Я никогда не хотел причинить тебе боль
The words were still ringing in his ears even after he’d dragged himself back to his hotel and washed up and tried to think up a good excuse as to why he was fighting, again, that would satisfy his agent. He’d always had a lot of pent up energy, and once it was let out it took a long time for him to calm back down.
Most of the time, that was a good thing. It meant he had the stamina needed for long photoshoots and nights on the runway. It also meant that he had plenty of energy elsewhere in his life. Because married or not, he hadn’t known that Seth was even alive until about a year ago, and when he’d learned that he was just galavanting across the world, doing whatever he wanted, Lev had been too heartbroken to care about anything else.
Я никогда не хотел причинить тебе боль
It was a lie. No matter how sincere Seth had sounded when he spoke those words, Lev couldn’t believe him. If he hadn’t meant to hurt him, then why was he still running? Why did he run in the first place? Was there something so awful about him that Seth couldn’t bother with a better excuse?
Lev stopped to get coffee at a local cafe in the city. He had the day off and there was nothing he could really do except ‘try to not get into another fight’. His jaw was still bruised, but he was lucky that most of it could be hidden with makeup. He didn’t bother wearing any now, but sunglasses were enough to give him the look of someone who didn’t want to be spoken to.
--------------------------------------------
In two years, Seth had done, he thought, a rather remarkable job of not thinking about Lev whatsoever. He’d thrown himself into his work, and his lavish lifestyle, his time as Gadolinite, and everything else. For two entire years, he had hardly even considered the past, because it was amazing what one could do when one put enough willpower into it.
And when he drank and distracted himself so much all he thought about was the sweet oblivion and nothing else.
Two years. And in one singular night, all of that careful, continual effort was now completely and utterly shattered, because now there was nothing else that Seth could think of but Lev.
He still wasn’t sure why he’d said it, other than the fact that it was the truth. Hurting Lev was essentially the same as ripping a part of his own heart out, crushing a portion of his soul that was necessary for growth. For the first eighteen years of his life, they had been inseparable, two halves of a whole, practically, and he hadn’t ever meant to hurt him.
Except he had, and he knew it, and there was no going back from it now.
He had not slept well the last few days. His thoughts refused to settle, as did the rest of him, Seth pacing restlessly through his wide, spacious mansion, occasionally having a drink or going out to do something only to return and continue doing exactly what he’d been doing - namely nothing at all.
And the one time he did stay out, he ran into the one person he was trying to avoid in all of Destiny City.
It seemed impossible that their paths could continue to run into each other, but there was no mistaking that face, that rugged jawline, that hard edge to his mouth that indicated displeasure. Seth stood at the counter while waiting for his drink, his eyes on Lev’s profile, unable to tear his gaze away, unable to even do more than robotically nod as he was handed his coffee. He had realized, belatedly, a day or two after their fight, that, in spite of neither one of them wanting to see each other again, they were, in fact, still married.
Seth swallowed a healthy mouthful of coffee, ignoring the burning in his throat, and went forward, weaving his way through the crowds of people until he reached Lev’s table.
The chair scraped as he pulled it out, and Seth slid into it, one leg crossing over the other, his free arm wrapping around his middle as he adopted a pose of pure, casual relaxation.
”доброе утро, Lev,” he said.
--------------------------------------------
It was absolutely ridiculous that, after two years, Lev would be looking up to see Seth across the table from him, pleasantly wishing him a good morning as if nothing had changed. As if those two years hadn’t existed.
For a moment, Lev was caught up in the surreality of it all. His heart beating hard against his chest as he stared at the dark haired man across from him. After the other night, he hadn’t expected to see Seth again so soon. Or again at all. And for Seth to be the one to approach him so casually and calmly was at such a stark contrast to how he behaved the last time their paths had crossed.
“Not anymore,” he said somewhat gruffly, pushing himself back from the table as if there was something he didn’t like a little too close to him from the other side. Fortunately for Seth, there were too many people around for either of them to make a scene, which was probably why Seth felt comfortable speaking with him now.
“Vhat do you vant?” he said with a frown, his own coffee just out of reach now that he’d pushed himself back, but he didn’t seem too desperate to reach out for it if that meant moving closer to Seth.
“I am surprised you did not run vhen you saw me,” he commented, although he not so secretly would have preferred it that way. It would make things easier for him. For both of them.
