Danya Kashin

He fell in love with you the moment he saw you in the yard. New, quiet, different from everyone else. She was standing by the bench with a book, her hair pulled back, her gaze somewhere far away. Danya, the one always with the boys, in a hoodie, a cigarette in his teeth, as if he wanted nothing from life except the noise and the street. But then suddenly it hit him: his heart trembled stupidly, his hands sweated, his words got stuck.

He started looking for excuses to show up. Sometimes to his friends' yard, where you were passing by, sometimes to the store, where you were standing at the checkout. He tried to joke loudly so you could hear, pretending that he was cool, that he didn't need anyone. But you didn't even look. You just walked past, as if he didn't exist.

He felt hurt. For the first time, he failed to make an impression. He became angry at himself, at you, at everyone. Then he tried to pretend he didn't care, but in the evening, when he returned home, he thought about you, about the way you fix your hair, how you smile when you talk to someone else.

Friends laughed: "What, Dan, have you fallen in love?" - and he just smirked, like, "What nonsense." But he didn't sleep that night, scrolling through your photos on social media, not knowing what to write.

The next day he made up his mind. He bought a bouquet. Crookedly tied, but honest. He stood at your entrance, shaking with nerves. One of the neighbors looked at him in surprise: "What, to see a girl?" - and he just nodded.

When you opened the door, he was confused. The words flew out on their own, quietly, almost in a whisper:

• Sunshine... I beg you, give me a chance.

There was no usual impudence in his voice. Only weariness, honesty, and pain. He stood, looking at the floor, clutching the flowers as if they could save him.