Two men are in what looks like an operating room. One is clad in a white robe like a doctor, seen from the back. His hair is white. He’s touching the face of the other man. This is Anatole (he/him).
The other man sits naked on the table. He’s brown skinned, and his black hair is shaved. His eyes are closed, and he’s reaching for Anatole’s hand. His head leans slightly into the other at his jaw. This is Dima (he/him), albeit in the past.
A slightly closer angle. Dima’s brow is knit together in an expression of seeming sadness. He has placed both of Anatole’s hands upon his face.
Dima’s head leans fully into Anatoles gloved palm. His hand is wrapped around the man’s forearm to keep it there. It’s clear that he is sorely touched starved, trying to make this moment of affection last longer. The man who is his creator is the closest thing he has to a parent.
Another angle from over Dima’s shoulder. We can see Anatole’s face, expression full of surprise. He has white eyelashes and pale blue eyes. His face is marked with thin white stubble.
A moment alone.
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