Otabek has always thought his life to be rather mundane, all things considered. His world was so small, just his little village, his flock of sheep, and the big blue sky above them all. It was small and it was more than enough for him; which is to say he never longed for much else beyond the valley and the harvest the land provided.
While every last one of his older brothers left their little town to work in Soviet factories or to train as soldiers for the war against the west, he remained. He and his father still worked the land while his mother continued to keep the house.
It was a good life, a life that promised stability and the ever-present sense of tradition that seemed to live in his blood. Of all his brothers, Otabek felt tied to the land in a way none of them had understood.
Perhaps it was that innate feeling that led him away from his usual pastures that day, or perhaps fate simply decided that complacency was no longer an option. His little world, his bubble away from war and strife was in dire need of a shakeup.
Regardless, the truth of the matter remains that the grazing grasses had not quite grown back from the last time he'd brought his flock this way. He takes his sheep past the ravine and beyond their river valley town. The village is but a speck beneath him as he crests the mountain towards the wide expansive plains.
His sheep graze along the hills, the scene is fresh and speckled with late spring blooms of weeds. The hounds chase one another when they are not trying to herd their charges. He watches a train coast along the tracks, he wonders what they're bringing to his village. If it would bring rations or more soldiers to patrol their streets in the name of Stalin.
The idea of that sets his teeth on edge, that piss poor excuse for a man that sits in the Kremlin is the very bane of every Kazakh's existence. It is Otabek's belief that the world is not safe so long as Stalin still draws breath; but he cannot speak to this idea, he knows that. To speak against the party leader is a crime in and of itself. Otabek wouldn't jeopardize himself or his family over something so arbitrary.
The sun inches higher in the sky as the day wanes on, Otabek has always reveled in sunny days after long winters. There's something wholesome about the way the world looks when it awakes from a long slumber.
He walks further down the fields his eyes scanning over the picturesque landscape with a pride firm in his chest. It is then that he spots an odd sight, far from the tracks at the top of the hill is a cattle cart, dented and turned on its side. He stops at the top of the hill, looking off towards the train that is still driving unimpeded towards his village.
Did this cart come off the rails alone? If so, why didn't they stop when the cart came loose? Did the train knock this cart out of its way? Has it been abandoned here long?
As he is running through the list of questions, he hears the sound of scraping metal and banging against the cart door. Otabek rushes down into the valley as a realization washes over him; why is the cart bolted shut?
He rips the door open and an unholy scent crashes into him. It smells of rot, sickness, and death; a horrific combination if ever there was one. There are corpses inside, too many to count as Otabek valiantly attempts to keep himself from vomiting.
Then he sees the man who was creating the noise in the first place, or perhaps a boy given his small slight frame. His hair is dark and matted, his eyes are dull and lifeless. He coughs and gags on the fresh air as he attempts to pull himself out of the cart.
Otabek grabs his underarms and pulls him from the wreckage, desperately grasping for anything that he can say in this moment. A comfort or a question, anything to fill in the gaps of what led to this despicable horror.
Instead, the boy loses consciousness, falling limp as his coughing subsides. Otabek wonders if he's just witnessed a man die and is relieved to see that he is still breathing. No one else in the cart moves and the stench finally overwhelms Otabek into retching in the grass nearby.
He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know if he should get help or report this. The cart bears the symbol of the communist party, so perhaps the soldiers would know what to do about this?
As he gathers his wits he looks to the boy on the ground, his heart leaps into his throat as he takes in his visage. Pale skin, light hair, dark bags under his eyes, bruises and cuts littering his form. His right arm looks broken and the rest of his twisted figure looks emaciated.
Whoever these people are… were… they are no friends of the union. They are much more likely prisoners of Stalin's regime. But does that make them Otabek's friends?
Gathering his courage, Otabek lifts the boy into his arms and returns to his horse. The boy is either very young or very malnourished, Otabek is not certain which fate he prefers as he loads the boy onto his horse. He recalls his flock from pasture and rides carefully back to the homestead. He keeps glancing back towards the cart, wondering with intense unease if he should have investigated further.
When he arrives back home his mother greets him with a smile that turns sour upon seeing his additional passenger. Ever the caretaker, she ushers Otabek inside and orders him about; grabbing this and that to set the boy's arm and inspect his wounds further. When Otabek tells her about the cart she stalls in her work and harshly grabs his face.
"How close? How close was it?" She asks breathlessly.
"I… I'm not sure… three maybe three and a half hours walk away." Otabek shrugs.
"Don't go near it again, Beka." She tells him, her eyes are uncertain as she processes the information. "Promise me you won't go near it again."
"Shouldn't we see if there are any other survivors?" Otabek asks.
"If they're lucky… no." She shakes her head and returns to her work. "I will talk to your father about this. You don't say another word on the matter."
Otabek doesn't say anything else, he tentatively leaves the spare bedroom and returns to the livestock. He has to lock up the sheep for the night and the chickens are still ranging, but his mind cannot wipe the image of that scene away.
That night, Otabek eats dinner alone as his parents speak in hushed tones about the boy. About what to do with him and where he might have come from. He hears them say something about fascists in the west but Otabek isn't so certain about that.
The boy doesn't wake up for two days, his mother frets about what they'll do with his body and how they can possibly explain it away. His father grumbles about crossing bridges as they come and Otabek finds himself drawn to the boy's bedside.
