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 Posted: Thu Dec 12, 2013 9:51 pm
The date is April 19th, 2011. It's a typical Tyumen spring-- a warm 18 degrees Celsius, the snow of past months forgotten. Spring means warmth, sunlight shining weakly through the clouds, and hope that never quite blossomed in his chest. He had recently finished serving in the Armed Forces, the obligatory one year service that was required of him, and the cynicism he'd acquired during it had not yet worn off. He was uncertain if it ever would.
His shift was over at two, and the time rolled around at a luxurious pace. It wasn't as though he hated the job, but it had so much freedom that often times he felt aimless, and more than a little empty. Kostya pulled on his leather jacket, scurrying out the door with hunched shoulders and a scowl, one part frustrated with the world and three parts exhausted by it.
Every day, Konstantin walked by the cinema, and every day, it was tedious. People were there, with the dull roar accompanied by any crowd, with the pushiness of the herd, with the impatience of someone self-entitled.
It was not normal to run into any one person, but on this day, Kostya did, toppling a small figure to the ground. Alarmed, Kostya offered a (gloved) hand to her (because that was what was polite), and began apologising to her-- in his native tongue, of course, as anyone would in the heart of Tyumen Oblast.
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Posted: Thu Dec 12, 2013 11:43 pm
It wasn't destiny, but it felt like one. Tiny towns like these were bitter, even strangers that collided often looked the other way. It was someone's else problem. War, strife, service, done and forgotten. Everything remained grey, faces and people and noise and repeat. Faces. People. Noise. Repeat.
The girl who Kostya knocked swore at him, spat, and then was just another. Faces. Names. People. Repeat. No coincidence, just done and forgotten.
People were telling him to get out of the way. He was an obstruction and he was taking their time. His glove hand remained empty.
And then someone else grabbed his hand entirely. Face. Brown eyes. Name. Unknown. She was wearing a thin white coat and smelled like cookies and rainbows. She smiled and took his hand. "Well that wasn't very nice was it?"
She took his hand and kept on walking, and remained obnoxiously not grey.
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Posted: Fri Dec 13, 2013 10:13 pm
With a sigh and met expectations of the kindness (or lack thereof) of the human race, Kostya wiped the spittle off his face with a sleeve, grimacing.
Just another cog in the machine, and stalling now simply meant that his nose wasn't pressed to the grindstone with a task. Don't ask questions. Don't create trouble, for your family or for the state. Drive too fast and party all night. Die young or don't die at all.
He didn't fit.
In the span of time it took his heart to beat twice, Konstantin went from feeling guilty to embittered, and two more until the bitterness faded into honest surprise.
A girl took his hand and she smiled, dressed for spring and radiating warmth-- was that-- the smell of chocolate chip cookies? She spoke English, and his was used mostly in writing, but he knew it, he understood her lilting words and dazedly, Kostya let her lead, a beacon of light with a halo of cinnamon wreathed around her dainty face.
"Vas not," he agreed, brows knitted behind glasses but curious more than anything, and he couldn't contain himself. "Am mistaking me? Somevon else?"
She couldn't possibly want to talk to him.
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Posted: Sat Dec 14, 2013 1:24 am
"Oh, I love this movie!" She dragged him through the crowd, so proudly out of place. One grey and one rainbows. She bought exactly two tickets and continued to pull him further, up and away, her actions so loud and ridiculous it seemed as if the sluggish pace of the cold world around her had slowly picked up tempo. Everything was a little more interesting, a little more exciting and unpredictable. As they seated in the threatre room, several heads turned their direction before feigning disinterest and indifference. The movie began to play. English with subtitles. Voices streamed from the screen, speaking of horror and monsters from the beyond. She squeezed his hand.
"Of course. I chose you, silly. I waited and waited and then they left but we don't need anyone else. I'm just here to make you happy!" The movie began blasting explosions, shaking the seats a little, "Oh! That's my favourite part! I love this part!"
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Posted: Sat Dec 14, 2013 1:33 am
He couldn't help his staring. She bought them tickets and pulled them through the crowd, a whirlwind of light, a tornado of smiles, and he wondered who she was and where she came from. What was her name? Why was she here? What was her story?
The questions slid through his mind, each one more slippery than the next, escaping from his head and out through his hand, where the warmth of her fingers touched his.
He looked at her, not in lust or admiration. He looked at her, and saw something else. The movie played and he didn't care, the movie played and she spoke, her voice a summer day, the tones mellifluous, warm, and dulcet.
"How?" is all he could ask her, brows knitted. She spoke of an unidentified group, of others who she had disregarded. Kostya jumped in his seat when the crashing started, and he flicked his eyes at the screen before glancing back at her.
Why hadn't he left? Why hadn't he corrected her, insisted that she had the wrong person?
(Perhaps she didn't.)
"Am not special," is what he settled on, each word heavy on his tongue. "Am just ...Konstantin. Who are you being?"
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Posted: Sat Dec 14, 2013 11:47 pm
"I'm here to help you," another hand squeeze, affectionate and yet not overbearing, quite yet, "and I want to- to save you."
