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Valeriy groaned, his muscles tightening as he tried to push himself up. He braced his weight on his elbow, but the moment he shifted, a burning pain flashed across his stomach. It hit him so hard that his breath caught in his throat, forcing him to sink back down into the mattress.
"I'm tossing you out if you rip open those stitches."
The voice came from the shadows right beside his bed. It was a voice he knew better than his own. It was a voice he had carried in his heart through every dark night, the one sound he had longed to hear for so many endless years.
Valeriy slowly turned his head toward the sound. There, sitting quietly on a wooden chair, was Alyosha.
The room was dark and still. The only thing separating the two men was a small wooden table, where a single lighted candle flickered, casting soft shadows across Alyosha’s face and finally bringing them back together.
Alyosha’s signature hood was gone. He must have taken it off when he came inside, revealing the black turtleneck shirt he wore underneath. Without the hood shadowing his face, he looked exactly as Valeriy remembered, yet somehow different.
But Alyosha wouldn't look at him. His gaze remained fixed downward, completely avoiding Valeriy’s eyes.
Watching him look away sent a painful mix of irritation and deep sadness straight through Valeriy's chest. After all this time, Alyosha wouldn't even meet his eyes. Instead, Alyosha focused entirely on the weapon in his hands, carefully wiping down his gun with a clean white cloth. He only focused on his task, not sparing the injured man a single glance.
"Did you save me?" Valeriy asked, his voice rough and strain.
Refusing to let the pain win this time, he gritted his teeth and pushed himself up one last time. Every muscle in his stomach screamed in protest, but he forced his body to move until he finally managed to sit up. He leaned back heavily against the wooden headboard of the bed, panting slightly, his eyes still locked onto the man who refused to look back.
Alyosha’s hands didn't stop. He kept rubbing the white cloth against the cold metal of his gun, his fingers steady, though his jaw tightened slightly at the sound of Valeriy’s voice.
"Don't flatter yourself," Alyosha said coldly, his voice smooth but completely devoid of warmth. "You fell on my doorstep. Leaving you bleeding out there would have brought more trouble for me later."
He finally set the cloth down on the table, right next to the flickering candle. Slowly, he lifted his head. When his eyes finally met Valeriy's, there was no joy or relief in them—only the look of tiredness that made the distance between them feel wider than all the years they had spent apart.
"You shouldn't have come back, Valeriy."
"..."
"Why did you come here when you know we're supposed to be enemies, Sir Major?" Alyosha asked, his voice cutting through the quiet room.
There was no room for kindness or easy conversation between them anymore. Years ago, they had both chosen their own paths. Those paths had split their worlds apart, eventually leading them to a place where they were forced to point guns at each other. They both knew the reality of what they had become.
Valeriy didn't answer. He just closed his eyes, his face completely still, as if he were lost deep in his own thoughts.
Alyosha’s eyes narrowed, a flash of annoyance breaking through his calm expression. He let out a soft, bitter sigh, murmuring under his breath about how Valeriy hadn't changed at all with that stubborn attitude.
Pushing his chair back, Alyosha stood up and walked over to a small counter, then he grabbed a glass to pour himself a beer, turning his back on the injured man.
Valeriy opened his eyes, the heavy lids lifting slowly as he quietly fixed his gaze on Alyosha's back.
He found himself measuring the physical changes that the missing years had carved into the man. Alyosha had definitely grown taller since they last stood side by side, yet he still possessed a slender frame compared to Valeriy’s broad shoulders and heavily muscled build. Alyosha had always been the agile one, built for speed and fluid flexibility while Valeriy provided the brute force. The most striking change, however, was his hair. Alyosha had cut it short, ridding himself of the strands that used to be long enough to gather into a loose, low ponytail at the nape of his neck—a habit Valeriy remembered all too well.
"I see that your love for drinking hasn't changed either," Valeriy remarked, breaking the silence.
Alyosha didn't turn around right away. He simply watched the foam settle against the glass as he poured. "Thanks for the compliment," he said, the sarcasm dripping from his words like ice.
"It's not really a compliment," Valeriy said smoothly, leaning his head back against the headboard. "Drinking before a fight makes you sloppy. I thought someone would have beaten that habit out of you by now."
