Instead, he made himself smile and laugh and make jokes with the photographer and other models. It was easier that way, and better for him.
He just didn’t realize that, in being a good actor, he couldn’t see when other people were acting. And then the next thing he knew, he was waking up alone with no idea as to why things turned out the way they had.
They were supposed to be photographing for a brand of wine that was being featured in one of the up and coming local fashion magazines, and in addition to the typical fashion shots, with Lev’s arm around a woman draped over him, or even by himself in his designer jeans and pullover sweater and fashionable sunglasses, marketing for local products meant that their time in Destiny City was extended.
To his displeasure.
“Excuse me,” he said in his best non-accented English as he approached a man with dark hair from behind. “Can you point me to bathroom, please?” He was holding his hands up to show how one of the other models ended up getting makeup all over his arms after hugging him while he was changing, and he wasn’t going to put his shirt back on until the glitter was washed off. As much as possible at least.
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He disliked these little gatherings almost more than he could say.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, because really, Seth liked people a great deal. He liked the noise and the hubbub and the fact that he was being paid to sit around and taste wine like some sort of regal prince. He liked the flirtatious glances from the women, and sometimes the men. He liked the fact that he’d been entertained more than once during these photoshoots by making notes of who he could possibly take home.
He’d liked that, past tense. He didn’t anymore.
Because that had just been a distraction. That had just been something to take his mind off of everything that he couldn’t ever have, and now he was being forced to mingle with the aggravating directors and the flighty makeup artists and he really, really just wanted to go home and just sleep for the next ten years.
Maybe in ten years Lev wouldn’t hate him anymore.
Seth doubted it.
He was bent over a table, idly browsing the selection of wine bottles currently on display, looking for which was best for the shoot. Seth had arrived late; he’d barely given the models a glance as he’d strode by, dressed in a pair of charcoal dress slacks, a black cashmere turtleneck, and a charcoal sport jacket overtop (because really, when did he ever where anything except black?). Traffic had been brutal and he was tired and irritated, miles out of the city, in spite of the photo shoot being about local products.
The irony was not lost on him. Seth was here as a consultant for the Wakewood Wine company to help them display their products to the best of their abilities, and in spite of his relaxed, lackadaisical attitude for a great many things these days, he did indeed take things seriously.
Most of the time. Sometimes too seriously.
He was only half listening to the person behind him, Seth tuning out some inane babble about how the models weren’t working properly together or something to that effect. He heard even less the retreating - and then approaching - footsteps, and only barely understood that he was being asked a question, Seth turning, his eyes still raking over one of the bottles he’d picked up.
“Yes, it is - “
He stopped, every inch of him freezing in place, because the person in front of him was Lev, and this was not supposed to have happened, he was not supposed to be here.
It took a second to unfreeze, to paste on his best, most charming smile, Seth holding the bottle of wine carefully as he looked up at his husband.
“Lyova,” he said sweetly, and then inwardly cursed, because he hadn’t meant to use that nickname. “Lev. Vhat brings you to...ah.”
The photoshoot. Lev was a model. <******** style="font-size: 11px">If Seth felt like he was in a bad situation, Lev was sure he felt worse.
He stared, his whole body immediately tensing, as though looking down the barrel of a loaded gun. He knew Seth was a wine consultant, but he had no idea where he worked, or the odds of running into him during a time like this.
And he still had his shirt off.
For his usually fair complexion, he wasn’t too pale. He spent a lot of time outdoors, whether it was just jogging or swimming or any other number of activities. Still, there was such a striking contrast between him and Seth with his dark hair and clothes, that made Lev wonder if… if they were ever meant to be compatible.
”According to the Greek, soulmates can be a man and woman, or two women, or two men,” Lev had said at some point years ago while he was working on one of his school assignments. He’d taken the book on Plato and Classical Mythology with him as he and Nikolai had sprawled out in the grass under the heat of summer that never seemed to last long enough. They’d shared a single cigarette that Nikolai had managed to swipe before they headed out, away from his family’s manson, exploring the land that would one day be his.
