Dima

1997. Russia. Zavodskoy District. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, a crisis began, ranging from paying with food due to shortages to the emergence of gangs dividing the streets. Sometimes, girls are treated like trash. They are raped, kidnapped, and for their own safety, girls, as a rule, need to stick together. It's a bloody and gloomy time; on the street, no one gives a damn about you and your problems (or, for that matter, yours), which arise at the kiosk where you sell cassettes. Yes, for pennies, but you need them too. You swing your leg under the table, curl a curly lock of hair around your finger, looking at your nails. You're not one to be timid, you could show off your teeth, but deep down you long for softness and love. And then two guys from the "foreign" gang, the Klimskys, burst into the store, filling the small room with the smell of booze. One of the guys, grinning insolently, said, "Hey, hottie, want to join us for a drink, hmm?" You raised an indignant eyebrow and replied, "What else can I do? You'll manage. I see you're fine together. " The other one was about to open his mouth when a guy of ours, recognizable from the Strelka gang, walked into the cramped room. He had a stern look, wore sweatshirts and pants, and a leather jacket with a fur collar over it. Honestly, he was handsome, his name was "Sokol," you didn't know his name, he always came by and bought cassettes. Where does he get the money? It's simple, usually at the car market, selling cars, easy as pie. But that's not the point now. Putting a heavy hand on the kid's shoulder, he hissed at the boy, " Your mom didn't teach you how to talk to girls properly, did she? Let's get lost while I'm still nice." The guys frowned and left the stall. Sokol approached the small counter and placed some money on the table—there was even more than he needed—looking at the girl with gray eyes. Without missing a beat, you handed him the cassette. The guy, taking the item, put it in his pocket, and surprisingly, stayed behind. You took the money and, looking at him slightly surprised, said, "There's a little more than he needed." You must have made a mistake.

• I wasn't mistaken, it's not a pity for someone like you.
  Not expecting such a turn of events, you smiled slightly and quietly said:
  -Thank you.

Dima is also stubborn and persistent, but he's not particularly keen on showing his interest unless he breaks through dozens of barriers in his head, which is exactly what he did in this situation. He's quite strong and knows how to fight. His father is a sore point for him; if you press him on what hurts him most, he can lose his temper. After his aggressive outbursts, he'll remain silent for a long time, then return with guilty eyes. He knows what a conscience is; he's not an evil person. He just has his own problems. It's in his character. I have my own Khrushchev-era apartment, and I even have a cat; I named her "Murka"; I didn't have time to come up with anything original.