Feelings Against the Law E-Book

Polina Krymskaya

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Soviet students Seva and Zhenya have decided to rise against societal norms, embrace their love and defy prejudice. Their courageous pursuit of happiness challenges a conservative society that seeks to confine them.
As Zhenya's departure looms, their time together becomes precious, and they yearn to cherish every moment of serenity and affection. However, their newfound freedom carries unforeseen consequences that could shatter the very foundation of their lives.
In the second book in Polina Krymskaya's series, the love story of Seva and Zhenya unfolds against the backdrop of a society at odds with their desires. 'Feeling Against The Law' explores the balance between love and sacrifice, as Seva and Zhenya navigate a world where liberation comes with its own set of risks.

Leseprobe

Feelings Against the Law

A Stain On The Red Banner

Book 2

Polina Krymskaya

Contents

Acknowledgement

1. The Shooting Star

2. The New Side of the Gold Medal

3. Let’s Be Happy

4. Return to Odessa

5. The Old City with New Eyes

6. Meet My Best Friend

7. Show Me Love

8. Feelings Against the Law

9. It’s Not a Dream Anymore

10. The Glass Fragments

11. My Love Is Enough for Us Both

12. Our Trace on the Red Banner

About the Author

Copyright (C) 2023 Polina Krymskaya

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2023 by Next Chapter

Published 2023 by Next Chapter

Edited by Tyler Colins

Cover art by Lordan June Pinote

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

Acknowledgement

In addition to my entourage, to the close people who have always believed in me and supported me, I want to thank my friend Arlene Money. She provided me with invaluable help on this long and difficult journey of translating and adapting my book for foreign markets. I also want to thank my other English-speaking friends who helped me a lot in working on this book. It was priceless to feel all your help and support, and I truly believe I couldn’t have done it all alone. I will always be grateful to all of you.

Chapter1

The Shooting Star

Zhenya left, and Seva was left alone. At least, that’s what it seemed like to him when he was returning home from the station. But, despite the gloomy mood, everything turned out not so bad.

On the first day, Svetka dragged him out for a walk, managing to tactfully pretend that there had never been any Alina and no breakup. Seva thought with some relief that at least he would not sit at home all day as might be the dreary expectation of Zhenya.

Upon returning from the walk, he was met by an excited Sema, who with fiery eyes told him about how an eighth-grader, with whom he’d fought last month, was caught smoking on the toilet. Seva had to do his best not to tell his brother everything he thought about this. His efforts were rewarded. The conversation dragged on; they talked until it was night, as if making up for lost time for the past two years.

Both briefly talked about the events that had happened to him during this time, Seva limiting himself to a general news summary, even though Sema insisted on a detailed story about his relationship with Alina; then his brother described his adventures in all details. Seva envied him. There was nothing to tell him except about the meaningless and empty year of friendship with Dima and Rostik. Of course, there was a busy, extremely exciting, and eventful year with Zhenya, but it was necessary to keep silent about him. Seva only mentioned how they translated records together. Sema was impressed and until the morning they listened to Zhenya’s abandoned record, “The Beatles”, so that Seva could show off his impeccable (well, almost) English in front of his brother.

Since that night, they made a habit of spending time together. Sema had a lot of stories, enough for another ten years. Seva was puzzled as to why they hadn’t communicated for so long.

Every day the brothers seemed to get to know each other anew, and Sema even began to walk with friends less often, despite it previously being impossible to drag him home. Seva, in turn, showed him the garage. Sema had never been there before. There was no limit to his delight; he even declared that he’d now move here to live, so as not to share a room with Seva anymore. Seva laughed but hid the keys away just in case. After all, despite his love for his brother and the unwillingness to share such cramped quarters, the garage was his and Zhenya’s private place.

Seva’s free time, which he now had in abundance, wasn’t only spent with Sema. The company walked every day and only Pasha, who was preparing for admission, periodically dropped out of the group and stayed back to study. Rostik, who had graduated tenth grade with him and Zhenya, cared little about such trifles. He got a job as a handyman at a machine-building plant, and Alena, as Svetka told Seva after the disco, finally agreed to date him. As such, life seemed sunny and carefree to Rostik.

Walks with the group were replaced by conversations with Grandma, then he hung out in the garage with Sema again, and at night Seva stayed up late to work on another drawing. Life was in full swing; there was a lack of classes with Maria Viktorovna, but she left for the village, promising that she would notify him as soon as she arrived.

And, of course, he missed Zhenya. No matter how much fun Seva had and no matter how he occupied all his free time with friends and drawing, he missed Zhenya unbearably. Every morning he started with the thought, “I wonder how Zhenya is?” and every evening he ended with the same thought. And at night, Seva imagined their meeting again and the end of summer, which they would spend together … and after it, Zhenya would have to go back to Moscow, this time for a year. Seva tried not to think about it. He wanted only one thing: to see Zhenya, to tell him about everything that had happened, to hear his happy story about admission, to hug him tightly. Hope sometimes flashed in his head and heart that Zhenya wouldn’t enroll and decide to stay here for another year, but Seva immediately and annoyingly quelled them. He knew that Zhenya’s peace—of mind and self—was more important to him.

