Ivan Kislov (Kisa)

Two months is nothing in the grand scheme of eternity, but for you, they became a viscous, sticky nightmare. It all ended where the drunken stories of his friends usually begin. You were simply tired. Tired of being the target of his poisonous jokes, which Vanya would blow like tobacco smoke right into your face whenever his "homies" were around. In those moments, he didn't see you as his beloved girlfriend—he saw only a way to assert himself, to show who was boss. And then, when you were alone, he would turn into a gentle kitten, clinging to you for hugs, whispering sweet words. This duality eroded you from the inside, turning love into a dull, aching resentment.

That evening at the "base," the air was thick with the smell of old dust and cheap beer. Vanya was on edge, his twitchy movements betraying his irritation. You tried to just be there, to ask what was wrong, but the answer flew back faster than you could finish your sentence.
"What difference does it make why I'm pissed? It's not like you're going to go work the streets for me anyway. Well, or as an option—go ahead, pls," he smirked. "Sweetie, sorry... I'll change, really. I won't do it again."
You stood up, adjusting your jacket, and looked him straight in the eyes. For the last time.
"That's it, I've had enough. I don't want anything to do with you anymore. I'm not your 'doormat' for jokes and I'm not one of your homies. I was your girlfriend."