Alyosha finally spun around, holding the glass tightly in his hand. His eyes snapped toward the bed. "Nobody beats anything out of me, Sir Major. And considering you're the one currently bleeding through my sheets, I wouldn't be talking about who's getting sloppy."
"A minor distraction," Valeriy said, tilting his head to the side slightly. "The other guys look much worse, I assure you."
"I don't care about the other guys," Alyosha countered, he fought down the urge to hurl his glass of perfectly filled beer straight at Valeriy's face. "I care about the fact that you're still a stubborn idiot who doesn't know when to die."
"How could I die," Valeriy said, "when I still haven't paid you back for saving me the first time?"
He looked up, his eyes locking onto Alyosha's. "We swore a long time ago that we'd finish this together. I'm not going to let a couple of stray bullets break that promise."
The sarcastic retort died on Alyosha's lips. The sudden mention of their past hit the room like a cold draft, freezing the anger right out of him. His grip on the beer glass loosened slightly, and the sharp tension in his shoulders suddenly collapsed into something heavy and tired.
Alyosha grew completely silent, the room growing so quiet that the only sound left was the soft crackle of the candle burning down between them.
"And, we're only enemies in name. Alexei," Valeriy said softly.
Alyosha froze at the sound of it. He stared at Valeriy, his expression unreadable, but Valeriy didn't look away. He met Alyosha's gaze with an honesty that made the heavy silence between them stretch on for what felt like hours.
Finally, Alyosha let out a long sigh. He raised the glass to his lips and downed his beer in one long go, letting the alcohol burn away the tension in his throat. He set the empty glass down on the table with a dull thud, then turned his focus entirely to Valeriy, staring straight into the injured man's striking violet eyes.
"I'm seriously throwing you out if you continue saying things like that with a straight face," Alyosha said, his voice flat.
"Sorry, I'm just an honest person," Valeriy responded. A familiar smile pulled at the corners of his lips—the exact same smug grin he used to wear whenever he knew he had successfully pushed Alyosha's buttons.
Alyosha rolled his eyes up, desperately resisting the urge to yank his own hair out in frustration. He immediately began refilling his glass with more beer, roughly shaking his head as if he could clear it. He genuinely didn't know how to respond to that face. It was the same face that, a lifetime ago, used to make his heart skip a beat.
He kept his back turned, but he couldn't stop the sudden warmth creeping up his skin. A bright flush of red bloomed across his ears, quickly spreading all the way down his neck.
"You're an idiot, is what you are," Alyosha muttered, keeping his back turned as he waited for the flush on his neck to cool down. He gripped the fresh glass of beer, focusing hard on the amber liquid rather than the man lying in his bed.
Valeriy let out a low chuckle, though the sound quickly cut off into a sharp gasp as the movement agitated his bandaged stomach. He pressed a hand against his wound, his smile fading into a grimace of pain.
Hearing the gasp, Alyosha's shoulders tensed. The annoyance evaporated instantly, replaced by a familiar instinct to protect. He set his glass down on the counter with a little more force than intended and walked back over to the bedside, his boots clicking softly against the wooden floorboards.
He stopped right at the edge of the bed, looking down at Valeriy.
"Lie back down before you bleed through the mattress," Alyosha ordered, his voice losing its playful edge and returning to that quiet, serious tone. "I didn't waste my last roll of clean bandages just to watch you open yourself back up because you wanted to play the romantic hero."
"I'm not a romantic hero," Valeriy argued, his brow furrowing.
Why is he only responding to that part?! Alyosha thought, completely exasperated. Instead of arguing back, Alyosha just closed his eyes as he let out a tired breath, and placed his palm flat against Valeriy's forehead. With a firm but gentle push, he forced the stubborn man's head back down onto the pillow.
"Alright, alright, Sir Major," Alyosha said, his tone softening into the smooth, mocking cadence he used to use when comforting an angry kid.
Before Alyosha could pull his hand away, he felt Valeriy’s fingers wrap around his own. Valeriy’s hand was larger, rough with calluses, enveloping Alyosha’s hand so easily.
"Don't call me that," Valeriy said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
Alyosha blinked, caught off guard. "What..."
"Don't call me 'Sir Major', Alexei," Valeriy repeated.
Using what little strength he had left, Valeriy pulled. He forced the hand he was holding downward, dragging Alyosha off balance until he was leaning deep over the bed. Alyosha had to catch himself, his breath hitching as their faces were brought incredibly close together.
