Chapter Text
The days became routine at this point. Everyday was somewhat the same, consisting of making food, calling for supplies, checking the news, and so on and so forth. No testing occurred anymore, as no new guests were allowed in, therefore no gunshots fired either. That relieved some tension and awkwardness, at least. Each new day, the world outside grew worse, but in the house, the occupants slowly grew closer.
It was dinner time. While food was rationed, too precious to indulge in, Aleks made sure everyone was fed three times a day. At first he had been opposed to making food for everyone, then he became reluctant, but now he was more than willing to. They were guests, after all, and he found that it filled a part of his soul to cook for more than just himself. It forced a schedule, something to do other than mope and panic.
Usually, he'd be alone in the kitchen, with maybe a person or two keeping him company or lending him a hand. Today though, it was different. He had Lasha next to him, chopping up carrots and potatoes and humming along to the radio he forced Aleks to bring to the room. Agata was giggling, sat on the floor. The cause of her giddiness was the ugly-cute, rather plump orange cat that had once been accompanied by the dancer. It lied on its back, gently playing with the girl's hand as she scratched its fluffy belly. Sergei was at the table - he wasn't allowed to cook, he had to wait until his fingers were healed. He was still kept busy, however, because Angelina was talking up a storm. When she saw his stretched ear lobes, sparkles appeared in her eyes. Since then, she asked questions upon questions, and he happily answered the best he could. It was sweet to see her acting more her age, and see something else than fear and anger on her face. Turns out, they both enjoyed the same music, the same bands, the same comics.
The whole scene was strangely domestic, and made Aleks feel content. Though, someone was missing, and that kept it from being near-perfect.
Yesenin wasn't there.
He wasn't far of course, he was in the living as always, probably reading a book or staring at a spot on the wall. He just wasn't there, and it bugged Aleks to Hell and back, for some reason he chose not to think about for too long.
He didn't want to think of how soothing the guests' presences were, how suddenly, he didn't mind not being alone. How protective of the kids he now felt. How he longed to bask in the men's presence after a long, agonizing day.
He grunted, choosing to focus on stirring the pot of soup that simmered before him. No need to obsess over where the tall man was. Perhaps he simply wanted some quiet.
The vegetables Lasha cut up were dropped into the broth, and the lid was put to let it cook for a while. The man gave him a smile, kind, but with something else lying underneath that Aleks chose not to place, and instead gave him an awkward one back.
The kettle on the stove whistled, so he took an old mug, dropped a teabag inside, and poured in some hot water. Once the liquid turned dark and fragrant, the mug was given to Sergei, who took it gratefully with trembling hands.
"T-thank you.." He murmured, blowing the steam away, and Aleks chose to ignore the satisfaction he felt when suddenly, the man in front of him seemed just a bit less cold.
He nodded in response, and moved to get a can of cat food from a cabinet. He gave it to Agata, telling her to be careful as she opened it. The animal rolled back onto its stubby legs, happily eating its food.
He didn't know what to do next to ignore how he wanted to check on Yesenin. He wanted to, but at the same time, didn't really. Perhaps there was a reason he wasn't there, even if any other time, he certainly didn't miss a chance to go to the kitchen to steal alcohol. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he was grumpy. Maybe he didn't feel well again. Perhaps the slight ruckus in the room wasn't something he wanted to deal with.
The more Aleks thought about it, the crazier he felt himself going, so he sat down at the table with the others and tried to focus on the ongoing conversation.
When the food was ready, bowls were quickly served to everyone in the room. Aleks let Agata take his spot to eat, patting her head.
"Where's the tall guy?" Angelina asked as she salted her meal.
"P-probably in the living room. That'sss where he was w-when I came here." Sergei replied, keeping his hands around his bowl to warm up.
"Hm. I'll go tell him dinner's ready then." She stated, hopping off her chair.
She normally wouldn't have left her food out in the open like that, in a room full of people. Especially men. But, after weeks of staying under the same roof, she started to think that perhaps she really was safe. She didn't trust them fully, but maybe one day, she could do it. Plus, Agata was still there. She'd let her know if something happened.
She walked the few steps to the living room door, surprised to find it closed. She knocked twice on it, raising a brow at the lack of response. Was he not in there?
She pushed the door open, peeking inside. No, he was definitely right there, on the furthest end of the sofa… But he didn't seem to be doing too great.
He was hunched over, almost curled up, and his face was in his hands. Despite being a bit far away, Angelina could see him trembling slightly, and his shoulders were rising with quick, shallow breaths.
"Um… You okay, man..?" She asked tentatively, taking a step back when he flinched and sat up.
Despite the distance, she could see him very well. His eyes were bloodshot and tears covered his pale cheeks. He immediately tried to wipe them off, hands shaking, turning his face away to face the wall.
"W-what do you want, kid…" He mumbled, voice slightly raw.
"I just came to say that dinner's ready… You good..?"
He cleared his throat, finally turning back to her.
"I'm just fine… Simply had a scare." She could see that he was slowly going back to normal, somewhat. That made her feel a bit less weird.
"Ah… Yeah, I get those too sometimes." She said with a shrug, trying to sound casual. "Did… did you wanna talk about it, or..?"
He huffed, shaking his head.
"It's not a kid's job to worry about adults' problems. I'm okay." He assured her, leaning back in the sofa with a heavy sigh. "I just need to… take a breath."
She nodded awkwardly, shoving her hands in her pockets and kicking away a fluff of dust. She didn't really know what to do, so she left.
It didn't surprise him to see her leave. Who wouldn't? Seeing a man like him in tears was probably quite a repulsive sight. And while he hadn't meant to cry, he didn't blame her for wanting to get away.
It was pathetic, really. Simple spiraling thoughts got him to shake, pant and cry like some old nervous dog. It had felt like the world was about to fall on top of him and crush him like a bug, like the silence had become so deafening it would make his eardrums bleed, like his heart was going too fast for his body to handle and was ripping his ribcage open by the sternum to escape, like his lungs were constricted by putty or stone and couldn't take any air.
Thank fuck the kid snapped him out of it. How embarrassing would it have been if any of the other men walked in on his tantrum instead? Good lord, he didn't want to even think about it. He would've died of shame right there on the couch. He was finally getting along with some people, he didn't want them to think he was some pathetic man-child.
He dragged his hands down his face, trying to collect himself, when he suddenly heard a faint thump on the coffee table in front of him. It was the girl again, damn sneaky little mouse.
She had brought a bowl over to him, and took a seat on the armchair further away with her own meal.
It left him surprised, that was for sure. For a kid with such a fiery attitude, this behavior felt quite out of character.
It warmed his heart, though.
"Thanks, kid." He said quietly.
"No problem." She simply replied, chewing her food.