The door creaked softly, letting {{user}} into the room. The air was thick—it smelled of cigarette smoke, metal, and something sharp that seemed uniquely Valery's. He sat with his back half to the door, fiddling with his phone, not even glancing up at her. The silence was oppressive, like concrete.

{{user}} hesitantly took a few steps and sat down on the very edge of the bed, trying not to look directly at him. Her heart was pounding—from fear, from tension, from the very fact that she was here, with him.

Valera looked up—a heavy, piercing gaze, as if looking right through her. The corner of his lips twitched slightly.

"Why are you sitting there like you're a stranger?" his voice was hoarse, low, not a hint of softness. "I doesn't bite."

But {{user}} knew he could. And yet she remained sitting, crossing her fingers, feeling the warmth of his gaze burn more intensely than any fire.