’s fine. I’m really okay,” he repeated, as if by rote.

  For all his apparent openness, Theo wasn’t good at sharing what weighed on him. He was convinced that if he started telling people what he truly felt, they would either disappear immediately—or worse, begin to pity him. So he always deflected with a joke or changed the subject.

  Mir once again noted to himself that there were topics Theo wasn’t ready to discuss with him and decided to let it go, steering the conversation back toward work.

  “It seemed to me you’re not very happy in the modeling industry?” he asked, recalling the strange expression Theo had worn earlier when professional photos were mentioned.

  That same emotion flickered across Theo’s face again.

  “Yeah. Lately I’ve been thinking about what to do next. I sort of ended up in modeling by accident. My agent noticed me at a coffee shop where I worked evenings after university. And now more than three years have passed, and I really don’t see my future in this business.”

  “Why?” Mir asked, surprised. Theo clearly had all the right qualities for the job.

  “Lots of reasons. Maybe I’m just not cut out for it, that’s all.” Theo shrugged. “Sometimes you’re supposed to smile for the camera—‘bright and carefree’—after hours of shooting, and all I’m thinking is: why am I even doing this? What’s the point? It’s a strange feeling when what you do seems completely meaningless to you, but you keep going just because you’re used to it.”

  There was something unusual about that evening. Maybe Theo simply hadn’t talked to anyone in a while. Or maybe it was Mir—who didn’t look at him with pity, but with genuine interest, asking questions. To Theo’s own surprise, he found himself opening up, without embarrassment or the need to embellish.

  “What would you like to do instead?” Mir asked, catching the trust in his tone.

  “I want to move into design. I didn’t study all those years for nothing. I kept postponing it, but I think now I’ll sort things out a bit and start heading in that direction.”

  Mir was glad to hear Theo making plans for the future. Throughout the conversation, it struck him that Theo was carrying his recent grief more steadily than one might expect.

  “I think that’s a great idea. I’m sure you’ll succeed in design too.”

  “Why?” Theo asked suddenly. He had meant to say, Why are you so sure? but caught himself, thinking it sounded odd. “I mean, it’s nice that you think that. Honestly, I don’t really see myself as someone with talent. It doesn’t upset me—it’s just… how it is. I just want my work to have meaning. To feel some kind of fulfillment, I guess.”

  Mir wanted to tell him that, to him, Theo was the most talented person in the world. Instead, he chose his words carefully.

  “I have no doubt you’re very talented. You’ll find something that truly feels right to you.”

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  That made Theo smile widely. Hearing this from someone he had always considered rather cold meant more than he expected. If only he knew what that supposedly indifferent man felt at the sight of his smile.

  “I just realized I don’t actually know much about you, even though we’ve run into each other,” Theo said thoughtfully. “I don’t even know how old you are…” He had clearly decided to learn as much as possible about his companion that evening.

  “I’m five years older than you,” Mir replied, feeling the distance between them narrow by another tiny step.

  “Okay… how old am I again?” Theo grimaced. “Twenty-two already. Wow. So you’re twenty-seven.”

  “Is that a lot?” Mir leaned forward involuntarily. The question carried a quiet need to understand how he appeared in Theo’s eyes.

  “I’ll let you know in five years,” Theo answered lightly.

  “Don’t forget to tell me,” Mir said, matching his tone.

  “If we’re still talking by then, I will,” Theo smiled.

  “It’s in our hands. Why not? I wouldn’t mind,” Mir added, with gentle insistence.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t either…” Theo replied, slightly surprised by where the conversation had led.

  “Then it’s settled,” Mir said more seriously, as though they were agreeing on a work matter.

  “Settled,” Theo echoed, dropping his smile to show he wasn’t joking.

  Mir wasn’t the same man Theo remembered from brief encounters at the office. The coldness in his gaze was gone, and the smile—one Theo had never seen before—softened his entire presence. Theo even thought he’d like to know him better. The only problem was that he didn’t really know how to be friends. The few people he might have called friends had quickly disappeared from his life. In the end, for all his kindness, he had only a handful of acquaintances—and even with them, he barely kept in touch.

  “By the way,” Mir said, taking a sip of strong coffee and setting the cup neatly back on its saucer, “I actually live pretty close to you. About twenty minutes on foot.”

  “Really?!” Theo exclaimed.

  “I saw you once in winter. On the embankment.”

  “And you didn’t come over,” Theo said, almost sounding hurt.

  “I was driving. Stopped at a red light and saw you in the distance.” Telling him that he had parked at the nearest spot and rushed after him, only to lose sight of him, was clearly unnecessary. “Next time, I will.”

