Miroslav's parents lived in their own house in a picturesque area outside the city. Although he had moved out at a fairly young age, he loved his parents' home deeply and felt an unbreakable connection to the place. It was a two-story cottage faced with light brick, with brown window frames, a tiled roof, and a large glassed-in veranda. A house where everything was always perfectly clean and orderly, and where mornings smelled of strong coffee and golden toast. Their yard, lined with tall thuja trees along the fence, where they would spend long summer evenings talking and slowly stretching out a single glass of wine, was rightfully considered the most well-kept in the neighborhood.

  On the second floor, his room was still there — bright, cozy, and achingly familiar. It was his own small world, filled with things dear to him, with memories, joys, and victories. On the wall by his desk hung photographs capturing the brightest moments of his life. There they were — his family by the sea, all four of them tanned and happy. Him as a child in the yard of this very house, which had only just been built back then, with the giant schnauzer he'd received for his birthday. Pictures from a school hiking trip and a summer sports camp with his best friend, with whom he still kept in touch. His favorite books stood neatly on the shelves, the ones he reread under the light of a bedside lamp on the rare evenings he stayed overnight at his parents' house. Some of his clothes still hung in the wardrobe, carefully folded into stacks. And just beyond the wall was his younger brother Egor's room.

  His relationship with his brother had deteriorated shortly before Miroslav's eighteenth birthday. Back then, Egor liked to use his computer without asking. One day, his curious teenage mind stumbled across a private conversation Mir had been having with another guy — a conversation never meant for anyone else's eyes. That was how he discovered his older brother's big secret.

  A few days later, during a trivial argument, Egor told Mir everything he thought about him.

  Mir had been genuinely terrified. He didn't know what to expect from a fourteen-year-old boy — or when he might decide to tell their parents everything. The constant tension wore him down. He would flinch whenever one of his parents called his name, convinced they were about to have a serious talk with him. He spent entire days locked in his room, trying and failing to focus on anything at all. It felt as if his whole world were collapsing.

  That was when he decided to leave the house for good. And in some ways, it saved him.

  Although Egor never told their parents, after that day they barely spoke. Only in their presence would they exchange a few neutral words so no one would suspect anything.

  And yet, deep down, Mir was sincerely grateful he had a brother like him. Egor seemed almost sent to their parents to fulfill everything they had dreamed of — everything Mir felt he could never give them. Having graduated with a degree in economics and management, Egor had long been helping their father with the family business. Charismatic and handsome, with an athletic build and no trace of modesty, he won people over easily and could carry on a conversation about anything. He was always surrounded by friends and constantly basked in the attention of beautiful girls.

  While Mir stood looking at the photos above his desk, lost in memory, his mother called everyone downstairs for lunch. As always, she wore an elegant custom-made dress, perfectly matched jewelry, and her signature red lipstick. She never seemed to age — if anything, she only grew more beautiful.

  She had impeccable taste and treated the house's décor with special care. It felt as though every vase, salad bowl, and even napkin holder had its own story — one she happily shared with her friends during the elaborate backyard picnics she loved to host.

  That day, the large table was set on the summer veranda, the windows thrown wide open to the yard. His father was already seated there with his laptop, frowning as he read work emails and reports, occasionally muttering under his breath about careless employees. He ran his own petroleum products business, investing enormous effort into it and rarely putting his phone down, constantly in touch with clients, suppliers, and staff. At home, he was a strict father. Though he spoke to his children as equals, he always said, "You can do better," starting as early as their kindergarten crafts. They tried their hardest, knowing he wouldn't brush them off — he would truly notice and appreciate their achievements. Even now, Egor tried no less — perhaps more — helping with the business. Unlike Miroslav, who had long since stopped trying to meet certain expectations.

  That day, Egor was introducing his girlfriend to their parents for the first time — a girl he was planning to move in with soon. He appeared in the doorway with a beautiful brunette. Her long, luxurious hair fell in soft curls; nature had gifted her charming dimples, full lips, and a flawless figure. She was, without question, exactly Egor's type. Mir smiled to himself — he'd seen several of his brother's exes and knew his tastes well. Egor, it seemed, remained consistent.

  The parents welcomed the charming chosen one of their younger son warmly and graciously, and soon the whole family was seated around a generously set table.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Midway through the evening, Mir's mother brought out the family's favorite berry pie — the one she baked for holidays. Setting out teacups from her favorite set and pouring fragrant herbal tea, she sat down and enthusiastically shared her signature recipe with the dear guest, while Egor and their father discussed work.

  Meanwhile, Miroslav received a message from Theo.

  "Are you busy?" appeared on the screen.

  After that "party," they had started talking every day. It all happened naturally, effortlessly. Theo usually sent something first — a meme, a random photo, a fragment of a thought. Mir replied, asked about his day, shared bits of his own. Their conversations clung to small details and stretched unnoticed until night.