--------------------------------------------
He was going to let the not anymore slide, because it was pointless to let himself get worked up over it now, in the middle of a crowded cafe. Maybe that was why Seth had felt confident in approaching him; because in spite of Lev’s temper, there wasn’t much to be done at the present moment.
Or maybe he’d just been hoping to ease the permanent ache in his chest.
That was likely impossible. Seth also studiously ignored the way that Lev had instinctively shoved his chair back a few inches, instead taking a sip of his coffee and letting the heat of it sink into him, his eyes flickering over Lev’s face. There was a bruise on his jaw that matched the one on Seth’s, except Seth’s was more pronounced, a dark, purpleish color that spread up his jawline. Lev was a hard hitter, when he wanted to be.
The comment about running was a needle to his skin, pricking deliberately. Seth calmly lowered his coffee, wrapping fingers around the cup, palm pressed against the heat. He didn’t even know what he hoped to accomplish by this, by sitting here across from his - well, husband - who hated him, who never wanted to see him again for good reason.
Seth reclined back in his chair, wishing he could smoke indoors.
“I thought ve should talk,” he said, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a faint smile.
“Since ve are married, still.”
--------------------------------------------
Lev knew he was easy to rile up. Seth knew he was easy to rile up, and Lev was a little surprised that Seth didn’t take advantage of that, especially with the comments Lev had made to purposefully needle him.
But instead of feeling more comfortable, it made him tense because Seth never did anything without a reason. He was ignoring his comments now but only so he could come back at him with something else, probably.
"You are no husband of mine," Lev glowered, his expression one of disgust. "My husband died two years ago. His name vas Nikolai Sokolovsky and ve knew each other our entire lives." Since before Seth was even born, Lev had known him. As much as a one year old could know an unborn child. But they’d still practically been together since before they were born.
“All you are, Seth, is spineless imposter,” he sneered, hating the way Seth could smile, Lev’s stomach churning uncomfortably because it hurt to know he was right in front of him, and yet so far away.
It wasn’t beyond him that maybe he had been a fool this whole time. Maybe Seth planned this all along. After all, Seth didn’t do things on a whim. If he did anything, it was planned. Or at least that was what Lev knew him for. So much had changed, and Lev had obviously been blinded by the idea of marriage that he didn’t stop to think about how horrible it would actually be.
Then again, there hadn’t been much time between actually getting married and Seth disappearing.
--------------------------------------------
The words were, as intended, a slap in the face, a knife to his gut. The deliberately cool, relaxed expression on Seth’s face flickered and shifted; he felt, against his will, the beginnings of a faint flush reach his cheeks and fought to not show it, though the anger and hurt was trapped in his chest like a bird, flapping its wings to get out through his ribs.
His name was Nikolai Sokolovsky.
He hadn’t thought of that name in two years, hadn’t even dared to speak it aloud or write it down or anything. Not since he’d walked out of their crappy little apartment, not since he’d taken a last look at the sleeping man in the bed next to his and tried to convince himself that it was the right thing to do. He hadn’t turned back once he’d left; he’d kept walking - running - until he was miles and miles and miles away.
Eighteen years of his life, left behind. And now Lev hated him for it.
That was okay, though, because Seth hated himself for it, too.
“Regardless of vhat I am,” he said now, voice tense. “Or who I am - ve are still married. There has been no divorce yet, not in the eyes of the courts.”
Mostly because he hadn’t even dared to send Lev the papers; he hadn’t wanted him to find him, hadn’t wanted to take the chance that he would be drawn back in again into something he couldn’t handle.
“I did not come to fight,” said Seth, and he’d lost the smile that had been on his face, airy and almost mocking. “I came to talk, to…”
To what? He had no idea. Seth’s fingers flexed around his coffee cup.
“How haff you been?” he asked, instead and then immediately regretted asking, because he knew the answer.
--------------------------------------------
This had been a horrible idea. He never should have tried to seek Seth out, he never should have entered the city when he found out that Seth was living there. He should have stayed far, far away, because now he was falling into the darkness he’d worked so hard to climb out.
Whether the flush on Seth’s cheeks was from anger or shame, Lev couldn’t bring himself to care. If he shut everything down, he wouldn’t hurt as much. Or at least that was the idea.
“Do not be so modest,” Lev said, sarcasm clear in his voice, and now it was his turn for a small, mean smile to twist his lips upward. “You are Seth Volkov, your father’s son. Is he vell? Did he give you everything you vanted? Everything I could not? I should haff known you vould be just. Like. Him.”
