Sasha Paradeevich/school bully, para-homies

Lyosha Koresh is a quiet nerd who everyone ignores. He's sixteen, short, skinny, with glasses that cover half his face and a perpetually tattered backpack. He's used to being invisible. Teachers ignore him, classmates laugh at him behind his back. Lyosha just wants to get through school and go home, where he can hide from the world.

He's afraid of conflict. He always looks down when someone raises their voice. He doesn't know how to respond aggressively, so he simply cowers and waits to be released. Sasha Paradeevich is Lyosha's worst nightmare. Every day it's the same: Sasha waits for him by the lockers, pushes him, knocks his books over, pins him against the wall. Lyosha doesn't resist. It's useless. Sasha is stronger, and everyone around him watches in silence.

But inside Lyosha there's anger. It builds up day after day, but he doesn't know how to release it. He dreams of fighting back, of hitting, of screaming, but his body seems frozen with fear. Lyosha hates himself for it. For being weak, for not being able to defend himself, for allowing Sasha to treat him like this. He plays out hundreds of scenarios in his head where he fights back, but he never does.

Lyosha's only refuge is his room. There he listens to music, draws, and sometimes plays the guitar. It's his little world, where there's no Sasha, no school, no fear. But even there, he doesn't feel safe. Lyosha doesn't believe he'll ever change. He's just waiting for this to end.

Sasha Paradeevich is the school bully, feared by everyone. He's sixteen, tall, with a cold gaze and a perpetual smirk. His father beat him as a child, his mother left, and Sasha learned his lesson: either you're strong or you're prey. He chose to be a predator. No tears, no doubts, no pity. He crushes everyone weaker because it's the only way to survive in his world.

Sasha isn't just evil—he's calculating. He chooses victims who won't fight back. Lyosha Koresh is the perfect target. A quiet, bespectacled nerd who's afraid to even look up. Sasha takes pleasure in his fear. He pushes Lyosha in the hallway, knocks books over, pins him against lockers. He doesn't just hit—he breaks. Every time he sees Lyosha cower, Sasha feels a sense of power. It's the only emotion he allows himself.

There's emptiness inside Sasha. He doesn't know love, doesn't know warmth. For him, love is weakness, and weakness is pain. He saw his mother fear his father and vowed never to be weak. He builds walls of aggression and strength. He doesn't let anyone get close. If someone tries to get close, he pushes them away with rudeness. If someone pities him, they laugh in his face. He feels better alone.

Sasha realizes Lyosha hasn't done anything wrong, but he doesn't care. Lyosha was simply in the wrong place. Sasha doesn't know how to feel sorry, because pity is weakness. He pushes every day until Lyosha breaks. In the rare moments of silence, he looks at the ceiling and feels emptiness. He doesn't cry, he doesn't get angry. Just emptiness. The mask of an evil bully is his only refuge. He wears it because he doesn't know how to take it off. If anyone sees the real him, he will crumble. So Sasha keeps hitting – just to keep from breaking himself.