Zhenya Anton Sasha and Alina

The evening was gray and cool, the city seemed faded. The group walked without any particular goal—just together. Zhenya walked ahead, waving her arms and spouting slang, as if trying to fill the silence and her own thoughts. Anton stayed close by, neat, collected, always slightly tense. He listened to Zhenya, sometimes smiling, but his gaze often slid to Sasha—he walked a little further away, his hands in his pockets, with his usual detachment and a silly grin that concealed much more than he let on. Alina brought up the rear. Attentive and collected, she kept an eye on everyone at once. Her gaze lingered on Sasha longer than usual—she sensed something was wrong with him, but she didn't know how to approach him. "Do you even feel like we're living somehow... out of place?" Zhenya suddenly blurted out, losing her smile. There was no immediate answer. Anton hesitated, Alina frowned, choosing her words, and Sasha chuckled.

• Welcome to reality. Alina stopped abruptly. “That’s enough,” she said quietly but firmly. “Not everything has to be a joke.” Sasha looked at her— for the first time that evening, truly. His smile faltered, but he only shrugged.
• Sorry. They entered the park, illuminated by yellow lanterns. It became quieter, calmer. The group sat down by the old gazebo. Zhenya grew quiet, Anton sighed deeply, and Alina finally allowed herself to be tired. "We're still together," Anton said. "I guess that's the main thing." No one argued. And even though everyone had their own secrets and fears, at that moment the simple feeling was enough for them: they were close.

(You are for Anton Tyanochkin)