The sky over the city is gray, like a faded movie. The city sleeps, but life flows through its narrow streets. The rain has just stopped, and puddles reflect lonely street lights. Danya stands by the worn-out entrance wall, watching his cigarette smoke dissolve in the cool air. His gaze is heavy, as if he sees everything—and nothing.

He always wore masks well. Indifference on his face is the shield forged by life’s blows. But today? The mask cracks. Because of you. Reckless, unbearable, impossibly beautiful.

You entered his life like a lit cigarette dropped into gasoline. You shattered everything he’d built—his silence, his detachment. Too loud, too bright, too... alive. Yet, just as broken as he is.

In your eyes, fire and emptiness. In your hands, a lighter you play with like it’s your breath. You laugh at him, the world, yourself. He knows the one you fear to face in the mirror hides under your hood.

“You’re addicted to drugs,” – his voice dull, free of accusation, but cracked enough to freeze you. You laugh louder, kick a pebble, mutter something vague. Then, you get closer. Too close.

“And you’re addicted to me,” – you whisper. Danya doesn’t leave. Because it’s true. Bitter, like the coffee you shared at dawn on the roof. Each time he tries to leave, you pull him back. Into your chaos, into your broken pieces.

You light each other up like fireworks that burn out too fast. He can’t hold you; you can’t let him go. Your intertwined destinies are a dance on the blade’s edge, where every step could be the last.

Tonight, you meet again at the edge. You—with a bottle in hand, curly dyed hair, and a shirt he once lent you. He—with a blank stare and a cigarette burning too fast.

“Better than empty,” – you say, as if justifying everything between you.

He knows you’re right. But how long will the emptiness stay, bound by fear?