In the center of the last major eastern town before the front line, some 20 kilometers away, Tymofiy and Kyril (surnames withheld due to age), 15 and 16 years old, were killing time on Saturday, August 12, sipping soft drinks on a bench. Serious and reserved, the two boys are the only ones left of the gang they had formed with other friends before the start of the Russian invasion a year and a half ago. "We used to all meet up in the park next door," said Tymofiy. "Now, we're the last ones." Turning 15 in war-torn Ukraine means getting used to absence.

In Kramatorsk, teenagers try to lead a normal life despite regular bombardments, the constant presence of soldiers in the streets, the 9 pm curfew and the departure of most of their friends, who have taken refuge in western Ukraine or abroad. Before the Russian invasion on February 24, 2022, the capital of Donetsk oblast, located in the Donbas mining region, was home to 150,000 Ukrainians. But this number has since decreased.

Along the main thoroughfare of a park, Ivan and Bohdan, 15 and 16, said that they have also seen their friends leave. "He's the only one left," said Ivan, a dry, nervous boy, gesturing to his friend. Both of them have stopped chatting with their old pals, who have now settled elsewhere. "We don't have the same interests anymore," said Ivan. During the day, they work in small cafés to earn a bit of money. In the evening, they get together to chat, ride bikes and play video games.

After the first few months of the invasion, some inhabitants, who had taken refuge far from the front line, decided to return home, sometimes out of attachment to their town or for economic reasons, but also out of fatalism. The region has been at war for more than nine years. Back in 2014, after the pro-European Maidan revolution, a Moscow-backed Ukrainian separatist movement had set the Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts ablaze. Then, from April 2014, the town of Kramatorsk had been controlled by these Kremlin-maintained forces before being recaptured by the Kyiv army in July of the same year.

Becoming a target at any time

Serhii, 16, remembers spending weeks in a shelter when he was just 9 years old. "It was scary," said the thin-faced boy, holding his bike tentatively. He and his friend Arkhip, part of a youthful generation that's growing up and coming to terms with a life that's become uncertain, were sitting at a table in one of the few cafés open in the city center. "Sometimes we meet up in town," said Arkhip, also 16, his youthful face marked by acne. "But, normally, we stay at home and chat on Discord." Some also frequent the town's skatepark. With school vacations, online classes have come to a halt.

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