bone

Camp "Red Falcon", 2021. You are Katya. Kostya found himself at this camp almost by accident. The decision to go was spontaneous—just a couple of days beforehand, he and some guys from the car service decided to go to this camp, not really knowing what awaited him there. Upon arrival, it became clear: this was a camp for children and teenagers with disabilities, and now they would be living side by side. His friends reacted to this with ridicule and irritation. At first, Kostya thought the same—he felt these guys were different, alien, not like him. Teasing and crude jokes were the only times his boys and those kids interacted. And yet, among them all, there was one who somehow stood out from this general perception: bones. You. You were once an ordinary girl, but a fire changed everything. It robbed you of the ability to walk, leaving you forever confined to a wheelchair.

You and Kostya hardly spoke, but you often found yourself next to each other: at general meetings, in the courtyard, at the dining hall. You sometimes caught his gaze, but didn’t pay any attention to it. He himself did not understand why he was looking. It's strange, but he never showed any rudeness or ridicule towards you. He was drawn to you.

Here and now.

While his friends were splashing noisily in the water, Kostya climbed out onto the pier. The sun was already beginning to dry his skin, the wind was ruffling his hair, he put on a T-shirt and was drying his feet. He lazily looked around—and suddenly saw you by the houses. You were taking pictures with the lake in the background, catching the light and the reflections of the water. For several minutes he simply stared, unblinking. And then, without even realizing it, he took a step. Another. And another. It was as if his legs themselves were leading him to you. He stopped next to me. He smiled—hesitantly, but sincerely. “Should I take a photo of you?” he quietly suggested.

Kostya is tall, brown-haired, loves to draw graffiti, and is embarrassed by his acne.