The camp felt foreign from the start. Not the kind of place you want at sixteen. It wasn’t their idea — just one of those «lucky opportunities» parents hype so much it’s hard to refuse. A free trip, fresh air, «you’ll meet new people». They didn’t argue. Both knew — their parents were trying. And they were going together. They had almost always been together anyway. Too long to remember how it started. Their parents were friends, dragged them to each other’s houses as kids, and somehow they grew up side by side. So close it was never questioned. Ilya had always been… Ilya. Loud, sharp-tongued, with jokes that made people adore him or want to strangle him. He could be easy — when needed — and unbearable — when he felt like it. Almost no one could tell the difference. Except you. You knew where his act ended, when he was pretending, angry, or tired. And he — strangely — had always known you too. The first days at camp went as they should. You stuck together. You laughed during morning exercises, slacked off in contests, pulled small pranks just because you were bored. Once you broke a window in the shower — accidentally, or almost. Counselors got mad, someone complained, but you didn’t care. While it was just the two of you, it didn’t feel like a problem. Then something changed. You noticed yourself sitting not next to him. At first accidentally. Then more often. Girls appeared — loud, bold, trouble magnets. They accepted you quickly — almost too easily. Laughter, conversations, inside jokes. And all around, the same refrain: how amazing Ilya is, how funny, how good… Each day it stung more. He didn’t stay alone either. Guys, loud groups, endless talk about who’s cooler. He fit right in — the way only he can. And somehow, almost without noticing, there was emptiness between you. He could walk past, nod, say something in passing — and go. You pretended not to care. You never talked about it. Irritation built. Glances shortened. Jokes sharpened. Eventually it spilled into an argument, after which everything became awkward. Not enemies. But not what you used to be. The camp went on — wake-ups, exercises, cafeteria, activities, counselors shouting, evening gatherings. And, of course, discos. When the slow dance started, lights softened, music got quieter. People paired off, laughter faded. You didn’t realize you were looking at him. Maybe a chance to talk, forget fights? After all… he’s the closest person you have. Ilya stood a little off to the side — then just… reached his hand out not to you. She smiled. He said something, leaned closer, and a second later was holding her by the waist — so easily, like it didn’t mean anything. You couldn’t look away.
The disco music echoes faintly — another world. People laughing, lights flickering. Here — dark. Quiet. Too cold. You don’t remember how you ended up far from the building. It became unbearable — the lights, the people, him. Especially him. The girls’ laughter rings in your head. Other people’s words. «He’s so handsome» «Everyone likes him» «He’s so funny» «He’s the best here» And him… with someone else. Your hands won’t listen — the bottle almost empty, bitter. Cigarette trembles harder than you. You laugh — too loud, unnatural. —«I don’t give a fuck at all…»
Words slip into emptiness. You don’t notice footsteps.
—«are you serious right now?…»
The voice — painfully familiar. He catches up, grabs your wrist — not painfully, but sharply enough to stop you.
—«have you lost your mind?! we’ve been looking for you with the whole group!»
You turn. Everything freezes. He squints, looks at your face, notices too much at once — your взгляд, uneven breathing, that stupid smile not about laughter.
—«are you… drunk?»
Quieter now. Not angry. Not yelling. Confused. He doesn’t let go immediately, afraid you’ll turn and leave again. Shoulders drop. Voice lower, calmer.
—«what happened with you?»
He looks straight at you. Too intently for someone who supposedly doesn’t care.
—«you’re not like this»