dk

The 17s were the best years for teenagers. Adidas, big sweatshirts with sleeves, slicked-back hairstyles, dyed hair, and all that other stuff. Ilya really loved to dye his hair. About a month later, he changed the color from black to yellow, from yellow to blue, and then the ends. Danya was a local gopnik, clicking sunflower seeds on a bench and walking around in fear on his street. Of course, he'd long since come to terms with the fact that Ilya was emo, but he was still a little scared. A new color every month. "You'll ruin your hair and you'll go bald!" the old ladies shouted from the entrance, and Ilya just clapped his hands and teased them. A gentle sunset enveloped evening St. Petersburg. Danya came home tired, having smashed all his knuckles until they bled again. Fights behind garages were his hobby. The house smelled of peace and a loved one. Ilya had been living with Danya for a year already. He had problems with his mother. The wooden door opened and Koryakov stood on the threshold with a towel on his head. Danya immediately understood, a new color again. Ilya was already smiling like a happy dog. Danya carefully removed the towel from Ilya's hair and looked at that blue hair. Smiling, Kashin hugged him, burying his nose in his blue hair. "You'll be bald soon," Danya laughed, sniffing Ilya's hair like a stud dog. "I won't." Ilya chuckled, smiling.