She turned her attention to the screen, just a few moments. "Are you happy, mister Konstatin?" It was a strange moment to ask this question just as half the characters on the screen were being chewed into bloody pieces by zombies.
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Posted: Sun Dec 15, 2013 1:11 am
She held his hand as if it was the most normal thing in the world, to express this much affection with a veritable stranger.
Something told him, though, that he wasn't a stranger at all, not to her. Even in the dim, he could see the rainbows on her outfit, dulled by darkness but still, she was an anomaly.
He didn't immediately answer, and instead stared at the screen, his face impassive. It would be easy to lie; she wouldn't be able to tell, not really. She didn't know him, his tells, his purpose (or lack thereof). She didn't know anything at all. What could she possibly want to save him from?
"Am not knowing," Kostya said, slowly, the word like molasses on his tongue, "Vhat happiness... feels like."
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Posted: Mon Dec 16, 2013 12:19 am
The movie finished, the screen characters had survived the zombie onslaught. It was a beautiful bright filmed day as the chars embraced each other in relief and Kostya's not-quite friend looked horrified. Correction: she looked horrified at him.
"Oh- oh my. That's- that's bad, that is very bad." Despite the ending scene still rolling, she stood straight up in the middle of the theatre, still holding his one hand. "Mister- mister Konstatin, we need to fix this immediately. We need to make you happy. If you don't understand how to make yourself happy, then you'll never make others happy and oh no, that just wont do!"
Someone was shouting Russian at her, some obscenities, though the girl didn't seem to notice or care. She tugged at him and in a flash they were out the movie doors into the brisk approaching evening. It had begun to snow lightly, even in spring, and she pulled and pulled at him until they stopped. "Up here, Mister Konstatin!"
A small alleyway and she had let go of him and run right into the shadows.
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Posted: Mon Dec 16, 2013 1:14 am
Kostya leaned back a little, a bland expression on his face as Julie's own face went aghast. She said he needed to understand what made him happy, and it was less a plea and more of a demand. She dragged him through the theatre, tugging on his wrist until they were in the dusk, the first snowflakes of the day softly falling.
We need to make you happy, she had said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, the rainbow in her scarf as bright as her voice.
He did not understand her, but that did not make her wrong.
"Vhy do need to make others happy?" he asked, breathless, fog steaming his glasses as he huffed, one or two flakes melting against them. His town was not so small that a shadowy alley in a dingier part of town was not unnerving, and without thinking, he followed.
One part because he was worried. Another part because she beckoned, coaxing in a gentle demand that left no room for dissent.
"Ostanovit! Stop! Come back!"
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Posted: Mon Dec 16, 2013 1:03 pm
Silence. And then- "I'm still here!" Here voice echoed in the small nearly enclosed space. There was the sound of footsteps, a single pair, rushing back towards him, and then the smell-
- It smelt like something warm and baked and delightful. It smelled like pastry. A whole tray of cookies, still warm, rested between her hands. She stopped for a second to catch her breath, and then raised the tray at Kostya. "Cookie, mister Konstastin? I made them myself, they're shaped like little friends, little future friends you could have, oh, I got so nervous, because it's-it's my first time doing this alone and oh no! I shouldn't have said that! What if they're watching? You're not going to tell anyone are you?"
The cookie tray was still held towards Kostya as she spoke, eyes wide and slightly alarmed.
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Posted: Tue Dec 17, 2013 12:01 am
She was gone from sight but hadn't left, her laugh tinkling bells echoing between brick walls, tendrils of confusion in his veins but anticipation, too.
Her feet slapped against the ground and the girl returned, smiling larger than before, treats before her on a tray, and it was lifted up to him and he had no idea what to do besides pick one up, gingerly, hoping it wouldn't break, cupping one hand beneath the other, just in case.
A good thing, too, because the upper half separated from the bottom, and he quickly (and awkwardly) gobbled both pieces up, staring at the girl with wide eyes as she asked him not to tell.
Slowly, he nodded, and swallowed. "Da, vill not tell. But who am not telling?"
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Posted: Tue Dec 17, 2013 2:21 am
"Oh, that's um, well," she straightened up, and put the tray on one side, a lower piece of a wall that was peeling away, "Mister Konstatin, can I tell you a secret? It's a really big secret but if I tell you, you have to promise to be my friend. And-and you can't take it back!"
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Posted: Tue Dec 17, 2013 9:14 am
She was little more than a stranger but he would promise her the world, if she would just go back to smiling.
"Da," Kostya replied, and tentatively offered the girl his pinky, sparing her the lengthy diatribe that came with such a promise. "Promise to be friend. Promise not take back."
But what was he promising?
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Posted: Wed Dec 18, 2013 12:31 am
"Oh, yay!" She clapped her hands and then sighed a visible sigh of relief before taking the pinky swear. "Okay, this is a big secret but it's so exciting but, okay, here it is. You have been chosen. By me!"
She smiled expectantly as if this solved everything.
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Posted: Wed Dec 18, 2013 2:24 pm
He didn't understand, and it showed.
"Am very sorry," he started, the words jilted, brows knitted, "but, am not...looking for...girlfriend...?"
What else could it be? What else could she want from someone so utterly ordinary?
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