“They say there is no greater joy than finding your other half. Does that make you my soulmate, Nikolasha?”
“Bathroom. Please.”
He did not have time for this. He did not have the luxury of losing his temper here, not when he was working. Not when he had not expected to see Seth ever again. His eyes were hard and his jaw clenched tight. He couldn’t do this. It was too much.
“We’ve got a problem. Jeremy can’t make it. Said he same down with the flu or something horrible,” Lev could hear one of the directors saying to the photographer. “These shots are due tomorrow. We don’t have time to reschedule.”
“I can do shoot by myself,” Lev spoke up, turning away from Seth and pretending as though he wasn’t covered in glitter and wasn’t without his shirt and wasn’t standing in front of the man he’d once considered - ludicrously - to be his soulmate.
“No, no, it’ll look all wrong. You, there. You’re tall enough and… you have a nice face. Have you done modeling bef-”
“No,” Lev immediately cut the photographer off, although his frustration was diffused with a pleasant smile. “He just vorks here. Vine consultant.”
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He couldn’t stop staring.
Lev had always been a good looking guy. As a child, he’d had the angelic blond and blue eyes that made adults automatically coo over him. As a teenager, those sweet looks had grown and developed into a sharper, more refined handsomeness, and as an adult. As an adult, it had only surpassed this, everything shifting onto a new plane, so that he was broad shouldered and rugged and strong jawed in a way that made Seth’s entire body tense instinctively.
With his shirt off, it only broadened this, only magnified just what the years had done to Lev. Seth could not stop the helpless way in which his gaze traveled down across that broad chest, well muscled and strong, momentarily losing any train of coherent thought.
His eyes had dropped instinctively. Seth dragged them up, lips parted, trying to regain some of his earlier bravado, his silken, casual attitude, but a faint flush on his cheeks betrayed him, irritation flaring, because no, he was not doing this. He was over this, he had walked away because of this, he’d intentionally left this behind, and now it was being thrown in his face.
The world was not so kind. Seth didn’t deserve the kindness, anyway.
He opened his mouth to reply, likely with some airy, nonchalant answer about where Lev could find said bathroom; but the interruption, the director, the no that cut across his thoughts before he could even get a word in edgewise made the anger rise. He had half an urge to take the wine bottle in his hands and use it to smack Lev over the head with, and then maybe guzzle it, because he was getting tired of everything shattering around him for the second time.
He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe because Lev’s immediate and vehement rejection stung, as much as he’d expected it, somewhere deep inside of his chest. Maybe because he was angry about being disregarded like a piece of garbage.
Maybe he just wanted to get back at Lev for the barbs of the last time they’d seen each other, in spite of Seth deserving them.
He opened his mouth, a serene smile on his lips.
“Vhy not?” he asked lightly. “I vould be glad to help.”
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No. Absolutely not. Seth would not be “helping” with this is Lev had anything to say about it. He wanted nothing to do with this man, especially not when it came to his job.
“Ooohh, you’re Russian too?” the director said, a spunky middle aged woman with bright red hair that went every which way. It was considered “high fashion” apparently. “Do you know each other?”
Lev tensed again, having opened his mouth to probably say something about how he didn’t want to work with Seth, but forced a small, indulgent laugh at the woman’s question.
“Russia is large country,” he said simply, not wanting to suggest that he knew Seth at all, but also knowing if he tried to deny knowing him, Seth would probably say something. Because he was a b*****d. He was a stupid, egotistical, brainwashed, childish -
“Let’s get him to makeup. Quickly. He just has to look nice. It’s better than nothing. He’s really not bad looking,” the woman was saying as she reached forward to grab for Seth, pulling him off to the chairs along the side so that they could fix his hair and powder his nose and Lev was frozen in place, quietly seething because this was not how things were supposed to go.
This was a horrible idea. Seth was just going to sabotage him, he knew it.
He never made it to the bathroom. Instead he found a towel to rub off as much of the glitter as he could and pulled the shirt he was supposed to be wearing back on. He would play nice, of course. But only because he wanted to get this over with as soon as he could.