He should have known better. After all this time, Lev should have known Seth would have turned out like his father, eventually. And in the end, Seth ran away and back to money.
“I am vell, thank you,” he said pleasantly enough, seeing the expression on Seth’s face when he realized what he’d asked was enough to satisfy Lev for the moment. “A rather disappointing visit, but could be vorse. You know,” he continued, leaning comfortably back in his chair, or as comfortable as someone could get sitting across from someone they despised, “I vould be happy to agree to divorce. I suppose you vill find another vay to stay in country? Your father already made deal for you?”
He was sure Seth had another way to get a residence visa there, but through marriage was definitely convenient. And with his job, he was quite comfortable in the States.
--------------------------------------------
Close it off. Block everything. Stop it before it starts.
Put the walls up.
Don’t let him break you down.
Except that was easy, really, because he was already at the lowest he could have been, down at the bottom of where he’d started when it came to his friendship and relationship with Lev. Two years ago, Seth couldn’t have even really have described it in normal terms; Lev was simply there, a consistent and ever present part of him that had been a part of him since he’d been born. Thinking of his life without Lev had been next to impossible, a laughable, ridiculous thing, because without one, there wouldn’t be the other. Inseparable and attached at the hip; soulmates, in the best sense of the word, Seth had once thought, even though it had never been more than that.
Until two years ago.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
The insinuation about his father made anger flare, hot and bright. Seth’s eyes darkened, feeling the insult like a physical slap across his face like he had with the first. “Do not talk about him. I am nothing like my father. And he is not a part of this.”
He hadn’t meant to say that, because that had been his excuse, anyway, and really, a part of it was about his father. But the rest of it was all on him, and he couldn’t bring himself to talk about that.
The pleasant, conversational tone was almost as grating as what he was actually saying. Seth had involuntarily leaned forward in his chair, but now he forced himself to lean back again, forced himself to relax, lifting his cup to his lips and taking a swallow of coffee. It burned down his throat.
“I vill stay in this country, yes,” he said, and his own tone came out more calm than he had expected, relaxed even, like they were discussing the weather, or the game on TV last night. “I haff vork here that I can do just fine. I do not need to be married in order to live here.”
He eyed Lev from across the table.
“Vhat brings you to Destiny City? Other than obvious,” he added, lip curling in a mocking smile.
--------------------------------------------
Lev knew there would be a reaction when he mentioned Seth’s father. He liked that it seemed to grate at him, to anger him at the thought of being anything like the man. Seth was partially right; he was nothing like his father in many ways. But in that same vein, he was also exactly like him, once Seth moved past the denial of it all.
”Most unfortunate,” Lev said, finally reaching forward to pick up the cup of coffee from the table so he could sip at it. “It vould be amusing to see you deported.”
Alas, that did not seem to be the case, if Seth was telling the truth.
“I can not imagine vhat you could possibly do for vork,” he said, only half mocking because why work when he had money? “Please, I vould like to hear about it. As for me,” Lev continued, taking another sip of his coffee, “I only recently learned you vere here. But if you vould like to think it is about you, be my guest. You haff alvays liked it vhen things vere about you.”
He was being mean. Purposefully so. He was saying cruel hurtful things because maybe that would make him feel better about himself, about his sad existence. Maybe it had been easy for Seth to run away, but half of Lev’s very heart and soul had been torn from him, and he wanted Seth to understand just how much it hurt.
“Vork, of course. I haff photoshoot tomorrow night. Not my first location choice, but I am not photographer.”
--------------------------------------------
Seth shot Lev an annoyed look, the barbs digging underneath his skin. He knew he deserved them, knew that Lev was doing this on purpose, because of everything that Seth had done to him. The past hung between them, thick and finite; he couldn’t change it, couldn’t take back what he had done, and wasn’t sure that he would have if he had the chance to, anyway.
“I vill not be deported,” he said irritably. “Sorry to burst bubble.”
He was now gripping his coffee cup so tightly it was in danger of breaking or bending under his fingers. Seth forced himself to relax, his head tilting back, black hair falling over his shoulders; it was getting a little longer than he’d intended, though not nearly as long as it was when he was Gadolinite. And longer than it had been when he had last seen Lev, for that matter.
They were both so different from then.
