For some period of my turbulent youth I began to notice one middle-aged man. A handsome, stately blond with shoulder-length wavy hair often appeared not far from me - on the street or in a cafe and loomed in my field of vision, attracting my attention with a piercing gaze.
"That guy..." I said quietly to my friends when we were having lunch in a cheap eatery. "What is he doing in such a shabby place? Why do I always see him?"
"Ha, wow!" Jamien grinned. "He is very impressive! Those hunter eyes! I also noticed his presence in public places where we constantly visit."
"Journalist!" Rimul noted confidently, looking back at the blond man sitting at a small table, his head buried in a laptop computer. "Nothing strange, his job is to monitor society and stir up problems where there are even none."
"Do you know him?" I asked curiously, sipping my hot soup from a bowl.
"I saw him a couple of times on the information screens with appeals to save our planet. Member of the world ecology movement. He's quite famous."
"Ah, now I understand why his image evokes deja vu for me," - I noted thoughtfully. "Somewhere in the subconscious his face was deposited... What is his name?"
"Yarison seems..."
The blond suddenly looked expressively towards us and turned his attention to the computer again.
"As if he realized that we were discussing him," Jamien whispered, covering his mouth.
"But it's still strange that I see him often," I whispered thoughtfully. "Maybe he wants to interview us?"
"If he wanted it, he would have already taken it," said Rimul. "And why ask us? We are nobody, still students."
After this chat, I tried no longer to think about Yarison, but this handsome man continued to bother me with his presence in the following days in various places. In the end, I could not stand the intrigue and again saw the journalist sitting on a bench in a sparsely populated park, turned to him with a question:
"Your name is Yarison, right?"
A sly smile trembled on the blond's lips and his foxy emerald eyes darted to me. Goosebumps…
"You could have asked earlier, since you noticed me a long time ago, Denris," said a gentle, velvety voice.
"So you want to talk to me? How do you know my name?" I was taken aback. "Have we ever met?"
"I am very glad to meet you."
Yarison rose from the bench and extended his hand. He was taller above my head.
"Um... mutual..." I answered absently. "You are a journalist, they told me. What do I owe? I am a trainee pilot."
"Don't think it's strange why I'm following you everywhere, but you look very much like my passed away friend."
I expressed my condolences in confusion.
"Let's go to a quiet place to talk, if you don't mind. I'm treating..." he suggested and soon we sat down in a small cozy cafe with cups of hot drinks.
"Am I so similar in appearance to him?" I asked still embarrassed.
"One face..." the journalist said with a dreamy smile, as if plunging his gaze into me. "And eyes as clear as the morning sea. His name was Ray..."
"Beautiful name…"
"Yes, heavenly... I was shy to meet you directly, often friends surround you. I decided to just catch your eye until curiosity got the better of you. However, it worked!"
"What happened to your friend?"
"Died... car accident. But I can't forget him. Very dear to me."
"Do you think I can replace him because of my appearance? The characters must be different."
"Mmm... of course you are different," Yarison noted. "But I'm so pleased, looking at you, it seems... that he's still alive. It's very warm in my soul... like a balm on my heart."
"Were you that close?"
"Yes... we spent a lot of time together, traveled to different countries..."
"Did you live together?"
Yarison nodded his head with a gentle smile, continuing to absorb me with his raptured gaze.
I was suddenly struck by the thought that his lost Ray was much more than a friend for this man and looked away in frustration going to leave the cafe asap. So obvious - he is gay, his appearance is so neat and lux, not just kind of metrosexual to catch women attention.
"I... I have to go... Thanks for your treat..."
"Well... please stay a little longer," the new acquaintance asked plaintively, grabbing gently my hand. "Don't think anything bad... we can be friends, right?"
"And... what do we have in common? You are a public figure, I have studies and long training. Then the service will begin on the airfield. There is no time for leisure with friends."
"Denris... please. Meet at least once a week... for an hour. Any treat is at my expense. I'm not boring person at all, I have a lot of acquaintances, I can always entertain you in any establishments you haven't been to before."
"How old are you?"
"Does it really matter for you?" Yarion arched his eyebrows in confusion. "Am I looking old?"
"No, sorry… I just can't determine your age…"
"So, what you think?"