“You stand over there. You were picking out the wine bottle, right? Grab one and stand right there,” Seth was directed, and Lev tried his damndest not to pace, but couldn’t quite stop himself in his agitation.
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He was not going to think about how easily Lev had denied them knowing each other. Instead, he was going to be grimly and masochistically pleased that he was probably making Lev angry by agreeing to this in the first place, especially considering that he had no right to be upset by anything Lev did, because Lev was in the right nine times out of ten.
But still. There was a certain amount of vicious pleasure that stemmed from allowing himself this one small indulgence of a blow to Lev’s pride, even if it also hurt somewhere deep inside that he wasn’t going to linger too much on.
The red haired woman had shuffled him over to the makeup chairs. Seth sat obediently, letting her work, laughing indulgently every now and then, making little casual comments as though he didn’t care for anyone or anything except for the work. It was so much easier to pretend that he didn’t care about the man standing ten feet away from him as they dragged him to stand again, shucking off his expensive sport coat because “he looked better in just the sweater.”
It really was a very nice sweater. Classic black, cashmere, high necked; just the way Seth liked it.
He picked a wine bottle that was appropriate - a red, sharp and strong - and all but sashayed back to where Lev was brooding, Seth trying not to let his gaze linger this time, even though Lev had put his shirt back on. He turned back to the crowd now in front of him, flashing the cameras and directors a wide smile.
“I am ready vhen you are,” he said airily. “Right, Mr. Sokolovsky?”
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He had to be pleasant. He had to be professional. This was his career, and he was about to see just how much Seth actually believed in him, or if he was just going to sabotage everything because he was a b*****d.
Nikolai had always been attractive. Youthful. His eyes, although darker than Lev’s, had always shown a certain depth that was incredibly pleasing to look at, as if he was looking into one’s soul.
Looking, and preparing to crush it.
“Try not to make fool of yourself,” Lev hissed under his breath as he took his position beside the man he’d married, his heart twisting uncomfortably in his chest, like a knife was stabbing into him as he forced himself to try and calm down.
This wasn’t working. He was too tense. Even as he put on a pleasant smile and tried to pose, he couldn’t quite get his face, or the rest of his body, to relax.
“No, no, you’re standing too far away from each other. Really sell the wine! Lev, darling, let Mr…. um…”
“Volkov,” Lev provided, almost hissed from gritted teeth, his lips forced into a smile.
s**t… this was bad. He couldn’t focus. All he could think of was Seth and how stupid he was and how he’d ruined everything and how it had been two years and his heart wasn’t calming down.
“Let Mr. Volkov pour you some wine. Yes, yes we’ll pay for the wine. We can use a different bottle if you’d rather not open that one,” Lev could hear the director saying, but he was feeling sick. He was getting too worked up. And Seth was probably loving every moment of seeing him fail. After all his talk about doing well as a model, and he couldn’t even perform.
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He was not going to do anything to deliberately sabotage Lev’s career, because that would have been more of a masochistic streak then Seth actually did have in him. And he would never have been able to bear it if Lev lost his job because of anything that he did - but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t take a little bit of revenge, or press his advantage while he had it.
He didn’t know how many times after this they would even see each other. If they ever did again.
He didn’t want to think about that.
“Isn’t that your job?” Seth murmured back, dark brows arching, a hiss of irritation in his own voice. The placid expression was pasted back on, calm and serene as he waited for instruction, Seth idly smoothing fingers down the side of the bottle.
Lev was looking like he wanted to throw up. Or throw a punch. Likely the latter.
“Hold this,” said Seth, and pressed the bottle of wine against Lev’s chest, knowing he wouldn’t let it drop as he let go. He reached into his pocket and slid a small, sleek pocketknife into his grasp, which he considered for a moment before he tugged on the corkscrew, unfolding it from the rest of the blade. Seth neatly filched the bottle of wine again, ignoring the brush of fingers against skin, and unscrewed the cork in a matter of seconds with a small pop.
