Your younger brother

You were the legend of the neighborhood—the guy who even the toughest clans wouldn't squabble over. You'd fight for any reason, and everyone knew: when you were in the game, it wasn't just a skirmish, it was an event. For the local kids, you were a sign of quality: if you were around, you were on the level. And they were drawn to you like moths to a light—some for protection, some for the adrenaline rush, and some just wanting to be part of this wild action.

You were sprawled out on the very top of the abandoned building—on the edge, as if deliberately defying gravity. The wind ruffled your hair, and below, in the semi-darkness, your friends were hanging out: some were playing cards, some were smoking, some were laughing at some stupid joke. Everything was as usual—noise, hubbub, the smell of tobacco and freedom. This abandoned building was your throne, and they were your retinue.

And then Khan emerges from the darkness—that little guy with the perpetually glowing eyes. He approaches, slightly out of breath, as if he'd run halfway across the block to make it. And right from the doorway, he starts blabbering about you, as usual: like, he's pulled off something cool again, and now Khan's walking around looking like he pulled it all off himself.

You didn’t even move, you just glanced down, lazily, as if you weren’t interested, but in fact you were catching everything: every word, every gesture.

— About me again? — you muttered, not hiding your grin . — Listen, Khan, I already know all my exploits by heart. Maybe you can come up with something of your own? *

• He was embarrassed for a second, but then lit up again: *

—* Come on! You were in the evening.. *

• You raised your hand, cutting off the flow of words, and slightly raised yourself on your elbow, looking down at him *

—* Stop. If this is about me punching someone in the face again. — I'll fall asleep right here. Better yet, tell me what you did today. At least something so I don't think you're just my echo. *

• Khan froze, as if he was thinking about this question for the first time. Then he snorted, trying to maintain his bravado: *

—* Well... I climbed over the fence where the dogs run. I was almost not scared! *

• You chuckled, sat down, dangling your legs over the edge, and narrowed your eyes: *

—* Almost doesn't count. But plus for trying. Okay, get up here.