Seva thought that without Zhenya he would just go crazy, but it turned out that it was possible to continue life. He thought that he would miss Zhenya because he wouldn’t find anything to do without him, but it turned out quite the opposite. There was no free time. Then Seva realized an important thing: he missed Zhenya not because it was bad or strange being without him, but because it was even better with him. And this “better” began to lessen the pain in his chest.

Seva didn’t even know where he was or what was happening to him. Had he already passed the exams? Did he get in? Was he going to come back? The unknown scared him the most. Seva didn’t know what to do. To worry about Zhenya? To rejoice? On what days should he begin the day thinking of good things and luck? Or should he prepare for the worst and choose words of comfort? Just in case, he did everything at the same time—was happy, was worried, and wished for good luck.

They didn’t get in touch on Zhenya’s birthday, and Seva congratulated him only in his head. This was especially sad. Eighteen years was a significant event, and they had embraced it separately. Seva wished that the coveted admission to MSU would be a gift to Zhenya on this special day.

He even thought of what he would say when they finally met. In any scenario, Seva had something to say. He had plenty of time for this; the nights were still long. But all these pre-determined words flew out of his head at the same moment when, after a month of tedious waiting, the home phone rang and Sema, who’d managed to pick up the phone first, notified the whole apartment.

“Seva, Zhenya is calling you!”

Seva choked on water, spat what was remaining in his mouth into the sink, and threw the glass in the same place. There was a deafening ringing, but Seva didn’t even notice it. He covered the distance from the kitchen to the corridor in just a fraction of a second, snatched the phone from Sema’s fingers, and blurted in a voice hoarse with excitement, “Hello?”

Sema chuckled, shook his head, and went into the room so as not to eavesdrop.

“I did it! I passed, Seva, can you imagine? I’m going to study at MSU!”

Through the crackling and interference, Seva heard Zhenya’s happy voice. He didn’t fully understand what Zhenya was saying to him, he only guessed from the intonation that he needed to respond. “Congratulations!” And, after a pause, he added, “How are you? What did your parents say?”

“Parents?” Even though the voice was distorted by interference, it was clear that Zhenya was puzzled by his question. “They didn’t say anything. I haven’t called them yet. Listen, I don’t have much time. I’m calling to invite you to the summer house. Come in four days, on the twenty-third, on the first train after lunch. I’ll meet you on the platform. Will you come?”

Without hesitation, Seva promised, “Of course, I’ll come!”

“Great, I’ll be waiting!” Zhenya managed to say before they disconnected.

Seva didn’t doubt his answer. Of course, he would come. How could it be otherwise? Denis Ilyich, his father, didn’t ask anything anymore. To the summer house? To Zhenya? “Go ahead, son!” He only asked him to come back by the beginning of the school year.

But Seva would return even earlier. Thinking about Zhenya’s past words, he’d agreed to go to Odessa. He decided that he’d be bored when all his friends left and he was alone. He’d agreed to go with them, which meant he had to be in town at the beginning of August. However, after Zhenya’s call, Seva regretted his decision.

Four days later, he was shaking as he sat on the first suburban train after lunch and was nervously counting stations. Three stations left, two, one …

Arriving, Seva pushed his way to the door so as not to waste a single second of precious time. He saw Zhenya even before they stopped, and his heart jumped joyfully in his chest. From the train, driven by the flow of people, Seva was the first one to step out and immediately rushed to Zhenya. It wasn’t easy to squeeze through the crowd, and finding each other with their eyes, they just nodded and began walking to freedom.

Zhenya grabbed him by the crook of his elbow so as not to lose him and Seva, with difficulty, suppressed the desire to stay among people if only he’d not let go of his hand.

Once near the ticket offices, they were finally able to stop and catch their breath. Zhenya relaxed his fingers, and Seva barely restrained a disappointed sigh. He looked into Zhenya’s tanned, smiling face and exhaled. With utmost sincerity, he said, “I missed you.” After these words, he was embarrassed and immediately looked away.

Zhenya smiled wider, and the dimple on his chin was almost imperceptible.

“Me too.”

They stood for a while longer, casting timid glances at each other from under their eyelashes. Seva thought about how much he wanted that moment to linger, there and then, not caring about anyone or anything else, to hug him, to hold him so tightly that he would forget where he ended and Zhenya began, and never let go again. Maybe he’d have done so and spat on all the rules of decency and the sidelong glances of random passers-by, but Zhenya would certainly not have approved of this. That was why Seva continued to stand, squinting at the sun reflected from the window of the cash register, and from under his narrowed gaze, he looked at Zhenya as if for the first time. Only then did he realize how much time had passed, this short eternity without Zhenya. They had so much to discuss!

