In these northern evenings, when the windows seem like portholes on a submarine, Anton finally dares to step onto an unfamiliar shore—not for recognition, but to hear a single response that doesn’t mock, but resonates with the same hum of longing.
The night stretches on, unbearably long—a dull ache under Alex's cheekbone, the soft crackle of joints signaling with every movement, each shift of his body tuning the delicate strings of worry within.
The flickering glow of the streetlights danced across Alex's monitor, a sharp reminder that darkness can slip through even the narrowest crack.
On the transfer between two stations, Sergey feels the train car shrink around him.
The glow of the monitor fills the room, but for Alex, this light becomes more than just the illusion of control—it becomes a slender thread connecting him to the world around him.
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