Chapter Text
The dark atmosphere was lit with the old, flickering light on the roof of the tram. The place smelled like dust, and now the air was diffused with the rabid scent of alcohol coming from Nikolai.
He raised his hands up from the glass of the window to put on his temples, strongly massaging them. His head was pounding with a heavy pain and a buzzing sensation. Perhaps he should not have stayed so late at that party. But how could he deny an invitation to a party?
Everything in this part of Russia felt mundane and miserable. Everyone would voice their complaints or share their dreams about moving to Moscow, or Saint Petersburg. And getting to move to America? Anyone would die on the spot from excitement. Watching movies of the American life was always a fun leisure activity.
Today was similar to any given winter, temperature and feelings wise. Nikolai looked out the window with an annoyed glare on his face. It was November, and this year, the snow has been very limited. But no snow did not mean that it felt less depressing. In fact, it felt worse.
It was wet and the air felt heavy. With every step there was a crunch in the leaves and a foot print left in the wet soil. Wet droplets of water would trickle down everything in soft ripples. The second you go outside, even with the unnecessary thick layering of jackets and coats, your face becomes flushed and your fingers purple.
⠀⠀⠀⠀The familiar voice signaled the end of the route. Fyodor lived at the edge of the small city, sharing an apartment with a high school friend. This was common as things went havoc after the dissolution of the Soviet Union last year.
“Ulitsa Lyubimova. Please take your belongings and exit promptly.”
Nikolai put his hands on his thighs and pushed himself up to stand up. He wobbled side to side for a second before frantically looking around for something and smiling: making his way to the door. As he shuffled his way there, the coat was loudly brushing against itself, creating loud whooshing sounds. The horribly strong wind hit him like a hammer blow as he stumbled back. With more effort, he pushed himself against the flow of the air, but in turn fell face first on the concrete, right into a pothole with a brown puddle. He started giggling and got up on his knees.
A young man was walking with a woman around his age. They looked at him uncomfortably before the man loudly whispered to the girl.
“This is why I do not want you to walk home alone at night. Too many drunkards, you see?”
Nikolai couldn’t care less. He got up and made his way to the apartment, getting all excited at the thought of smelling his home once again as well as getting to lay in his own bed.
He made his way through the gloomy block and the wet children’s playground that was in front of his place. With some effort he got his way up to the entrance of the building: clicking the button to call for the owner, since he did not have the keys.
They immediately answered despite it being so late.
“Door’s open,” a low and bothered voice spoke through the speaker, and the door unlocks. Nikolai took the elevator to the seventh floor and opened the door. Immediately upon entry, Fyodor stepped in front of him with his arms crossed.
“Alo, Fedya! I’m back, missed me so much as to wait for my return?”
In a response, Fyodor only gave a deadpan look before sighing, with an exasperated expression almost hidden beneath his hand on his forehead.
“You worry me sometimes. I have enough health complications as it is. Me getting your weird notes, you disappearing, and calling for the door so late? I have a lot to say on this topic.” Fyodor then makes an effort to study Nikolai, who was leaning against the wall with a dumb look on his face. His gaze started from the top, slowly moving down to his shoes before looking at his face again.”
“You’re so pathetic. I almost feel pity for you when you look so flushed. I hope that alcohol was worth it.”