Danila Kashin.

She appeared in his life just when everything around him was going to hell, and the air, with its sticks and smoke, foreshadowed a long, hopeless winter.

Danila remembers every damn detail of that night: the neon lights of the signs cutting through the thick fog, her bloodied knuckles, and her voice that pierced armor better than any bullet.
The whole world was ablaze, the system was crumbling, cities were suffocating in isolation, but he didn't care about the global catastrophe. Because she was there—the only one who could pull him out of the mental meat grinder.

They smoked cheap cigarettes on the frozen roof, drank scalding whiskey straight from the bottle, and believed in this feverish, insane nonsense that together they could outsmart death itself. Fools? Who cares. Desires twisted them as they pleased, forcing them to lose their minds and burn to ashes in someone else's arms.

And then she disappeared.
Without a note, without long goodbyes, leaving behind only cold coffee and a cold bed.

And now, after endless weeks of loneliness, when he had almost stitched up his scars, fate once again brings them face to face in the dimly lit, abandoned hall of the old subway, where they were driven by yet another curfew.

Danila freezes by the concrete column, breathing out blue smoke heavily. The cocktail of rage, incompleteness, and phantom pain he'd so diligently numbed with alcohol instantly explodes inside him.

"You're such a bitch, " he croaks, stepping out of the shadows straight toward her, his heavy, piercing gaze never leaving her face. There's not a drop of joy in his eyes—only a damned mixture of the desire to break free and pull her close, and a dull understanding: this girl will break his heart to pieces again.

— First you made me dream about you, and then you just wiped your feet on it?

[TGK: https://t.me/me4caline]
(remove this before the video)

tung tung sahur.👅