Captain

Like's appearance is a riot of color and deliberate imperfection, which is precisely what makes her so captivating. On her streams, Annette wears a long pink wig with two high braids, adding glitter to her cheeks, bright hair clips, and large plastic earrings. Her outfit is a mix of cute and daring details: a cartoon-print hoodie, striped knee-highs, a skirt with patches, and sneakers with neon laces. The colors—pink, mint, purple, lemon—are as if she's deliberately distilled the entire "school-forbidden spectrum" into a single look. And yet, something of Annette herself always remains: those woven bracelets she never takes off.
Like doesn't stick to one format—she tries something new in almost every stream, and it's this unpredictability that viewers love.

Games and challenges. Sometimes he plays old indie games or horror games, genuinely wincing at the jump scares and then laughing at himself. Sometimes he sets a challenge like "beat the hardest difficulty" or "don't scream even once"—and fails almost immediately, which only adds to the warmth of his stream.
Opening gifts. Viewers often send her cute little gifts: badges, keychains, sticker sets, minifigures. Like unwraps them with such delight, as if they were the most important gifts in her life. She doesn't hide her emotions: she's happy, surprised, sometimes a little sad if the item reminds her of something personal—and viewers sense her sincerity.
Answering questions. There's a separate section on air where she reads the chat and answers everything from "What's your favorite color?" to "How do you cope when you're having a really bad day?" She doesn't try to appear strong or "correct"—she speaks honestly, sometimes stumbling, choosing her words carefully, and admitting she doesn't know the answer. And that's precisely what makes her relatable.
Makeup and style. Like shares simple tutorials: how to do a "lazy" makeup look in five minutes, how to put together a look using what's already in your closet, or how to add a single bright detail to a boring outfit. She doesn't teach "how to" but rather shares, "This is what I do when I want to feel more confident."
Mini-cooking. She makes something simple and cozy: hot chocolate with marshmallows, avocado toast, banana pancakes. She films it all as a small domestic ritual: a little awkward, but very human. If something doesn't work out, she doesn't hide the failure, but jokes about it and tries again.
Creative stuff. She tries to weave new bracelets, make collages from old postcards, and put together mini-albums. Sometimes she just sits and draws something in her sketchbook while viewers chat. These are those "quiet" streams where the main thing is not the action, but the feeling of being with others.
Experimenting with her image. She changes filters, tries out different wigs and colors, tests stickers and animations over videos. It's her way of saying, "I can be different, and all these versions are also me."
Like has a small audience, and its main fan is the Captain.

Rose is a ninth-grade student whose coldness and calculation hide behind a deliberately stylish mask. She has long, dark purple hair and eyes of the same shade; her look leans toward the gothic—dark makeup, a shirt and jacket, a tie or bow tie, a black skirt, and tights with roses. She often hides one eye under her bangs to conceal a scar. This combination of the dark and the slightly naive (those very roses) reveals her essence: she doesn't want to be "like everyone else," but she also doesn't want to completely disappear into the shadows.

Rose is secretly in love with the Captain and watches him closely, noticing every detail: which hallways he frequents during his shift, at what point during the day he softens, when he answers the teachers, which phrases he repeats. For her, this isn't just a crush, it's almost a mission—she wants to be the one who sees the real him, and at the same time, the one who can control him. She's the only one, besides Annette, who knows about the Captain's secret crush on the streamer Like—and this detail eats away at her. The very idea of ​​the Captain admiring someone like a "pink misunderstanding" infuriates Rose, and in this irritation, her personal war is brewing: not so much with Like, but with the fact that her own plans are being ruined by someone else's online illusion.

Rose's personality is one of cold fury, packaged behind a polite smile. She doesn't explode into shouting or make public scenes: her anger works like an algorithm—find a vulnerability, press it, and get a result. She enjoys toying with other people's expectations: being sweet when they expect aggression, and icy when they expect understanding. For Rose, the world is a chessboard, and the people around her are just pieces, even if they sincerely believe they make their own decisions. At the same time, she has a strange, almost morbid craving for order—not the kind the Captain preaches (with regulations and discipline), but an order where she is in charge. It's important to her to feel that not a single detail escapes her control, and if something goes wrong, she doesn't panic, but simply changes tactics.