At this distance, the shadows from the candle faded. Valeriy could finally look straight into Alyosha’s eyes—eyes the color of soft morning light. He could see the faint scatter of freckles dusting across Alyosha's cheeks bone, clearer now than they had been in years.
"I've never seen you as someone less than me," Valeriy murmured, his gaze steady and fiercely honest. "You're someone who is equal to me."
Alyosha froze, his breath warm against Valeriy’s face. For a second, he forgot how to move, entirely trapped by the intensity in those violet eyes and the tight, unbreakable grip around his hand. The weight of Valeriy’s words seemed to hang heavy in the small, candlelit room, crushing the distance they had spent years building between them.
Slowly, the shock wore off, replaced by a painful ache in Alyosha's chest. He swallowed hard, trying to pull his hand back, but Valeriy wouldn't let go.
"You shouldn't say things like that," Alyosha whispered, his voice cracking just a little. He looked down, unable to hold that fierce gaze anymore. "Not after everything. Not after the choices we made."
"I mean every word, Alexei," Valeriy insisted. His thumb brushed gently against the back of Alyosha’s hand, a small, tender movement that sent a shiver straight up Alyosha's spine. "The world outside can call us enemies all they want. But whenever I am with you? I am just your Valeriy."
Alyosha let out a shaky breath, his forehead nearly touching Valeriy's as he finally stopped resisting the pull. He closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of the man he was supposed to hate, but never truly could.
"...Why did you come here?" Alyosha asked again.
Valeriy stayed quiet for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling as if looking for the answer himself.
"...I don't know," Valeriy finally answered, his voice heavy with a truth he had barely admitted to himself. He turned his head back to look at Alyosha. "I think... my mind at that moment just wanted to see you one last time before I die."
Alyosha went completely still.
The words seemed to steal the air right out of his lungs. He couldn't speak, couldn't pull away, and couldn't even blink. He just stared down at Valeriy.
Valeriy noticed the subtle flash of pain across Alyosha's face, and his brow furrowed with deep concern.
Without thinking, Valeriy lifted Alyosha's hand to his lips, closing his eyes as he breathed in the familiar scent of him. The warmth of Alyosha's skin made his heart ache, and before he could stop himself, the words poured out.
"Alyosha, with this upcoming disaster... please, sit out of—"
In a split second, before Valeriy could even finish his sentence, Alyosha cut him off.
He leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against Valeriy's, sealing his mouth to silence him.
The sudden kiss left Valeriy completely speechless. His eyes widened in shock, his mind spinning as he tried to process what was happening.
But just as quickly as it started, Alyosha pulled back. The softness was entirely gone, replaced by an expression of pure anger and deep frustration.
"Don't push your luck, Valeriy," Alyosha said, his voice dangerously quiet. "I won't do that. I appreciate your worry, but I am not selfish enough to let my comrades go into battle without me—just because you don't want to fight me."
"No, that's not what I mean..." Valeriy started, but the words died in his throat the moment he saw the cold, hurt look in Alyosha's eyes. Before he could explain himself, his vision went completely dark as Alyosha placed a palm over his eyes, blocking him out.
"You should rest," Alyosha said, his voice flat and tight.
Alyosha pulled his hand back and stood up to leave, but Valeriy wasn't about to let him walk away. Ignoring the agonizing tear in his stomach, Valeriy lunged forward and grabbed him, using all his remaining strength to drag him right back down.
Teeth gritted against the pain, Valeriy forced himself upright once again. With one hand, he locked his grip around Alyosha's wrist so he couldn't escape, and with the other, he reached up behind Alyosha's neck, pulling his head down.
Before Alyosha could protest, Valeriy crashed their lips together, sealing them in a kiss.
Alyosha gasped into the kiss, his body instantly going rigid. He fought against the embrace, squirming and twisting his wrist to break free from Valeriy’s iron grip. But Valeriy held fast, pouring all his desperate, pent-up longing into the kiss, refusing to let him slide away again.
Frustrated and trapped, Alyosha sharp-ended his resistance. He bit down hard on Valeriy’s lower lip.
