Work Text:
"It's so cold. The winters in the Soviet Union are always bitterly cold, something Makarov never got used to. Nights like these kept him awake, the howling wind relentlessly beating on the roof of the carriage, snow gradually covering everything, even obscuring the faintly visible small window on his bunk.
The locomotive roared fiercely, tearing through the vast snowy landscape in the deep darkness of the night. Makarov pulled up the rough, prickly collar of his damp military coat to his cheeks, but it offered little warmth. Sleep eluded him as the biting wind seeped through unseen gaps in the snow-covered window, sharp drafts weaving between the bunks.
Memories flooded Makarov's mind – the summers at the military academy, the scorching hot winds on the grasslands, the exhausting marches in the sweltering heat, the sweat-soaked, sun-bleached military uniforms, the crunching sound of sandy soil between his teeth. Patrols on Sundays through the city and parks with Yuri, even if it sometimes felt boring, provided comfort in Yuri's presence.
Then came the military orders on a autumn night, boarding the train amid blizzards, the snow-covered forests, and the makeshift huts of the new recruits' camp on the outskirts of Tambov. In the cold and crimson morning of December, another hurried boarding onto a military train. Departure – the turbulent and uncertain reality controlled by unknown forces, now faded into a distant past.
'No, it's too cold by the window. I can't sleep. At this rate, I might freeze before reaching the front line,' Makarov complained to himself. He started to move around, and the layer of frost on the carriage walls crackled beneath his touch.
He pushed open the door to the freezing corridor, and there was no one in sight. Makarov realized he wasn't the only one unable to sleep; the entire train compartment seemed deserted.
'Damn,' Makarov muttered, seated by the open furnace door. He gathered some wood, and the fire lazily came to life.
'What's up, Captain? Is it you over there, or am I seeing things? Is there any fire in the stove?' a voice came from above, and Yuri, still drowsy, jumped down to join him by the furnace. Makarov smirked at him.
'Are you warming up or telling stories, Slavic man?' Yuri yawned, shaking his tired shoulders, then walked to the door, pushing open the frosted and heavy carriage door, facing the raging snowstorm outside.
'It's a terrifying night! Can't see any lights, can't make out Kabul,' Yuri shrugged, then abruptly closed the door. He knocked his felt boots on the floor, creating a strange chattering sound, and went to the now roaring furnace. Yuri, with a teasing glint in his light-colored eyes, continued, 'I dreamed of delicious things again. It felt like I was half asleep, half awake, wandering into an empty city – I entered a bombed-out shop with bread, canned goods, booze, sausages... I thought, let's feast! But damn, it was so cold. I felt like a homeless man hiding under a fishing net, completely frozen. Then I woke up. What a disappointment... the whole big shop! Can you imagine, Makarov?'
'Your dreams, my dear sergeant, don't interest me much,' Makarov wrinkled his nose, pretending to sniff the scent of bread in the warm air. Closing his eyes, he covered the fact that Yuri's words had amused him, then looked at Yuri's cigarette pouch and said, 'If we abstain from smoking the whole night, we could save money and afford the good things you desire.'
'You're quite the entrepreneur, Vova!' Yuri handed him the pouch. 'Even if you roll it as thick as a fist, it doesn't matter. What's the point of saving? Have some meaning?' Yuri lit his cigarette with a smoldering piece of wood, then exhaled smoke, poking the fire with the wood. 'Better food awaits us at the front line. And there's loot to be had! By then, Vladimir, I won't need to rely on your captain's allowancel.' Yuri smiled, blowing cigarette ash, squinting his eyes, and said, "When the war is over, the Soviet Union will be stronger, and we'll lead better lives. When you come to my house as a guest, feel free to eat as much bread and canned goods as you want!"
'You used to say the same before, and here we are still in the same situation. Why is that?' Makarov's irritation was evident, provoked by Yuri's naive tone.
'I have too many fantasies,' Yuri chuckled warmly. 'You never understood me from that perspective, Captain... Never mind, sleep for another six hundred minutes. Perhaps I'll dream of that shop again, eh? If something happens, just assume I went on a charge and didn't come back...'
Yuri tossed the cigarette butt into the furnace, stretched with a yawn, and stood up, awkwardly heading toward the bunks, landing heavily on the rustling dry hay.
'Guess I'll lie down too,' Makarov sighed. 'Looks like the night isn't that long. God help us.'
Warmed by the glowing furnace, Makarov, too, got up, adjusted his new holster with practiced movements, and walked over to Yuri's bunk, lying down on the hay.
He nudged Yuri, who was sleeping beside him, and heard a muffled sound from Yuri's dreams, lips pursed like a child. Makarov breathed into the damp and prickly fur, curling into a ball. Though it wasn't very warm, it wasn't very cold either – a temperature just enough for him to drift into sleep.
The compacted, moist hay rustled beneath him, the frozen wooden walls emitted an iron-like smell, and the small window above, now filled with snow, became dim and lifeless.
The soft glow of the fire on the hay reflected in Makarov's half-closed eyes. Facing away from Yuri, he prepared to fall asleep in the familiar warmth. Suddenly, a strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist. The unexpected warmth left Makarov momentarily stunned, but soon he felt the reassurance and support Yuri was conveying.
'Makarov, we may not change the fate of the war, but at least we can support each other, facing the unknown tomorrow,' Yuri's voice, like a stone thrown into a lake, created ripples in Makarov's heart.
Makarov, staring at the fire, silently contemplated. In this cold and desolate night, they shared the burden of war, but beside Yuri, he always found a kind of mutual understanding and support.
Although the dream of a better future seemed distant, in Yuri's eyes, they might have already discovered a comforting strength in each other amidst adversity. With the faint light of the fire, they immersed themselves in the silent tranquility, awaiting the dawn's light."