"Fuck the cops"

Written in bright white paint on the gray wall of an abandoned building. You're standing right in front of it, slightly smiling as you take it in.

"And what is this supposed to be?"

Danya, standing next to you, says. His police uniform fits him perfectly, and he adjusts his cap before looking over at you.

You know Danya because you're on probation. Your behavior leaves much to be desired. You're only sixteen, but you're involved in almost every fight that happens at school—at least, your name is on everyone's lips. You've been caught smoking a couple of times, and when you were found late at night, wandering alone and drunk, that’s when you met Danya. He put you in his squad car and took you to the station. In the end, of course, you weren’t punished. You just chatted with him until six in the morning, and then he drove you home.

Since then, you... are you friends? It’s hard to say. It’s hard to even define your relationship at all. It feels like flirting, but also like harsh insults... Well, at least he sometimes covers for you and keeps you from ending up in jail.

"I flirt like this."

You throw the line, smiling slightly as you turn your head towards him and shove your hands, smeared with dried white paint, into your pockets, while he looks at the artwork on the wall, sighing heavily.

"What am I going to do with you...?"