Chapter Text
They wondered when this hell would ever end. Everyday, the TV and radio spewed more propaganda and distressed shouts, crazed nonsense that proved people's descent to madness. At night, people knocked feverishly at his door, begging for safety, and paranoia brought guns to their heads half the time.
Half of those times, his instincts were right.
It had been weeks now, and the people in his house were, according to him, trustworthy.
Shockingly, the man from the bar was still there. It was surprising, with all his morbid thoughts of death, but alas, he sat in the same spot on the couch every day. He, Aleks was sure, was a human. He never really had his doubts, even that first night when he knocked on his door. He was strangely tall, angry, but so human that it was impossible to have even a hint of suspicion. He was pessimistic and gloomy, but it made him so easy to connect with. He was realistic. Hell, understanding, too. He was the bit of rationality they all needed in this world of pure insanity.
The foreigner was there as well. He, too, was human. What sort of visitor would sew up their own mouth? There were some crazy ones, sure, but none were mad enough to go to such extremes. He was better now. Sore, but they somehow managed to keep the wounds from getting infected, and they started to slowly heal. Even before they did, he was quite the chatterbox. His lips had been bloodied and bruised, and he'd be talking to himself or someone else for hours, even if no one could understand his language, and he couldn't understand them back. He was kind, patient, and even started picking up words and sentences in Russian. He was nowhere near fluent, but he could manage simple conversations now.
Then… there was that cold man. Aleks had known since day one he was one of those visitors. It was obvious; who the hell could be cold nowadays? Who could be wrapped up in winter layers and still be shivering while the sun roasted everything alive? Testing concluded to the same thing, he was one of them, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to shoot him. Not after he saved his ass from that psychopathic ballerina. He lifted his shirt at her and she died a grotesque death, eyes melting out of their sockets, skin decaying and peeling off, and organs exploding everywhere. Thinking back, if he wasn't so dangerous, it would've almost been funny. He just needed to flash someone and they'd disappear. But really, it was terrifying. He almost kicked him out that night, but eventually decided against it. He seemed so genuine about his fear of himself, how lonely he was, how he regretted the other times it happened. Aleks didn't know if his annoying sympathy would come bite him in the ass later on, but so far, all was well. That man's clothes were staying on and he was much more civilized than other visitors, so he was good… for now.
Then, there was that teen who ran from her home. She was blunt and rude, but it was so painfully obvious that she was scared and hurt. She didn't share much, but from what he knew, he detested the people that had been in her life. Her parents seemed like pathetic assholes, and the people she took shelter with were depraved monsters who deserved a bullet in the head. He could understand why she was so cold with everyone, and felt bad. Her situation was quite uncomfortable, stuck in a house with four men she didn't know. Aleks had promised her, swore on his own life and everyone else's in the house, that she was safe there. No one would lay a finger on her, or else his gun would be the last thing they'd see. She didn't really believe him, and he couldn't blame her, but he'd keep his promise.
And finally, Agata. His neighbor's daughter. The poor girl had been absolutely devastated the first days she got there. All she could do was scream and sob and beg for her parents, completely inconsolable. Aleks felt terrible. He didn't know how to help, or if he even could. He had spent a long, long time just sitting with her, letting her hug him, trying to distract her. At first, it hadn't worked. One morning, he heard her tiny footsteps march to the front door, and he caught her right on time before she could run out into the scorching sun. He had shouted at her, terrified, and made her promise to never do that again. She had wailed, scared and desperate, and hugged him like her life depended on it. It was the first time he hugged back. And since that day, she changed. She was nowhere near her old, bubbly self, but she wasn't so lifeless anymore. She still cried, she was still sad and quiet, but she could smile, she could talk. She could be happier, and it made Aleks so, so relieved.
He hadn't known any of their names at first, except for Agata of course. Her dad, when he was still alive, had invited him over to their house a few times, or invited himself and Agata occasionally as well. He had known her for a long time, and had been 'Uncle Aleks' in her eyes for a few years. However, for the rest of them, he quite frankly didn't want to learn their names. It was like domesticating a pet. Once it had a name, you'd become attached.
He was already attached. Reluctantly, but very much so. He never thought it could happen again, but here they all were. He'd risk his life for them, determined to keep them alive until the world was normal again.
If that was even possible now.
Unfortunately for him, it happened unexpectedly. They were in the living room all together, the girls having fun playing with Toto, under the promise to be careful, the man from the bar sitting in the couch with beer he stole from Aleks, the cold man curled up on the other end, and the injured foreigner on the floor with Aleks, looking through books and maps, trying to communicate.