He could see, in Lev’s eyes, the frustration. The anger, always simmering. The desire to do his job well and the loathing of having to do it with Seth standing nearby, and something in Seth’s chest ached. He stepped closer, ignoring the frantic press of his heart against his ribcage.
“Relax,” he murmured, barely audible, not even loud enough for any of the others to hear as he stepped closer, Seth picking up a wine glass and pouring a small amount into each. “I vill not do anything to harm your job.”
Or you, he wanted to say, and couldn’t. Seth’s expression was still light, still putting on a face for the director, but he lifted his gaze, almost unwillingly, to meet Lev’s.
”обещаю, Lev,” he said quietly, and then offered him a beaming, bright smile meant for the cameras as he lifted a wine glass.
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He felt like he was in a daze as Seth told him to hold the wine bottle, but he did. He stared down at the man he’d once considered his husband, feeling all out of sorts. He hated it when he got into these moods because they were always so hard to get out of, and Seth knew that, and he would probably take advantage of that and.
And Seth was telling him to relax, that he wouldn’t harm his job.
обещаю.
Lev felt like his heart was racing, even as he did his best to keep his expression calm and natural, but he felt restless and needed to move and needed to not just stand there with Seth so close to him, his eyes boring into him. He felt naked and exposed under that gaze, because even without his tense posture, he was certain that Seth still knew him better than anyone else.
He hated it. He hated that this man could know him so well and yet he’d thought he wouldn’t have hurt him or frightened him when he suddenly disappeared.
“Не все ваши обещания сохранены, Seth,” Lev reminded him, his knee jerk reaction to defend himself, to prepare for the worst, to ready for the eventual betrayal.
Seth had broken promises before. It meant nothing for him to promise something when he could so easily walk right out and never look back.
He’d already done that before. Lev wouldn’t be surprised if he did that again.
They were being given instructions. Something about the wine, or… maybe it was how they were posing… but all Lev could hear was his own heart pounding in his ears. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from Seth’s even if he wanted.
He was supposed to be doing something. Placing his hand on Seth’s arm in greeting or… or something like that. But he couldn’t move.
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It was so hard to stand next to Lev.
Seth felt as though the air was constricting between them, that there wasn’t enough for the both of them, and that he was standing on the edge of a precipice, about to topple over into nothingness. He’d felt that way before, standing in his crappy little apartment with Lev, the day before he’d decided to leave; how the realization of everything had slowly come upon him like a cloud of smoke, choking him from the inside out, reminding him that he could not have this.
And yet he knew Lev. Or he had once known him, had once known him so well that it was like he didn’t even have to think whenever he was around him. The two of them had never needed anyone else; they had been two cohesive halves of a whole that was now in ruins, shattered around their feet, because Seth had not been able to handle it.
All of my promises to you are broken.
“I know,” said Seth, and he was aching. Everything about this hurt. “You don’t haff to be believe me.”
Because there was no replacing what he had broken. He had already trampled over the eighteen years spent side by side, he did not expect Lev to just turn around and pretend that all was well when it wasn’t. But that didn’t mean that Seth wasn’t at least going to do what he could, here and now, even if it was fruitless.
Seth reached out, and it was his hand, not Lev’s, that touched Lev’s arm, not his own; a shocking, startling thing that sent frissons of emotion surging through Seth that he tamped desperately down on. He gave Lev’s arm a little squeeze in mock greeting, looking up at him from under lowered lashes, lifting the wine glass to take a sip.
Work with me here, he wanted to say, and couldn’t, because they were in public.
He swayed a little closer, a smile teasing his lips, everything casual, everything relaxed.
Inwardly, he was screaming.
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There was just so much that Lev wanted, and so little he could actually have. He’d learned the hard way, two years ago, that nothing in life was guaranteed. That it could change in an instant. That there was no promise that couldn’t be broken.
He was aching. A pain that was pooled deep inside him that had been locked away was trying to get out. He was supposed to be working. He was supposed to be showing off, proving that he was good at this. That this was what he wanted to do, and what other people wanted him to do because he had the looks and personality and drive and…
And all of that felt as though it was dangling over a cliff as he stood in front of Seth.