“Shall we go?” Zhenya finally suggested after two minutes of silent, locked gazes.

Seva nodded, adjusted the straps of his backpack, and was the first to head for the already familiar road. At first, among people and cars, they walked as before, in silence, but as soon as they turned onto a barely noticeable path overgrown with heather, both burst forth talking. Only one short phrase, thrown almost simultaneously, was enough. “Well, how are you?”

Interrupting each other, hurrying and stammering, they began to share the latest news, and Seva forced himself to be silent with a huge effort of will, rightly judging that his words could wait, but the story about admission to MSU could not. As usual, Zhenya related all the details, which were more about Moscow than about his admission. According to his intense gaze and enthusiastic descriptions, Seva realized that during the short time that Zhenya had stayed in the capital, he’d managed to fall in love with the city. It took everything to pretend that this didn’t upset him—like, if Zhenya didn’t like Moscow, he’d have stayed at home. Nonsense. Seva got angry at himself and squeezed the straps of the backpack harder. Zhenya liked Moscow and this was great! For the next five years, he’d feel in his element. … Five years.

Zhenya seemed reluctant to answer all the questions about MSU itself. Happily, he confirmed that he’d passed, even getting an ‘A’ in math! But he didn’t say anything else, just continued to express his admiration of what a big and beautiful city Moscow was.

Seva thought that if he got out of their backwater town to the capital, he’d probably also be impressed. And what difference did it make what Zhenya was talking about? Seva realized long ago that he was ready to listen to him even if he started quoting a textbook on quantum physics … especially now, a month and a half after their last get-together.

Seva remembered well that the journey from the station to Zhenya’s house took a little less than an hour, but this time it seemed to him that they’d reached it in just ten minutes. Always loving nature and the peaceful countryside, he didn’t pay attention to the fascinating landscapes that opened up before him, that seemed to have descended from a canvas. Sprawling poplars and maples, lush greenery shining under the sun, not yet withered, a dusty, deserted country path running into the distance, a lonely falcon circling over an endless, bumpy field; all this passed by Seva, who looked only at Zhenya along the way. How could he look at country landscapes, breathtaking views, and boundless green expanses next to Zhenya? Zhenya was so beautiful, more beautiful than any landscape; he seemed to have descended from a painting. Seva looked at him without averting his eyes and listened so attentively that now and then he stumbled, even on the sand covering the path.

It was only when they reached the Smirnovs’ summer house that Seva suddenly remembered that he had come here with the firm intention of painting at least a couple of paintings. Back in the fall, he’d thought that in the summer this place probably transformed beyond recognition, becoming a paradise on Earth for any artist. He wasn’t mistaken.

As soon as he was on the other side of the brick fence, he felt his breath catch in delight and his eyes peered every which way. Wherever he looked, to the right or to the left, even up and down, there was something that begged to be captured. Inspiration here could last a lifetime. On the way from the gate to the porch, Seva mentally sketched more than five ideas, and his hands itched with impatience. He was craving to take a brush in his hands!

But as soon as they entered the house, drawing flew from his head. He threw the backpack, filled with brushes and paints, into his room on the second floor, and he and Zhenya settled down on the sofa in the hall. What brushes and paints … what drawings … when he and Zhenya had so much to discuss!?

The image of a swing in the shade of a spreading poplar flashed before his eyes and immediately disappeared as soon as Zhenya sat down opposite, touching his knees with surprisingly cold fingers for a hot summer day. Seva shuddered, and something pleasurable fluttered inside; he could hardly restrain a smile. How long had it been since he’d experienced this?

But now, after a month and a half, Seva didn’t dare sit too close again. What if Zhenya came to his senses? If so, then Seva wouldn’t interfere, wouldn’t provoke him to feel they were anything other than simple friends. He could be patient. After almost a year of this “friendship”, he’d be able to wait another month before Zhenya moved to Moscow. And, for Zhenya’s sake, he would.

Making a decision, Seva put his head on the soft back of the sofa and casually announced that he’d agreed to go with the class to Odessa.

Zhenya was so delighted that Seva’s lips twitched in a slight smile.

“Are you serious? This is after our conversation, right? I managed to convince you?”

“You did,” Seva chuckled happily. “I listened to your advice.”

“I listened to yours too.”

Zhenya frowned, catching something in Seva’s indifferent tone.

“Yes, preparation for exams … for math. I remember.” Seva sighed and hurried to change the topic, “Let me tell you how things are going. Or have you already forgotten you used to be friends with all sorts of provincial plebeians?” He didn’t miss an opportunity to be sarcastic.

“Be glad I haven’t forgotten you. Although, of course, I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Zhenya added thoughtfully and looked at Seva so intently and seriously that he felt a prick in his ribs. But Zhenya’s face immediately softened and he offered a mocking smile in response. “Tell me already, plebeian.”