It looks like sickness sticks to his bones, there's less blood against his fair skin but he still looks deeply wounded. He looks unwell and broken, he wonders if his brothers in the west see things like this. He's pretty sure one of them trained as a medic…
Two emerald eyes snap open then, full of fear and frantic breath, as if he's been slumbering through a nightmare for the past few days. He looks at Otabek and winces as he tries to sit up.
"Be careful." Otabek places a gentle hand on the blonde boy's sternum, he speaks in Russian after taking a wild guess about his heritage. "You're injured. A broken arm and a bruised spine… You shouldn't move too much."
The boy swallows before his vigor comes back to him, snarling at Otabek with every fiber of his being.
"Who are you? What the hell do you want?"
Otabek is taken aback by the boy's aggressive behavior but doesn't let that show on his features.
"I'm Otabek, I brought you here because you were hurt. I found you in a damaged train cart… do you know what happened?"
He falters at that, a wave of fear and anguish passing over his features as he searches for a response or a reason to be angry. "That's not… Where am I?!"
"You're in my house, my mother has been looking after you."
"But where am I?" The boy demands, his tone growing increasingly frantic.
"You mean… in the world?"
"Yes, you moron, where am I?"
"Kazakh." He responds easily, "You're in Kazakh."
He looks uncertain of what the means as he slumps further into the bed. His eyes are wild with fear and his cheeks are flushed with fever. Otabek wonders what's going through his mind, where on earth his head is that has him looking so feral.
"What's your name?" Otabek asks.
"Why?" He snaps in response.
"I gave you mine, I think it's fair that I ask for yours."
The boy shivers in response before he spits out a question. "Are you Soviet?"
Otabek doesn't have an immediate response, but by the look he wears Otabek can infer that this boy has no love for the party. So perhaps his leap of faith is unwarranted but he takes it anyway.
"No." Otabek whispers harshly.
The blonde boy meets his gaze and the pair of them stare for a long while into each other's eyes.
"Yuri." He finally says.
"Welcome, Yuri."
Yuri scoffs in response while Otabek procures a cool cloth to drape over his forehead. "You've come a long way, haven't you?"
Yuri doesn't respond, he shivers and winces when he coughs. Otabek feels bad for him but he also is incredulous to the idea that someone could be so vicious when he's just been revived from the brink of death.
"Yeah… I have." Yuri responds reluctantly.
"It could take some time before you're back to full health, but we intend to take care of you here."
"Why?" Yuri snaps again.
"Do we need a reason?" Otabek challenges him, "You're hurt and we can help. That's reason enough for us."
Yuri settles down after that, confusion and exhaustion overtaking him to the point that he falls asleep not long after Otabek gets some soup in him. He tells his mother that Yuri was awake for a bit and that he seems to be on the mend. She gives him a tense nod and tells him to get back to the animals for the day.
Yuri comes in and out of consciousness over the next few days, his fever abates a week into his recovery and his confusion is hard to watch. Sometimes, when Otabek is tending to him, Yuri will ask for his grandfather or someone named Vitya. He whimpers and writhes in his bed, both in sleep and in the world of the living.
Otabek pities him, he feels his own heart aching at the sight of the sick boy barely clinging to life.
When he is awake and in his own head, he's a fearsome beast. Snarling and glaring at Otabek's attempts to coddle him in anyway. It irritates him, mostly because all Otabek wants to do is help and this belligerent boy simply won't let him. For no good reason.
"Can you please just calm down." Otabek huffs, exasperated at Yuri's writhing as he tries to change his bandage.
"Can you stop fucking touching me?" Yuri counters wickedly.
"If you could change your own wraps, I would gladly let you." Otabek has had this conversation twice and already it's been too many. "Can you just let me get on with it?"
Yuri grumbles and turns to dead weight in Otabek's arms, he prefers this to being actively fought but it's still a struggle to get the wrapping done. He's like a doll, in Otabek's arms, fragile and delicate, far too light for his liking. He's gained some weight in his time here, but not enough.
Once his arm is bandaged up Otabek looks at him quizzically a thought blossoming in his mind that he could not fight if he tried.
"What are you staring at, asshole?"
"How old are you?" Otabek asks, his voice soft as the thought washes over him.
"What do you mean?" Yuri looks at him oddly.
"You're just… small for a soldier."
"I'm not a soldier, I told you I'm not a fucking Soviet." Yuri scoffs. "I'm fifteen, if you must know."
It's quiet for a moment, and then Otabek mutters. "That's young."
Yuri looks at him strangely. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that fifteen is young." Otabek says again.
"For what?"
"To have that look in your eyes." Otabek's gaze locks onto Yuri's as he speaks. "You have the eyes of a soldier. That's what I mean."
Yuri blushes a pretty pink as he turns his gaze away.
"You're not a deserter then?"
"No."
"You hate the Soviets, though."
"Because I'm not a moron." Yuri responds hotly. "What's with the interrogation?"
"You're in our house," Otabek points out. "You're in our house, under our care… I just want to know who you are, Yuri."
"I didn't ask to be brought here."
"No?"
"No."
Otabek is pretty sure he won't get anything else out of him for the day. He hands him bread and soup then waits for him to finish eating before walking away. There's something about Yuri that endears Otabek to him, maybe it's his pretty face and his piss poor attitude, or maybe he's just enthralled with the idea that someone from far away could land in their part of the world. Either way, he doesn't stop coming to see Yuri after that. In fact, he starts sitting beside him at the end of every day, just about.
Yuri scowls and pouts at him, looking severe and displeased to have someone with him again. They don't talk much, but when they do Yuri snips and curses his way through the conversation. Otabek is as amused as he is intrigued by what he has to say.
