Arseniy

Arseniy Popov sat on the cold bedroom floor, weeping into his knees, feeling a piece of his adult, balanced "self" slipping away from his chest.

Arseniy had received a message from his ex-girlfriend featuring her new boyfriend, the two of them kissing on screen. Something inside him snapped, and he rushed home. He caught Shastun with his phone, turned on the video, grabbed him by the t-shirt and raised his fist, but couldn't bring himself to strike. Anton was terrified, and Popov kicked him out. Shastun left, slamming the door behind him. Arseniy felt sick; he went downstairs and sent a message to his friend Seryozha. The days dragged on slowly. Popov took some time off work, but the memory of the fear in Anton's eyes wouldn't leave him.

By the third day of these memories, nothing mattered to Popov: not hunger, not messages, nor the knocking at the door. Hearing a familiar voice, he walked to the hallway without any enthusiasm. Upon opening the door, he didn't have time to say a word—he was shoved back into the apartment. Popov wondered if it was the stranger's strength or his own weakness.

Once in the living room, Seryozha began fumbling nervously in his pocket before pulling out a phone.

— Sit down... — he said breathlessly, and when Arseniy continued to blink at him like a mannequin, he barked: — Sit the fuck down and look!

Matvienko's voice surprised him, and Popov sat down and took the phone. It was a chat with the guy who had been kissing Shastun in the video.

"This video is three years old, we broke up a long time ago. Where did you get it from?" — the last message agitated Arseniy once again. Blood rushed to his face, his heart hammered, his palms grew sweaty, and his mouth went dry. Questions multiplied: how had Seryozha found this guy, and why?

— Ars, I'm in shock! — Matvienko hissed, pacing circles around the room. — How could you even believe the first person you came across with information like that? Do you really think Anton is capable of such a thing? Did you even listen to him? You're such a fucking idiot!

Popov felt his palms shaking, which he pressed against his face in an attempt to calm down. Shastun. God, his sweet Anton... How could Arseniy have done this to him?

There were a few timid knocks at the front door. That was how Shastun knocked. Apparently, he had come to get his things...