  Sometimes they met up for no reason at all. They'd grab coffee to go and wander streets they knew by heart, talking about everything: work, university, ridiculous situations, summer plans, trivial things, important and unimportant matters alike.

  From the outside, it all looked easy. Almost friendly.

  But there was something else, too.

  "I'm at my parents'. How's your mood?" Mir replied.

  "Depends on the mood," Theo wrote back, sending a photo of a champagne bottle.

  "Didn't want to drink alone. But I guess I'll have to..."

  The ellipsis felt provocative, suggestive.

  Mir tried to maintain a composed expression and quickly typed:

  "I'll text when I'm heading out. Don't get too drunk — maybe I can still stop by."

  The reply came almost immediately:

  "Text me. Can't promise anything though."

  Mir smiled involuntarily, reading it in Theo's voice — and instantly caught his mother's attentive gaze. She had been watching him for a while now, with curiosity — or rather hope — that her older son would finally announce a relationship of his own and stop deflecting every similar topic.

  "Looks like you're hiding something from us," she said with a kind smile, though her interest was a bit too intent.

  "Mom, it's not..." Mir began, then faltered.

  He felt another look — far less friendly. Egor was watching him with barely concealed irritation.

  "It's different," Mir finished calmly.

  For their parents, the phrase sounded vague and explained nothing. But Egor didn't need an explanation. Judging by his expression, it looked to him as though Mir hadn't just exchanged a couple of messages — but had kissed a guy right there at the table in front of everyone.

  His mother still smiled and shook her head.

  "All right, all right," she said, unconvinced.

  The conversation drifted elsewhere, but the phone in Mir's hand felt heavier. Inside him, something restless and anticipatory was growing. The thought of Theo — alone, with a bottle of champagne and that suggestive "I guess I'll have to" — wouldn't let him go.

  Later, everyone moved to the living room and settled onto the large corner sofa and armchairs. The evening clearly wasn't winding down. Seizing a moment, Mir said his goodbyes, claiming he had to get up early, and left.

  He drove to a place where the boundaries of logic faded, where his dreams mixed with reality and his thoughts became tangled.

  From the doorway alone — from Theo's mischievous smile and the gleam in his eyes — it was clear he had committed fully to the celebration. A glass never left his hand; an open champagne bottle and something stronger stood on the table; music blasted from the speaker. Theo looked overly pleased, relaxed, and dangerously attractive. He found the remote and lowered the volume slightly, still swaying to the rhythm.

  "Are you really getting drunk alone?" Mir remarked.

  He stepped into the living room and sat on the very couch where he'd once spent the night.

  "What do you mean, alone?" Theo replied, almost offended. "Not anymore. Champagne, wine... rum?" He gestured toward his improvised bar.

  Mir smirked and leaned his head back against the couch, watching with quiet interest.

  "I'm driving. And I've got work tomorrow — need to finish something for Monday. So... I'll just watch you drink."

  Theo rolled his eyes at the mention of work and poured himself more champagne.

  "What's the occasion, anyway?" Mir asked, nodding toward the bottles.

  "Oh, I do have a reason..." Theo said mysteriously, narrowing his eyes and pausing for effect.

  He took a sip and, clearly enjoying the moment, continued:

  "I've been approved for a commercial — a major brand chose me for their new campaign. And they didn't even ask for auditions. They said they wanted me specifically! Can you imagine?"

  He said it with disarming excitement, and Mir gave a faint, nervous laugh. He didn't need to imagine.

  "Guess I should start collecting your autographs," he replied with a slight smile.

  "Very possible," Theo shrugged, pacing the room again.

  He couldn't seem to stay still — fueled by alcohol and triumph. He shone like in that photo with the golden glitter, while Mir sat quietly, watching the storm — beautiful and utterly uncontrollable.

  "Well then... in that case, I'll leave the car here and pick it up in the morning," Mir surrendered lightly. "I'll have a couple of glasses with you."

  Theo was visibly pleased. He immediately reached for a glass for his guest before he could change his mind.

  "If anything, you can stay over. My couch is always at your disposal," he offered generously as he poured.

  "If anything...?" Mir wanted to ask — and more than that. He had plenty of questions for this guy.

  Mir sat at the table across from him and took a sip of champagne, but the cold taste did nothing to calm the strange tension in his chest.

  It was obvious something was happening between them. They were spending more and more time together, and their communication felt less and less like friendship. Yet Theo always seemed to slip through his fingers. Sometimes Mir wanted to press him against the wall and demand to know what he was thinking when he asked those ambiguous questions. When he looked straight into his eyes as if he knew something more. Or when he sat across from him — relaxed, tipsy, smiling at him alone.

  The music vibrated softly in the air. Theo took another sip and looked at Miroslav over the rim of his glass.

  "Is there something else you want to tell me?" Mir finally asked.