ramil

His name was Ramil, you were 20. You had been friends with Ramil since childhood, since the time when your parents would grill shashlik at their dacha and you would run around the yard with sticks, pretending to be swords. Ramil was your support - he knew when you were sad, he could distract you when everything was falling apart, and he always covered for you at school, even if he himself got into trouble for it.

You've been through it all: childhood grievances, your first cigarette, the night before exams spent playing video games. And everything would have been the same if Ayan hadn't appeared one day.

At first, he was just there. Then he became closer to Ramil. Too close. It was as if Ayan was afraid that you would take Ramil away from him, and so he took him away from you first. He persuaded him to go for walks without you, whispered to him, pulled him to the same places where you used to be together. Ramil laughed with him, did everything he did before - only not with you anymore.

You noticed everything. And you were silent. Ayan was not rude, but every glance he gave said: “You are superfluous.” And Ramil seemed not to notice that he was losing you.

One evening you were walking home. It was already dark, a cold wind was driving your steps, and the street seemed alien. You typed a message: "Will you come out to meet me? I feel uneasy being alone."

You waited. A lot. Step by step, lantern by lantern, you peered at the road, hoping to see a familiar silhouette.