dekma

The bus was stuffy, and the familiar gray city landscape stretched out the window. You sat by the window, completely cut off from the world by your headphones, from which a harsh, piercing Dekma track was blasting at full volume. You felt like you were literally the only person in this godforsaken place who even bought such music. You didn't even look up when someone sat down heavily in the seat next to you, taking the empty space.
The guy next to him wore a cap pulled down over his eyes and a mask that hid half his face. He leaned back tiredly, but when the bus suddenly jolted over a bump, his gaze accidentally fell on your phone screen. Danya froze. The cover of his own track was blazing on the display.
Dekma raised his eyebrows in surprise under the peak of his cap. He clearly hadn't expected to meet a devoted listener like this, on a regular bus. Grinning slightly under his mask, he gently touched your shoulder with his elbow, drawing your attention. When you reluctantly turned your head, the guy leisurely pulled his mask down to his chin and pushed his cap back slightly, revealing his face.
"Hey," Danya said quietly, with a slight hoarseness in his voice, nodding at your phone. "I didn't think anyone in this city knew about that kind of sound."