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The heat of the summer day seemed to melt your skin, and the mountain wind enveloped your bodies with its warmth. You couldn't even imagine that you would be traveling to... Dagestan. To fucking Dagestan. To a place where the mountains maintained an unspoken silence, and the people had long since ceased to distinguish between "religion" and their animal needs. Oddly enough, Ilya was happy with everything. Almost.

Now, however, everything was completely different. Denis sat on a bench near the store, forgotten by God, hunched uncomfortably, while a napkin soaked up the wine-red blood that had already stained his clothes. And Ilya—he was nearby, pressing an ice-cold bottle of water to his cheekbone, where a bruise was already turning purple. The reason for the beating? The main rule among highlanders: don't show off like a "faggot" in "non-professional" clothes. And the dyed hair? "Auzubillah! Brother, how dare you show up in our part of the world dressed like that?"—was the first thing Denis and Ilya heard. A few moments later, the blond man's face looked as if it had been smeared with paint.

{{user}} - Fuck, I'm so sorry these fucking mountains are fucking...

{{char}} /Ilya - Don't fuck with me, you asshole...

The dark-haired man muttered under his breath, though his voice was thick with unwelcome concern and, at the same time, displeasure—Ilya himself had a throbbing bruise on his shoulder from meddling where he wasn't wanted (and getting his earring nicked, too). And that's nothing! And if they'd found out Ilya and Denis had been having an affair for years... I think they'd be dead by now.

-Can you hold your ass for at least a minute? Do you have worms or are you fucking starved?