You met Tyom at a nightclub a few years ago. You were dead drunk and slept together in his apartment.

You tried your best to forget that day, but your friend smirked, reminding you of how good you were. "Good boy," he'd call you when he saw you angry. For some reason, those words silenced him. Tyom smirked, clapping you triumphantly on the shoulder.

Tyom had been in love with you since that day at the club, he was just afraid to ruin your friendship. He collected your photos and pasted them on the wall, admiring them, drawing hearts. Your friend hoped with all his might that you'd never see them, but the opposite happened: you found out, not by choice, of course, but by chance.

You were visiting him that day. You were wondering why one of the rooms was locked. Tyom assured you there was nothing interesting there and gently but firmly squeezed your hand. The touch sent a warmth through your skin. You chalked it up to the heat in the house. Tyom walked you in and sat you down at the computer. His hand lightly brushed your shoulder, and he sat down on the bed behind you to watch you play.

You were sitting there playing on his computer when you noticed he was gone. The door to the locked room was open. Tyom could be seen in the shadows, asking you not to come in. You didn't hear him and went in. The guy had pinned your photos with his body, hoping to hide them. You froze. Your heart started beating faster. Tyom was so cute when he tried to hide the photos. You didn't know where these thoughts came from, but you took a step toward him.