And Seva began to do so. Still reclining on the back of the sofa, he recalled all the events that had happened over the past month and a half, told Zhenya about Pasha, who was diligently preparing for admission, Svetka who worried about him, happy Rostik and happy Alena. He didn’t forget about himself either; he told Zhenya about his friendship with Sema, about his grandma, and about his intention to draw everything he could at the Smirnovs’ summer house.

Zhenya was especially pleased with the latter one and vowed, if necessary, not to touch him at all, so that he could concentrate on drawing. Seva hastily dismissed his offer. Zhenya could and never would interfere with that.

After discussing news and events, they smoothly switched to the usual abstract topics—about everything and nothing. Several hours passed since their first meeting, and both were still talking excitedly, pausing only to allow the other to speak a word or two.

Each time he listened to Zhenya, Seva managed to briefly fall from reality, and then stupidly asked what he’d said just a second ago. He honestly tried to concentrate on Zhenya’s words, but the attempts were in vain. Seva was angry with himself; he’d promised himself that he’d be able to keep everything under control! But looking at Zhenya, as moments from that night suddenly flashed before his mind’s eye, and everything inside flip-flopped. It didn’t help that Zhenya was so temptingly placing his palm next to Seva’s … their fingers were almost touching.

During the conversation and the painful, almost irresistible desire to do something, time flew by unnoticed. Seva woke up only when it began to get dark outside. He immediately remembered how Zhenya had been enthusiastically telling him all year that there was so much entertainment here in the summer, and Seva should try everything! And now, summer had come, he was here, and they’d spent the whole first day not leaving the house—not even getting up from the sofa.

Seva giggled.

“What are you laughing at?” Zhenya stopped in mid-sentence.

“Just something in my head. Go on.” Seva waved a hand.

“No, if it’s something funny, I want to know,” objected Zhenya.

“I just remembered that you’ve been talking incessantly all year about how we’d come here in the summer and ride a moped, swim in the lake, burn bonfires, and do many other things. But we spent the whole day at home on the sofa, as if we’d never left the town.”

“We haven’t seen each other for so long, we had to discuss everything that’s happened.” Zhenya sounded indignant.

“Did I say I gave it a thought? I agree to spend the rest of my days like this.”

Seva shrugged and his gaze followed Zhenya’s hand with a longing look. He reached out to fix his hair.

“Me too,” Zhenya said after a short silence. “But you’re right. Get ready. Let’s go.”

“Where to? It’s night outside.” Seva was amazed.

It was pitch-dark outside the window, which meant it was already past eleven. Seva stretched and every bone seemed to crunch with pleasure as he did so—fingers, hands, knees, even the spine. He didn’t want to go anywhere. A night in the country had never aroused much interest and stepping outside of a cozy warm house seemed like an extremely absurd idea, never mind interrupting their conversation when both still had so much to say!

“Not far. I’ll show you my favorite place. Consider it like a garage for you. Just put on a jacket; it’s cool at night.”

That he had a “favorite place” intrigued Seva, and he didn’t argue. He wouldn’t anyway, even if Zhenya had offered to walk into the forest or the river right now. Was it that difficult for him? No, if Zhenya wanted to go somewhere, then Seva would go with him—even to the neighboring village twenty kilometers away, on foot. Moreover, if it was “not far”, then it wasn’t a problem at all.

The two of them went to the second floor. Seva put on his only warm jacket and left the room, heading back to the stairs.

Zhenya caught him by the collar, “Where are you going?”

“To the walkway.” Seva was surprised. “Are we supposed to climb through the window?”

“Yes, through the window,” Zhenya nodded.

“Very funny,” Seva snorted. “Let’s go already.”

“Who’s joking?” Zhenya asked calmly and walked to the window. He parted the flowered curtains, clicked the latch on the wooden frame, and opened the doors. Puzzled, Seva followed him.

“If you’ve deceived me and didn’t enter MSU, and now you’re wanting to jump out of the window before your parents find out, then I have to disappoint you: this the second floor, so you’ll only break your legs,” Seva joked wryly.

“Very funny,” Zhenya mimicked him. “Be sure that if I want to die, I’ll be able to calculate everything accurately.” And with these words, he climbed onto the windowsill.

Seva, seriously frightened, rushed forward to restrain the slapdash suicide. But he didn’t have time; a second later, only Zhenya’s legs and feet in striped socks were sticking out of the window.

Then his contented face appeared on the other side of the frame. “Climb over already.”

Seva ignored the questions that were spinning in his head. If Zhenya said to climb over, then he’d climb over. And so it did; he climbed onto the windowsill, looked down at Zhenya, at the sloping tiled roof, and timidly dangled one leg.

“It’s not smooth … don’t be afraid. You won’t slip.”