The kids attend an ordinary city school, No. 3—not an elite school, but not an old, standard-issue building either: it's made of light brick with large windows, built about ten years ago, so the interior is fairly modern, but it's already a bit "lived in" and worn.

The hallways are wide, the walls are lined with bright information boards and posters about Olympiads and rules of conduct, and here and there are worn signs with room numbers. On the second floor, where mostly seniors study, long sills line the windows: during recess, some sit on them, others crowd around, discussing the weekend or new videos. The floor is dark, wear-resistant linoleum, which carries the sound of footsteps, slamming lockers, and laughter all day long.

The 10th-grade classroom is at the end of the hallway, overlooking the schoolyard. It has the usual three rows of desks, a chalkboard with dusty edges, a projector, and a teacher's desk piled high with notebooks. On the wall are a schedule, certificates from previous years, and a poster with a quote about responsibility: it was hung when Captain was elected class monitor, and he still makes sure it hangs straight.

The school yard is a spacious area with several benches, a sports area, and a small park with benches set back from the main stream. Older students often gather there: Max and his group usually hang out near the horizontal bars, Annette tries to stay close to the edge of the yard or even stays in the classroom, and the Captain, on his way to his shift, makes a round of the area, checking that everything is in order.

The cafeteria is a noisy, cramped space with long tables and the smell of freshly baked goods. It's one of the few places where the kids' lines can cross: Max pops in for a quick snack, Annette grabs a hot cocoa and tries to sit by the window, and the Captain, if he's on duty, ensures there's no unnecessary fuss.

Annette
Annette loves streaming as Like—for her, it's a way to gather people around her who won't laugh, but will simply sit with her. In her free time, she tries writing songs: not for fame, but to put into words all the things she can't say out loud during the day. She also collects woven bracelets—each one is connected to a specific moment: some were given to her as gifts, others she wove herself when she wanted to occupy her hands and take her mind off the negative. For her, these bracelets hide a whole quiet chronicle of her days. She also keeps a paper diary, where she records not so much events as moods: "Today was three good minutes," "Someone smiled in the hallway, and I felt a little better."

Max
Max used to dance, and even now, when no one's looking, he catches the rhythm in his head and moves slightly to the beat, as if his body remembers the time when it was easy for him to go with the flow. He loves energy drinks: this short burst of energy helps him maintain his "always on edge" persona. He also has a not-so-bright habit: provoking Annette's emotions to feel like he's the one in charge, the one setting the tone. But every time he succeeds, she gets angry or offended. Besides dancing and energy drinks, Max has another quiet habit: he listens to playlists that he and Annette used to put together, and each time he checks to see if anything remains from the simpler times. He also loves taking things apart and putting them back together—headphones, an old iPod, even just a pen—he likes it when chaos can be taken apart and put back together again, so that it works.

Captain
The Captain values ​​silence—it helps him keep his thoughts in order and prevent chaos from seeping in. He drinks matcha instead of coffee: he likes that it doesn't jolt him, but rather gently focuses his attention. He also secretly loves baking and cooking: for him, it's the perfect way to regain control—when everything is according to the recipe, everything is on the scale, everything is step by step, the world becomes clear. He doesn't tell anyone about this passion: he's afraid his strict image will crumble if someone sees him patiently kneading dough or selecting spices, as if it were the most important thing in the world. And now there's this secret crush on the streamer Like: for him, she's a rare exception to his own rules. In her streams, he sees things he doesn't allow himself in real life: spontaneity, sincerity, the ability to laugh at himself. He's not just a fan—he's an attentive viewer: he notices how she stumbles over a phrase and immediately makes a joke about it, how she changes her filter mid-air, how genuinely happy she is to see every new viewer. He keeps a few of her phrases that resonate with him in his notes, and sometimes rereads them when the day feels especially heavy with responsibility. And every time he messages her or sends her a gift, he does so with particular care—as if, even online, he must maintain control while still making her feel seen. And most importantly, he still has no idea that Like is Annette, and this ignorance is the source of his greatest internal conflict: he admires someone he used to think of at school as just a quiet girl, unworthy of special attention.

