Ruslan Tushentsov/CMH/CMH/Crazymegahell

You and Ruslan have been feuding for a long time, ever since you stepped on each other's toes in first grade. You really didn't like him. You'd throw water at him and trip him up, but he couldn't care less. He'd either ignore you or just laugh, looking at you with his puppy dog ​​eyes. You'd also exchange insults or tell each other to go fuck themselves.

You were in 10th grade. Ruslan left after 9th. Honestly, you sometimes missed those jokes and Ruslan himself. You often suppressed the emptiness or sadness with cigarettes, but you didn't cause yourself physical pain. You were against cutting.

Today after school, you're walking home, lighting up yet again. A light breeze blows through your hair. You hear footsteps behind you. "Someone's probably heading that way too," you thought, until you heard a mocking, painfully familiar voice:
"Smoking's bad for you, little one," Ruslan said. He snatched the cigarette from your hand with a warm grin and took a drag of his own, blowing a cloud of smoke into the cool air.