Valeriy groaned from the sharp sting, the taste of copper immediately flooding his mouth, but he still didn't let go. Instead, driven by a sudden wave of heat, Valeriy's hand slid down from Alyosha's neck, moving past his waist until his palm rested firmly on Alyosha’s thigh, gripping it with a clear intention to pull him even closer onto the bed.
That crossed the line.
Freeing his trapped arm with a violent wrench, he balled his hand into a fist and swung. The punch landed squarely on Valeriy’s jaw. The force of the blow snapped Valeriy’s head to the side, breaking the kiss instantly. The force of the blow tore them apart, sending Valeriy crashing heavily back onto the bed, a fresh line of blood splitting across his lip.
"I thought I was the one drinking tonight. Why are you the one who's drunk!?" Alyosha panted, his chest heaving as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes blazing.
Valeriy winced, slowly raising a hand to touch the swelling bruise on his lip. He didn't look angry; his violet eyes never left Alyosha's face, dark with an emotion he couldn't hide.
Alyosha narrowed his eyes, his breathing slowly turning steady, though his voice remained sharp as steel. "This is war, Valeriy. One of us could die at any moment. It's not such a strange concept to either of us. Stop acting like this is the end of the world.”
"I don't want you to die, whether it's by my hand or someone else's," Valeriy said, his violet eyes locking onto Alyosha's. "Is that really so strange to hear from someone like me?"
The raw vulnerability in the question caught Alyosha completely off guard. He opened his mouth but the words dried up in his throat. He stood there by the edge of the bed, his knuckles still stinging from the punch, looking down at the man who had crossed enemy lines and risked his life just to say goodbye to him. The anger in Alyosha's chest slowly began to fracture, leaving behind only a hollow and aching sadness that he couldn't quite hide anymore.
Alyosha shifted his weight, his gaze finally dropping from Valeriy’s intense stare to the small trail of blood running down Valeriy's chin. The fury that had driven his fist a moment ago was completely gone, leaving him feeling drained and hollow.
"Yes, Valeriy," Alyosha said quietly. "It is strange. Because you and I both know that the moment we step back outside this room, we belong to the front lines. Not to each other."
He reached over to the table, picked up the white cloth he had used to clean his gun, and tossed it onto Valeriy's lap.
"Clean your face," Alyosha muttered, turning his back once more to walk over to the small window. He pushed the heavy curtain aside just an inch, looking out into the pitch-black night. "You talk about me dying like it's a choice I can just make. If I sit out, someone else takes my place. If you hesitate out there because of me, you're the one who ends up with a bullet in the chest."
He let the curtain fall back into place, plunging his face into shadow as he turned around.
"We made our peace with this years ago," Alyosha whispered. "Don't ruin it now."
.
.
.
The storm of their argument eventually burned itself out.
By the small hours of the morning, Valeriy had finally succumbed to exhaustion, sleeping soundly under the thin blankets. It was a bizarre sight.
To the rest of the world, Major Valeriy was a force of nature—known for his immense strength, unyielding discipline, and a terrifying presence on the battlefield that made even his own men tread lightly. Yet here, in this room, his breathing was slow and even, his features relaxed in an unguarded slumber. Perhaps it was the blood loss, or perhaps, subconsciously, it was simply because he was with Alyosha.
Alyosha sat quietly on a wooden stool by the side of the bed, the small candle having burned down to a stub. In the light, he dipped a clean cloth into a small tin of soothing medicinal salve.
Moving with gentle care, he leaned forward to apply the medicine to Valeriy's face. He traced the darkening bruise along the jawline before moving up to the split on Valeriy's lower lip—from his punch.
Setting the cloth aside, Alyosha’s thumb lightly brushed against the edge of Valeriy's lips, smoothing the balm into the cracked skin. His thumb lingered there for longer than necessary, feeling the warm puff of Valeriy’s breath against his skin.
Alyosha’s expression softened as he stared down at the man who was supposed to be his enemy, yet remained the only person who truly knew the boy he used to be.
Once he had enough fun pinching the man's cheeks—a petty revenge for earlier—Alyosha finally stood up to stretch his aching back. But the moment his weight shifted, he heard the bed frame creak.
Alyosha jumped slightly, his heart leaping into his throat at the sudden sight of Valeriy sitting straight up in the dim light, staring directly at him.
Of course. His habit of pretending to be asleep whenever he was around Alyosha hadn't changed at all. He had probably been awake the entire time, feeling every single touch.
