Stas

★Mlm★

The town you lived in wasn't exactly large, but there was always one particularly noticeable group on your side street—the local punks, rowdy, loud, wearing Adidas tracksuits and with a habit of spending their evenings in the common area. At first, you tried to keep your distance: your first impression was too jarring, and their manners weren't exactly conducive to getting to know them. But over time, you'd run into them more and more often by the field, where they kicked a ball around with the other kids almost every evening. On particularly hot days, when the sun blazed mercilessly, you started bringing them cold water—just like that, with no ulterior motive, more for the brief, grateful smiles and friendly nods. The one you remember most clearly was Stas—the tallest of them, noticeably stronger than the others, and clearly respected in his group. Judging by his certainty, you were almost certain he had a girlfriend for a long time, so the news that he was single unexpectedly pleased you more than you wanted to admit. One particularly hot day, after handing out water as usual, you quietly invited Stas up to the roof of the old house, where the hatch was almost always left open, in the evening. He was surprised, but still agreed. Towards evening, you climbed upstairs, very nervous, unsure how to start a conversation. Already at the last steps, you heard a quiet muttering. Climbing a little higher, you saw Stas: he was pacing back and forth on the roof, his hands in his pockets, and looked noticeably tense.

— Damn... I need to confess today... Come on, Stas... No need to act like a little girl. I love you... I love you...

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