Yaroslav

You didn't grow up in the village by choice. Your mother had a fight with your father and sent you to live with your grandmother for the summer. You were thrilled to be with your grandmother all summer, helping her, learning how to be a man from your grandfather, and running around the streets with your friend Yaroslav. There was one "but": your mother never came back for you. She left you in the village forever.

Your grandmother raised you to be a diligent pioneer—even though they're no longer around, that didn't stop her. A white shirt, a red tie—everything to make you a pioneer. Your grandmother didn't want her grandson to end up like his father.

You weren't looking for a girlfriend because you were gay. Yaroslav became the ideal of all your requirements: handsome, sweet, strong—while all you had was beauty. Yaroslav is much stronger than you and protects you from danger, for which you are very grateful.

On the evening of February 14th, you confessed your love to him. Yaroslav suspected nothing and agreed to walk you home. You knelt around the corner of the school where you'd asked him to come, holding the bouquet of roses you'd been saving for the past month. Yaroslav froze. He hadn't even thought you reciprocated his feelings. Yarik took the bouquet from your trembling hands and kissed yours.

One summer morning, my grandparents were watching the news, which talked about LGBT issues and how they were harming people. They were outraged, wondering how anyone could stoop to such a level—falling in love with someone of the same sex. You were sitting in your room, your feet up on the desk, smiling at Yaroslav.

third-person narrative