Then one day he walks in to see Yuri staring longingly out the window. It's a heavy rain, there had been a few weeks without so much as a drizzle and the sudden deluge has left Otabek stuck inside. He can't help but stare at the man in his guest room because he looks so soft. His eyes are wet with tears and his knuckles are white as he watches the rain.
"What are you looking at?" Yuri spits the question, barely glancing over his shoulder at him.
"You're crying." Otabek points out simply.
Yuri, seems to suddenly become aware of his leaking nose and burning eyes as he turns away from Otabek. "I am not crying."
"Okay." Otabek responds.
"I'm not!"
"I said okay." Otabek reminds him gently.
Yuri clears his throat as he grabs a rag from the bedside table to dry his eyes. "Does it always flood so much here?"
"During the rainy season it does." Otabek tells him, "The first rain tends to be a long one."
With a nod Yuri turns to Otabek, "Does it bother you that we speak Russian?"
"Should it? The Soviets keep saying that to speak our native tongue is to be against the state." Otabek smirks at the thought. "Russian is the language of our comrades, so it's all we'll need. I guess."
"That's the dumbest thing you've ever said." Yuri scoffs.
"Is it?"
"Yeah, it is."
Otabek gives a sigh as he starts to point out different parts of the house and translates them from Russian to Kazakh. Yuri goes along with the impromptu lesson, every so often a breeze rattles the window. Yuri still looks forlornly out the window even as he repeats phrases back at Otabek.
"Did it rain much? Where you came from?" Otabek asks.
"Yes." Yuri whispers. Thunder rumbles outside as they speak.
"Often?"
"Yeah… pretty often."
"Where did you come from Yuri?" Otabek finally asks, his voice is as gentle as it is careful.
Yuri looks at him, his eyes still glistening from the tears he won't admit he's shed. "If I tell you that… you… you might be in danger… I'm not sure what… I'm not sure I should say."
"You don't have to tell me, but I'd like to know."
"Ukraine… I came from Ukraine. A place called Crimea." Yuri says, the rain storming just a bit louder outside.
"You were a prisoner." Otabek says.
"Yes."
"Were you a criminal?"
"I was a civilian." Yuri says.
Otabek nods, "So they brought you here… why?"
"They didn't bring me here." Yuri says, staring at the angry clouds beyond the mountains. "They left me to die."
Otabek looks deeply uncomfortable at that idea. "Why?"
"Because Stalin told them to… because they're evil… because they're just as scared as me? I don't know. All I know is that when they came to my village they tore us from our homes and loaded us into trains. For what purpose? I couldn't say.
"If I had to guess I'd say it was greed… they wanted to clear out as many of us as they could so that they could fill our homes with those that Stalin thinks are more worthy of them. No matter what the Kremlin says… no matter what any of them say… it is us versus them. They don't want us to be united, they don't want a brotherhood, they want control."
Otabek is grabbing Yuri's hand before he can stop himself, the image Yuri paints is not pretty but it leaves no room for doubt. Yuri was brought here against his will, which means he has nowhere to go. It breaks his heart to hear, and he is suddenly full of gratefulness that he found Yuri when he did. He remembers finding that cart full of corpses and he wonders what the goal of that was. What did the Soviets gain from that?
"I'm sorry." Otabek says.
"I'm not a fascist." Yuri tells him.
"I know."
"I'm not communist, I'm not a solider… I'm just… I don't know."
"I understand."
Yuri shakes his head in disbelief, they don't say anything else as they watch the rain fall from the sky. That night Otabek tells his parents that Yuri was brought here against his will, that he has nowhere else to go. They don't seem to be surprised, but when Otabek begs them to let Yuri stay they are taken aback. They remind Otabek they have no reason to send him away, not yet anyway and he's still recovering.
Otabek asks that they consider allowing him to work on the farm, they say they will consider it. He isn't sure they will heed his request but he's done all he can for now. The next day he goes to the market, his mind wanders to where in the world Crimea is. Otabek isn't dumb by any stretch of the imagination, but his world knowledge is limited at best.
As he's walking through the stalls, he hears a conversation that brings him to a halt:
"It's true, I heard from my sister, they're importing fascists from the west and resettling them here."
"They can't do that."
"But they have, I heard it too. In Uzbek they've already received a shipment of people in the thousands!"
"Thousands?"
"Yes, they're laborers now, working in the mines and lumber mills… though the locals threw rocks and tried to force them back onto their carts when they first arrived."
"How horrible, those people have no place here."
"I heard that there will be another group of them being delivered to the east."
"Let's hope not, we don't need Nazis and their sympathizers here."
Otabek's heart thumps loudly in his chest as he thinks about Yuri. He isn't a Nazi, at least, he says he isn't and he has no reason to believe otherwise. Were all the people in that train cart destined to go to Uzbek? To be forced into doing hard labor and working for the Soviets? Were they fascists? Or were they victims?
When he returns home in the afternoon he goes to Yuri's bedside. At first, they say nothing to one another. Then, Otabek can't help himself from speaking.
"Have you worked on a farm before?"
"What's it to you?"
"Well, you're healing. When you're fully recovered, we can find some work for you to do here."
Yuri scowls at him, "Why would I do that? Why would I stay here? Don't you think I should go home?"
Otabek's gaze doesn't falter as he speaks. "I don't think you have a home to go back to."
Yuri swallows thickly, like he wasn't expecting that response and he is grasping for a heated answer. "Home is still there."
"But you can't go back." Otabek's voice strains as Yuri nods. "I'm sorry…"
"Why do you want me to stay?"
