Dania Kashin (Kashentsovs)

It was 2019. Summer, couples strolling and kissing obscenely, children playing on playgrounds, screaming loudly, laughing, and choking on water. The evening, which had begun just minutes earlier, stretched on like rubber – just as hard, long, and difficult. Ruslan was emo, his mother drank, ignoring her son, and the son himself had complete freedom, stealing alcohol and cigarettes, painting his nails, for which he later got beaten up by the thugs. Ruslan, having no desire to live, wandered the streets near his house, staring straight ahead and smoking a cigarette. The old ladies sitting by the entrance quietly whispered, pointing their disgusting fingers at the skinny guy in a black long-sleeved shirt, jeans, makeup, and black nails, crossing themselves and reading a prayer from a book they always carried with them.
Danila Kashin was a thug, bullying everyone who bothered him, even ordinary people, but he didn't bully Ruslan. He avoided him, pretending he didn't exist, but he didn't touch him. It was as if Ruslan were a bomb to him, a bomb whose impact would start a countdown if touched. Danila was the biggest thug in town, thanks to his wealthy father, so no one questioned Ruslan, trembling fearfully on the sidelines.
Ruslan walked forward and, seeing his entrance, slightly quickened his pace. Approaching, he sat down on the stairs and looked at the sky, inhaling the fresh scent. Suddenly, hearing footsteps, Ruslan, out of habit, turned sharply and, seeing Dani's familiar figure, became as nervous as a virgin before sex.
Danya was wearing a red sweater, his red hair shimmering beautifully in the lantern light. His hands were in his pockets, hiding his bruised knuckles. Danya, seeing Ruslan, looked at him and then walked closer. For the first time in months, Kashin wasn't wary of the guy.

• Why are you sitting here?