Visit
I don't know what drove me into the stairwell. I get like that sometimes: there's this temporary loss of conscious thought, and then I find myself someplace entirely different. Might be a souvenir from all the years I've spent the better part of in a constant alcohol-induced daze. I've always known it would come back to haunt me somehow… I suppose it could've been worse.
Scratching the back of my head, with my finger on the doorbell belonging to the apartment next to mine, I heard the faint ringing sound from behind the locked door, and wondered if it was possible to sleepwalk awake. My head was still a chaos of pounding blood: it felt like some unknown creature was rustling about in there, obstructing everything even resembling a coherent thought.
It took about a minute, during which I felt more than once the itching notion that I should probably go back into my own apartment and forget I was ever outside, before the lock clicked and a sleepy, unkempt figure wearing nothing but underwear and a shabby t-shirt appeared in the doorway. Kostya peered at me, pushing hair out of his eyes, looking both surprised and slightly annoyed at the same time.
"Anton?"
I met his gaze, subconsciously shoving my hands down the pockets of my jeans, and nodded at him. "Hi."
"What are you doing, calling at this hour?" Kostya said after a brief moment of silence. His voice was raspy, hoarse, much like my own. Of course we'd both been up late the night before – but for completely opposing reasons, one would imagine.
"Did I wake you up?"
"What do you think?" If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought he was angry with me for disturbing his beauty sleep, but he had a habit of paying me unannounced visits at untimely occasions himself. It took a moment, but then he sighed, swung the door ajar and turned around, making his way across the hallway. "Well, get in here, will you. You're letting in the light."