The barbs were continuing, sharp and jagged. Seth made a noise of aggravation in the back of his throat, losing some of his composure as he said waspishly, “I vas not trying to make it about me, Ублюдок. I vas just vondering how you came here in the first place.”
He couldn’t deny that it was about him, a lot of the time. But it had been about them both when they had still been friends, and he was trying very hard not to think about how vastly things had changed, how difficult everything had been since then. How much he had wished things were different, except they weren’t, and he couldn’t take any of it back now, so there was no point in reliving the past or trying to pretend it hadn’t happened.
“I am vine consultant,” said Seth, and then it clicked what Lev had said.
“Not photographer? Are you...vhat are you, then?”
--------------------------------------------
The irritation in Seth’s voice and demeanor was like a balm to Lev’s nerves. He enjoyed seeing Seth on edge, seeing him upset and angry and annoyed. It was probably childish of him to want to see him suffer, at least emotionally, after everything he’d been through.
He still had no idea what caused Seth to suddenly leave without a word, and while Seth had already told him it was because he just didn’t want to see Lev any more, Lev was still afraid that it was something more than that. Seth wasn’t so careless as to just decide something like that. Or maybe he was and Lev didn’t know him nearly as much as he once thought he did.
A sly sort of grin pulled at Lev’s lips when curiosity caught up with Seth. Lev supposed a wine consultant seemed to fit him well enough. After all, Seth loved drinking expensive wine. But as for what Lev did…
He lifted a hand as if to shrug, casually gesturing to himself, “I am art.”
More complicated than that, but it was essentially what he was. Whatever the photographer wanted, he was. He put in his own individuality that made him desirable among agencies and studios, but whatever he was expected to do, he would do.
“You never thought I vould do vell for myself. Thought it vas laughable. Chasing impossible dream.”
Lev didn’t blame him. Not everyone could make it in his field, and when they’d gotten married, he was only just starting out, still eating cans of beans and trying to scrape up enough money to afford the cab fare to get to auditions.
“I am model. Look me up sometime. You clearly haff not,” he observed, otherwise Seth would already know he was making things work just fine on his own. “You running avay helped my career in big vay. No distractions.”
--------------------------------------------
The grin, for all intents and purposes, was meant to disarm him, and it did. Not in the way that was likely intended, but because it was a remnant, however fleeting, of the old Lev. The Lev that Seth had run around with as children, the Lev that had helped him sneak out of his house so they could go to parties, the Lev that had sat with him for hours just stargazing or talking or bumping their shoulders together, laughing like idiots. It was a twisted, different version of what once had been, and it made something in Seth’s chest ache with a longing so ferocious that he was momentarily breathless with how much he needed -
No.
Not now. Not ever again. Not even again, there hadn’t been anything to start with, no matter how much Seth had ached for it.
His eyes landed on Lev’s face again, then veered away, his cheeks warming again. Seth gave a derisive sounding snort at the term art, because it was undeniable that Lev was a handsome man and always had been. Him being a model seemed, ludicrously, to fit him, even though Seth had never even seemed interested in the modeling industry as a teenager.
And yet - except -
The words rattled around in Seth’s head, which snapped around to look at Lev again, anger flaring so hotly that for a moment, Seth entirely forgot where they were and what had happened. The hand that was not holding the coffee slammed against the table, startling several nearby patrons, who glanced around in confusion, but Seth didn’t notice them or even glance their way.
”это не верно,” he snarled, and he didn’t remember pushing himself up, but now he was half standing, his heartbeat loud in his ears, his chest so tight it was a miracle he could even breathe. “I always thought that you vould do vell. I always believed you. I haff never vonce thought that you could not do whatever it is that you vanted, and you know that.”
He remembered, too well, telling Lev exactly this, or something similar, when they had been teenagers, the stark differences between them too open, too wide. Seth had never cared about their social standings, the fact that he was so much higher, so to speak, than Lev was. And he had thought that Lev knew that, of all people, and it was strange that this belief hurt most of all. He was a coward, he knew, and he also knew that he had run away.
But he had never once believed that Lev wouldn’t do impressive things with his life.
Seth’s fingers curled against his palm on top of the table, clenching so tightly that his knuckles were white.
“Believe vhat you vant,” he snapped. “But I always believed in you.”
