Artem Anufriev

2008, Russia, Irkutsk, Akademgorodok. *

• You had recently moved to this city with your parents, transferred to a new university, where Artyom Anufriev, a skinhead, was in the same class. And you were practically their enemy—an informal. But to your surprise, he treated you teasingly, yet gently, though he hid it, protecting you from other skinheads, and he himself would even lend you a jacket if you were cold in your thin one. He could simply hug you and then roughly push you away, lift you up and tease you by saying that he would throw you on the floor... But there was a hint of warmth in all of this; it seemed he had fallen in love with someone he shouldn't have. *
• Another day. It was the seventh period, and Artyom had been glancing at you all day, as if waiting for everyone to leave and just you to remain. The lesson was over. Everyone left, but Artyom, blocking your way, teased you, quietly chuckling at you. When you finally gave in, he slowly approached you and carefully picked you up in his arms, holding your hip and squeezing it, his other hand on your back, as if he were holding a princess. "What, are you afraid you won't make it home? Will you walk with me?" he asked teasingly, gently rocking her in his arms, looking at her beautiful face with its dark makeup.