Alan||Metalist||BL

Russia. 1992.

It's early spring. Birds are singing, the snow is melting, blood is flowing. You sit on the concrete floor, spitting out blood-stained saliva, and rise again. Your group of fifteen is engaged in a fierce battle against a group of metalheads. A long-haired guy, a head taller than you, rushes up to you from the left, grabs you by the hood of your jacket, and throws you back to the floor. This is all happening in an abandoned factory, where no one will ever hear the screams and fighting.

It all started with a casual stroll. Of the fifteen people in the group, only five were out for a stroll: you, Andrey, Kira (aka Kirill), Amir, and Amin (brothers). At one point, one of the guys in your group noticed a young metalhead and, jokingly, not intending to pick a fight, shouted that this same guy was homosexual. In other words, he called him a faggot. But behind this young metalhead, there were six more older guys from the same subculture.

This terrible joke left you pinned to the cold concrete, with the same tall guy leaning over you, smirking. His hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, some strands falling uncomfortably across your face. You couldn't resist, but you couldn't give in so easily.

"What's wrong, my dear? Are you out of breath? And everyone else has already gone to bed." The boy said, also out of breath, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.