--------------------------------------------
Things seemed to twist the opposite direction of what happened the other night. This time instead of Lev losing his cool, it was Seth getting flustered and angry. Lev tried to ignore the way his dark hair fell around his face and shoulders, having grown it out since last they saw each other. He tried to ignore the pain in his eyes as he looked across the table at him.
There was no point in getting caught up in all of this, Lev reminded himself. It would just be the same. It was better to make things worse than to try and work things out. It was less painful in the long run. And he doubted Seth would actually want anything to do with him, anyway.
“You are right,” he said quietly, having not moved from where he was sitting back in his chair, ignoring the curious and concerned glances in their direction from others that sat around them.
“You might believe in me, but you did not support me. You vould rather take what I haff and crush it yourself.”
No matter what Seth said, no matter what he did, there was nothing that would make Lev believe him. Maybe once, years ago, he believed him. And maybe then Seth had been sincere. But now there was nothing left for Lev.
He shifted then, leaning further over the table, closer to where Seth had pushed himself to stand, as if he had something important to share with him. And he did. His eyes were blazing, a fire so hot it was blue, and his voice was low as he hissed, “You vere supposed to be by my side. That is vhat you promised. That vas our vows, or did that not matter, either?”
It was painful. His chest was aching, but he couldn’t tell if it was from anger or something else, something that wanted to reach out and grab hold of Seth and… and shake him until he realized what stupid things he was saying.
“How do I believe you vhen you left? No note. Nothing. I vas - … “ he paused, his heart beating too fast, the words he was trying to say catching up to him. Living in America he was okay with speaking English. Putting his life in Russia behind him was fine, but sometimes the words didn’t quite translate.
“... испуганный…” Quieter now, and leaning back again as he tried to calm himself. He should know by now that Seth was past that. He didn’t care. And why would he? He had everything he wanted. With Lev no longer part of his life.
--------------------------------------------
He wanted this to be over. He wanted the feeling in his chest to be pushed out, wanted to not have to think about any of this, about the fact that he had run away, about the fact that he had left behind the one thing in his life that had made any sense at all, about the fact that he had missed Lev so much that it was like a physical thing, a twisted, painful clenching inside of his chest, a gaping hole that had never been filled in the last two years. He wanted to ignore the fact that it hurt as much as it did, move past the idea that he was hated, and that he likely would be for the rest of eternity, because he had left.
He had walked away and he had left Lev behind, and that was all there was to it.
And he was right. Seth had believed in him, had never once thought anything less of him, and here they were, two years later, on the opposite sides of a table that meant more than just a piece of wood, somehow. He was fighting the overwhelming urge to simply upend the table and run away, like he always did, like he was so used to doing because that was the only mechanism he had left.
The look in Lev’s eyes was awful. Seth felt the weight of his gaze, the heat of it burning into him, and not the pleasant kind of heat. A furious look of immense betrayal, the words sinking into Seth, knives in his chest, a continual, painful reminder.
You were supposed to stay by my side.
He had promised that. He had sworn to it, standing side by side with Lev in a little unknown, anonymous chapel, laughing and grinning as though it was the most ridiculous thing in the world to marry his best friend. And it had been the most ridiculous thing; the marriage wasn’t for convenience, or romance, but to spite his father, to rebel against everything that he had been brought up in. The ultimate, most extreme move against him, because who else would have done it with him? There hadn’t been anyone else in Seth’s mind, no one that he had ever even considered for a fraction of a moment.
”Do you vant to marry me?” he had said, offhandedly one day, like he’d been asking Lev if he wanted to go to the movies. ”It vould make my father lose his mind.”
And then it was done, and here they were, and everything was a mess.
I was frightened.
Seth closed his eyes. He was still standing, hand still resting on the table.
”Это важно,” he said quietly. “It did - does - matter to me.” You matter to me so much I can’t stand it sometimes, so much I’m blinded by it.
He couldn’t say it.
A long sigh escaped, Seth’s eyes opening again.
“I did not mean to frighten you,” he said, after a long moment. “That vas not...I am sorry. For that.”
--------------------------------------------
Seth might have been calming down, but Lev was just starting to heat up. Now that he finally started saying a little bit of how he felt over everything, it was difficult to hold back, even though he knew he should. Even though they should probably wait until they were somewhere more private, of only to spare the others in the cafe from their conversation.
