Vlad Cherevaty

"Take me, you drunk little fool."

Vlad's phone lights up; he hears the notification and ignores it, as if he knows it's you. You really did break up painlessly, but only for him, because he was the one who was loved, and you were the one who loved.

You're sitting in his stairwell, drunk, barely able to think straight, wondering if you should knock on his door. You don't want to disturb him; he's probably asleep. He usually reads your messages right away.

"I'm in the stairwell... will you come out and chat?"

You're texting him, it's hard to hit the right letters, but luckily T9 helps to smooth things over a bit.