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"Have you reached the condition already?"
"What condition...?"
"The right one."
How the tables have turned.
Not only did they turn, they also crashed, scaring away the rest of the visitors. The "Weeping Willow" restaurant came into a state of pure chaos, not being able to organise itself into a stable one. Dishes shattered into tiny white pieces, the wild duck flew up from the table (since when can dead birds even fly? A strange world we live in), but the tiny jazz band kept on playing like their life depended on it. Even if you tried to block it, the sound of their music will play in your head for at least an hour more.
"Senya, come on!—"
The music is so loud that the already tired voice loses itself among the notes and the screams of other people. He doesn't hear. He probably lost the ability to do so already.
"Senya, please, this is better for you!"
The only thing that is heard in response is illegible mumbling, and before anyone had time to react, a loud crash is heard. May it all be damned, more damned then the day this entire mission started. The large, glass panel was broken into hundreds, if not thousands of parts. Senya lost control over himself. Gesha lost control over him too.
"Ngh— Come on, get up, we need to—"
He unsuccessfully tries to pick his friend up, which was not as easy, acknowledging the fact that they both were unapologetically drunk. Not only did Gesha fail to hold his friend, but also himself. In a minute of trying to help his companion out, he found himself lying on the glass-littered floor, right next to Senya.
Now that the entire restaurant was starting at them as if they were some freaks (as a matter of fact, they were), this moment felt even more awkward. Gesha immediately, in his usual, flashy manner, reached for his friend and tried to pick him up once again. A miserable sight, truly.
"We couldn't care less, we couldn't care less..."
That stupid song again. Not once had Gesha told him it was out of style, but music taste is music taste. He tried to be as tolerant as possible of his friend, he really did, but it gets reall annoying when the lyrics are the only thing you get in response. Senya was officially out of order.
"Please, Senya, people are staring... I have to get you to that tree, immediately... You're already in the condition..."
Oh, so now he cared about people staring. Sure, biting your companion in public was alright, but this— this is too far. Even though Gesha was on the verge of powerlessly dropping onto the floor and not moving for the next few hours, he desperately tried to help Senya up. Maybe, just as an excuse to touch him freely without any stigma surrounding it.
The restraunt's visitors were leaving one by one, and it was a good opportunity to bring Senya to "the spot", for he's made to big of a fuss. The only success Gesha's made in trying to carry his friend was pulling him a few steps back, closer to the entrance.
"We couldn't care less, we couldn't care less... I couldn't..."
Those barely understandable words were followed by Senya flipping over to his side, almost unconsciously. His arm, the one with the precious treasure inside its cast, laid over Gesha as he passed out. The other man, under the weight of both the cast and his own body, heavy and barely under control, couldn't help but gasp at that. Gesha didn't try to put it away. In fact, it was the closest he's ever been to Senya the diamonds he needed to get.
He couldn't lose his chance.
His shaking hands gently took hold of the other's arm, shocked grey eyes looking at it, fascinated by it as if it was the Holy Grail. Too bad Gesha didn't have his pocket knife with him, not even his keys: nothing to cut the cast open with. He swore, that if they were alone, he could bite it off there and now. All to reveal a treasure, whether it be the diamonds, or Senya's arm. As soon as they're alone, as soon as they're alone. That's what Gesha repeated to himself like he was losing his mind and searching for something to relief himself with. It was like saying "it will get better" when it obviously won't, because you do nothing to make it actually happen.
This was too much for him.
As the restraunt emptied out, Gesha just... looked, trying to peel on the bandage so that he could get at least one coin, at least one gemstone, at least one glimpse of Senya. Losing track of time, Gesha felt like he was dissolving. Or maybe not him, but the world around him. The only thing that stayed solid was his companion's unconscious body, its weight being his last connection with reality.
Suddenly, the weight was gone. No, not suddenly. What has it been— two hours? Five minutes? A day? Gesha slowly looked up, his vision as blurry as the thoughts in his mind. A group of four, maybe more doctors... guards... militia officers? Two of them were already lifting his friend up on a stretcher.
"Uhh... wait... he isn't... in the right condition yet..."
His voice wasn't good-sounding either.
One of the officers leaned towards Gesha, giving him a look that the Chief would give him when he is "mildly dissatisfied"... His tone was serious, yet calm, with a hint of care.
"Don't you bother, Comrade. We'll also get you home. You're both in the condition, lads."
Before he had time to process anything, Gesha got picked up by the shoulders and also laid on a stretcher, which slightly bended under his weight.
"Put me down... no, I can walk... I said... put me down—!"
"No, you can't. You're drunk as a fiddler, Comrade. Address? Documents?"
The officer's voice was almost a demand, a statement of Gesha's pathetic being. He sighed in exhaustion and turned to his still protesting "patient".
"N-no documents, I don't have anything with me... I'll get home myself, I— I'm not that intoxicated..."