"Did I wake you up?" Alyosha asked, his voice cautious as he tried to mask his embarrassment.
Valeriy quietly shook his head, offering a faint "no," before raising a hand to press his palm firmly against his temple, his brows knitting together.
The lingering annoyance melted away. Alyosha immediately came back to the edge of the bed and sat down by his side, his eyes scanning the man's pale face. "Does your head hurt?"
"No," Valeriy said gently, lowering his hand from his temple. He looked at Alyosha, the intensity from earlier replaced by a quiet, heavy sincerity. "I wanted to apologize... for what I said. I was out of line."
Alyosha let out a soft sigh, waving his hand dismissively. "I don't care anymore, Valeriy. Just drop it and rest."
Valeriy didn't lie back down. He looked toward the small window, where the first faint, cold light of dawn was just beginning to bleed into the night sky.
"I should head back now," Valeriy said, his voice returning to that serious, pragmatic tone of a Major. "My subordinates will be looking for me by sunrise. If any of them catch even a glimpse of me here... you'll get in trouble."
"....Alright," Alyosha said after a long, agonizing moment of weighing his options, trying to decide whether it was safer to keep the injured man hidden or let him risk the trek back to his own lines. Reality won, he can't keep him here before the sunrise.
Once he had gathered his belongings—his coat heavy and other belongings—Valeriy stood by the weathered wooden door. Before opening it to the freezing dawn, he paused, turning back to look at Alyosha one last time.
Alyosha looked at him, confused by the sudden hesitation, he gave a dismissive wave of his hand to urge him out before someone saw him.
Instead of leaving, Valeriy let out a soft chuckle. The familiar smug grin reappeared on his face as he closed the distance between them in two long strides. He reached out, his calloused fingers catching Alyosha by the chin and tilting his face upward. Before Alyosha could even utter a complaint, Valeriy leaned down and captured those lips once again—though this time, the kiss was more gentle and sweeter.
"Thanks for saving me and let's meet again, my dear Alexei," Valeriy whispered sweetly against his lips, his breath warm and lingering for just a second before he finally pulled away, slipped through the door, and vanished into the cold gray dawn.
The door clicked shut, leaving the small room instantly cold and quiet.
Alyosha stood frozen in the center of the room, his hand slowly rising to touch his tingling lips, also feeling the medicine balm he had applied on Valeriy on his own lips. For a long moment, Alyosha just stood there. Then, the reality of what had just happened rushed back all at once, and a burning heat flooded his cheeks, spreading rapidly all the way to the tips of his ears.
"Fucking idiot," Alyosha choked out to the empty room, his voice shaking.
Unable to stand under the weight of his own racing heart, his knees buckled. He slid down against the side of the wooden bedframe, crouching low to the floor. He buried his face into his arms, wrapping his hands tightly around his knees as if he could physically hold himself together, desperately fighting the intense redness on his face while the memory of Valeriy's whisper echoed over and over in his head.
.
.
The cold wind bit at Valeriy’s face as he slipped back into the military headquarters. He walked into his office, shedding his heavy coat and sinking into his desk chair. He was exhausted, his body ached, and his split lip stung, but as he looked out the window at the glowing yellow dawn, a small smile caught the edge of his mouth.
Outside the open office door, two of his subordinates paused in the hallway, watching him in disbelief.
"Is the Major... smiling?" one whispered, blinking as if he were seeing a ghost. He looked back and forth between the Major's eyes and the outside. "I wonder, what’s so fun about looking at the sunrise?"
The older soldier next to him shrugged, keeping his voice low. "No idea. But he does it every single morning. Ever since I started serving under him, every morning, before every battle, he just stands there and stares at the light, maybe it's like a ritual or a good luck charm."
Inside the office, Valeriy did hear them but he didn't mind, it's not like he's trying to hide his intention anyway. He slowly raised two fingers to trace his bruised bottom lip.
In the bright morning light, he saw Alyosha. He remembered the look on Alyosha’s face right before the door closed—the shock in those wide, morning-light eyes, the way a cute pink blush spread fast across his freckled cheeks, and the helpless little frown on his brow.
Valeriy’s small smile grew into a genuine grin. He leaned his head back against his chair, staring straight into the golden sunlight, already missing those sunlight eyes that could ever truly see him.