“How the hell did you think I vould feel??” he snapped, his chest constricting with anger and sorrow. “You vere gone! My entire life you vere there, and then you vere not. I thought you had been killed. I thought you had been kidnapped. I thought your father vanted you dead after everything. If you did not mean to frighten, then vhat did you mean, Seth?” he asked, saying the name as though it was a disgusting taste in his mouth. This was not the name he was used to, the name that he repeated over and over in his head as though that would magically bring him back.
“Did you not think I vould agree to divorce if you asked? Haff I ever done anything you did not vant? Haff I ever denied you? Vhat was I supposed to think? How vas I supposed to feel? Or did you forget the vorld did not revolve around you?”
His throat was sore. He told himself it was because he was just tired, or maybe his jaw was still swollen from being hit, or a whole number of things.
“Guys, can you, uh… not do all that here?” someone was saying. One of the baristas or something. Maybe someone complained, too cowardly to approach him themselves, but instead sending a somewhat terrified girl to speak to the two obviously Russian, very tall men in the room.
“I vas just leaving,” he said, standing from his chair, the feet scraping against the floor. He snatched up his coffee cup and didn’t bother to try and avoid immaturely running his shoulder into Seth’s as he made to pass him on his way towards the door.
“Do not approach me again unless you haff papers for me to sign,” he spat. “I vill save you the trouble and do the running this time.”
--------------------------------------------
It felt wrong, hearing the name Seth from Lev’s lips. For two years, he had been Seth Volkov, no longer Nikolai Sokolovsky, as much as he had wanted to stay, as badly as he had wanted to keep being Nikolai Sokolovsky. And technically, he still was; papers were easy to forge, when one had money and influence, and it had not taken a great deal of effort to procure documentation of Seth Volkov having been his identity all along.
Everywhere else, everywhere important, he was still Nikolai Sokolovsky. He had been Nikolai for eighteen years of his life; and it felt completely twisted to hear Lev, of all people, call him the name he had picked out to hide behind for the last two years.
You are not Seth Volkov.
Lev’s fury was a physical thing, violent and intense. Seth felt the onslaught, felt the burning heat of anger rising in his throat that mixed with frustration and confusion and that same longing he could hardly stand anymore, because it hurt too much to bear sometimes. His father had created this person, had molded him into the son he had always wanted; and of course, Lev would have made that conclusion. Of course Lev would have assumed the worst, when he had woken up to find Seth gone.
Because, coward that he was, Seth had not been able to even write a note.
”Nyet,” he said now, his own voice rising with his own emotions, Seth still standing, half poised over the chair. ”Nyet, you did not do anything I did not vant, but I cannot - I vill not let you stand here and yell at me, I know I left, I know, but - “
He didn’t get to finish the rest of what he was saying. Or shouting. Or begging. He didn’t know anymore.
He was dimly aware that someone was complaining, that people were staring. More acutely aware that Lev’s shoulder was, briefly, against his, except in a brusque, painful shove that made him sway a little.
It was over. He wasn’t going to see him again. This next time they would be divorced, because the papers would be served, and everything would be done, and he wouldn’t have to be in this situation again, ever, because it was over and it was over, and it was…
Over.
”Мне жаль, что я не тот человек, которого ты хотел,” he said, the words spilling out of him, in spite of his attempts to keep it at bay, Seth’s teeth clenched together. And then,
”Прощай, Lyova.”
--------------------------------------------
It was better this way. He would never find out why Seth did the things he did, and part of him wondered if even Seth knew why he did the things he did. I just didn’t want to see you anymore sounded like such an impossible thing after eighteen years of friendship. And yet, that was what Seth said. That was his story.
And yet he also said things like how he didn’t want to frighten Lev, or upset him. Had Lev really missed all the signs leading up to that moment, or had there been something else that he didn’t know about? He didn’t want to believe that Seth was really just a coward, but it could be possible.
The words that spilled from Seth’s lips had Lev pausing, but he didn’t turn around. For a long moment he just stood there with his eyes closed, his heart aching. Maybe he wanted to see if Seth would go after him. Maybe he would say he was wrong, that he wanted to be with him, that he wanted to try and work things out. That they didn’t have to get divorced and they could try to figure out where to start over.
That was not the case.
Прощай, Lyova.
Those words rang in his ears, and he had to physically keep himself from turning around, to stop himself from making this into even more of a mess. Seth wasn’t going to change his mind. He’d made it up two years ago.
Lev forced himself to take a step and then another, and soon he was out the door and far away from the man he never wanted to see again.
Guine
