Chapter 6: Erasyl
He had the breakdown in his room. The door fell shut behind him and he sank onto his knees on the old carpet, sobbing noisily. The plastic bag rustled in his lap when he bent forward. It felt like someone grabbed his collarbone and pulled it down towards his hips, everything in between a scorching, burning, bleeding mess of flesh and hopelessness.
It was his fault. Everything was still an incoherent string of memories flashing before his eyes, blurring into a painful chaos. But one thing stood out before everything else: it was entirely his fault. He had tried to protect Yuri. He had tried his best. But it had not been enough. Too weak, he had been too weak. Too weak to save Yuri, too weak to save himself. Just a worthless piece of simplicity and foolishness. Not even able to protect the one person who meant the world to him. He had lost him, right there, not after Yuri had disappeared almost a year later. He had failed him in this dark street, in a place where he couldn't imagine what brought them there. He had left Yuri behind, beaten up, bleeding on the ground. He had left Yuri behind, letting him be the witness of his greatest failure.
"Yuri", he sobbed, pressing his palms against his eyes painfully. "I am sorry."
Otabek had thought a lot about his feelings in the past. The first emotion he had ever noticed to be unusual for him was admiration, all the way back when he had laid eyes on Yuri for the very first time. He had never before admired someone. Sure, he looked up to people, his father, his coach, some of the skaters at his rink, but it had never been such an overwhelming feeling of both awe and respect. Yuri had made him feel that way when they had been children and from that one moment on, that moment that had changed Otabek's life, he had stirred up the calm and silent surface of his soul.
The second emotion Otabek had noticed was one he had ignored for a very long time until it jumped on him like a grown up monster with bare teeth and claws: a desperate longing. He had kept the memory of the pretty blonde boy he had seen years ago deep inside, had it locked away like a treasure, but it had grown into something so much more drastic that he had pushed it away until he couldn't hold it back anymore. He looked up Yuri and fell into a deep tiger-striped hole full of pictures and videos, routines, interviews, salchows and scowls. He noticed that he had a crush on the still pretty but not very fairy-like blonde boy who had grown into a teenager by that time. There was nothing he could do about that, so he silently accepted these feelings.
From that point on everything happened really fast: affection in Barcelona, friendship and trust, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips a lot more often than ever before. Then, like a sprout raising it's small green head out of dark soil, love. He had accepted that as well, the fact that it was more than a teenage-crush, something strong, something urgent. He wanted to be with Yuri, more and more. They had spent time together after Barcelona, a week here and there and the better he got to know Yuri and the better Yuri got to know him the more he wanted this wonderful boy to smile for him, until the wonderful boy had become an even more wonderful young man.
Sometimes loving was painful. When Otabek was back home in Almaty and Yuri was so far away in St. Petersburg, ending their long skype calls with a "Good night, Otabek" in his low, deep voice when the sky over the Kazakh mountains had turned from black to a soft blue already but the stars still glittering in the distance. Then, when it was suddenly silent in his small apartment, only the crows outside making the first noises of the breaking day, then he felt really, really lonely. Laying down on his bed he stared at the ceiling and wished nothing more than having Yuri beside him.
The longing had never stopped. But something added to it.
He felt guilty now. He had been too greedy. He should have appreciated Yuri more. Appreciate his mere existence, the possibility to write him a silly text and receive an answer right away because Yuri had set a special notification sound for Otabek (The sun rises already. You would like the view., he writes and a minute later the reply comes: i make you show me one day! now let me sleep as long as it's still dark here ;D night Otabek, i miss u. Otabek stares at the display and the love he feels is so overwhelming that he could cry any moment now if he wasn't so composed). He had taken all that for granted. Now he'd give all he had just to know if Yuri was still alive, still out there, somewhere, if he only knew that he was well. Maybe it had been better if he had died back then. Being alive was so painful and those were the latest feelings Yuri had given him: Pain, despair, sadness, guilt.
The note on Yuri's bed came to his mind as he knelt there on the floor in the deep shadows of the room, crying, and the drawing of the bear on the small sheet of paper that sat in the box now. "I miss you too", he whispered, again and again. "I miss you too", until there were no tears left to cry in the end.
His legs went numb and his eyes burnt. The tears had dried a long time ago when Otabek eventually got up. His body moved although he didn't feel like moving at all. He'd be fine sitting on the worn out carpet forever until he turned to dust and disappear in the wind. At least the pain would go away then. But instead the rational part of him took action, reminding him of the least he needed to do to stay alive. Breathe, eat, breathe more. His heart beat heavily in his chest. His lashes drifted shut and open again automatically. His eyebrows narrowed in his regular frown. He chewed, swallowed, didn't taste anything but didn't stop until the styrofoam box was empty, casting a deep shadow in the light of the desk lamp he unconsciously had switched on. The box found its way into the trash bin alongside the wooden chopsticks, the plastic bag and the napkins. When he was finished eating he didn't even remember having eaten at all.
