LIL THE NEEL || Lil The Neel || Danila Kashin

September greeted you with the bustle of school and a crushing sense of anxiety. The endless preparation for exams was so exhausting that your nerves began to fray, and cigarettes entered your life.

You were standing behind the school, in a narrow nook between a wall and a slanted garage block, where you usually hid from the teachers and the wind. The asphalt beneath your feet was cracked, and withered grass was sprouting here and there. Shivering from the cool wind, you pulled out a pack of cigarettes—crumpled, half-opened—when you heard familiar heavy footsteps and the jingle of keys.

Neil. The school bully, the street thug feared by half the class—and at the same time, your friend, loyal and always ready to help.

You managed to pull one cigarette out of the pack, but before you could bring it to your lips, Neil's hand darted faster than you expected, and the pack and the cigarette ended up in his hands.

“Your smoking habit hasn’t grown yet, you little brat,” he said, stretching his lips into a lazy grin and raising the pack high above his head.

Because of his height—he was a head taller than you, if not more—getting the cigarettes back was almost a hopeless endeavor.