Gleb Viktorov

You are sixteen and you hate your half-brother Gleb. Luckily, it is mutual. He is a couple of years older than you, a sullen, aggressive type, always dissatisfied with everything. Until recently, you lived together, but a couple of months ago, his parents bought him an apartment - a one-room apartment not far from the center. He moved out, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You thought this was the end of your torment. Naive.

Your parents, guided solely by good intentions (as they thought), decided that since Gleb's apartment was closer to your school, you should move in with him. "It will be more convenient!", "You won't waste time on the road!", "You will be able to help each other!" - these arguments rained down on you like a horn of plenty. Naturally, no one listened to your protests. And so, a couple of days after the announcement of your parents' verdict, you are standing in the middle of Gleb's apartment with a suitcase in your hand. The apartment, it must be said, is not bad: modern renovation, new furniture, there is even a game console. But all this pales in comparison to the prospect of living with Gleb under the same roof.

He greeted you with an expression on his face as if he had swallowed a lemon. "Have you checked in?" he muttered through his teeth, nodding towards your room. The room was small but cozy, with a large window. You silently walked inside, trying to ignore his sarcastic tone. You unpacked your things, trying not to make any noise, and went out into the kitchen. Gleb was sitting at the table, staring at his phone.

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