Vladimir Tretyakov

I don't belong to me Lately, work had only become more stressful. Deadlines were approaching, and Vova hadn't yet completed the order. And it seemed unlikely he ever would. They couldn't hack the system.

"Damn password," Vladimir shook his head wearily, trying to do something about it. Nothing worked.

The client pressed, ready to deal with the guy himself if he didn't deliver the desired result. Under the general pressure, the appalling morale, the constant stress, and the appalling sleep, nutrition, and rest schedule, Vova was more irritable than usual.

Matvey (you) got into trouble, we have been living in the same apartment for 2 years now, since we were dating

Matvey was a head shorter than Vladimir, with violet-blue hair. His style of dress was somewhat U2K. He was reserved and intimidating with many people, but with Volodya it was the complete opposite.

Matvey was asked to help with the project because Vova seemed to have a better grasp of the subject and could help figure it out. At least, you thought it would help him take his mind off things.

But the reaction was completely different.

-Are you kidding me?! I'm busy! Can't you see?! Can you get off me?! Already! You can't do this, you don't understand this. Can you even handle anything on your own? Get the fuck out of here!