It was strange to hear the name from someone else than Khaligaz. It wasn't extremely unfamiliar. Just a little weird.

The sound changed as well. First smooth. Almost lovingly: "Erasyl." Then a little irritated: "Erasyl." Then worried: "Erasyl?" Again. "Hey, Erasyl. Are you okay?"

He didn't answer. Couldn't. Could only stare.

His long blonde hair falling around his skinny body like strands of gold, shimmering in the violets and reds and blues of the spotlights, dancing around his shoulders, his back. His skin so fair, so fair. Like satin, like silk, but so white, just like it had always been. White hands, slender and graceful. White arms, toned, thin and elegant. A white neck, craning like iris petals. A white face, lips parted in the rush of the song. And eyes green, pale, piercing, cold, unforgettable.

"Erasyl, hey…"

"I know him", he finally said. Yuri. He had found him. His Yuri.

"Doesn't surprise me", Oleg laughed. "The boy is a legend. It's a pity he doesn't act anymore, though."

Otabek shot him a glance. "Act?" Only now he realized that Dima clung to his arm with worried expression.

Oleg shrugged. "Yeah, I mean, he's probably not really into that stuff, you know."

Otabek frowned. His chest hurt. "What are you referring to?"

Oleg's grin became insecure. "The hardcore stuff. You know the cross-dressing and fetish videos. He did that because it was his job, I guess. He was payed for it, he didn't really enjoyed to be fucked in a school girl's outfit."

What?

"I mean, look at him, he's a real whore dressing up like this but-" He was cut short by Otabek's fist against his teeth.

"Erasyl!", Dima cried out, but he didn't care. He made a fast step forwards, landing a second punch that sent Oleg to the floor.

No one called Yuri a whore. No one. Not without paying the price.

"Erasyl!" Dima grabbed his right arm in an attempt to make Otabek stop beating the shit out of this cheeky bastard. "What the hell, what are you doing?!"

It all went really fast. He couldn't stop. His vision tinted in a bright red he shook off Dima like a pesky insect, grabbed Oleg's collar. "I'll kill you", he hissed, dragged the student up to stand on his feet. However he didn't have a chance to land another punch as someone grabbed him at the shoulder from behind, someone way stronger than Dima. Otabek spun around, his fist flying. It hit the chest of another guy, someone Otabek didn't know. He was tall, bulky with muscles, a baton and a walkie-talkie hanging from his belt: a bouncer. Another guy in a similar outfit stood right behind him.

"Hold your horses, dwarf", he said, unimpressed by Otabek's punch. "We are all friends here, right?"

"What the fuck, asshole?!", Oleg screamed behind him but Otabek couldn't turn around. The hand of the bouncer was too heavy on his shoulder. The red vanished, but the growling of the basses still vibrated in his chest alongside the wrath.

"I'd say you come with me outside", the guy said, shoving him forward.

Otabek didn't even try to struggle, he had no chance. Maybe he could fight one of the bouncers, but two at the same time was impossible as long as he was unarmed. If he had a knife he'd stand a chance, but like this it was the wisest to follow their orders for now, even if it meant losing sight of Yuri temporarily. He followed the first guy, trying to look over to the VIP area, but it was already out of sight.

Making their way through the crowded club over to what seemed to be the back entrance Otabek tried to get the anger under control. Whatever Oleg had been talking about he certainly knew Yuri, knew something. He had called him a legend (which to Otabek he certainly was, but in what appeared to be an entirely different context), he had mentioned videos of cross-dressing and fetish content. He had mentioned hardcore stuff and Yuri being payed for being fucked in a school girl's outfit. That could only mean that Yuri had somehow - Otabek didn't dare to imagine how - starred in one or more pornographic videos. The thought was absurd. But Oleg had recognized him without a doubt, Yuri whom he had called the son of the club owner. Yuri whom he had called Katyusha.

What the hell had happened while he had been in the coma?

The bouncer opened a door with an ID card and gestured outside. "You can come get your jacket or stuff once you calmed down, bro." He let Otabek step outside and gave him a brief but not reproachful nod. Then the door fell shut with a loud metallic clank.

Otabek stared at the dark gray paint that was peeling off the door. There was no sign or something that showed there was a club. Just the dirty, dark door, blending in with the dirty wall of a narrow backstreet, a dead end. To his left there was a dirty cluster of bulk rubbish piled up at the far end. To the right the backstreet connected to a main street, the headlights of the passing cars visible only for a split second from where he stood.