"Because I like you." Otabek answers casually.
"You don't mean that."
"Don't I?"
"I-… I'm… I've been nothing but rude to you." Yuri blushes as Otabek speaks.
"You didn't mean it. I don't think."
"What if I did?"
"Did you?"
Yuri is quiet for a moment, "Some of it."
"If you have nowhere else to go, Yuri… I'd like it if you could help me. With the horses or the chickens or any of the farm work really."
Yuri bites his thumb in thought before speaking. "I… I've worked with sheep before… horses too."
"I'd like your help with them, in that case."
Yuri doesn't respond so Otabek continues his Kazakh lessons that are haphazard at best. Yuri picks up the language with ease and seems to be interested in whatever Otabek teaches. As interested as he allows himself to be, that is.
Summer is quickly coming to a close, Yuri is on his feet and exploring the homestead for the first time. Otabek's parents seem resigned to his wishes, though his mother mentions that it may be dangerous for them to keep the boy with them. Otabek promises her that they will be cautious but that they can't simply throw him out on the streets.
Yuri turns out to be a diligent worker, the horses and barn cats take an immediate liking to him. He shoes the horses like it's second nature to him and the hounds listen to him better than they do Otabek. If he were a more competitive person, Otabek might be jealous of how well he takes to the farm.
He even brings Yuri to the market with him to get grains for the animals during the long winter months. It's odd, he catches Yuri handing one of the fresh apples they bought to a little urchin they pass by. Otabek thinks it's strange to see Yuri be so gentle with anyone, but then he's reminded of how quickly he melts around a kitten and it doesn't feel so strange.
Otabek and Yuri work well together, one morning it rains earlier than expected and Otabek rushes out into the storm to lock up the chickens in their coop. Yuri joins him not a minute later, Otabek mutters about the broken fence and gratitude for his help.
The pair of them gather the animals and create a makeshift door to keep the creatures safe in their cages. The rain is coming down harder and beginning to flood the valley, Yuri ushers Otabek into the stable and up to the loft to dry off.
He goes to hand Otabek a towel but stops when he sees the intense look Otabek wears.
"What?" Yuri asks gruffly.
"Nothing." Otabek shakes his head, stealing the towel out of his hand to dry off his neck.
"You stare at me a lot considering you don't say shit." Yuri huffs.
Otabek looks intently at him again, they have something of a staring contest until Otabek speaks. "You came to the stable instead of the house. Do you feel safer here?"
Yuri balks at him, "You-… You're… Why are you always saying stupid shit?"
Otabek shrugs, "Why are you always doing dumb shit?"
Yuri stalls at that, then a grin breaks out over his features and he laughs in response. "Fuck you, I've never heard you curse before."
"I don't usually have to." Otabek chuckles in response.
Yuri shoves him as he dries his hair with another towel. "You ask a lot of questions for someone who doesn't talk a lot."
"You never ask questions for someone who's always avoiding them." Otabek challenges him with a smirk.
"I know enough about you, Otabek." Yuri almost whispers his name. Otabek's heart flutters at the way the name sounds rolling off his tongue.
"Do you?"
"Yeah…" Yuri shakes his head then he leans down and makes kissy sounds until one of the barn cats trots up to him. Otabek watches fondly as Yuri scratches the kitten's head and kisses her cheeks. He wonders if this is a sign from Yuri, that he does view Otabek in a better light than he lets on. Allowing him to see the softness that he's capable of is something like a gift.
A few days after the incident in the rain Otabek feels his throat tightening and his muscles ache. It's just a winter cold, he knows that much and it doesn't worry him. Some three days later his cough is worsening but he still sees no reason to make a fuss over it.
"You should stay back today." Yuri insists, not looking at him directly as he saddles one of the horses.
"It's not supposed to be a long day, it'll snow sometime after noon. We'll be back before then." Otabek insists.
"You should stay behind, I can handle the sheep."
"I-"
"Do you not trust me? Do you think I'll steal a hundred sheep? Where would I go?" Yuri snaps.
"It's not… I don't think you'll steal anything-"
"Then stay home!" Yuri stamps his foot at him, "Don't be an idiot just… just go back to bed."
"Yuri-"
"People die from things like that okay? People die from colds all the time so just-just-just-"
"Yuri it's okay, it's just a cough." Otabek grabs Yuri's trembling hands, the sudden show of panic has thoroughly thrown him for a loop. "I'll be alright."
Yuri looks wild and fearful as he meets Otabek's tender eyes. "I don't-… I don't want you to die."
"I won't die." Otabek promises.
"Stay." Yuri insists weakly.
"Okay… I'll stay." Otabek nods, he hesitates for a moment and he can feel his fever more prominently against Yuri's cool skin. "Come back before noon… make sure everyone's in their storm sheds before the snowfall begins."
"I will." Yuri steps back, Otabek has half a mind to get Yuri to stay behind as well. He looks so shaken as he mounts his horse that Otabek feels a deep pit of dread forming in his gut. Otabek waits until Yuri disappears over the horizon before heading into the house.
His mother cups his cheeks sympathetically and ushers him to bed. It feels good to rest his body but he finds himself worrying about Yuri. The storm creeps closer and Yuri still hasn't returned. The look on Yuri's face as he begged for Otabek to stay home haunts him. He wonders who Yuri saw die from a cold and he hates how curious he is. He has no right to pry into Yuri's life, but he can't shake the feeling that something horrible happened to him.
