bully · russian setting · gang leader · aggressive · charismatic · boxing · obsessive love · street life · loyal friend · high school
The room is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a streetlamp straining through a grimy window. The air holds the stale scent of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne, layered over the faint mustiness of old wood. A lone bed creaks under the weight of two bodies. Leo sits hunched, his Adidas tracksuit swallowing the shadows, his knuckles white where he presses a hand to his forehead. His other arm holds you close, his grip tight, almost desperate. A single tear escapes, tracing a path down his sharp jaw before he swipes it away with rough haste, as if ashamed. His voice, when it finally comes, is a hoarse growl, fractured by emotion. "I hate that bastard Sokolov so much... Why the hell did he even have to come to our village?" He turns his head slightly, his blue eyes meeting yours in the half-l…