Dissolving

"Would you kill me?"

I stopped dead at the door. My hand on the handle, the metal cool and solid beneath my fingers. I took a deep breath, but I didn't turn around. I felt somewhat embarrassed. I've known Kostya since he was—well, let's just say for a long time, and over the years, we've talked about almost everything – not including my work for the Watch, obviously. But there was something uncanny about someone finding out your every thought just by looking into your eyes like that. It had nothing to do with Kostya's Other powers, either. His talent, if you could call it that, came from the bond that existed between us. And that made it even more creepy.

Kostya had followed me from the kitchen. He was probably standing in the doorway, about three metres away from me, but it was like I could hear the rhythmic beat of his pulse right next to me. Of course, that was only a trick my mind played on me. My mind, and the alcohol still in my system.

"Would you kill me, Anton?" he repeated. I could feel his merciless gaze burning holes in my back, penetrating my every cell, almost to the point of nailing me against the door. "What if I join the Day Watch, and one day it comes down to either you or me. Dark or Light. You know this fragile equilibrium won't last forever. One day, it'll all blow to hell. There won't be two winning teams, Anton. One side will lose. What will happen to them?"

My inner eye saw the blue moss of the Twilight feasting on the bodies of a lost battlefield. The dead disappearing into the unknown depths of the Twilight forever. "I don't know," I lied.

"Would you do it?" There was a note of desperation in Kostya's voice now. "Stick a knife in my gut, twist it around? I'm a vampire, Anton. You're supposed to hate me. Do you hate me, Anton?"

And since when do I do what I'm supposed to? I thought to myself. I'm supposed to be with my girlfriend right now, and instead I'm alone with my vampire neighbour. I'm supposed to be all righteous and clear-headed, but instead I drink myself into a stupor every chance I get. Who am I? What does that make me?

A no-good loser who can't even tell right from wrong anymore. I've known it for a long time: that I gave up on myself a long time ago. Some part of me seems to think I'm just not worth it.

"No," I said, putting my hands up against the door, leaning my head against it. "Kostya, I don't hate you."

"Light Ones always do."

"Well," I said, sounding more bitter than I ever had before, "if you hadn't noticed, lately I'm not exactly the poster-boy for the Light. Probably never have been."

"When you went after Andrei," Kostya continued mercilessly, "I know you almost turned. Became one of us. I was at home, lying in my room, alone… for the first time in my life, I was praying. For your corruption."

I felt dazed. Was I just imagining things again, or had Kostya moved closer? My back turned, my eyes closed, I couldn't know for sure… and I wasn't even sure which option I preferred.

"Do you understand?" Kostya continued, his voice no more than a whisper now. "My father told me there was no use hoping. But I did. I think I still do."

I felt like I could only understand every other word that came out of Kostya's mouth. And my mind kept playing tricks on me: I thought I could feel the warmth of his breath down the back of my neck. But he'd have to be just an inch away for that – and I hadn't even heard him move…

"But you turned your back on Darkness." I thought I could hear sadness in his voice. "You turned your back on me."

Suddenly everything became clear. It had been right there in front of me since I stepped inside the door—maybe even before that. Oh, fuck. What had I walked into? Maybe I should've seen this coming… all the times he'd come over… I tried to grasp it, but my mind wouldn't let me. Like it had spurted a protective shield, keeping me out.

Everything was spinning. My legs threatened to give away beneath me, like they couldn't support my weight for one more second. I wasn't sure what did it – the lack of sleep, the alcohol, or the dank atmosphere making it hard to breathe – but I completely lost myself. I couldn't think of anything to say. All sorts of questions mingled in my head. My instincts were telling me to make a run for it, but I couldn't move.

"I feel like I'm suffocating," I said. I don't know where the words came from, but instantly felt that it was the truth. The way I'd been feeling for so long. I had finally put it into words.

Arms slid around my waist, locked me in place. I didn't know how to react to it. I just felt this silly happiness, that I wasn't going crazy: Kostya was standing right behind me, holding me. I wasn't just imagining things.

This was where I was supposed to break free from his grip, turn around and excuse myself: I'm sorry, I don't know what you want from me, but I can't give it to you. An expression of compassion and guilt on my face: I'm sorry if I've led you on. That was certainly the only sane reaction to this sort of situation.

I turned around, slowly, and he didn't let me go. When I was facing him, looking into his eyes, I felt speechless yet again. I couldn't get the words out, the words I was supposed to speak. It was like I'd been pushed onto a stage in the middle of a Broadway production, and I didn't know what my lines were. There was definitely something wrong with me. Any normal person would've walked about a thousand years ago.

"What is this?" I heard myself asking.

"Do you care?" he answered, his eyes probing mine.

What a strange answer. But I knew exactly what he meant. When everything around you and inside you is chaos, when you start questioning yourself, your life, your choices and what you're doing with yourself… I believe some people would refer to this as a thirty-something crisis, but it's far worse. It's everything you've ever believed in, reduced to ashes. Your personality dissolving, trying to reinvent itself. And you find it hard to care, about anything. You get reckless. In a flash of clarity, I realised I'd been through all the stages. And I knew what came next.

"No," I said, and before I got a chance to say anything else, I felt Kostya's mouth being pressed against my own, hungrily, desperately.