“I’m not afraid.” Irritated, Seva shrugged a shoulder and a moment later found himself next to Zhenya on the roof.

“Sit down.” Zhenya sat down and patted the place to his left.

Seva did as instructed. His gaze involuntarily caught the swing in the yard below; it seemed to be very close. What if he fell? Probably three meters, no more. Not that many really. But it depended on how he fell. He was such a smartass in the house but breaking his legs wasn’t the best prospect, let alone hands or arms! What was he going to do with broken limbs?

“You’re looking the wrong way.” Zhenya chuckled and, placing a finger under his chin, lifted his head to the sky.

Seva immediately forgot about broken arms and the possibility of falling into the prickly raspberry bushes. It became clear why Zhenya had dragged him to the roof in the middle of the night, and why this particular place was his favorite. The night sky was dotted with thousands of stars, as if pearls had been scattered on a black canvas. The city night was nothing compared to it! Not a single lamp was lit for several miles around, and even the dimmest stars could be seen as if in the palm of a hand. Seva’s breath caught as the fascinating sight above opened up.

“Do you like it?” Zhenya asked, removing his hand from Seva’s chin.

“I’ll draw it,” he breathed, and involuntarily reached for Zhenya’s hand. When he came to his senses, he jerked back sharply and lowered his eyes in embarrassment.

“Instead of a thousand words …” Zhenya smiled. “When I was little, Dad brought me here to show me a shooting star. He said that I should have time to make a wish, but I never could. Then he told me all the constellations that could be seen from here. We used to have a good relationship. Well, before I went to first grade. Look, there’s the constellation Perseus, and there’s Andromeda …”

Zhenya pointed to the sky with his right hand and leaned on his left. Their shoulders touched. Seva moved, but his fingers knocked Zhenya’s palm in the dark and, as if against his will, gently and almost imperceptibly slid up and stopped at his wrist. He wanted to take his hand away, even wanted to sit away, but Zhenya suddenly laughed, and the sound of his ringing laughter made Seva numb; the fingers on his wrist seemed to stiffen.

He didn’t hear what amused Zhenya so much, just looked into his smiling face, alternately studying the dimple on his chin, the mole on his cheek, and the rough lips for the hundredth time. He remembered the dimple on his chin and the mole on his cheek as long as he’d known Zhenya, but the roughness of the lips was a completely new detail that had been revealed to him a little less than a couple of months ago. Perhaps that was why he lingered on his lips the longest, unable to look away.

“… and I was sure that it was Mars. It seems that this was the first and last time I argued with my father,” Seva heard.

He couldn’t resist. He leaned forward abruptly, pulled Zhenya by the collar of his shirt with his free hand, and bit into his rough but most desirable lips in the world. Zhenya didn’t object, didn’t have time to. As soon as he responded to the kiss, Seva came to his senses and just as abruptly recoiled, released the collar of his shirt, and almost pushed him away. He crawled back a couple of steps, buried his flushed face into his knees, and muttered in fright, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have … I didn’t mean to … sorry. I’ll never—”

“It’s all right,” Zhenya interrupted him, but Seva didn’t seem to hear. “It’s all right, do you hear? It had to happen sooner or later. I mean, I knew this would happen. I’m grateful to you because, I swear, another minute and I’d have done it myself.”

Seva didn’t answer. The meaning of what was said didn’t have time to register. His body trembled throughout and the phrase pounded in his ears. “I shouldn’t have.” Anger and resentment at himself boiled in his veins, making it impossible to hear and understand Zhenya’s words. Still, without raising his eyes, he repeated, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Seva. Can you hear me?” Zhenya gently ran his hand over his back, and Seva jerked in fright. Zhenya took his hand away. “Calm down. Do you know why I told you all this about the stars? I tried to control myself … because I knew that in a little while that I’d kiss you. I’ve been wanting to do this all day, ever since I met you at the station. That’s what I’ve been thinking about all day, all month and a half in Moscow!”

Seva remained silent. He calmed down, pulled himself together, and stopped muttering random inarticulate apologies under his breath but still didn’t raise his head. He listened attentively to Zhenya, and his every word echoed inside with an aching, painful heaviness. He wanted to believe these words, he wanted to write them down and reread them for the rest of his life, but at the same time, Seva realized with horror that they were empty and meaningless. Why was Zhenya saying this?

They’d decided that they’d behave like friends; they had no choice, no matter how much Seva wanted it to be otherwise. Why would he know how much Zhenya wanted to kiss him if it was never even supposed to happen? Why was he talking about this if after their conversation they still had to pretend for the remaining two weeks that nothing had happened—as if that night in the lilac bushes, or today’s kiss on the roof, had never happened? As if Seva wasn’t dying every time he saw Zhenya from a desire to touch his hand, even fleetingly. As if they hadn’t been living in agonizing fear of their fragile “friendship” for the last six months … and the same agonizing desire to destroy it once and for all?