His breath caught. He had been here before.

(The puddles of molten snow shine way to bright, illuminating Yuri's flushed face as he takes one step closer.

The asphalt crumbles under their feet and Otabek just can't look away from Yuri's beautiful eyes. He's pretty, so incredibly pretty. His eyes are piercing. He holds Otabek's hand, from when he dragged him here and they are close, very close now. "I need to tell you something", he says, his voice low, an adorable blush on the tip of his nose. After a shaky inhale he continues: "I wanted to wait for the right moment. But there have been many by now and I only recognized them when they were over already and that sucks. So I'll just say it now and if it's not the right moment then screw it, because-" With an insecure shrug he presses Otabek's hand a little harder. "You are a wonderful friend. The most wonderful, at least from what I can tell. And I was really happy with our friendship, but… I don't think I can go on like that. I'm not sure if you noticed it too, but I feel like there is some tension between us that is not normal for friends." His eyes wander over Otabek's face, downwards along his throat and stop at his chest. "I thought it would stop at some point. I really hoped it would disappear, but instead over time it just worsened and now somehow it is too much for me. I can't bear that anymore, I can't be silent about that anymore." He looks up with his beautiful eyes. "The truth is,", Yuri says with a frown-)

"Erasyl!"

With a painful flinch Otabek found himself back in that street. That street.

Dima came running towards him, his pale hands clenching in the leather of Otabek's jacket. "Erasyl!", he repeated, before coming to a halt. His breath was heavy, his face flushed. Frowning he stared at Otabek, biting his lip.

"Thank you for bringing my jacket", Otabek said low-voiced, so that Dima held it out for him. Otabek took it with a nod, freezing. It was end of February after all, not the right weather to be outside in a shirt only. Wait, that was not entirely true. It was March already, the first of March.

The first of March.

"What happened in there?", Dima interrupted his thoughts, his hands idly fidgeting with the seam of his coat. He looked so lost in the glittering dark of the Moscow night. So innocent, so pure. So wrong.

"I am sorry", Otabek said. "It might be wise if we'd not interact anymore."

"Why?", Dima asked, his voice confused.

With a sigh Otabek narrowed his eyebrows. "I might not be what you see in me. I am actually a very… difficult person. I have secrets that can never be revealed. And those secrets make me dangerous for you." He looked Dima right in the eyes. "We should part our ways here."

"You can't be serious!", Dima called out. "When you are in trouble let me help you! Let's talk to Oleg, I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding!"

"It was not", Otabek corrected him.

"It was! Please, let's talk this through, Erasyl, we are friends, aren't we?"

"We are not."

"But…" The expression on Dima's face became desperate. "Please, just don't dump me like that!" He took a few fast steps forward and grabbed Otabek by the shoulders.

Otabek didn't move, in order not to accidently hurt Dima, not expecting what was to happen next. With a whimper the redhead pulled up on his toes and tried to press his lips onto Otabek's.

It took Otabek only one fast movement of his right arm to push the boy away from him. Either it was because he underestimated his strength or because Dima was drunk, but a second later the boy was on the floor with wide eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me?!", he said, his voice breaking. Tears fell from his eyes.

"I am sorry", Otabek said once more, tossing his jacket aside and crouching to help the boy up. "That wasn't my intention, are you hurt?"

"I love you."

For a moment they stared at each other. Dima crying, Otabek blankly.

"You don't", he said. His voice was a mere whisper. "You don't even know who I am."

A sob shook Dima's slender body. "Then let me find out. Show me who you are, so I have a reason to love you."

For some reason it made Otabek very angry. The word love. He gnashed his teeth in disgust. How could Dima say something like this, how could he think that whatever he felt was worthy of the term love. He couldn't love him. They didn't know each other. Maybe he had a crush. But that was something entirely different. This was far from what the word love described. That he said it like this only showed that he had no idea what love was. But Otabek knew. He knew and it drove him crazy, this dark, burning sensation in his chest that made his body hurt as well as his soul.

"You want to know who I am?", Otabek whispered, the black sloshing in his chest, pinching long claws through his insides and bones. His voice sounded so threatening it made Dima hunch his shoulders. "I am a shadow. I am a relic. I am a memory from a distant path, covered in blood and hate. I am scarred on the outside, but on the inside I am still bleeding and it will never stop. I am dead, Dima. I am dead and I am here to fight until the day I die for good. I am pain and hate and despair and you'd only harm yourself if you'd dare to remain close to me, no matter how much you think you feel for me. You don't know. You will never now. I live for him and only him and all I feel for you is pity and disgust."

