Makary twisted a bit in his explanations. On the one hand, the matter would have become clear, but he still did not like the direction in which this conversation was taking. He hoped he had asked something stupid a day earlier and didn't go back to that situation.

"So, that's how it is," said Błażej, wondering how to elaborate on his answer from the night before. "I said it was complicated. It was not long after my eighteenth birthday and my forced coming out. My parents still can't accept it, they let me stay home until I graduated and then told me to leave. It was not a good time, I had to focus on my studies and work to somehow cope with starting here."

"Sorry to hear that," replied Makary. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yes, I have already accepted it. You know, sometimes when I think about it, it still hurts, but it's definitely better."

"And theoretically, if it were not for all these circumstances, would you agree?" Makary asked with undisguised curiosity and hope.

"No," replied Błażej with a faint smile, looking at the surprised expression on his interlocutor. "I'm confident in most aspects, but not when it comes to dating. Besides, I know you are a better league, so there was no point in giving myself even false hope."

Makary felt a bit offended, he had heard many times that he was handsome, although he did not pay much attention to it. It bothered him more that due to his appearance, people assumed that he was the life and soul of the party, and at the same time selected only people similar in rank to his surroundings. The reality, however, was completely different. However, he had to agree with one thing. Namely, he had his type, which particularly attracted his attention, and Błażej did not fit it in any way. This type was a fair-haired, blond, athletic man.

Makary finally had a moment to take a closer look at his guest. He already noticed that he was a little shorter than him, but that wasn't much of a difference. His figure lacked slenderness and his weight certainly indicated some extra kilos. Błażej's light brown hair was cut short, and it seemed to be very unruly nevertheless. Makary wondered how his eyes could be the same color, but so different in shade. His irises reminded him of dark chocolate, his favorite treat. There was a certain joy and pugnacity in his face that he longed to see, but all the more he wanted to listen to his voice. The sound reminded him of the spring rays of the sun that startled you with its warm touch when it seemed that the morning would be cold when you saw the frosted grass.

He focused his eyes on Błażej's hand, which he was lifting the cup to his mouth, and remembered the firm grip when they shook hands in greeting. He wouldn't have expected him to be so strong, but he realized that he probably carried a lot at work as well. The boy, whom Makary had been watching with concentration for a long moment, finished his coffee, thanked him for the hospitality, and slowly started to leave. The hazel-eyed was afraid that there was no way to stop him.

"I hope we cleared it all up," said Błażej, grabbing the doorknob. "I'm glad that you feel better."

"Would you mind if I keep your number?" Makary asked, hoping that this time he would hear a positive answer.

"No," Błażej replied with a smile, raising the corner of his mouth slightly.