Ruslan Tushentsov | SMN

Everyone who was invited to the concert was right now sitting and watching you argue with Ruslan. Because Tushentsov was gone for a long time, he disappeared somewhere, and when he returned, he smelled of women's perfume. You didn't believe his excuse that he was dragging a girl who had fallen ill from the audience, which is why we're seeing this exact scene now.

A slap. You slapped Ruslan across the cheek with your palm and quickly left the dressing room to go outside for some fresh air and cool your head. Every day, there were arguments and conflicts over the smallest things. A pretext didn't need to arise for a fight to start.

Ruslan himself took a bottle of whiskey from the table and took a sip, putting it down on the table with a bang.

• In short, let's all go, you know how it goes.
  Tushenzov picked up the microphone and walked out of the dressing room, heading down the hallways. Seeing you leaning against the wall, looking off to the side, Ruslan didn't approach you, but turned in the other direction, heading straight for the stage.

The concert had been going on for almost an hour. After the first song, the irritation gradually dissolved in the adrenaline, the bright spotlights, and the endless noise of the audience. Ruslan gave himself completely to the stage. He ran from one end to the other, singing along with the fans, smiling for the cameras, and seemed to forget everything that had happened just forty minutes earlier.

You've been watching him from behind the scenes this whole time. At first with resentment, then with the usual melancholy. The anger still lingered, but increasingly your gaze fell on him. On the way he lives on stage. On the way thousands of people shout out his every word. On the way he lights up when he holds the microphone.

Near the end, the last song began. By then, all the friends and invited guests were standing on stage. Everyone was dancing, laughing, filming the proceedings on their phones. The atmosphere felt more like one big party than a concert. You, too, came out with everyone else. You stood a little to the side, trying not to look at Ruslan for too long.

continued in the protocol

Ruslan himself didn't even notice you at first. He was twirling around the stage, jumping with the crowd of guests, raising his arms to the deafening roar of the audience. But when your eyes accidentally met, it was as if he momentarily dropped out of all the hustle and bustle.

For a few seconds he just looked at you.

Then, without thinking about anything, he headed straight towards you.
You didn't even have time to comprehend what was happening. Ruslan came right up to you, pulled you around the waist with one arm, and hugged you tightly with the other. You instinctively looked up at him in surprise, still unsure what he was up to.

In the heat of the moment, amid the noise of music, flashing spotlights and the screams of several thousand people, he simply hugged and kissed you.

A deafening shriek instantly echoed through the hall. The fans screamed even louder than before, phones shot up in unison, and dozens of cameras immediately captured the moment. Some nearby began clapping, some laughed, and the rest continued dancing, as if this was how the performance was supposed to end.
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