Dima inhaled shakily. The tears staining his cheeks must feel cold and Otabek raised a hand to wipe away a streak from a reddened cheek with his thumb. He didn't even feel pity. Only pain. He'd always only felt pain.

"Fuck off", he whispered. "And never dare to come close to me again. It will only break you."

"You're insane", Dima shrieked and backed away, then struggled up on his feet and ran, leaving Otabek in the cold of the gloomy backstreet.

He let the words sink in. Maybe it was true. Maybe he was insane. But it wasn't very surprising, really. After all that had happened it might have been inevitable. Serious brain damage, three years of a coma and the realization that the love of his life had become a whore doing fetish videos for everyone to see only to end up in the lap of some night club owner didn't just leave no damage on one's mind and soul.

"I'm insane", he murmured, his eyes staring up in the sky that was nothing but black. He was. He was insane. But that was okay. Because he didn't think he would have come this far being not.

He stood and kept staring at the sky for what felt like hours. It was so cold that he heard his teeth clatter, but he endured it, his jacket in his hand. It was a punishment. That and the cold proved him that he could still feel something that wasn't pain. There was more, deep inside.

It was the first of March.

Biting his lip he put on his jacket. He'd have to wait a moment before heading back into the club again, so that Dima and his friends had a chance to leave. He didn't want to run into them on his way back to Yuri.

At the entrance of the club he spotted the bouncer again, among three other guys of similar built and in the black bomber jackets, giving him a brief nod once more.

"That little fag hit on you?" He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and took one, then held it in Otabek's direction when he approached. Otabek took one with a nod.

"He left already with his bleeding friend and two chicks in tow. Looked like he cried but still has a cute face, y'know", the guy went on, lighting his cigarette, then handing over the lighter to Otabek. "Wouldn't push him out of bed myself, but it's not like I'm picky. I guess they stand in line for a pretty boy like you. Wouldn't push you out of bed either." His chuckle sounded like boiling water, or bubbling potato soup.

Trying to play it cool Otabek shrugged. "Not my type", he said, not specifying if he referred to Dima or the bouncer. Why was that guy so friendly anyway?

"I like your right hook", the bouncer stated. "It hurt pretty damn well, you know. Good technique."

There was a moment of silence, before the guy asked: "You're one of us, I saw the tattoo, but haven't seen you around here before, you're new?"

Otabek took a drag. He didn't panic or anything and it surprised him a little. That guy had just revealed that he was one of Orlov's men, saying that Otabek was 'one of them', telling from the tattoo of the eagle-and-diamond-crest. If he belonged to Orlov that might be a way to get into the system. He just had to remain on friendly terms with this guy and play along. He had memorized his fake back story in every little detail. He just had to start reciting.

"I just came back to Moscow the other day", he said, nonchalantly, watching the cars passing by. "I didn't expect it to still be this cold, to be honest."

The guy chuckled his strange, low chuckle again. "Worse this year, that's true. Glad you're little ginger brought your jacket outside, right?" With another huff he held out his hand. "I'm Boris."

Otabek took his hand. "Erasyl."

They smoked in silence for a moment, Boris' colleagues just as taciturn as him and Otabek.

"Kinda quiet tonight", Boris remarked. "It's a party for the vor's little kitten, that's why. Only for invited guests as usual, so people don't queue up. They know those parties are exclusive."

Otabek nodded and flicked the stump of the cigarette on the asphalt of the street. "How long does it go?", he asked slowly.

Boris moved his head like he was pondering. "They'll close soon, music has already stopped. The artists usually don't want to wait for their nose candy too long, y'know." He grinned. "Wanna go inside again? Although your ginger's gone? They won't share their blows with you if you're not invited. Prolly take the artists to the flat and do it there anyway."

Otabek shrugged. He did want to. He needed to see Yuri. But maybe he could get some more information about him from Boris. "It's the blonde", he pretended to guess. "The vor's son."