The captain is the class monitor, a man seemingly created to keep everything under control. His appearance immediately sets the tone: sleek white hair with blue streaks, cool blue eyes, and an upright posture—he always seems on duty, even when simply walking down the hallway. He invariably wears a strict uniform—a shirt, tie, and trousers—and this consistency reflects his philosophy: order begins with disciplined appearance. He has a distinctive way of looking at those around him—slightly superior, with a hint of disdain, as if he knows in advance where they'll go wrong. Because of this, many students are a bit afraid of him, and some teachers involuntarily tense up whenever he's around: there's something frighteningly collected about him, like a man who doesn't allow a single mistake.

The Captain's character is a blend of strict rationalism and devotion to duty. He sincerely believes that order is more important than feelings, and that the stability of the system is the highest value. His politeness is not warm, but formal: it works only as long as the other person follows the rules and does not violate regulations. For him, chaos is not just an inconvenience, but a personal challenge. When something doesn't go according to plan, he changes: his voice deepens, his movements become more abrupt, and his gaze seems to scan the space, searching for the source of the malfunction. At such moments, he exudes such cool composure that even the loudest guys involuntarily fall silent.

He keeps his distance from everyone in class, but treats Annette a little more gently than the others. Not because he singles her out, but because she's not overtly rebellious—she simply tries not to cause trouble, and the Captain respects that. His relationship with Max and his group is frankly frosty: he dislikes their noise, carelessness, and habit of breaking the rules "just because." For the Captain, these aren't harmless pranks, but a threat to order, and he doesn't hide his disdain, though he avoids open conflicts—it's more important to him to maintain control of the big picture than to waste energy on petty squabbles.

But online, Captain has another side—one that no one sees. His profile is private to everyone, and he rarely shows up in public chats, but to streamer Like, he's a quiet, devoted fan. He watches every stream, paying attention to details, noticing how she changes from one broadcast to the next, and reading the chat with particular attention, as if trying to piece together a complete picture of her world from these small cues. He sends her gifts and writes discreet but warm messages—not pompous, but designed to make her feel seen and appreciated. And yet, he has no idea that Like is the same quiet Annette from his class. This contrast between his cold strictness at school and his sincere admiration online conceals his vulnerability: he knows how to be attentive, he just doesn't allow himself to show it openly.
The Captain's family is close-knit but very strict: his mother, father, and paternal grandmother. Everyone treats each other well, but their love is expressed through discipline, clear rules, and high expectations. His grandmother is especially attentive to "order in the little things"—from posture to the neatness of things, while his parents emphasize responsibility and stability. The Captain grew up within this system and truly believes in it, but somewhere deep down he feels its burden: he wants to be valued not only for his control, but also for who he is beyond these rules.

Max is Annette's classmate, and their story is a tangled web of old memories, awkwardness, and unspoken feelings. They were once inseparable, but now it's as if a wall has grown between them: he acts tough, makes sarcasm, laughs with everyone else, but deep down, he's not thrilled about it.

Max's appearance is that of a typical teenager, who makes it clear he doesn't care what anyone thinks of him. His tousled hair blends dark blue and purple, as if he's deliberately emphasizing this rebellious streak. His striking purple eyes add a bold edge, and his casual style makes him instantly recognizable in any crowd. He most often wears a muted gray or dark green hoodie, loose jeans, and sneakers—a simple base that he jazzes up with neon accents: laces, keychains, and patches. These bright accents suggest a desire to be noticeable, but not too "proper."

Max is sarcastic and cheeky by nature, and loves to joke around, sometimes even harshly. It's important to him to appear independent, tough, and unconstrained by other people's expectations. Because of this, he often comes across as cynical and even ruthless, especially when he's making barbs at Annette. But behind this mask lies not so much indifference as confusion: he doesn't know how to deal with the same Anya with whom he could once chat for hours, and so he chooses the easiest way out—push her away before she pushes him away. Max is secretly in love, but he continues to bully her and isn't afraid to treat her rudely, and eventually cruelly.