“Do you hear me?” Zhenya repeated the question.

Seva nodded reluctantly.

“It’s okay. I promise, it’s okay. Even when I called you from Moscow and invited you here, I knew that this would happen. Sooner or later, one of us would have given up. Well, we can’t just be friends. What can we do? I realized it that night, and I didn’t believe myself when I agreed to continue this performance. I thought it would pass after a month in Moscow, but it only got worse. And, therefore, by inviting you here, I understood how it would end.”

“Then why did you invite me?” Seva asked dully.

“Because I wanted to. I wanted you to come. Here, at the summer house, there are neither parents or friends. In a month, I’ll be leaving to study and I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again. These two weeks are the last thing we have left. The time that we can spend together, without the supervision of parents and curious Sveta. Do you understand?”

“I understand that I can’t stand another two weeks with you,” Seva answered gloomily. “Especially alone, without the supervision of parents and curious Svetka.”

“Why can’t you stand it?”

“What do you think?” Seva jerked up and narrowed his eyes angrily. “Not even a day has passed since I came here … and I almost went cuckoo, trying to keep myself in hand. I can’t do this, you know? I just can’t! All I think about when I look at you is how much I want to kiss you. I’m tired of trying to stop these sick thoughts. I’m tired to hell! It’s useless anyway.” Seva slumped forward again, resting his cheek on his knees in exhaustion.

“So, don’t try,” Zhenya said carefully. “Why torment yourself once again?”

“What do you mean?” Seva choked with surprise. Zhenya’s words sounded so absurd. “What else should I do?”

“Look, Seva.” Zhenya sighed patiently. “We know that we both want it. Here it’s only the two of us—without friends, without parents. All our acquaintances remain there, in the town. Let’s be honest, we’ll not be able to behave as if nothing’s happened. We have only two weeks left, then you’ll go to Odessa. So, why …” Zhenya didn’t finish, but Seva understood him anyway.

“What about ‘it’s not normal’? You know that yourself. Those are your words. It’s against nature, against common sense, against everything in general. We’re not normal, you know? It shouldn’t be like this. This is wrong,” Seva concluded in a trembling voice.

And suddenly, he realized that he didn’t believe it himself. For whom was he play-acting? He doesn’t care whether it was right or not, whether he was normal or sick. Six months ago, he’d resigned himself to the idea that something was wrong with him and now, after so much time, he was tired of worrying about it. After his first kiss with Zhenya, he didn’t care at all. But Zhenya! That was the whole problem.

Seva had long accepted that he was abnormal and sick, but to hear this from Zhenya was strange. Seva was afraid that he’d regret it. Not now, maybe later, not today, but probably after moving to Moscow. Because he was afraid, he tried to dissuade and protect him from a mistake. Or, at least, another repetition of it.

“I know,” Zhenya said quietly. “We must be sick. But let’s face it; the very fact that we want this isn’t normal. We’re already sick, no matter what we try to do. The fact that we denied it for so long didn’t make us normal, only unhappy. So, what difference does it make what we do … if we don’t get rid of it? Maybe it will be with us for the rest of our lives, and these days provide the last opportunity to feel not only sick, but also happy. What difference does it make if there’s nothing else we can do?”

With each word Zhenya’s uttered, Seva more and more felt his heart fill with warmth and some strange, incredulous hope. They sounded so harmonious and logical, so sincere and ardent; they would convince any skeptic. Seva, who’d been ready to crush Zhenya in his arms before he even started saying anything, couldn’t resist; he’d agree with everything that Zhenya said, and even more so now.

But just in case, he decided to clarify. “Are you sure you won’t regret it?”

Instead of answering, Zhenya pulled him close and gently kissed him on the cheek, very close to his lips. Seva inhaled sharply and buried his forehead into his shoulder, hiding a stupid smile. Zhenya kissed him again, this time on the top of his head, and hugged him with both hands, pulling him as closely as he could.

Seva’s insides tightened with happiness and his heart did a triple-somersault in his chest. Zhenya seemed to feel the same. Seva could hear his heart knocking loudly and rapidly. He wanted this moment to last forever. This was exactly what Seva had wished for when he’d seen a shooting star out of the corner of his eye. And suddenly he burst out laughing, throwing his head back to the clear night sky.

“What are you laughing at?” Zhenya didn’t understand what was so humorous.

“I remembered how you were going to bring Sonya here,” Seva squeezed out through laughter. “By the way, you didn’t lie. It’s true. There are the stars, romance and all.”

“Who’d have thought?” Zhenya said thoughtfully and immediately laughed with Seva.

Chapter2

The New Side of the Gold Medal

Shooting stars don’t fulfill desires. Seva realized this as soon as a pale streak of dawn appeared over the distant forest. He didn’t want to get off the roof, but understood that soon curious, watchful-eyed neighbors would wake up. How would Zhenya explain to his parents what he was doing on the roof early in the morning in an embrace with Seva? They couldn’t come up with one single, logical excuse and therefore, regretfully, had to admit that it was time to leave.