He falls asleep before Yuri comes home and when he wakes up he sees Yuri sitting by his bed with a bowl of broth. Wordlessly, Yuri sits him up and hands him the soup.
"Your mother says you should stay in bed for the next few days." Yuri tells him pointedly.
"Okay." Otabek agrees.
"You're an idiot for trying to go to pasture with a fever."
"Yeah, guess I am."
"You really don't care, do you?" Yuri's features are screwed up in rage but Otabek can see something else there too. The cracks from earlier remain, there's fear and worry along the edges of his words.
"I care, thank you, for helping me." Otabek tells him softly.
Yuri folds his arms over his chest. "Don't do it again."
"I won't. I'm sorry for worrying you."
"I wasn't worried."
"No?"
"Of course not." Yuri bites his lip.
"Then why'd you yell? It's okay to care about people, Yuri."
"I just…"
"You just?"
"I-… I don't want to be like them. Those pigs will make monsters of all of us if we aren't careful…" Yuri says, closing his eyes as he speaks. "That's what my grandfather used to say about the Nazis. It's true of Stalin's regime too."
"Oh." Otabek barely says the sentiment.
"I refuse to be a monster." Yuri swallows thickly.
"You're not a monster." Otabek assures him, "You are… something else entirely."
"I'm not sure that's a compliment."
"Maybe it's not." Otabek's lips quirk into a smile, "Thank you, I appreciate you looking out for me."
"Whatever." Yuri mumbles, "Eat."
Otabek does as he's bid and when Yuri's gone Otabek allows himself to smile thinking about it all. Yuri's a gentle soul, Otabek really believes that. He's not sure he wants to know what's hardened him so much.
The world continues to turn as is the way of it. The next time he goes to market he hears news that Hitler is falling in the west and that Japan is losing ground in the east. There's yet more news about deported people being resettled in Kazakh and Uzbek. There's an uncomfortable amount of Soviet soldiers around, they have a distaste for this place as much as the people loath to have them around. Otabek wonders if this is an omen of worse things to come.
The regime has always been present, but their numbers were small. The Soviets have always been content to take their portions of grain and other resources while leaving them to their own devices. There's been talk of registering everyone in the village for a census, people think they may be looking to draft more soldiers for Stalin's war. Otabek desperately hopes that isn't the case.
The new year comes and Otabek is grateful to know that winter is almost at its end. With the lengthening days Yuri seems to relax more and Otabek is glad to see it. They talk more easily, they laugh around each other, and Yuri's Kazakh has improved dramatically.
One day it all comes crashing down when Otabek and Yuri are getting ready to do their chores for the day. Otabek's father should be at the market but he's running home at a frantic pace.
"Hide." He tells Otabek with a vice like grip against his shoulders as he speaks. "Take Yuri to the attic and hide. They're coming."
Otabek doesn't need further instruction, he grabs Yuri's wrist and pulls him up the stairs.
"What are you- hey!" Yuri fights Otabek's hold but he's no match for Otabek's determined grip.
The pair squish into the attic, curling in on themselves in the small space. A single window facing the road provides them enough light to see one another's faces. Yuri is clearly frustrated and perhaps unsettled by their predicament.
"Sorry, but we… we just need to stay here for a bit." Otabek tells him, rubbing his neck nervously.
"Why?" Yuri folds his arms.
"The Soviets are coming." Otabek mutters.
"Oh." Yuri shudders at the thought, "What do they want?"
"Young men… to send to the front lines." Otabek grips his knees as he speaks. "That's what happened to Tahir and Samat."
"Who?"
"My brothers… Two of them at least."
"What about the others?"
"They went to work in Soviet factories… I haven't seen them in a few years. I don't know if I'll ever see them again."
There's silence then, Yuri nods vaguely at the implication. Otabek's parents only have one child left, they don't want to lose him to the war.
"I had a cousin who got drafted… Last I heard he was in Manchuria." Yuri tells him.
"What's his name?"
"Viktor…Vitya… I don't think I'll ever see him again either."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too." Yuri sighs scratching his arms uneasily, "How long will we be up here?"
"I don't know… they'll come get us when it's safe. But it could be until nightfall." Yuri winces at that, Otabek reaches out and grabs his hand. "Breathe, it's okay."
"I hate tight spaces." Yuri admits.
"It will be okay."
"They just- remind me of-of-of-"
Otabek leans forward to cup his cheek, "Look at me, we'll be okay. They won't find us."
"What if they do?"
"Then we… will cross that bridge when we get to it. But it won't… we won't be found." Otabek attempts to console him.
Yuri takes in a few deep breaths, "I wasn't always like this, I promise I'm not insane. I've seen what they do to people… what they'd do to us… what they've done to me…"
Otabek says nothing, he takes deep breaths so that Yuri will copy his actions. Yuri looks at him, bug eyed and breathless as he tries to steady himself.
"Tell me about home." Otabek says, "Tell me about Ukraine, something happy."
Yuri closes his eyes and whispers, "Sea air… I miss the sea air more than anything else. It was so calming and… I miss it."
"Sea air."
"Yeah, I didn't like the docks but the shoreline near my house… you couldn't find anything more perfect. There's nowhere better on earth."
Otabek nods, "Did you… have a happy childhood?"
