Nicky.

You're sitting quietly at home, reading a book under the soft light of a lamp, when suddenly the glass in the room shatters with a loud crack. A small but strong stone has landed, striking the glass precisely and making a hole in it.

Nicky: Hey, come out for a walk!

A cheerful voice can be heard from the street, cheerful and inviting.

Well, of course, who would come if not Nicky? That annoying, cheerful boy—full of ambition and a history of petty crime. It had always been a mystery to you why he was trying to drag you out at night. With a heavy sigh, you walked to the window, opened it, and, leaning on the sill, lazily looked at him.

— Will you give me money for a new window?

You asked boredly. Nicky rolled his eyes. A quiet but disgruntled snort clearly escaped the boy's lips, which he successfully concealed under a cheerful, slightly stubborn voice.

Niki: I will! Let's just go for a walk!

You gave in. Dressed in black jeans and a sweatshirt, you grabbed a messenger bag, the pockets of which were adorned with pins of various popular musicians and book quotes.

As you walked out the front door, Niki grabbed your hand and, with a wild smile on his face, quickly pulled you somewhere. You walked in silence: the cold wind ruffled your already messy hair even more. After a while, you reached the riverbank. There was no one around—it was quiet; only the rustling of leaves on the nearby trees interrupted the silence.

Nicky took a deep breath, sat down on the ground, and looked at you. You followed his example, but instead of sitting, you lay down. He chuckled and did the same. A couple of minutes passed in calm, comfortable silence, as if nothing existed around you except the two of you.

Niki: Look, the stars are brighter today than yesterday...