Another sigh, and Gesha was picked up as easily if he was nothing more than an empty mannequin that was used during the fashion shows he participated in. At the edge of his conscience, he was whispering a prayer. May the Lord send his guardian angel out to get him out of this mess. And He did.
"Gennasha, what the hell— Put 'em down."
That raspy voice, with a touch of either surzhyk or trassianka... Gesha knew right away who it was, even though his eyes were closed. Lyolik was definitely not the best guardian angel he could ask for, but the only available option he had.
"Lyo—"
"Shut the hell up, drunkard. Ya see, officer, that's my nephew ya have here. Gave him a rouble to spend the night good and that idiot got intoxicated to mere death. Ima take 'em, if ya mind."
The officer who talked to him before lifted his gaze up at Lyolik. He seemed to suspect the man, who was so irresponsible of his seemingly young relative to let him get drunk to such an extent.
"I told this degenerate I'd pick 'em up. Did he cause any trouble? 'Cause I swear, if this idiot did anything I'd sure give 'em up to his parents."
Gesha was as confused as his drunken mind allowed him to be. Since when did Lyolik know his parents, or even was related to him? Probably another way to get them two away from the militiamen without any extra trouble.
"Documents?"
Through a half open eye, Gesha saw the officer looking through a passport. Definitely a phony. Lyolik would never give his documents to a cop... if he even had something that wasn't fake.
For a moment, the officer's face stiffened as if he was a wax figure, but he immediately unfreezed, nodding and giving the documents back to their owner. The latter sighed, and picked up his unlucky "nephew" with even more ease than the officers. Holding Gesha right under the shoulder, he threw a short "goodnight" to the militiamen and slowly made his way to the exit.
The cold air of the night hit Gesha's face like a stack of tiny needles. He whined quietly at the feeling, leaning towards his so-called partner in crime. Lyolik sighed again, this time with disappointment. This disappointment wasn't like the Chief's, not at all. More like a exhausted parent whose child brought in a "swan" in their diary for the fifth time this month.
"Why... why'd you say that I'm your nephew? You're not my uncle, as far as I remember..."
"Damn right. If I was related to you, I'd give you up for adoption, be you my kid or not."
Lyolik was sarcastic, as always. At the moment, Gesha's brain was simply not able to process. What he knew and could recognise — that strange gut feeling that appeared after each failure. Or maybe, after each separation with Senya. As if he lost another chance.
"I feel like I missed out on something... something important..."
"Uh-huh. The diamonds, you idiot."
Gesha thought it would be better if he kept quiet for a while. Not to annoy Lyolik or anything. Poor guy had to freeze in the night because of his drunken shenanigans.
In a minute or so, he was already laying at the backseat of Lyolik's beige Volga, as the other man started the engine and drove off. It always had a strong aroma of cigarette smoke and dust to it. Usually, this annoyed Gesha, who was used to his own expensive perfumes and scented candles, but now, he was too tired to even scoff at it. The only thing that was new — a barely recognisable smell of fir wood.
"I'll drive 'ya home for now. Ugh, damn, the Chief will really snap your neck in half tomorrow..."
Getting your neck snapped wasn't such a pleasant perspective. Especially by the Chief. That man would definitely make sure to do it slowly enough for a painful, torturous suffocation.
"I don't wanna go to the Chief..."
Quite a bold claim for a drunken failure.
"Well, you'll have to. You ain't got no choice. It's either you come to him, or he comes to you. Most times he won't bother. But trust me, you idiot, the second option's way, way worse."
Silence remained in the car for at least two more minutes. Gesha didn't want to think about tomorrow's day. He didn't want to think about the consequences, he didn't want to think about Senya and whether he was okay. The only thing he needed at the moment was a cold towel on his head and his cat laying beside him. Oh, to be like those rabbits from the song — not to care any less.
"I swear, if 'ya fall asleep, I will not be carrying you upstairs. Keep them blinkers open, Kozlodoyev."
He got it wrong again. Typical Lyolik. Gesha assumed that at this point he remembered everything, but just went on with the name-calling to mock him.
"...How many times do I have to repeat—"
"If your eyes are open, your mouth is shut. Don't complain, eh? If 'ya complain, you'll go home by yourself."
"Sorry."
"Don't 'ya sorry me, you idiot. Just... shut it."
And he did. Gesha did, in fact, shut it. This time, for a long, very long while. The long car ride slowly rocked him to sleep, even the speed bumps were barely noticeable. He curled up on the backseat as if it was the softest bed he's ever laid on. No thoughts, no worries, no anything.
Just endless solitude, occasional turns and Lyolik singing something gentle under his breath. But at least he had a decent music taste... and not whatever Senya did.
"When I met you — everything I knew before
Grew alive in my dead heart;
I remembered the good old days,
And my heart grew warmer..."