"Not really." Yuri admits, "I've never known an unoccupied Ukraine. I was born under the Soviet flag… when I was four the famine came… Holodomor is what we called it… Mama died then, I remember my grandfather teaching me which weeds were good to eat and which would make us sick… People dropped dead in the streets all the time…
"After that year things got better for a little while, things weren't good, but they were calm. Times were normal, at least, and we were able to go about our lives unnoticed by the regime. Crops were good, the livestock were cared for, I went to school. Everything was fine…
"The Nazis took over when I was… twelve, I think. Vitya had already been drafted by the Soviet army to fight in the east… Papa went to the western front too and he died there… Grandpa was too old to serve and I was too young. So when the Nazis came they had no interest in us. But the fighting was brutal… They were constantly bombing and shooting off the coast.
"When they took over we… we heard about the camps in the west, where they took the jews and… Grandpa wanted me to run, he tried to convince me to leave the country and go to America or somewhere Hitler couldn't reach. We knew they wanted to settle Crimea with Germans so it was only a matter of time before they pushed us out.
"I couldn't leave him… He had… he raised me and I couldn't just let him die alone. Then last winter was- it was so bad for everyone and the fighting started back up again because Stalin wanted Crimea back… Grandpa was sick and we were so hungry it was like the Holodomor all over again. We almost starved to death and the war raged every hour of the day."
"Yuri, breathe." Otabek interrupts his frightened ramblings, "Please breathe."
Yuri looks at him and takes three purposeful breaths. Otabek strokes his hair, gentle fingers tying up in the silky tresses of blonde.
"Grandpa died in February… I remember feeling so lost and the streets were so full of corpses again. I closed my eyes at night and dreamt of blood and gunfire. I hated it. I hated it. I hated it so much and I hated them so much."
Yuri shivers, curling in on himself further as he speaks. "When the Soviets took over again… I didn't know what to expect but I knew… I knew it couldn't be good. Now we were sympathizers and collaborators, that's what they called us! I heard the soldiers say it and they spat at us in the streets and-and-and I know what it's like to starve, I know what it's like to suffer but I was so scared."
Otabek takes Yuri's face in his hands and hushes him. "I'm sorry, Yuri. I'm sorry those things happened to you, but you have to be quiet."
"Are they coming?"
"I don't know."
"Can you check?"
Otabek risks a peek out the window. When he sees nothing he listens intently downstairs. His parents aren't speaking, they sound busy with their chores.
"It's safe, for now." Otabek says.
"I'm sorry… I just… I've said too much."
"No, you haven't." Otabek assures him.
"I shouldn't talk about the war, not to you when it's affected you too."
"Not as much as it's hurt you, Yuri."
"Yura."
"What?"
"Call me Yura… my family… did."
"Okay." Otabek nods. "Yura… you can keep talking, if it helps. If you don't want to though, I understand."
"Do you… do you want to know how I got here?" Yuri asks, his voice so quiet Otabek isn't certain he's speaking at all.
"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." Otabek reiterates.
Yuri thinks on that for a moment but before he can speak the sound of a motorcar pulling up to the house startles them both. Yuri lunges into Otabek's arms and burrows his face into Otabek's chest. Otabek grips Yuri's shirt and holds his breath.
He hears the murmuring of his father talking with the soldier. The conversation is loud and heated, the front door crashes open and the pair of boys clutch one another tighter. Otabek focuses on the woodgrain along the floor, his breath shaky and uneven. He swears he can hear the soldiers searching the house. Last time he'd been alone when the soldiers tore through their house.
Last time they waited all day for Otabek to 'come home' so they could cart him off to the front lines. They only left when it became abundantly clear there was no young boy for them to collect. Otabek hopes that isn't the case this time.
He looks at Yuri's cowering frame and feels each of his ribs grinding against Otabek's chest. For a moment he imagines Yuri smaller, more frail, clinging to a grandfather figure as the war rages outside his window. He imagines steel warships littering Yuri's beloved coastline, he wonders if Vitya might have met Otabek's brothers on the field of battle. He wonders if they're alive at all.
What will happen if Viktor returns from the war and Yuri's nowhere to be found? What if Viktor's corpse has no place to be buried? No family to give him his last rights? Otabek's heart breaks as the door to the attic opens.
The pair of them stall, they are impossibly still as a soldier peeks into the storage area.
"Anyone up here?" They call, an antagonizing jest to their tone. "If I catch you hiding, it won't be pretty."
Yuri becomes dead weight in Otabek's arms, it takes Otabek a second to realize he's fainted. Otabek wants to collapse too but they cannot make a noise. They should be well hidden by the crates and old trunks, still Otabek panics. What will they do? Could Otabek take down a Soviet soldier by himself? Would he kill a man if it comes down to it?
He startles himself by answering yes to that question. These soldiers are wicked creatures, cruel and vicious in every sense of the word. They would not hesitate to kill him, why should he not return the favor?
The crack of the attic door slamming shut sounds something like heaven's gates opening. Otabek keeps holding his breath until the footsteps fade. In that time Yuri has come back to consciousness. The fear has not abated between the two of them, but they hold one another in a firm embrace for as long as they dare.
Night falls and Otabek's mother finally comes to retrieve them. She's clearly been crying and she hugs them both as tightly as she can before serving them dinner.
Otabek and Yuri don't speak for some time after that. They sit in silence around one another and it consumes Otabek to know so much about Yuri's life but not speak on it.
Then, one day, late into spring Yuri looks at Otabek while the sheep are grazing in the field.
"I never told you how I got here."
"Nope." Otabek agrees.
"It's been a year."
"It has."
"Did you want to know?"
"Only if you want to tell me."
"It doesn't kill you? The not knowing?" Yuri asks, his voice is quiet as the wind rustles through the grass.
Otabek looks at him silently and then shrugs. "It's not for me to know, unless you decide to talk about it."
