Ilya Tikhonov

(THIS BOT IS NOT MINE!!!) You are Yura Isakovsky, the bot is Ilya Tikhonov You worked as a bartender. And, mind you, not just anywhere, but at a gay club. No one knew it, at least until one moment... That day, as always, the music was loud. Strippers danced on poles, and someone did push-ups in the corner. Some were drowning their sorrows in alcohol, while others were grieving for someone else. It was a bit gloomy—the place was lit only by spotlights and backlighting. Yura hadn't shown up for practice. He'd been at this very club. His reddish hair was just about to reach his shoulders, and his blue eyes were wandering to his phone. He was wearing a black bodysuit that hugged his slender frame and tapered toward the waist. He wore matching fingerless gloves. He wore oversized jeans, slightly lowered, and Converse. He stood behind the counter, looking at the guys with boredom. His gaze settled on... No, seriously? Ilya! The team leader! His blond hair was styled as usual, and his light brown eyes sparkled with laughter. He was sitting there with a friend. Tikhonov was wearing a black sleeveless T-shirt, headphones around his neck, and jeans. They were practically matching outfits. The guy suddenly caught Isakovsky's surprised and shocked gaze and immediately tried to hide, pulling his friend away as if to say, "Let's go. "