Why wasn’t I good enough? What did I do that made you never want to see me again? Did you really not think of how I would feel when you decided to leave?
He couldn’t say any of that, no matter how much he wanted. But he wasn’t entirely sure that Seth couldn’t already read that in his expression. He knew him better than anyone else, after all.
The touch to his arm was startling, and Lev seemed to come back to himself, although he couldn’t understand why Seth was trying to help him. He hadn’t needed help getting through a shoot until today, and he blamed Seth’s presence. If it wasn’t for him, his whole life would have been different. Maybe it would have been better. Maybe worse. All he knew was that Seth leaving had torn something in his heart.
Two halves of a soul being ripped back apart.
Lev shifted a little, hearing the direction from the director much more clearly now with Seth’s hand on his arm for whatever reason, as if that was what he needed to actually focus. He smiled back at Seth, all for the camera of course, and relaxed his shoulders. He could do this. Even with Seth there, he could do this.
“Okay that’s a wrap. We’ve got a lot of great stuff to work with,” he heard the photographer say after several more frames being shot, and almost immediately Lev pulled his arm away from Seth’s and took several steps back.
He didn’t want to do this. It was too painful.
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He could still remember the day they had gotten married.
”Are you sure you vant to do this?” Lev had asked, grinning as he’d retied his tie. ”Your father will be so angry.”
Seth had walked over, hands raising to neatly fix the tie, straightening it and then smoothing a hand down the front, giddy with the knowledge that this was happening, that he was finally doing something that would cause his father to practically have a conniption. And who better with than his partner in crime and best friend?
”I am sure,” he had said, and then stretched up to peck a kiss to Lev’s cheek, patting it fondly afterwards. ”You are at my side and I am at yours, we vill take this vorld together, away from him.”
And they had. For three months, really, before Seth had realized just how over his head he had gotten. Before he’d understood just how overwhelmingly and intensely his feelings had come to choke him, rising up in the middle of the night, wrapping around him so that he was acutely aware of every little thing that was happening.
And he’d run away.
Lev’s smile was painful. It was false, the same as Seth’s, an airy, casual thing as they both looked at each other. Seth had never wanted anything more in his life; the desire to sway forward and bury himself against Lev’s chest was an intoxicating, heady rush of emotions that he couldn’t focus on, not now, not ever, not when he had razed their friendship to the ground.
The distance was a clear and sharp line between them. Seth also took a step back, feeling as though he was drunk, although he hadn’t actually taken a sip of the wine.
“Glad to be of help,” he said to the director, who was thanking him profusely, although Seth was only hearing it with one ear. He turned his head to look at Lev, his expression flickering, evening out into something painful, longing choking him, the feeling in his chest intensifying.
“I am glad to be there to assist Mr. Sokolovsky with vhat he needs,” he said, and turned away.
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Ever since they could crawl, Seth and Lev had done everything together. Or at least as much as their social status allowed. But even during fancy parties, Seth would find ways to sneak Lev food and drink, and Lev would make plans to help him escape. They were inseparable. If one got into trouble, the other would cover for them, taking the blame when it was necessary to lessen the punishment. If one needed help, the other would always be there. They laughed together. Cried together. Did what was necessary to leave Russia and try to start a new life. Together.
Until that morning Lev woke up to find Seth gone.
He needed to stop this right now. He needed to get out, to back away before he got too wound up in the emotions that threatened to emerge. It had been a mistake to approach Seth before. He should have never let the other know… but then they would have seen each other at the photoshoot regardless.
What would have Seth done then? Run away like he’d tried at the bar?
“Can ve talk?” Lev heard himself saying as Seth turned away, in spite of everything telling him to leave this be. To let this end and never look back. He took a few steps away from Seth, but only so he could grab the leather jacket he’d tossed onto one of the studio chairs, pulling out a pack of cigarettes to show to Seth.
