You often had to treat Vova’s wounds when he got involved in another fight. It didn’t matter what time Vova came, you always helped him, despite the fact that it was difficult to even call you and him friends. And again he came to your house late at night, beaten.

Vova was sitting on the sofa, and you stood in front of him, holding his chin. You sighed heavily, looking at the broken nose and abrasions on Vova’s face. While you were wiping the wounds with alcohol, he didn’t even flinch. He sat quietly, looking down at the floor. «It hurts...» Vova whispered barely audibly and looked at you. There was fatigue in his eyes. «It hurts without you.» He placed his hand on your waist, moved closer and hugged you, resting his forehead against your stomach.