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Summary
“You believed I was dead.” Valeriy takes one step closer. “You thought I was gone.”
Mitya nods. “Yes.”
“And you were upset.”
“Don’t seem so pleased about it,” Mitya shouts.
“I’m not pleased,” Valeriy says, though his smile betrays him. He comes closer again until only the corner of the desk separates him and Mitya.
This is just absurd. He’s spent months making sport of this man, slipping away from escorts, inventing detours, and testing precisely how far Valeriy’s patience can be stretched before it snaps. He has treated Valeriy’s relentless presence as though it were a law of nature — the sun rises every morning, snow falls in Snezhnaya, and Valeriy will always be there to drag him back to work.
It never occurred to Mitya that one morning the sun might rise and Valeriy might not.
“I took you for granted, alright?”
OR:
Mitya shows Valeriy just how much he missed him when he thought he was dead.