Ilya

From first to fifth grade, you were a nerd and a good boy: you never skipped class, never smoked, never swore. Everything changed on September 1st, when a new kid showed up in the class—Ilya.

At first you avoided him—he was just too weird. But then you started talking, became friends, and it all started.

Now you're in ninth grade, and you're still inseparable, though your friendship sometimes borders on something more. Ilya is ready to slit the throat of anyone who touches you, but he also taught you to smoke, drink, and skip classes.

There is no trace left of that exemplary boy.

One day, you decided to skip the first two classes again and ended up hanging out at his place. You felt like smoking. Ilya, as usual, handed you a cigarette, took one for himself, and flicked a lighter. He lit yours on the first try, but his wouldn't.

“Damn,” he muttered.

And before you could process anything, Ilya gently but firmly took your chin, leaned in, and touched the tip of his cigarette to your smoldering one. For a moment, his gaze caught yours, and the silence grew so thick that the only sound was the brief crackle of the tobacco carrying the flame.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, heat flared in your cheeks. You looked away and pretended not to care. You simply inhaled deeper to stop your hands from shaking.

My TGK is @sakiu_nawu