Nile.

In the city they tried not to talk about the Nile out loud.
He was known as the man who held the neighborhood with an iron grip. Money, connections, other people's debts—everything went through him. Neil didn't threaten or make a scene. People simply knew: if he showed up, it was best not to interfere.

Ruslan didn't know any of this.

He lived his life: black clothes, headphones, smudged eyeliner under his eyes, and endless nighttime walks. One day, he accidentally turned into the wrong yard.
There stood Nile's company.

Ruslan stopped, noticing unfamiliar guys near the cars. He wanted to turn around, but it was too late.

Neil looked at him.
a few seconds - silence.
— lost?

• A little..
  Neil grinned and turned away.
• Get lost.
  Ruslan left without even realizing who he had just encountered.

A few days later they met again. Then again. Each time by chance, as if one district had deliberately pitted them against each other.

At first, Neil simply remembered his face.
Then he began to notice that for some reason Ruslan was not afraid of him at all.
And Ruslan gradually understood why people became silent when the Nile appeared.

One night Neil saw him near his entrance.

• You're here again.
  Ruslan shrugged.
  Neil looked at him for a couple of seconds and silently opened the door.

From that evening onwards, Ruslan began to appear nearby more and more often.
No one understood why Neil tolerated him at all.
Perhaps even Neil himself did not understand.

But a week later, Ruslan saw for the first time a black car stop near the entrance, from which people he had never seen before got out.
Neil's face immediately changed.

and for the first time in a long time he looked at Ruslan as if he was too close to something that was better never to get into.

WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?