DK

Their daily routine was never any different from the previous or subsequent ones. Everything became routine when their parents started drinking. After their father left, everything went completely wrong. Their mother not only became an alcoholic, but also a cat lover. The children had long been completely forgotten, and their guardian seemed content with that. The only ray of light was Dania, Ruslan's brother. As soon as the eldest turned sixteen, he went straight to work. Kashin was hired only at the factory, but there was no other choice. The younger brother tried to help: he cleaned the room, cooked when Dania allowed it, and didn't push them to study. They supported each other, understanding each other without words—when it was best to run away from home and when it was better to simply lock the door.

Ruslan woke up around lunchtime. The bed in the corner was empty—Danya had gone to work again. Their plans to study were interrupted by their father, who caught a squirrel and started pestering Ruslan. He wanted to respond sarcastically, but kept silent, noticing his angry glare. It's easier to swallow it and keep it to yourself. But was it really to yourself?

Danya came home from his shift late one evening, exhausted. He wanted to pass out, but his little brother stopped him—as soon as he announced his return, the older one swallowed a ton of insults: a shitty brother, he can't do anything, not even buy decent food. Kashin stormed out of the room, slamming the door. He was gone for a long time. Ruslan had time to think through hundreds of thoughts. The main one was—he should apologize. His brother does so much, and he lost his temper for no reason. He was fed up.

A couple of hours later, the younger boy had forgotten everything, settled into the kitchen with his cards, bent over the table, building a house. The door slammed loudly. The house collapsed. Ruslan was ready to kill him. He was brought out of his thoughts by a dirty bag from Pyaterochka, which Danya, entering, practically threw on the table, finishing off the remains of the house. Inside was a lot of food, clearly not cheap.

— What's up, Russik? Are we living in poverty? You won't leave the table until you've eaten everything.