It made Boris chuckle. "Oh, he's not his son actually. He just really likes to call him 'Daddy' when he fucks him." He let the stump of the cigarette fall next to his boot and tramped it out. "Or that's what you hear at least. Might as well be Orlov who came up with it, the kinky bastard. Not that I judge him, Katyusha's an exquisite little kitten. He's just into some really sick stuff, Orlov I mean. He can afford it, though. Prolly the only vor to ever be so openly gay, but no one'd dare questioning him 'bout it. So he keeps his kitten close by and makes him suck his dick whenever he likes. I heard him calling him 'baby' and 'my little girl', it's really fucked up." He laughed out loud. "Literally."

Otabek had a hard time not throwing up. What the hell had Yuri gotten himself into?

"So he's exclusive now?", he asked, referring to the videos he had learned about earlier.

"Guess so. I bet he's taking the main act home tonight though." He laughed, then took out another cigarette. Otabek accepted a second one, inhaling the smoke greedily. "Vor still likes to watch him take some dicks, y'know. Kinky bastard", he added.

The walkie-talkie crackled and Boris plucked it from the belt. "Yeah."

"Light's on", a voice said from the device and with a sigh Boris stomped on his cigarette. The headlights of an expensive German car made them both look over to the street. It had stopped a little farther down the street where the smaller back street ended.

"Time to get the folks out", Boris explained and nodded towards Otabek. "Can you do me a favor and open the car door for Orlov and Katyusha? So I can go inside already? They use the backdoor of the club. If you wait a little let's go open a cold one after shift. Won't take long."

Otabek managed to grin. "Are you hitting on me now?"

Boris laughed and at the same time gestured to his colleagues who made their way into the club without needing an explanation. "I'm married." Then he entered the building leaving Otabek behind as the first guests left the club.

The almost-silence was comforting. Only the low humming of the car was to be heard as Otabek made his way over to it. He nodded towards the driver who nodded back a greeting. He must have seen Otabek with the bouncers and think he was one of them.

He had just reached the black Q7's rear doors when he heard steps approaching, three persons, one in high heels clicking on the asphalt, low pitched laughter. With clenched teeth and a frown he turned around when the steps were just a few meters away.

In the front walked a tall man, his hair gray, his suit black. The top three buttons of his light gray shirt were unbuttoned and Otabek saw a heavy golden necklace and the thick outlines of an old tattoo on the pink skin, the letters 'брат' visible between the tips of an eagle's wings. Orlov. Behind him a skinny guy with tousled black hair and a short goatee and moustache. He was attractive, but looked older than Otabek remembered. Alexey Zavgorodniy. Clinging to his arm, chuckling and shining like gold: Yuri. His hair a disheveled mess, his cheeks and lips rosy, the thin fingers of his right hand holding onto the DJs arm, likely to support himself in his boots, the leather black, the high metal heels a mass of twisted golden flowers. His left held a tiny white clutch with a knuckle duster as a clasp, golden with a skull and two fangs. His coat was so Yuri it almost made Otabek laugh, leopard print with long black fur trimming decorating the collar and sleeves' seams. His legs looked incredibly long in the tight leather pants that hung so low they showed the hip bones sticking out like shark fins. He was skinny, skinnier than ever before and it worried Otabek the second he laid eyes on him, but at the same time he was stunned by Yuri's breathtaking beauty. His smile looked so real as he looked over to Zavgorodniy who smiled back at him.

"Sir", Otabek said as Orlov approached and opened the door.

"I'll sit in the front, I don't want to get in the way", Orlov said grinning with a smooth, low voice and passed by to head to the front passenger seat.

Zavgorodniy looked up first and got in the car without a word. Otabek couldn't care less. He looked at Yuri. Watched as the blonde looked up to him, this smile dying on his lips. It happened like in slow motion, his expression becoming one of confusion, but only for a second before he got the smile back on his lips, but only on his lips. His eyes remained widened just the slightest, piercing green, cold in shock. A hiss came from his lips as he pretended that nothing had changed, but he couldn't fool Otabek. Everything had changed, right here in this moment. No one would notice but them, only Yuri and Otabek. Not Orlov, not Zavgorodniy, not the driver. They didn't notice that by the time Yuri came to sit on the leather seat, smiling over to Zavgorodniy like nothing had happened, nothing was the same anymore.

Otabek watched as the white fingers clenched in Zavgorodniy's coat, watched as the skinny body shuffled over to the artist, blonde hair falling over his shoulder. The grip around the car's door handle tightened when Yuri turned his head to give him the shortest look. His eyes so green.

"Happy birthday", he said with a smile and slammed the door shut.

Check out my tumblr (captainoceanwhirl) for pics of Yuri's outfit ^^

I hope you liked it! 3