He sat there in silence for some moments, then opened the little notebook he had bought with the intention to write down what he had thought of in the past few hours. He found himself staring at the blue characters instead. Dima's homepage. He flipped the page and wrote down the only clue he had found today.
татуировка - tattoo
The word sat on the page like an accusation. "Is that all you have?", it seemed to ask him, the letter o a questioningly rounded mouth. "After all you have nothing but the vague memory of a guy with a tattoo that is similar to one some random stranger passing by a chinese restaurant had? Are you even sure it is the same tattoo? How likely is that? And even if it is, what does it mean? What are you going to so with that? What does it help you? You have no idea what to do now. All you can do is cry and feel guilty, but that will not help you. So what are you going to do now?"
"I don't know", he answered and stared at the word, but it didn't say anything else.
"I'm going crazy", Otabek realized, whispering into the small pool of light the flickering desk lamp provided.
His eyes wandered to the left side of the book. The alcohol marker showed through the paper only the slightest. With a sigh Otabek opened the first page again and looked at the URL, but it remained as silent as the other word.
After some more minutes of quiet staring and no better idea he took his phone from his pocket and typed in the URL. The window took a moment, then showed a website in pale blues and greens. "Dima draws" it said. Than a short introduction saying that Dima was a 20 year old art student from Nishni Novgorod who had come to Moscow for his studies. There were several drawings, digital and physical, his contact information such as email address and links to several other pages as well as a small window that showed that Dima was streaming right now. A click redirected Otabek to a streaming site. When he tossed the smartphone sidewards he could see the display of Dimas desktop and a sidebar that showed comments from the audience. The number in the right top corner indicated that he was one of 93 viewers.
"...but actually I like dogs more", Dima's voice was to be heard mid-sentence, "I'm really not a cat person. I used to draw our dog a lot when I was a child, so I'm kind of good at drawing dogs by now." He laughed and it sounded a little embarrassed. The picture showed a table with a steaming cup of coffee and a folded newspaper. The half-eaten croissant as well as the plate it was on was still uncolored. At the moment Dima was coloring the fur of the tabby cat sitting at the edge of the table looking down on the floor. The picture looked like it was almost finished. "On the other hand", Dima continued, "I'm always glad if I have the opportunity to practise things I'm still bad at, so when the request for this artwork came in I was intimidated and glad at the same time." He laughed lowly. Otabek remembered his smile from earlier that day. "What breed was it?", Dima read a comment out loud that obviously referred to the dog. "It was a beagle. That was really convenient, because if you gave him a treat he would sit still waiting for more, so I could draw him easily." He chuckled again. "They say that beagles are very passionate for food but ours was especially fond of any kind of treat. He'd wait for hours if he knew you had something in your pocket."
There was silence for a few seconds, then Dima said: "Actually drawing fur is still giving me a hard time sometimes. Like, natural fur is okay, but for example artificial fur… That's really hard to do. Today, when I went to buy the new copics I mentioned last time on stream… They had a lot more shades of blue than I expected, so I bought some additional ones. I'll try them tomorrow, do you remember the project I mentioned some time ago I have to do for environment design class? I really am excited for it now that I have so many awesome hues, so I can really go for the underwater scene I was talking about last time. I'll post some pictures of the work in progress on my page, so you guys can check it out. Anyway, when I was in the shop there was this super bad ass looking guy coming in, like, for real, he looked like an actor or something, he was, like, so attractive!" Otabek grimaced. "But in a really cool, dark, bad ass way. Anyway, he had a box with a pencil design on it, and it looked so out of place in a way, because it was a really, really cute teddy." He chuckled again. "But the thing is, the fur, like, the plush fur looked really good. If any of you have ever drawn on cardboard you know what I mean when I say that it's really a pain in the ass drawing on cardboard. You really have to pay attention to not pierce the first layer with the lead. That happens to me aaaall the time, it really drives me crazy when that happens. And the drawing that guy had was really cool, but I couldn't see it clearly, but I really wanted to see it, so I bumped into him and dropped my copics, like, totally on purpose." He laughed and Otabek sighed. Dima clearly hadn't expected him to watch his stream, as he added "I hope he doesn't watch now!" with another chuckle.
