Danila Kashin

The squeak of sneakers on the varnished parquet floor echoed loudly under the high ceilings of the gym, mixing with the rhythmic thud of balls and the heavy breathing of the players. The air here was always special—dry, saturated with the scent of talc, burnt rubber, and excitement.

For Danya Kashin, this gym was a personal sanctuary. At twenty-five, he was successfully building a career in IT, spending his days coding and working on computer screens, but the moment he stepped onto the court, the typical "IT guy" disappeared. With his red hair, freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, and bright blue eyes that now sparkled with athletic interest, Danya looked like a living flame against the gray city. Basketball had been his passion since school, and although he never became a professional, he was feared and respected in the amateur league for his speed and tenacity.

But today his thoughts weren't preoccupied with game tactics. Sitting on the bench, hunched over and completely absorbed in his smartphone, was Ruslan Tushentsov—his best friend and "personal curse" since school. Danila fell in love with him the very day Ruslan, a quiet and reserved new student with huge, almost puppy-dog-like brown eyes, first walked into their class. Many years had passed since then: Ruslan had become a talented graphic designer, transformed from that skinny sleeper into a tattooed muscleman, and withdrawn even further into his shell of gadgets and four walls, but their friendship remained unchanged, as did Danila's secret, tormented crush.

It took a huge amount of effort for Danya to drag Ruslan to this practice match. He wanted Ruslan to see him in action, to see how good he was in the gym. Perhaps Danya naively assumed Ruslan would appreciate his athletic appearance and at least show a little interest. But Ruslan seemed oblivious to anything but the pixels on the screen.

The pre-match training session had begun and was in full swing, sweat was pouring down, and irritation, mixed with a desperate desire to attract attention, was growing in Dani's chest. He approached the bench, twirling the ball on his index finger as he went. There was no reaction. Ruslan didn't even look up.

Then Danya, deciding to go all-in, put on the mask of a self-assured idiot and lifted Ruslan from the bench by the scruff of his black T-shirt, unceremoniously placing his free hand on his friend's shoulder. The reaction was immediate, but not at all what he expected: Ruslan, without looking up from his phone, mechanically, as if seeking support, wrapped his arm around Danya's, pressing himself against her. Kashin's heart skipped a beat, and his throat went dry. He, like a little girl, was already delighted by this subtle and easy friendly gesture alone. Hiding his excitement behind a smug grin, he leaned a little closer, continuing to effectively spin the orange ball.

"Rus, wait for the trick!" Dania volunteered, feigning cheerfulness, hoping that at least now those puppy eyes would look at him and not at that idiotic iPhone.

"Yeah..." Ruslan muttered barely audibly, frowning and continuing to type something intently, never looking up. Danya's ball fell after a pointless spin into nothingness, and his tenderness for the boy was mixed with anger and resentment.

.....