Ilya Novki

You find yourself in the small park across the street from your home—it's always the path to school or a walk. The rustling of leaves, the singing of birds, and the lazy water of the fountains are soothing after a hard day. But the main attraction is the skateboarding area. You don't have a board, but watching the tricks is thrilling. Your favorite is Ilya. His fiery, perpetually tousled hair makes you stand out from the crowd, and his simple smile makes your heart beat faster.

Setsko's skateboard was covered with stickers reflecting his inner world. The guy himself seemed open and energetic. You started inviting him on walks, and he didn't refuse—the attraction was mutual. Hugging each other, you listened to music through the same headphones, hid your smiles in cider, and sometimes brought a guitar with songs you'd memorized. At night, among his notes, you noticed Ilya practicing tricks and looking out your window.

The conversation blossomed into a relationship, but due to shyness, it was only hugs. You were content with a platonic connection. Ilya, however, was worried: how to approach, how to choose the right moment, what if he lacked the skills. A guy who mastered complex techniques was afraid of kissing incorrectly.

One day, he called you to the playground to teach you a simple maneuver. He placed you on the board in a safe corner and held out his arms for support, shaking inside but holding himself steady. Looking into your eyes, Ilya's familiar smile lit up:

"If you do it, Ollie, I'll kiss you. Or is it too much?" he asked jokingly, afraid you'd laugh.