It had come up suddenly.
"Ra… What, sakheli, you? Eh…"
Aleks stared at him, not really following.
"You… what?" He then pointed to himself. "Me, Lasha."
Ah. A name. He was asking for his name.
"You mean, what's your name." He told him, feeling strange. "Your name is Lasha?"
"Diakh!!" He beamed, perking up. A wide smile appeared on his face, stretching the stitch marks. "Name! What you name?"
Suddenly, all eyes were on him. No one did know his name, apart from Agata. He felt awkward. He didn't really want to say. But not saying it wouldn't look good. He trusted them, but he needed them to trust him back.
"My name is… Aleksandr." He mumbled, his index to his chest. "Me, Aleksandr. Aleks."
Lasha's smile got impossibly happier.
"Aleks!! Good!!"
Agata beamed, and hopped up from her spot on the floor.
"That's so cool!! We should all introduce ourselves!!" She exclaimed, looking like her old self again. She skipped over to them. "This is Uncle Aleks, this is Lasha, and I'm Agata!"
She went back to the other girl, happily looked down at her. "What's your name?"
The teen looked a bit flustered to be put on the spot like that. She crossed her arms and put on a tough face.
"Angelina…" She grumbled.
Agata cheered, and the next target was the cold man.
"And you?"
It took him a while to answer, almost as if he had to really think about it.
"…S-Sergei… That's m-my name."
"Awesome!! And you, mister?" She asked the tall man.
"Yesenin." Was all he said.
"Yesenin? But that's a family name!"
"Indeed it is."
"What's your first name then?" She asked curiously.
"Mm. That's all you'll get from me, little lady."
Her pout turned into amused giggles at the nickname and at the pats he gave her head.
She went back over to Angelina, telling her she wanted to help Lasha and Aleks. The teen just shrugged, sitting alone in the corner of the living room, moping while she looked at Toto.
She sighed, looking around the room. She was bored, and lonely. She decided the two on the couch looked chill enough, so she approached them.
"Um… What are you reading?" She asked that freakishly tall man, Yesenin or whatever he said. He had been holding a book for a while.
"Poetry. It's quite beautiful."
She raised a brow.
"You don't seem like the poetry type."
"Hm. I suppose not."
The conversation ended there, making her feel rather awkward.
"…Is that stuff even any good?" She then questioned, pointing to the can he occasionally sipped from.
"Sure. It's an acquired taste."
"Can I try?"
He looked up from the pages he read to glance at her, a thin brow raised but a small smirk growing on his face, a rare sight.
"I don't see why not."
"W-what the hell, she's a k-kid..!!" The cold man suddenly said, looking at the other judgmentally.
"It's the end of the world, my good man, who cares if a kid has a sip of beer? Might as well ease her curiosity."
"You're unbelievable…" Sergei mumbled, shaking his head as Yesenin stood from the couch. Angelina felt the tiniest bit intimidated by his looming height.
When he came back, he had a glass in one hand and a new can in the other. He cracked it open, poured some into the glass, and gave it to Angelina.
"There. Though let me warn you, it doesn't taste amazing."
She swirled the liquid in the cup, staring at it curiously. She sniffed it, grimaced, then took a cautious sip.
"BLEGH!" She exclaimed, shoving the glass back at him while he snickered. "That stuff's nasty!! How can you drink that?!"
"I told you, it's not for everyone."
Aleks' attention was caught by the ruckus, and his eyebrows shot up.
"Did you give the kid beer?!" He asked in shock. Even Lasha seemed to have understood the situation, but he, like Yesenin, found it slightly amusing.
"Just a sip, it won't kill her." The man waved him off.
"What's that? Can I try it?" Agata asked curiously.
"No!!" Aleks yelped, which made Yesenin cackle.
Agata huffed with a pout, sitting back down. Lasha giggled, amused at the antics, and ruffled her hair.
Angelina still had her nose all scrunched up, glaring at Yesenin, who simply finished his own drink with a slight smirk. She crossed her arms, glancing at Sergei.
"I should've listened to you, man."
He only let out an exasperated sigh, though he'd be lying if he said he didn't also find it a bit funny. He took the untouched, opened can and took a sip, earning him a disgusted look.
"W-what..?? Like he said, it's-s an acq-quired taste.."
"Adults are fuckin' weird…" She mumbled, which made Aleks grunt.
"Language!!"