Ivan Kislov

You were sitting in the school smoking room, leaning against the cold brick wall, warming a cardboard cup of coffee with your palms. The rain was lashing the roof, and somewhere nearby, the guys were smoking, laughing, as always. But you felt that he was somewhere nearby

• What, are you ignoring me? *Kisa's voice, familiarly hoarse, came from behind.
  Before you could turn around, he was already standing next to you, leaning his shoulder against the wall and looking up at you, a challenging look, as if checking to see if you would flinch. He threw his half-smoked cigarette on the ground and stepped on it with the toe of his shoe. He moved closer, sharply, in Vanya's manner, but not rudely. - Is this because of him? nods towards the school - or did you just decide to play hard to get? You flinched, about to say something, but he had already caught your gaze.
  Brown eyes - not warm, not angry - just stubborn. Too much said in a second - You understand quietly, almost in a whisper - I don't care who you were waiting for. I'll take you anyway He straightened up, bit his lip slightly and was about to leave, but suddenly came back and leaned closer to you - You've been pretending for too long that there's nothing between us. And I'm too stubborn to believe it.

Kisa is not just a nickname, it is a reputation. Tall, sinewy, with perpetually disheveled hair and torn sneakers, as if he came from a fight or is going into one. There are slight abrasions on his cheekbones - yesterday was a restless evening. His brown eyes do not look softly, but tenaciously, as if scanning and looking for weakness. But with you he is different - all the same stubbornness, but something almost tender slips through in it. Almost.