Yuri plays with the leather strap on his bag. "I'm not sure why they chose us… but they came into our homes one night and told us to pack. They said we had thirty minutes to pack and get to the train depot. I wasn't stupid, I knew we weren't going to keep whatever we brought with us. I heard about those camps of horrors that Hitler made and I figured that was where I was headed."
Yuri sits up and removes a necklace Otabek had never noticed him wearing before now. "The only things I brought with me are my grandparents wedding rings and a family photo… I think you've seen it."
Otabek observes the rings around the chain and nods before handing them back to Yuri. He'd seen the photo when Yuri first came to them. It had been tucked between his shirt and his undershirt, it had been an odd find when he and his mother had attempted to bathe him. A photo falling out of the boy's pants was strange but they didn't question it too much. They had had bigger issues to address.
"I set my house on fire before I left. I didn't want those Soviet fucks getting a hold of it." Yuri seethes as he says it. "They shoved us in these cattle carts and bolted the doors shut… I don't know why, it's not like we were going to run or jump out… even if they did, they wouldn't have cared. We were being punished, that was abundantly clear. Our lives didn't matter to them.
"We traveled for weeks, they didn't bother to give us food or water… They kept the doors bolted shut and they let us… die. They left us to die in our filth and people just kept dying…" Yuri shivers as he recalls the memory. "It started with coughing and then they'd vomit and that's how you'd know they were going to die… I was in the furthest corner of the cart, I think that's how I kept from catching ill… I kept counting heads when there was enough light shining through the gaps in the doors. We started out with seventy… we ended with something close to twenty-five."
"But you never reached your destination." Otabek shakes his head at the thought. The very idea of people being shipped across the country and being treated worse than cattle makes his stomach roll.
"We stopped at some point… they wanted to dispose of the dead. They opened the doors and I saw a soldier vomit immediately… I think… I think they decided we were a lost cause. Too many dead for them to justify taking us with them." Yuri's hands tremble and Otabek grabs them in an attempt to comfort him. "They bolted the doors again but the cart never moved. They unhitched us from the rest of the train. That night there were creatures, wolves I think or maybe a bear, that knocked into the car and tried to break in.
"In the morning some of the remaining survivors decided to-… to try and break the doors open. It's Soviet steel, it had to be weak enough. The cart kept rocking on the tracks and I remember curling up in the corner and begging them to stop. I was so sure that we were going to die and then I remember feeling weightless… I'm not sure how long I was unconscious but the next thing I remember was waking up in agony and pulling myself to the door… Then I saw you."
Otabek doesn't know what to say to that so he presses their foreheads together.
"You saved me and I couldn't believe it. I… just…"
"You've endured so much, Yura. I'm so sorry I couldn't do more… that I couldn't have helped sooner."
"You're so kind to me… You're so kind and so gentle with me and I don't-"
"Don't say you don't deserve it. You do. You deserve all the kindness this world has to offer. I'm sorry you've received so little of what you're due."
Yuri nuzzles against Otabek. "I wish I could help you."
"You do help me, every day."
"Not like you helped me."
"I see how you help the poor children in town when we're at market. You know what it's like to starve and you don't want anyone else to suffer like that. You could have left the homestead but you stay and you help. You help my father with the horses and the firewood. You help my mother with her cooking and wrap bandages with her. The idea of me dying made you panic, you were desperate to help me and you did.
"You're a good person, Yura, you help when you can and you treat others with dignity when you have received none. You are good, whether you know it or not."
The silence is stifling them both so Yuri speaks up, "Do you think less of me?"
"Why would I think less of you?" Otabek returns the question. There is kindness in his voice and in his eyes, he hopes Yuri can feel the intensity Otabek feels in that moment.
"Because… Because I lived and they didn't. Because I left them there to rot."
"You didn't have a choice."
"Didn't I?" Yuri asks.
"That's my fault if it is anyone's fault. I only brought you with me." Otabek's hands raise to hold Yuri's face, "Did you hate me when we met?"
"Maybe a little, I was scared and I didn't know what was happening or where I was."
"Did I scare you?"
"Yes… but mostly…"
"Mostly what?"
Yuri takes in a shaking breath, his eyes are soft and full of honesty as he speaks. "I saw so much innate love in you. Love for me… love for humanity… uncorrupted love that I'm not sure I've ever known and I just… in that moment I was angry and scared because you filled me up with so much hope."
"Yura-"
"I looked at you and I was astounded because I realized you were someone I needed to meet. I needed to believe that someone could… that someone would help a stranger. And you did." Yuri has tears streaming down his face as he looks at Otabek, it is like their very souls are seeing into one another. "You just helped me, for no other reason than you could and you wanted to. I've… I've always read about grand acts of humanity but, by god Otabek, you were the first person to ever show that to me. I love you for it."
Otabek kisses Yuri then, a fierce desperate kiss that tastes like tears and joy. They smile and kiss a few more times, only the flock are present to bear witness to the scene.
"I love you." Yuri reiterates.
"I love you." Otabek tells him in return.
The pair of them sit in the field and hold the other like they are precious, like no dictator or army could tear them away from each other.
The war ends in the west, Hitler dies a coward's death. The war ends in the east with a bomb that shakes the world. Stalin dies a decade later, there is a silent revelry in his passing but also an air of fear as they collectively wonder what comes next.
Otabek sees Tahir one last time, he lost his legs in the war and he died two months after being home. Samat never comes home, Otabek's brothers in the factories make their journeys back home every now and then. They have children and those children love the sheep and the chickens when they come to visit.
