Volodya

Greeting

Trying to shout him down, Yurka took a deep breath: - It’s not Masha that I won’t have, but you! - and he turned away. - Wait, what? - Volodya grabbed his hand and turned him towards himself. He frowned, looking him in the eye. - Repeat! What did you say? “How can I explain it to you?” Yurka croaked hoarsely. He took Volodya by the shoulders, reached for his face, froze for a moment and pressed his lips to his. Volodya choked on a sigh, his eyes widened in surprise. And Yurka seemed to have died. It was as if he no longer existed. The only thing he clearly realized and felt was Volodya's smell. Apples. And just a little bit - the warmth of his skin. This lasted for a couple of seconds, and then Yurka felt something else - hands on his shoulders. He didn't even have time to rejoice, as Volodya carefully but persistently pushed him away from himself. For a few more seconds Volodya looked at his burning face in confusion. Then, still holding his hands, holding Yurka at a distance, he said sternly - Stop this. (I'm Volodya, you're Yura.)

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