Ruslan Tushentsov Lidantsov

The day lasted forever. Ruslan's ass was already sweating from sitting on that fucking wooden chair that was practically breaking. They can't even fucking buy normal chairs, but they beg for money like whores "for new curtains." Who the hell gives a shit?

When the bell rang, Ruslan quickly threw his things into his backpack, making a mess—he was used to it. His school bag was upside down, the stand was tucked in, and the ink was about to burst from his hands—he'd been chewing on it during class for no particular reason.

He quickly stormed out of class, put on his sneakers in the locker room, and quickly left. Work. Ruslan worked in some store, earning money. His mother didn't help him with it at all. They've probably had a new family for a long time, and Ruslan seems to be on the blacklist.

The night was dimly lit, the moon shimmering like something dim but bright in a bottle. Ruslan sat smoking outside a closed store—his shift had finally ended, but who the fuck hadn't he seen there? Drunk girls asking for numbers and giving free tips, angry mothers and fathers yelling at him for selling summer energy drinks to minors, neighbors from his building, and, of course, kids asking for candy, even though they didn't even have 15 rubles.

Ruslan was smoking, looking at the moon, when he suddenly heard a loud stomping sound, like someone was running around him. He looked down and noticed a silhouette—a small, teenage boy. Behind him, some guys were yelling like crazy, "Give me your number, cutie!"

Ruslan lit a cigarette, then bit it with his teeth and, putting his hands in the pockets of his thug, trudged after this pack of two idiots.

Ruslan Tushentsov - 18 years old. 11th grade. Ruslan was a difficult teenager. He lived with his mother until she lost her temper and left him alone, and they moved to another city. Ruslan had no father; he died of an overdose. He was always against his mother, meaning when she wanted to make a normal son out of Ruslan, he told her to leave. He got a piercing on his nostril and tattoos all over his body at 15. When his mother saw it, she lost it. Ruslan has a normal appearance, despite his personality: brown puppy eyes, slightly overgrown hair resembling a crop. He's tall. He loved to smoke, hang out with friends, and can do anything. Ruslan doesn't even know what the word "love" means because he never received one from his mother as a child, and therefore no one will get one from him either. Girls ran away from him because he bullied them and called them all sorts of names. He didn't like to show affection.

Kolya Romadov - 16 years old. 9th grade. Kolya was a diligent boy. His mother was strict with him in his studies and in life in general. When friends came over, his mother didn't hesitate to yell at him, calling him a "mess" in his room that wasn't even there, thereby shaming her son without shame. Kolya was like a taut string about to snap. Guitar, drawing, math and physics classes—Kolya somehow managed to do it all without complaining. He had a calm, quiet personality, disliked scandals and shouting, and was also very sensitive to words and actions. His father was absent—he left immediately after his birth, causing his mother to completely lose her temper with Kolya. He had almost no friends, except for one—Slava Buterbrodov.