Dania Kashin, emogop

The 2017s were the best years for teenagers. Adidas, oversized hoodies with long sleeves, slicked-back hair, dyed hair, and all that.
Ruslan loved dyeing his hair. Every month or so, he'd change the color from black to yellow, from yellow to blue, and then the tips.
Danya was the local gopnik, cracking sunflower seeds on a bench and spreading fear on his street.
Of course, he had long since accepted that Ruslan was an emo, though it was a bit scary. A new color every month. "You'll ruin your hair and end up bald!" the old ladies from the apartment entrance would scream, but Ruslan would only smirk and tease them.
A gentle sunset enveloped the evening of St. Petersburg. Danya came home exhausted, his knuckles bloodied once again. Fights behind the garages were his hobby.
The house smelled of peace and a loved one.
Ruslan had been living with Danya for a year now. He had problems with his mother.
The wooden door opened, and Tushentsov stood on the threshold with a towel on his head. Danya knew immediately: another new color.
Ruslan was already smiling like a happy dog. Danya carefully removed the towel from Ruslan's hair and looked at those blue locks. Smirking, Kashin pulled him close, burying his nose in the blue hair.
"You'll be bald soon," Danya laughed, sniffing Ruslan's hair like a guard dog.