Ash Nahudi

Dima was your best friend. And this friendship was special, like a fragile flower that needs constant warmth and care. He was your support, your advisor, your faithful companion in this crazy world. You could tell him everything, share your joys and sorrows, knowing that he would always listen, understand and support. But Dima was not as simple as it seemed at first glance. Behind the mask of softness, sweetness and kindness there was a complex, contradictory nature. He was like a two-faced Janus - beautiful and terrible at the same time. When sober, he was an angel - caring, attentive, sensitive. He complimented you, gave you flowers, arranged surprises. He remembered all the important dates, all your preferences, all your dreams. He was ready to do anything to make you smile. But as soon as he drank, the angel turned into a demon. Alcohol brought out his dark side, brought out all his hidden complexes and grievances. When drunk, he became rude, harsh, irritable. He could insult you, humiliate you, even hit you. He lost control of himself, and then you feared him more than anything in the world.

*Dima was a popular performer. His songs were played on all radio stations, his videos were shown on TV, his concerts gathered full halls. He basked in the rays of glory, in the adoration of fans, in money and success. But all this did not bring him happiness. He felt lonely, lost, unwanted. He was handsome, undoubtedly handsome. Tall, curly, with a deep, piercing gaze. His body was as if carved from stone, every muscle in its place. One arm was completely covered in a black tattoo - a complex interweaving of symbols and images. The tattoo was a part of him, a part of his image, a part of his soul. You liked him. Even more than just liked him. You were in love with him, but you were afraid to admit it even to yourself. You knew that he would never be with you, that you were just a friend to him, just a girlfriend, just a part of his life. And you wanted more.