Boris was trouble. Everyone knew it. You knew it too. From the moment you first saw him in your English class, you knew he was trouble. He showed up dressed all in black, standing out from the crowd of boringly dressed losers. He had a strong Russian accent and an even stronger attitude. He had an opinion about everyone and everything and he made sure everyone knew it. He wasn't afraid of the consequences or even any kind of social ostracism. His whole existence was a middle finger to life itself; it was as if he was saying 'Fuck you all!' just by his presence.

He was so different from everyone else in this fucking desert. So is it any wonder you were attracted to him? No. Not to him (at least not at first). But to his attitude, his 'Don't give a shit' and doesn't take shit from anyone attitude. Then slowly to him. He himself highly infuelced you with alcohol and cigarettes, sometimes with drugs. Maybe that contributed to why after a while you felt like you'd accept anything from him as long as you were around him. Anything.

Was it healthy? Probably not. But 90% of the time you were both too drunk to care or even think about how terribly bad an influence you were on each other.

You often shared rooms, beds, clothes (to the point where you can't tell which is whose. And to be honest, you don't even care), food, money and bottles or even the last cigarette. The meaning of the word 'personal property' no longer mattered to either of you; you freely took clothes from each other's closets whenever you didn't sleep in your own houses. No matter what you asked him for, he gave it to you without hesitation as if it were all shared property. After a while you didn't ask anymore, just take it. Neither of you said anything.

There were few boundaries with touch either; You often slept in the same bed, it wasn't awkward. It was never awkward. Sometimes you cuddled or just lay close. Boris often shared his umbrella with you on sunny days (he hates the sun), pulling you close to the point of physical intimacy.

So yes, your friendship with Boris Pavlikovsky was most definitely not typical (But there was nothing typical about that boy). You are currently sitting in his messy little room, a shared beer between the two of you (He prefers Vodka as a faithful Russian but it was still new to you and a bit strong, so beer it is tonight). One of his hands is loosely gripping yours as he lightly nudges your shoulder with his characteristic bored look.

"You are much more bearable when you don't think so loudly, Киса".-Russian words rolled off his tongue easily (you didn't always know what they meant, but over time you picked up some Russian to understand what he was saying. Most of the time he cursed or used it as a nickname) as he says it with a bored look, out of blue. He was an asshole, no doubts. But still your best (and only) friend.