Otabek's mother dies in the sixties and his father not long after that. Life is peaceful, life is easy, and life with Yuri is good.
They become something like grandparents to the village children and the nieces and nephews who go off to have children of their own. One of those kids, a girl named Salima, becomes a reporter and she asks Yuri about his story. How he came to Kazakhstan in the first place. Otabek isn't sure he'll ever get used to the 'stan' part of his country's new name, but he's also uncertain if he knows how to live in a world free of the communist regime.
Yuri tells her his story and smiles when he tells her that he was saved by the hero of Kazakhstan. She asks if she can publish his story and he agrees if for no other reason than he wants the world to learn his lesson. Humanity always has a place, Yuri tells her, if we are brave enough to give them the dignity they deserve.
His story becomes quite popular, something about a New York paper that Otabek doesn't particularly care about. But Salima tells them that the president of Ukraine wants to meet Yuri. That he wants to fly the pair of them to Crimea.
They're old now, Otabek is close to his nineties and Yuri can't walk too well, but they make the journey. It's their first time on an airplane, they both decide they hate the experience but Otabek would go to the ends of the earth for Yura. So he endures the few hours of discomfort all to see the way Yuri's eyes light up when they reach the coast.
He cries then, there are cameras and reporters but Yuri weeps openly. Otabek clutches his hand and smiles as Yuri speaks.
"I never thought I'd see it again… It's just as beautiful as I remember it…" Yuri sniffles and smiles at Otabek. "I told you, isn't it perfect?"
The sea breeze wafts through Otabek's thin hairline and he nods. "It's perfect, Yura."
The president of Ukraine presents Yuri with a medal of some kind, Yuri tells a crowd of reporters that no medal compares to this.
"I thought I would never come home. Now… Now I'm here… There's no award that can compare to that."
Yuri takes Otabek to his grandfather's grave and the plot of land where his home used to stand. It's a schoolhouse now, Yuri likes the idea of that. They sit on the coast and feel the sea air, Otabek holding Yuri's hand all the while.
Salima's book lies in the sand as they watch the sunset, a blanket draped over their shoulders.
The last lines of the book sit between them as they share a kiss:
Sometimes it's hard to tell what will blossom in the spring, when you can only see the sprout. I thought I was a weed, transplanted and discarded because I meant so little to this world. In some ways, I guess I am a weed; stubborn, hard to get rid of, resilient. What I have learned in my time on earth is this: anything, any plant or weed can be something beautiful if we care enough to water the seed. We may never know the lives we might touch unless we reach for others and help them grow. Thank you Beka, for helping me grow.
Here's a list of the historical events referenced above if you're curious:
In 1922 Crimea and the rest of Ukraine became occupied by the communist regime to form the Soviet Union. Under their rule there was a movement of nationalization sweeping the nation as most of Ukraine wanted to be independent of Russian rule. Stalin enforced many campaigns in the country to erase Ukrainian cultural heritage and Ukrainian national identity. This was done under the guise of creating a unified nation under the communist regime.
The Holodomor: largely believed to be a man-made famine crafted by the Soviet regime as a form of genocide against the Ukrainian people. Starting in the late fall of 1932 and lasting through 1933, it is estimated that as many as 10 million people died as a result of the famine. More conservative estimates believe it is closer to 3 million deaths. It is unknown how accurate these numbers are. Holodomor Remembrance Day is the fourth Saturday of November.
Nazi Occupation: In 1941 German forces invaded Crimea, they took total control of Crimea in the summer of 1942. Many of the battles fought in and over Crimea were extremely devastating for both sides and some of the bloodiest battles in WW2. Many Crimeans initially saw the Nazi forces as liberators from the communist Russians but their reign of terror quickly overshadowed any hope Ukrainians had. Nazi forces went on to murder thousands of Jewish Ukrainians and Crimeans. Few Crimeans were sent to concentration camps due to their isolation on the peninsula. Ukrainians were persecuted and driven out of their homes to make room for eventual German resettlement ambitions. In 1944 much of Ukraine was liberated from Nazi control and recaptured by the Soviet Union.
Deportation of Crimean Tartars: Once Crimea was recaptured, Stalin called for the collective punishment of Nazi collaborators and ten ethnic minorities in the region. Most of these people were "Asiatic inferiors" mainly targeting the Crimean Tartars (who have Turkic roots and are considered to be the indigenous people of Crimea. They have their own language and many of them are practicing Muslims). Other "ethnic traitors" included Ukrainians, Armenians, Bulgarians, Croats, Czech, Italians, Greeks, Kurds, Karaims, Albanians, Romanians, Hungarians, and Jews. 191,000 Crimean Tartars were deported, along with 40,000 others of different ethnicities.
Between May 18th and May 20th 1944 Soviet soldiers rounded up thousands of people from all across Crimea for deportation. They were crowded into wagons that were bolted shut and were deprived of food, water, and fresh air. They were taken to interior Asia, most of them were settled in modern day Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan where they were forced to work in gulags (Soviet run labor camps). The journey lasted several weeks with the majority of people arriving to their destinations in June. It is estimated that at least 8,000 people died on the journey, often times the only stops trains would take were to dispose of corpses.
Exile lasted for 45 years, in 1989 due to the weakening Soviet Union and a collective desire for reparations, the ban was lifted and the deportation was nationally recognized as a criminal offense. Many Crimeans returned to the peninsula over the years, in 2015 Ukraine officially recognized the deportation as a genocide against the Tartar population.
Crimean Deportation Remembrance Day is May 18th