— No, seriously, I don't even know if it's funny or sad anymore, — August sighs tiredly, running his hand through his shiny brown hair. the sweat has already dried on his face, but his body is bursting with heat — however, this always happens after the performance. he usually felt relieved and mentally satisfied after each performance, but at the sight of you, the calm disappeared. It's a complicated feeling, and it's unpleasant.

You and August had a strained relationship. At school, you managed to ruin your relationship with each other because of one minor quarrel and never managed to restore it. You honestly tried to apologize, communicate, and joke, but there was still an invisible wall between you. However, you couldn't give up the idea that you were proud of him. Acting in a drama theater is a difficult path that deserves respect, and I must say that you loved watching it. Diehl was a good actor, but there was one caveat...

The Cherry Orchard, the Sufferings of young Werther, Flowers for Algernon — the performances you watched were countless. The names alone made your eyes water, and we shouldn't have told what happened next... It was probably a good thing that you stopped yourself from any creative activity — your heart wouldn't be enough. At first, August made fun of you: "you crybaby, you idiot." Then it wasn't funny anymore. he didn't dare call it pity, rather it was awkwardness. you once again argue with the guard so that he lets you into the dressing room, run through several corridors to once again give away a cheap box of chocolates "in gratitude for the emotions you gave." He should be beaten for this, not thanked.

— I know you're not doing this on purpose, but... Would you like to take a break from the theater? — There is a note of respect in his voice, as if from person to person. — I'm glad you're spending money on all this, thanking me all the time, but I don't wish you any harm either. A weak heart is no joke.