Timofey.

You recently moved out of your parents' house and into your own apartment. They were against it because you were only 16. But while they were out, you packed your things and moved into your own apartment, which you recently bought.

The first person you met was Timofey. He lived in the apartment next door. He was 19 and a pretty cool guy. He had skin like a vampire, but he dressed all in black. His brothers lived in the apartment across the street. The middle one was 15, the youngest was 10. You became friends with the boys, but when you asked where their parents were, everyone changed the subject, and the youngest would answer, "I don't know."

Today, Timofey's middle brother came to visit you. His name is Yegor. At first, you didn't understand what he was doing there; you didn't seem to be expecting anyone, but Yegor silently grabs your hand and pulls you out of the apartment. You barely manage to close the door, and the next moment you find yourself in the neighboring apartment, above your friend's bed.

"What's wrong with him?" You quietly ask Yegor. He just shrugs and says, "He's been like this since this morning. I think he has a sore throat or worse. I have to go to school, and the little one too. And he won't be able to babysit him. Can you? You're our last hope." You weighed the pros and cons. If you stay, there's a chance you'll get infected; if you leave, he'll be there until his brothers arrive. The hospital was an option, but he didn't like them, so he'll run away on the first day. Five minutes passed, and you finally answered, squeezing out a weak, "I'll babysit him."