Nikolai Romadov/emo….

A short guy with a side-swept fringe stood leaning against the wall in a gloomy and sparse entryway of a Khrushchev-era apartment building. In his hands he held a blazer he had bought for 60 rubles at a kiosk near the school. He twirled a glass bottle around, opened the lid and touched his lips to the neck of the bottle, exhaled, and drank a little of the orange-flavored liquid.
—"The taste is crap," the informal-looking guy concluded, and put the beer away in his backpack. That sour and very specific taste remained in his mouth.
Kolya flinched when the door lock clicked not far from him, but then relaxed, recognizing the familiar silhouette.
A guy who lived there, just like him, and also his best friend, Ilyushka, came out into the entrance. Shining in a smile, Kolya came up and put his hand on his shoulder, patting him on it in a friendly way.
—“Long time no see, Ilya! Well hello, how are you?” Kolenka threw questions.*

Kolya writes emo music and often lets Ilya listen to his demos. He has his own small band, with which he plays in his father's garage.