"Anyway, he did turn around and I could see the drawing more clearly. It was really cute and well-done, but as we talked a little it turned out that he didn't do it himself but a friend of his. It was kind of relieving though, like, he looked like a model, all with black hair and a white shirt and the rest all black, more like a secret agent or a spy or something, but really cool and the bear was so outstanding, you know, so out-of-place-cute. If he was so good-looking, did you… No, NicoRobin27, I didn't ask for his phone number, I actually even forgot to ask for his name. That's, like, so me!"
Dima laughed again, finished the cat and zoomed in to the croissant, giving it a warm, light yellow color that made it look fresh and soft. "I love croissants", he chattered on, "because we had them every morning when we went to France for the summer vacation. My sister ate the ones that are filled with chocolate, but I prefer the ones with only butter. There is a very good French pâtisserie near the campus, but I rarely go there, because I don't want to ruin that feeling I get when I have croissants, although they are really good there. But the taste is something that reminds me so much of my childhood I don't want it to become too normal. You know what I mean?"
Otabek's back hurt and he went over to the bed, to lay down for a second and relax while watching Dima finishing the picture.
"So I only buy them after friday's classes, so I can have them for breakfast on saturdays. I usually skype with my parents back home of with my sister who lives in Bangkok now. It's still a family breakfast in a way, you see. Actually, when I have breakfast here in Moscow my sister is preparing lunch already-"
о
When Otabek woke up the next morning his phone had died overnight and he was still in his clothes. The sun was rising in the east, coloring the sky a light lilac, the thin streaks of cloud glowing orange.
He got up and undressed, showered, then dressed again, in a button down shirt, suit pants and jacket, all black. His phone was fully charged by now, so he went to grab some coffee and sitting down in the run down café rented a motorcycle on the internet. It was available from 9 o'clock, so he decided to walk to the shop instead of taking a taxi to kill the time.
The moment he had opened his eyes it had been so clear to him, he had immediately known what he needed to do. If he wanted to find out what that tattoo was about he had to find someone who was familiar with the art. He had bookmarked the addresses of all tattoo studios he had dug up using his browser's search engine. In order to get there he had come to the conclusion that it would be most comfortable to have a bike available.
The ride he had rented was a black Ducati Monster S4Rs. The low sound of the engine almost made him smile as well as the ringing of the clutch when out of gear. He was provided with a helmet and gloves as well, his leather jacket secure enough as long as he stayed in the streets of the city and not accelerating over the limit. He had a hard time keeping the purpose of the measure in mind as it felt really good to be on two wheels again. He forced himself to focus though. He had not rented the bike for fun, but because he had business to do. Still, the light tickle at the back of his chest didn't fade away for some time while he slipped through between the cars in the busy streets of the Russian metropolis. Once in a while someone would scrutinize him on the motorbike when he was waiting at a red light, and the looks often followed his motion when the light turned green and he set off with a deep growl of the engine.
His enthusiasm had eventually died down in the afternoon though when he left another tattoo parlour.
"Never heard of something like that", the guy had said and his colleague shrugged. "I'm more for portraits anyway, animals are not my style."
Otabek had heard many, many answer like that today, but there had been some suspicious ones as well, the staff exchanging glances before answering "We can't help you with that, please leave" or something along those lines. Otabek had a feeling that those people had known exactly what design he had referred to meant but he had no idea why no one would tell him about it.
With a sigh he got on the bike again and kicked in the gap to head over to a shop more towards the end of his list, trying not to lose hope.
Coming to a halt a few minutes later the first thing he noticed was the cage in the shop's window. As he got off the Ducati and headed towards the door he spotted a few small, fluffy rabbits in the cage, sleeping in the dim light of the afternoon.
A bell rang when he entered and the brunette woman behind the counter looked up. "Hey, hello, come in!", she said cheerily and gave him a smile. She seemed to be in her mid twenties, tall and slender with a sidecut above her left ear. "How can I help you?"
Otabek closed the door carefully so the rabbits wouldn't wake up.
It made the woman laugh. "Oh, don't worry, they are used to the sound of the door by now, they don't wake up that easily."
Otabek nodded and gave the small animals, a caramel colored one, a black one and a white one with black ears, a last look, then he turned to the counter again.
"I require information", he said and she still smiled, but it died down when he explained: "I need to know anything about a tattoo I saw on someone, but no one I asked so far was able or willing to provide me with the information I hoped to find."
She frowned. "Are you from the police or something?"
Otabek shook his head. "I am not. Still I would appreciate if you could help me out. I've been driving around in all Moscow today but couldn't find out anything."
"What tattoo is it? Do you have a picture of it?"