It was only when he was in the room, alone with himself and his thoughts, that Seva suddenly realized how strange the last few hours had been. Not because for the first time in six months he could show his feelings, but because he didn’t take advantage of them.

Seva didn’t know how much time they’d spent on the roof, it felt like no more than an hour, but he understood that at least four had passed. All that time, they just sat there, huddled together and silently regarding the stars. Both thought about their own situations, but both also understood that their thoughts were about the same things. However, they still didn’t talk about it.

Seva didn’t understood what was meant by their decision to “feel happy”. Could he now kiss Zhenya whenever he wanted? Just walk up and take his hand? Hug so tightly that the bones cracked? Tell him out loud how much he loved him? The very thought of it made his head spin and his legs give way. It seemed so crazy, so unthinkable, but so wonderfully real that Seva could only blink happily, imagining those moments.

It was strange, but they never kissed again during the whole night on the roof. It was like they forgot, even though they’d been thinking about it all day. Seva felt so good in Zhenya’s arms, so calm, listening to the beating of his heart, that even the desire to kiss faded into the background. It was enough that Zhenya’s fingers were entwined in his hair, sorting tangled strands, and his lips touched his forehead, cheeks, and temples with gentle trembling now and then.

Seva shuddered slightly every time. If earlier it had seemed to him that Zhenya’s touch was like an electric shock, now sparks flew from under his lips and fingers. Seva finally felt what he had been dreaming about for so long, what he’d wanted so much at the train station. Hugging, he completely forgot where he ended and Zhenya began. In those moments, it seemed to him as if they had merged, almost became one. They didn’t say a word during the few hours on the roof, but there was much sincerity, unconditional trust, and mutual understanding in their silence, as it had never been during the entire long year of their strange friendship.

Falling asleep, Seva thought with annoyance about how many opportunities he had missed. What if Zhenya changed his mind in the morning? He’d say that it was muddled thoughts brought on by the late night, that the stars had affected him so—and Seva would remain with nothing. That thought was unpleasant, stupid, and intrusive, and it was the last thought he had before he fell into a deep, serene sleep …

… and the first one when he woke up. At first, Seva thought, “What if Zhenya doesn’t want it anymore?” And only after he opened his eyes, he remembered what exactly he might not want. Abruptly, he sat up in bed and threw off the blanket.

Not having had time to wake up properly yet, he thought with difficulty but knew for sure that he needed to see Zhenya, right now, not a minute later. In a hurry, he pulled on a T-shirt, backward it seemed, and ran down the stairs. Only then, frozen with confusion on the last step, he realized that he hadn’t even looked at the time; maybe Zhenya hadn’t even woken up yet. It was light outside, but this wasn’t a good indicator. In summer, the sun was treacherously deceiving, shining both at two o’clock in the afternoon and early in the morning.

Seva hesitated but only for a split second. The next instance, the desire to see Zhenya and make sure that the night on the roof hadn’t been his best and most realistic dream outweighed the sense of tact and the rules of decency hammered into his head from childhood. Jumping from the last step, Seva flew to the door to Zhenya’s room and opened it without knocking.

He didn’t have time to be embarrassed by his sharpness and brusqueness. Emotion overwhelmed him at seeing a sleepy, disheveled Zhenya looking at him with stupefied, uncomprehending eyes. But as soon as his gaze cleared a little, he broke into a wide smile.

“Good morning!”

Seva, with difficulty, suppressed the desire to kiss him right there and then. He was ashamed, considering it inappropriate. Instead, he walked over to the bed, sat down on the very edge, and smiled back. “Good morning.”

“Or not morning …” Zhenya squinted at the clock. “Two o’clock. We had a good sleep.”

“Considering what time we went to bed …” Seva chuckled.

“Right. I suggest you go to bed at the same time today.”

Zhenya narrowed his eyes, and Seva couldn’t stand it.

He bent down, pulled him close, and kissed him on the lips. “I suggest from today onward, we sleep only during the day,” he echoed, nuzzling his cheek.

“I agree. Damn, Seva, you have no idea how grateful I am to you!” Zhenya exhaled with relief.

“Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t dare do anything. Even after our conversation last night, I still wouldn’t dare.”

Zhenya laughed, running his hand over Seva’s cheek.

“Wasn’t it you who insisted on it so much? Or have you already forgotten what you said yesterday?” Seva snorted in bewilderment.

“How could I? I remember, of course. But it’s one thing to say, and quite another … well, you get it. It’s already a tradition. You know, me saying and you doing.” Sparks flashed in Zhenya’s eyes.

“Right!” Seva feigned indignation. “I won’t do anything else. On principle.”