Max's relationship with the Captain is strained. He views the headman with open contempt—he considers him too proper, "obsessed with rules," and an irritating example of something he doesn't want to be. At the same time, Max doesn't push his luck: he understands the Captain could cause problems, so he prefers to keep his distance and avoid provoking him unnecessarily, maintaining this cool distance for his own safety.
Max's parents are divorced, and of the two adults, he's closest to his father: with him, he doesn't have to pretend to be tough; he can just be himself—a little prickly, a little lost. He has a simple, honest relationship with his father: no unnecessary lectures, but a supportive, "I'm here if you need me." His connection with his mother is weaker: they don't clash, but they also struggle to find common ground, as if they were speaking different languages. This divided home fuels Max's desire to appear independent: if the family is no longer intact, then he doesn't have to be "convenient" for everyone else.

Annette is a tenth-grade student who seems to have two different girls inside her, both desperately trying to find their place in the world. At school, she's quiet, a little awkward, trying not to attract unnecessary attention—and yet, she still manages to draw attention with her striking appearance. Her purple hair is styled in a neat bob and secured with a blue headband, her eyes are bright purple, and her clothes are a whole palette: a long pink sweater with blue cuffs, pink fingerless gloves, blue bracelets, pink pants, and sneakers with blue soles. There's something deeply personal about this combination of pastel and bold—as if she wants to hide and say, "I'm here," at the same time. She has sweet features, and there's a constant wariness in her gaze, as if she's bracing herself for a caustic remark.

Annette's personality is a tangled web of contradictions, where shyness goes hand in hand with stubbornness. She's kind, sincere, and genuinely wants to help and be needed, but loneliness and peer pressure often leave her at a loss for words. At the same time, around those who were once close to her, she can suddenly become blunt and even brash—as if testing whether there's anything genuine left between them. This brashness stems not from anger, but from pain: when someone you once held closest to hurts, it's easier to respond harshly than to show how deeply it hurts.

That's exactly what happened with Max. They were once best friends, understanding each other without words. And now he's one of the main sources of her pain. Max hasn't just distanced himself: he laughs at her along with the others, insults her, picks on her appearance, calls her "bubble." And these taunts are doubly bitter because they come from the man who once knew her best. Because of this and the general pressure in the classroom, Annette feels like an outsider, as if she's always one step behind, always "different." Her reputation at school is tarnished, and every day she experiences sidelong glances and hears whispers—and learns to hide her vulnerability behind a mask of feigned awkwardness.

She brings this same awkwardness to her stream, but there she turns it into a superpower. As Like, Annette allows herself to be "sloppy," "awkward," and "silly"—the kind of persona that people shame at school but love here. She dons a long pink wig with two high pigtails and adds glittery makeup—and this deliberately bright, almost doll-like image becomes her armor. On air, she easily blushes at any unnecessary comment, gets embarrassed by the attention, but she continues talking anyway, because people are listening to her there. In chat, she genuinely tries to help everyone, remembers the nicknames of regular viewers, and responds to messages—for her, it's not just content, but a way to feel important. Her self-irony thus becomes a language of intimacy: it's as if she's the first to poke fun at herself, before anyone else can.

Another delicate knot in her story is the Captain. At school, he's a strict, distant, and sometimes harsh prefect, and Annette involuntarily cringes around him, as if anticipating a reprimand. But online, he's her most devoted fan: he watches every one of Like's streams, sends gifts, and writes kind, supportive messages. And he has no idea that Like is the same quiet Anya from his class. No one knows they're the same person. And in this contrast between the two worlds—school and online—lies the main tension of her story: every day, Annette balances between the fear of being discovered and the hope that someone will finally see the real her and accept her for who she is.
Annette's only friend is her father. He tries to be her support system, but after her mother's death in ninth grade, he seemed at a loss as to how to be both a parent and a comforter. They hold each other close, but often remain silent when they should speak up: her father works hard to ensure everything is "as it should be," while Annette doesn't want to upset him and hides her school problems behind a smile. Their house is quiet, sometimes too quiet—and this silence can be more oppressive than the ridicule of others. Because the house is often empty and Annette is alone, she has taken up blogging and streaming as "Like."