"Unfortunately not", Otabek said with a sigh. "I can describe it though, it is a very simple but unique design. It shows a stylized eagle from the front, holding or sitting on a diamond or any other jewel in such a cut. Above the eagle's head is the word brotherhood - братство - in bold cyrillic letters."
In the middle of the description the woman's eyes widened. When he finished she got up from the chair she had sat on and looked at him coldly. "I have never seen such a tattoo", she said. It was so obvious that it was a lie and Otabek frowned.
"Please", he said. "I need to know what it means." His voice was low and strained. It felt horrible to see that she clearly knew what he was asking for but that he'd likely not get the information that was so valuable to him. Again. "Please", he begged finally. "I need to know." His hands clenched into fists.
Something in the woman's eyes changed and she tilted her head. "You really don't know what it means", she realized and he nodded, gritting his teeth.
She came out from behind the counter and walked towards the door. Otabek half expected that she'd throw him out bare handed, but instead she locked the door and turned the sign attached to the pane so that it said "Closed". Then she let down the shutters of both windows and the door so that no one could look into the shop, then turned to face him.
"If you try something funny I'll cut your throat open", she said and gestured towards the seats surrounding a small coffee table that was littered with tattoo magazines and folders holding flashes and designs as well as an ashtray in the shape of a human skull. Otabek sat down, a little intimidated by the harshness of the threat, but at the same time he was glad that after hours of let-downs someone would finally talk to him.
The woman sat down on the opposite side of the low table and looked at him like measuring him up for a moment, then guessed: "You are not from here."
"I'm from Almaty, Kazakhstan", he replied and she nodded.
"Listen", she said in a low voice: "What you are doing is way more dangerous than you might imagine. Running around cluelessly asking for stuff like that. I don't know what you have to do with them, but you draw way too much attention." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one she offered Otabek the pack, but he declined. "Consider yourself lucky that I was here today. I wouldn't let a babe like you walk into a fucking bear trap." She inhaled the smoke and exhaled it through her nose after a moment. "That tattoo you are talking about… It's the crest of the Orlov bratva, a powerful clan that rules the entire Moscow underground. And if I say powerful I mean you really don't want to fuck with those guys unless you have nothing to lose but your miserable life." She gave him a stern look, then asked: "What interest do you have in them?"
Otabek swallowed the knot in his throat, then explained: "Three and a half years ago me and my friend were attacked by a gang here in Moscow. My friend remained unharmed but I fell into a coma for almost three years. I lost my memory of what happened. Only yesterday I saw someone with that tattoo again and recalled that one of the attackers from back then had it on his hand as well. I didn't know it was some kind of organisation. I only wanted to know what happened in that night. I only want to know who attacked us and ruined everything. That's all."
The woman looked at him with narrowed slim eyebrows. She was pretty with her long wavy hair that fell over her right shoulder. She had a tiny golden ring decorating the wing of her nose and a tattoo of a lily on the left side of her throat. Her eyes were a light blue under long black lashes. She wore a band shirt with cut off sleeves and skinny blue jeans that went well with her bright red high heels. "Why didn't you ask your friend who was with you?"
"He disappeared while I was in the coma."
With a pondering hum she shed the ash from the tip of the cigarette into the skull. "And you are not planning on taking bloody revenge or something crazy?"
Otabek shrugged. "I don't know yet", he replied veraciously, making her grimace.
"You really shouldn't", she said, shaking her head. "I can't emphasize it enough, those people are no fun to deal with. Their 'authority', that means their head, is very likely the most powerful man in all Moscow. This world is not an action movie not a novel, there's no chance you'll get away with your life if you plan on something stupid. Do me favor and keep that in mind. What's your name?"
"Otabek Altin", he said. For some reason she rolled her eyes.
"You're way too naive, dumbass", she judged him with another frown. "Don't tell anyone your real name, now I know all I needed to know to find your family and kill everyone you hold dear, and you don't even know my name yet. So, again, what's your name?"
Otabek looked over to the cage with the rabbits. The black one had woken up and moved over to the bowl, chewing on a lettuce leaf.
"Erasyl", he said slowly. His eyes wandered back to the woman who nodded contently.
"Nice to meet you, Erasyl", she said, smiling again. "I'm Nadja. You can call me Nad if you like. Now let me tell you a little more about the Orlov bratva."
So, all the people who suspected this fanfiction to be a Mafia AU were right ^^ I'll wait till next week before I add the tag tho so noone gets spoiled.
Also Nad is just one more person to say out lout that Otabek is fucking attractive ;D
I hope you liked it 3