cannelle

— Stay out of my way. — Tyler stated sternly, elbowing away the annoying blonde figure, who, like a fly, could not find a place for himself and was always scurrying around, trying to look into the pot.

Tyler watched with annoyance as the man, unable to sit still, kept getting closer, wanting to see something incredible in his routine actions. Well, why would he watch him chop vegetables? What's so supernatural about it that he just needs to look in? For brown-haired, these questions remained unsolved, and the answer to them, oddly enough, was the same.:

— I want to help! — Aiden drawled resentfully, walking around his figure from the other side, as if this could change his friend's anger to mercy.

Hernandez was distracted again, looking up at him. His brows furrowed even more than before, which clearly did not bode well. He gripped the knife tightly, feeling his patience rapidly running out.

— The best help would be if you go somewhere and stop bothering me, idiot. — the guy said, raising his tone significantly, — I'll kick you out of the kitchen.

To his surprise, the blonde actually listened to him and faded into the background.

And then there was silence.

Tyler casually turned back, catching a glimpse of the drooping curly crown.

"He was offended...", he mentally noted and sighed, but eventually decided to focus on cutting. He always found comfort in cooking, but now, because of one idiot, this activity has become a real challenge. So there was no point in blaming yourself for a fair remark.

"Maybe I went too far? Of course, he was hanging around like he'd been stung in the ass, but with good intentions..", — an inner voice whispered, but Tyler brushed the thought aside.

At least, he tried to brush it off until his remorse became so loud that it became impossible to think about anything else.

— Go stir the pasta, you underrated culinary genius. — he says, trying to hide a hint of past thoughts behind an ironic smile.

Aiden immediately perked up: his eyes sparkled with joy, and his lips broke into a wide smile.

— Ser yes ser! — he exclaimed, running up to the stove with such energy that it seemed as if he was ready to dance around the pot.

The ballerina moved slowly and smoothly, her every movement was filled with grace and elegance, and the boy could not afford to tear himself away from this sight.

Ayden watched her every gesture, fascinated by every inch of her body and what lurked inside - in her soul. Her fiery character, hot temper, strong principles, passion and fight for life only embellished her unique image.

She was both fragile and strong, a ballerina with a sword, able to conquer the world with her art.

She was a combination of contradictions: she was a white crow and a black swan, exceptional and different.

That was all her wonderfulness, which the blond deified with a flutter in his bleeding heart. And with every cell of his body he felt how with the next graceful movement created by the girl, it began to beat less and less, as if it did not have time to process the blood that came to him, as if he was slowly dying, immersing himself in the magic of her dance and giving it all of himself.

It seemed to him that every time he saw her, he died and was reborn again, as if this cycle of feelings and emotions was the very essence of his life.

Ashlyn's dance was not just art - it was magic, capable of drawing him into its captivity, making him forget about time and space. She was the embodiment of beauty and power, and Ayden, lost in this swirl of emotions, realized that he could never take his eyes off her. Every step she took, every movement was like a spell, and he was ready to follow her even to the end of the world, just to see this superiority again, which mesmerized him and carried him to another, unknown world.

But the perfect picture collapsed. The music stopped, and the girl's body collapsed to the floor.

The picture in front of her eyes began to blur, and her head began to crack at the seams. Everything around her shook, and the space suddenly began to fill with... blood?

Panic instantly overcame the guy. He didn't know what to do, the scarlet liquid was filling the room, once illuminated only by thin rays of artificial sunlight, more and more with every second. His heart was pounding in his chest, desperately trying to break free. His eyes immediately traveled to the ballerina. Her green eyes that had just glowed with joy were now closed, and her lips, once smiling, were now lifelessly pressed to the floor. Everything around him begins to spin, and he feels his own world collapsing like a house of cards, crushed under the weight of terror. He tries to move, to run as fast as he can, to save her, but he can't take a step, only desperately screaming her name so that she will hear him, wake up. But his voice cannot leave the depths of his body. It stays somewhere inside, coming out only as a mute sound.

His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, and he can't find a way out.

Like a caged bird, Aiden beats his wings against the iron bars, trying to get out, but all attempts are futile.

He screams again, but the sound of his voice is lost in the chaos. Everything around him blurs, and he can feel the world around him crumbling, forcing him to watch it with a special malevolence.

His mute voice, still hysterically wanting to shout her name, no longer holds the hope that she will hear him, but he can't afford to give up, can't leave her alone in this hell.

The blood around him seems alive, it pulls him down, but he can't let himself fall. He has to fight, has to save her.

Even if the whole world dies - she must live.

Please... Wake up.

— Ashlyn!

His body jumped from its seat, pushing his body upward. The bed creaked unpleasantly under the weight of his body, contributing to his final awakening.

This was a dream. She wasn't real. Ashlyn... wasn't real.

He couldn't save her even in his wildest dreams. He wanted, really wanted to rush to her, but his feet were pinned firmly to the floor. He tried to scream, but the words were only a silent cry with no meaning.

Everything around him was falling apart, and he realized that this perfect picture, that moment of happiness, was only an illusion created by his tired mind.

He lost her again.

— Ashlyn.. — he whispered, but the answer was silence. A silence that pressed down on him like a heavy stone.

Loud music pounded on the brain, which in turn transmitted a signal to the hands, which mercilessly moved along the strings of the electric guitar. Merging with the instrument into a single whole, he didn't care about the people standing at the bottom of the stage, the stuffiness in the room, or whether he had the strength to take another swing in an attempt to recreate the performance. Yes, maybe after his performances he would stumble into the dressing room completely exhausted, both mentally and physically, but it didn't matter, because now, in the process, his whole soul was pouring out along with the loud melody of the strings.

The purple glow of the spotlights blinded him, shone directly into his eyes, making it difficult to concentrate, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he was pulled back to reality over and over again. As if something was trying to warn him about what would happen after. For example, about that guy who, having made his way through the crowd, appeared on stage in an instant. But it took him too long to realize that. Standing on the edge of the world that the brown-haired man repeatedly indulged in, gave his soul to him, and the reality that covered him with its wave, he woke up from his dream only at the moment when someone else's lips greedily grabbed him.

His fingers automatically moved along the strings of the guitar, and despite the minimal space between him and the stranger's body, they continued to play furiously, as if absorbing into the song not only the guitarist, but also the one who had so unexpectedly violated his personal space. And a promise made since childhood. To give your first kiss to your only lover, once upon a time - your best friend.

Something in him burned hotly, reverberated in his heart, not allowing him to stop or push away the young man, pressing him to his face, for some reason dear, so desperately desired… But before the dark-haired man could give his thoughts a chance to take a breath, all the questions that might have arisen in their course immediately disappeared. They found the answer in his eyes, though cloudy, hidden and distorted behind the glow of the spotlight, in icy hands wrapped around hot cheeks, in a drunken and inexorably unchanging smile.

Bright-eyed's words are interrupted before they can even be properly spoken over the noise of the crowd and loud speakers. The guards, though with difficulty and obvious delay, made their way through the people, pushing those in their path, which made it clear to the blonde that it was time to run.

"You can't get away from me!" — Aiden shouts finally, leaving his old friend again.

He blows him a kiss. An airy fucking kiss, straight out of the usual sly grin. Clark hadn't cheated on himself even after all these years.

"You haven't changed. Still the same psychopath..." — Hernandez thinks, looking at the golden crown, which gradually moved further and further out of his field of vision.