“Do you still smoke?” Because clearly that was a perfect excuse to slip away from everyone else and have a… hopefully quiet discussion about what happened then. He just needed to ignore that his heart was pounding heavily in his chest. Might as well try this while he was still calm. For the most part.
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The world came to a grinding, screeching halt.
Seth’s eyes, which had been closed, trying to take a moment to just breathe, snapped open again, wide eyed and startled. For a moment, he looked like he had been as a younger version of himself, vulnerable and stunned, lips slightly parted as he stared at Lev. His traitorous, stupid heart gave a throb, and he tamped down on the sudden, ridiculous swell of hope that rose inside of him, because Lev was not going to forgive him. Lev was not going to do anything but ridicule him, hate him even more than he already did, and this was just going to be another reminder of that. He needed to walk away, right now, leave it all behind.
Instead, what his mouth said was ”да,” instinctively, without thinking.
A wordless nod accompanied the question about smoking. Seth waved a hand in brief explanation to the director, who gestured for them to go with only the briefest of glances before turning back to the monitors and the photographer, clearly going over the frames they had just shot.
“There is...over here,” said Seth, and made his way away from the rest of the crowds of people, pushing open a door near the back. It opened up into a dimly lit hallway, which Seth walked a few paces down before he came to another door, pushed that open, and went out. A staircase led upwards one flight, and then another door - his feet were moving on autopilot - and then, finally, they were on the rooftop.
It was not a very tall building; in fact, it was only two stories, but wide and long, and up here, outside, was breezy and hazy, overcast to indicate a possible chance of rain.
Seth stopped somewhere near the middle, inhaling a breath, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.
“I vill take one, if you are offering,” he said, without turning around, meaning the cigarettes.
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Why he was doing this, Lev didn’t really understand. Maybe it was just easy to fall back into wanting to be around Seth, regardless of how hurt he was for what Seth had done. It was a horrible idea, of course. He knew better than to think things would ever be the same between them, but there was still that undeniable longing that… maybe if he knew a little more, or maybe confirmed that Seth really wanted nothing to do with him… that would be all Lev needed to finally, fully move on.
He followed at as much of a distance as he could on their way to the roof. For a little while, he wondered if Seth was just leading him around a maze, only to laugh at him and leave him to figure out how to get back on his own. But the exit out into the afternoon heat was a relief, although small.
Lev watched as Seth made his way to the center of the roof and waited without turning around, and after a few moments, Lev stepped forward, tapping one of the cigarettes out and putting it to his mouth, and then held the pack in view for Seth to see and take. He lit his own with a small medal lighter he had with him, and held the still lit flame out for Seth to light his own.
It was all done by reflex. He didn’t have to think about the motions, but it was difficult to ignore the tense way Seth stood, or the way his eyes had widened as he’d stared at him just a few minutes prior.
They’d been so young when they got themselves into the mess of getting married, and Lev was only ever able to piece together that it was their marriage that triggered Seth’s decision to leave, but the factors surrounding that was, well… still unknown to him. After everything, it was still so impossible to think it was that easy for Seth to up and leave without a word, and yet here they stood.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere but still tense, as if not entirely sure if he was going to regret saying anything in the first place. “For helping me out.” He was going to ignore the fact that it was Seth who made him so on edge during the shoot, and focus on the fact that they wouldn’t have been able to complete the shoot without him.
“You haff good face for camera. Very natural. You did good.” Because as much as he hurt and as much as he wished he didn’t have to see Seth to feel everything all over again, he wasn’t that heartless to not give credit when it was due.
“Today… not my best,” he added with a small grimace and then turned away to look out over the parking lot, taking a purposefully long drag from his cigarette to avoiding having to say anything else for a few moments.
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The smell of the possibility of rain, combined with the sultry scent of cigarette smoke, was somehow soothing to Seth, and simultaneously, painfully nostalgic. He remembered too many times how often he and Lev had sat outside as thunderstorms had raged around them, letting the electricity and the lightning and the thunder deafen them, grinning as they’d passed a cigarette back and forth between one another.