  “Well, now you have my number. You can text me.”

  “Now I can,” Mir replied, remembering how their messages usually faded into silence. “You know… I’d go for a walk sometime. Maybe this Friday evening. Honestly, I haven’t gone anywhere except work in a long time.”

  Theo gave him a triumphant smile, and Mir immediately caught the reason for the shift in his mood.

  “Yes, yes, you were right—I mostly only ever go to work,” Mir admitted with a faint smirk.

  “Well, that’s fixable,” the young man replied encouragingly, though one might wonder who was supposed to be heartening whom. “Turns out we’re practically neighbors. Maybe it’s fate,” he added, with an effortless simplicity.

  If not fate, then what? Mir thought, watching Theo absentmindedly spin the small globe keychain around his elegant fingers. There was something hauntingly magnetic in that careless ease.

  “So Friday?” Mir clarified, wanting certainty, while trying to convince himself that his insistence was only concern—that Theo needed support and simple companionship now more than ever.

  “Works for me,” Theo shrugged. “I have a shoot during the day, but I’m free in the evening.”

  They stayed at the café until it was completely dark outside. Then Mir went home, and Theo returned to the silence of his empty apartment, where he had spent the past few weeks without leaving, trying to adjust to a new life.

  He turned on the television to a channel that ran travel and nature programs day and night, lowered the volume to a faint murmur—just enough to soften the intrusive noise of his thoughts—switched off the lights, and lay down on the couch under a blanket. That had become his routine. But that evening, for the first time in weeks, he felt slightly distracted from the storm inside him. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel endlessly alone.

  Mir, meanwhile, had also arrived home—just a short drive from Theo’s building. Maybe it’s fate. The words echoed in his mind, making him smile darkly. He sat on his couch, tilted his head back, and let out a heavy breath. The meeting had stirred something strange inside him. And then there was this idea of friendship—hiding behind concern. A masochist, that’s what he was, he muttered to himself.

  Theo… when had it all started?

  They had first met almost a year and a half ago.

  Mir had just begun working at a small project bureau in the architectural department headed by Theo’s mother. An intelligent, composed woman who inspired trust from the very first interview. She didn’t sugarcoat anything—explained that the workload was heavy, deadlines tight, overtime the norm. She asked only precise, meaningful questions. Mir didn’t have much professional experience at the time, but after assessing both his answers and his character, she told him at the end of the interview that she was satisfied—and suggested he take a couple of days to consider the offer.

  The job proved demanding indeed, and from day one he had to adapt quickly. In the beginning, he spoke often with Theo’s mother as she introduced him to the projects. She mentioned a few times that she had an adult son, but at the time Mir paid little attention.

  Later, he heard the son’s name whispered by young women in the office kitchen while pouring coffee. He learned that Theo occasionally dropped by the office—but again, it stirred no particular interest in him.

  Until the day he saw him.

  Two of Mir’s colleagues, Nadia and Anya, close friends, had a remarkable ability to learn news first. That day, Nadia returned from outside and hurried to Anya, whispering just loud enough to be heard, “Theo’s here.” They exchanged knowing smiles. They had been discussing him earlier in the kitchen with dreamy excitement.

  A couple of minutes later, the door swung open and a tall dark-haired young man stepped into the office. Nature had been undeniably generous to him. Expressive gray eyes framed by long thick lashes, beautifully shaped lips, slightly pronounced cheekbones, and a slender neck that seemed made for visible marks left by kisses.

  After greeting everyone, he lingered a moment on Mir and offered him a radiant smile—one that could have melted the snows of Antarctica.

  Perhaps that was when it all began.

  Mir remembered their first meeting far too vividly, as though Theo becoming important to him had been inevitable.

  Inevitable—that was the only word for what he felt. Yes, Theo was undeniably beautiful—tall, slim—but nothing in the world compared to his dazzling smile, behind which he hid a quiet, endearing shyness. Every time he found himself at the center of attention, he would grow subtly embarrassed, and Mir’s heart trembled in response, filling with tenderness and a dangerous warmth of misplaced desire.

  In the end, all he could do was surrender silently, accepting his defeat without ever having fought.

  And since then… he would see him every time he closed his eyes. Over and over, he would type his name into a search bar. Every photo found online would be carefully tucked away in a hidden folder on his phone. In the dead of night, he would lose himself in dreams of caressing his heated body, catching the ragged moans from his lips, and making him arch under his touch as he gripped his skin tight, leaving red marks behind. He would drown in those fantasies upon his disheveled bed, his hand sliding over his own aching body, until a wave of pleasure left him trembling, with Theo’s name lingering on his lips.