Danilo
I watched him eat.
Kolli picked at his pancakes with his fork, syrup dripping down the side of the plate. He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was too pale. I had noticed it last night but I thought it was because of the concert. Because of performing. Because he was drunk and tired and being pulled in a hundred directions.
But now, in the morning light, with no stage and no crowd, he looked different.
The strong Russian man with the larger than life smile looked defeated. Worn out. Like the last two years had carved pieces out of him and he hadn't told anyone.
Guilt swelled in my chest until it hurt.
Especially for the way I behaved when I saw Franz. I wasn't sure what had come over me. One second I was making breakfast, the next I was stepping between them like some territorial animal. Like Kolli was still mine to protect.
I cleared my throat.
Kolli didn't look up.
