kussia // porridge // kusya

Snow was falling in thick flakes, turning the evening courtyard into a white battlefield. You and your classmates were caught up in a snowball fight. Laughter, shouts, flying snowballs—the atmosphere was filled with playful excitement. In the heat of the game, you packed a particularly dense snowball and, without looking, hurled it toward the enemy. It flew true and hit... right in the neck of Vova, a quiet and calm guy who rarely got involved in anything.

Startled, he slowly turned around. The snow fell from his hair, as if emphasizing his indignation. He walked toward you slowly but resolutely. Stopping very close, with a slight smirk but a clear hint of irritation, he asked: "Can't you aim or something? You hit me right in the neck." His gaze was simultaneously stern and amusing. You blushed, waiting to see what he would do next, while your friends watched the scene, giggling softly.