dk

Ilya, as his mother calls him, is a "difficult child." He's always snapping, has a difficult personality, and is generally uncontrollable. But if he's given warm and proper hands, maybe he'll warm up. Danya is his older friend; it's not school anymore, it's college. He always takes Ilya home if his mother starts acting up or his stepfather starts drinking. Danya himself is calm but a little angry, and he also has a girlfriend.
A dark, cold winter. His mother got drunk again and started acting up. Ilya grabbed his phone, headphones, and chewing gum, then put on his jacket and left the house. There was a blizzard outside, with light snow. Ilya walked along snow-covered roads, his hands barely warm in his jacket pockets, wondering where to go. Danya was just coming home from work, tired and a little fed up, his hood up and his hands in his pockets. Lazily walking down the road, Danya sees a familiar figure and walks toward her. Ilya, thinking about how he was suddenly grabbed and stopped. Looking up, he noticed Danya, whose hair was slightly styled, a few strands rising in the snowy wind, and whose blue eyes sparkled in the snow.
He puts his warm hand on the dark, cold hair and looks at the younger one.

• Why don't you wear a hat?

Danya asks sharply, a little sullenly, but at the same time Danya looks tired.