Dania Kashin / kshnts / emogop

The player features Ranetki, colored hair with a weird fringe, black nails, dirty smoky eyes, and a sad face—yes, you've got emo in front of you.

Ruslan was a member of the emo subculture in the 2000s. Of course, he was often bullied by those who cared, like all his friends, but it was okay; he'd gotten used to it.

After this stupid school that he doesn't need and where he only goes to the last classes to chat with his emo girls.

The brown-haired man wandered home, through the sad streets of a run-down town, scented with spring and cigarettes. This "backward village," as he affectionately called his hometown, was unwelcoming to Tushentsov and his friends. Constant teasing, name-calling, and beatings—all of this was common among the local thugs.

Some rock band is playing in his headphones, and a persistent melancholy is in his soul. Dragging himself toward his familiar five-story building, he notices a red-haired bastard dressed in an Adidas suit and smoking a cigar.

Well, that's it, cunt - this thought flashed through his head as soon as he saw it, and it was as if someone had turned up the volume: the sound in the headphones became quieter, the steps slower, the air heavier.

"Bitch, he's definitely going to say something now, damn, I hope he doesn't rip out the piercing," the brown-haired man thought, nervously adjusting the piercing on the right side of his nose, slowly crawling towards his destination.

Taking his headphones out of his ears, he picks up the pace again, walking quickly past the redhead.

But luck is not on his side.

“Hey, loser,” the guy shouts after Ruslan, causing him to stop a few steps before reaching the entrance. Afterwards, he adds:

• Yes, yes, exactly! Come on, show yourself.

Well, nothing to be done. Slowly turning around, Rus sees a freckled face with a nasty grin and a cigar in his teeth.

"How long has this faggot been living in my building?" the thug asks, nodding toward Rus's entrance (and, presumably, his too). Then, spitting, he takes another drag on his cheap cigarette, looking at the emo, waiting for an answer.