He remembered too, a different kind of electricity, one that had terrified him, one he didn’t want to think about.
It was hard to look at Lev, so he didn’t, Seth reaching out to slide a cigarette free of the carton. He tapped it once on the box, then leaned in - not too close, not too close - to light the end of it, closing his eyes in relief as the smoke curled into his lungs. A bad habit, he knew, but it was better than a lot of things.
Like cowardice.
The gratitude was grudging, it must have been; a thank you scraped from the bottom of Lev’s ability to speak to him, Seth wrapping his free arm loosely around his middle, his other bent at the elbow, holding his cigarette. A breeze slid through the air, tousled his hair, disrupting the neatly groomed look he’d just gotten from the makeup artist.
”пожалуйста,” Seth murmured, almost automatically. He still hadn’t turned to look at Lev and wasn’t sure he could face him right now, knowing the look of disgust would still be there. Lev had never looked at him with as much hate before, not in eighteen years; it felt like it had scalded his skin permanently.
His lashes lowered, Seth closing his eyes momentarily.
You don’t actually care. You’re just saying this. It’s lip service.
But the praise - the compliments, however reluctant, were making his heart beat a little faster in spite of all of his attempts at keeping it from doing exactly that. Seth took another drag of his cigarette, then exhaled, a long , airy pursing of his lips, smoke ghosting upwards in a soft gray cloud that almost matched the color of the sky.
“I do not think you haff a bad day,” he said, after a moment, tone deliberately relaxed. “You are the model, not me.”
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This was a bad idea. But then why did he keep pushing it? He’d sought Seth out once he found out he was in the city. He had not immediately gotten up to leave when they saw each other in the cafe, although he did eventually. And tonight he’d managed to keep his cool with Seth staring right at him, the touch of his hand on Lev’s skin still tingling slightly.
He didn’t understand what happened. And he was sure that Seth was going to keep to his story; that he didn’t want to see him any more. Lev thought that everything was perfect. Okay, not perfect because they were poor and living off of low paying jobs and scraping up money for bills, which Lev couldn’t afford once he was on his own. But they’d had each other. They’d made it that far, so why not another eighteen years together? Twice that? Triple? They had their whole lives -
And then Seth was gone.
Part of Lev felt like it was a crueler fate than Seth dying, because he knew it was a conscious choice to leave.
“You vill not have to vorry about seeing me after next veek,” Lev said after letting out a breath of smoke, one hand in his pocket and the other flicking at the end of the cigarette. He purposefully didn’t respond to Seth’s comment about him being the model, mostly because he didn’t like the tone Seth had when he said it. It felt forced, and Lev wasn’t going to do anything to encourage it.
“I vill be leaving soon. I can give you address to my agent’s office. You can send papers there,” Lev said, trying to keep any of the hurt from his voice, not wanting to get worked up over something like this again. It was already hard enough as it was, he didn’t need to make it worse.
“You vill be pleased to know I vill not bother you again after that. I vill leave you be.”
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It was too hard.
The guttural, instinctive reaction was to run, because that was all he was ever good at, anyway. He was someone who never did anything without thinking things through, and the one time he hadn’t, the one time he had decided to go based purely on emotion, he had wrecked everything that he had ever worked for, everything that he had ever wanted. For two years he’d had to deal with the ramifications of his actions, and it hadn’t worked.
It made him, suddenly, brightly, irrationally angry, because it was so easy for Lev. Lev, who could just say that he was leaving, that his job was taking him elsewhere. Lev, who was calm and collected and who hated Seth now, hated who he’d become, what he had done. Lev, who was a model now, who had turned his quiet, unassuming, servantile life into something so much more than he’d been given.
Lev, who Seth had ruined.
He wanted to break something. Wanted to shatter a starseed underneath his fingers, crush it inside of his palm, watch the life bleed out until there was nothing left, until there was just an empty husk of a thing without the soul inside.
”Теперь кто убегает,” he snapped, and the words came out before he could stop them, a mocking sound to them, and he couldn’t stop that either. The blood was rushing to his head; he felt jittery and unsteady, a grin stretching across his face as he turned to look at Lev, something maniacal and bright and desperate in his gaze that was overshadowed by the taunting note to his voice.