“Whatever you say, my principled one,” Zhenya easily agreed and was the first to offer a kiss.

Seva caught his breath with delight, and all the far-fetched offences immediately flew out of his head. Because he couldn’t—feeling Zhenya’s warm lips on his own, and his gentle fingers on his neck—think about anything other than how unbearably, incredibly happy he was.

If Seva had his way, he’d never get out of bed again and would lie all his life with the back of his head resting against Zhenya’s stomach and playing with the fingers on his left hand with a stupid smile on his face. He ruffled Seva’s hair from time to time with his right hand, and then smoothed them back.

On the fifth time, Seva couldn’t stand it, and mockingly asked, “Are you looking for lice?”

“I share my own.” Zhenya wasn’t embarrassed and flicked him on the forehead. “Let’s get up. It’s already time for dinner, and we haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

Seva wanted to object but thought that he’d have to get up sooner or later. Moreover, his stomach was empty. It seemed that the last time he’d eaten was before he came to Zhenya. But did he care about little things like food right now? No, but a faint, pale echo of common sense made itself felt, and Seva reluctantly got out of bed.

That last night back then, when they’d their hiding place behind the lilac bushes, he’d thought that their fairy tale was over once and for all. He couldn’t imagine that someday everything could become even more magical. That they’d stay at the summer house together, Zhenya would warm them something between breakfast and dinner, and Seva would sit and stare at his back and curl-covered nape fascinated, without ever looking away. And, most importantly, he’d know that at any moment he could come up and hug him, kiss the back of his head … and even his lips. Seva thought about it, and a sundry of goosebumps developed under his T-shirt, despite the heat outside the window. At the thought that they would have two more weeks of carefree, uninterrupted happiness, a huge silly smile appeared on his face.

During the meal, Zhenya, thoughtfully scratching his plate with a fork, said,

“Do you know what I remembered? We must have an easel somewhere in the shed. And maybe even a couple of canvases. My mom is energetic, always getting carried away with one thing, then the second, then the third, and then throws away everything. She says she doesn’t have enough time. A couple of years ago, she got carried away with painting and drew a couple of paintings, and the easel has been standing in the shed ever since, not needed by anyone. I don’t know how I could have forgotten about it! Do you want me to get it?”

Seva thought about it. On the one hand, the Smirnovs’ summer house was his little dream of being an artist, and upon arrival, he’d sworn to himself that he would work there. On the other hand, promising, he had no idea how everything would turn out, and Zhenya and the opportunity to be with him didn’t seem like a dream, but something beyond understanding and desire. Thirdly, Seva thought, they wouldn’t spend the whole two weeks in a room without breaking away from each other, even if that was the only thing he wanted right now. What other time would he be able to feel like a real artist, standing with a concentrated look at a white canvas and thoughtfully contemplating landscapes visible only to him? And everyone around him might look at him with respect and admiration because they could only guess what was going on in his creative and mysterious consciousness. More precisely, only Zhenya. And for Seva, he is more than enough.

The last thought persuaded him.

“I do,” he finally answered firmly. “But not now, okay? I won’t draw today.”

“Let me take it out and then, when you want, you’ll start drawing.”

Seva wanted to refuse, but there was so much enthusiasm in Zhenya’s voice that it seemed indecent to refuse him. He nodded and smiled at how Zhenya’s eyes fairly sparkled. He began to eat faster, inspired by his proposal. “Pulling a dusty but very solid easel out of the shed into the blinding sun, Zhenya looked around the yard with an appraising glance, “Where will we put it?”

Seva waved in the direction of his favorite swing under the poplar tree. They moved the easel, hiding it under the shady canopy of a lush shrub. Zhenya contentedly ran his finger over the dark wood and blew the dust off it.

“You can start right now!”

Seva shook his head. “Another time, but thanks anyway.”

“It’s nothing.” Zhenya waved his hand dismissively. “What are you planning to draw? Do you have any ideas?”

Whenever faced with such persistent curiosity, Seva usually got annoyed or began to get angry, but this was Zhenya. Was it possible to be angry with him? Especially when his curiosity was so genuine, enthusiastic, and naive?

“Your yard is beautiful,” Seva said. “Wherever you look, it’s one finished landscape. These swings … I’ve had my eye on them for a long time. There’s something about them—so carefree, but at the same time mysterious and romantic. Or maybe even tragic, too lonely, apart. Generally, it depends on the weather and time of day. And the mood in which I’ll draw …”

“Wow, I thought to remove them this summer; they’re still standing here, not needed by anyone. And they turn out to be ’mysterious and romantic, and tragic’, just think!” Zhenya chuckled, either admiringly or with mockery. Seva wasn’t sure which. “Maria Viktorovna is telling the truth; artists look at the world with different eyes.”

“What kind of artist am I?” Seva grumbled. “I need to work hard for this, and I have neither the patience nor the desire for it.”