“You haff been here vhat, five минут? You come here, and you find me, and then you decide to walk away and that is it?”
The laughter was bubbling out; he felt a little lightheaded, and he wanted too much and couldn’t have any of it, and it wasn’t Lev’s fault, wasn’t his fault at all, because Seth had walked away first, and he had shattered and broken any hope of fixing it and the spiral kept going down, down, down.
”Ебать тебя, Lyova.”
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There was such a contraction there that Lev couldn’t quite put into words how ridiculous it all was. Seth had been the one to run. Seth tried to run when Lev saw him at the bar, and would have gotten away if Lev hadn’t predicted he would do just that. Seth was the one who said he didn’t want to see him any more.
So why was he getting angry? Why was he getting so worked up over the fact that Lev was leaving? He’d never planned on staying in the city to begin with. He just wanted to see that Seth was alive and well for his own eyes so he could go back to hating him in peace.
“не называй меня так!” he snapped back, brows furrowing with anger. “How am I running? I have schedule to keep! You think just because I found you vere here means…. vhat? I would leave my job and move here? Once again, Seth. Vorld does not revolve around you.”
The laughter was horrible. He hated the way Seth laughed like that, because Lev knew that he felt as though he was losing control of a situation. Like he was running out of options. Or at least, that was what Lev would have assumed, had it been over two years ago, back when he knew Seth.
But there was something off about all this. Seth wanted to stay away from him but also… didn’t want him to leave? Was that it? It couldn’t possibly be that easy.
“Ты хочешь, чтобы я остался?” he asked slowly, quietly, trying to keep his own heart from beating so heavily against his chest. It was difficult, because all he wanted to do was yell at Seth for being so stupid and childish and -
A drop of rain fell and landed on his face. The clouds were churning overhead, alive in a way that made Lev feel as though the weather must know how he was feeling.
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He felt out of control, outside of his own body, his mouth working before the rest of him did. The laughter was still there, a hysterical, bright urge in his throat, spilling out in choked sounding rasping bursts that didn’t sound like him at all, even to his own ears.
”Ly - o - va,” Seth singsonged, dragging out each syllable deliberately, because he wanted to see the look on Lev’s face, wanted to, masochistically, see the fury build, because it was so much easier to do this when he was hated, when there was nothing left to lose. He had already gone past the breaking point; he’d had everything in his hands and he’d given it all away, had left it behind.
”Good for you, little Lyova.” His voice did not sound like his own. “I forgot that this vorld is not mine, because I haff always considered it to be mine, of course, because that is how you thought of me all this time.”
Except it wasn’t, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop the words. Everything was slipping away from him, sand through his fingertips, and he’d had it once. He had had Lev, his ally, his best friend, his soulmate, the one person he had thought he was going to be with for the rest of his life, because there was no him without Lev. He had had it, once.
And then he’d lost it when he’d fallen so far head over heels in love with the one person he could never have and it had ruined everything.
The question was like a knife to his chest, a wrenching pain. He couldn’t pull it out, couldn’t do anything except drive it deeper and deeper until there was nothing left.
Yes I want you to stay.
I want you to stay, I want you to be with me again, except I want you to be with me the way we never were, the way married couples are supposed to be, the way husbands are meant to be together, except I can’t - we can’t, you hate me, and I can’t handle this, I can’t handle any of this.
It was all a blur in his head, all a mess.
”Nyet,” said Seth, and the rain was falling hard now, cascading around them, a distant crack of thunder echoing far off behind them. At some point, he didn’t remember when, he’d dropped the cigarette, and now it was crushed beneath one of his shoes.
”Nyet,” said Seth again, and he took a step back, his laughter - and his voice hoarse, bitter tasting.
“I vant to have not left in the first place.”
And then he was gone, wrenching the door to the stairs open, a clatter of footsteps as he descended them, getting himself as far away from Lev as possible.
Guine
