Aftermath

I was still shaking when I opened my eyes slowly, my head dense and the entirety of me warm and contented in the aftermath of my release. Kostya was sitting in front of me, legs crossed. Once again, I found myself unable to discern his expression. I pulled my knees up against my chest, folding my arms around them. I felt very exposed, suddenly, and happy that the curtains at least made the hallway a bit darker. It's always safer, dwelling in the dark…

There was that feeling again, of not knowing what to say or do. What I was supposed to do in this situation. After all, I hadn't had any practice in this particular area… being unfaithful… with another man… someone that much younger than me… someone I'd actually watched growing up… I shuddered at the thought of twelve-year-old Kostya, who had referred to me as "uncle Anton". It was best to focus on the present. I had enough troubles as it was.

Feeling a desperate need to fill out the silence that had fallen between us, I coughed indistinctly. "So… I think I need to…" I finally got out, highly uncomfortable.

"Don't," Kostya said abruptly. "I know what you're going to say, just… don't. Stay. Call in sick or something."

I almost laughed at his naivety. "It doesn't work like that."

Before I knew it, he'd moved in closer, suddenly all over me again with hands and lips. There was nothing I could do. I was powerless against his frantic need. The personification of pathetic.

Try looking up "feeble" in a dictionary; the synonym is "Anton Gorodetsky".

"Stay," he repeated, mumbling against my neck, and I felt the blood in my veins starting to rage again. It was with extreme difficulty that I finally, after a few minutes of careless groping and kissing, managed to pull away from him.

"You know I can't. People will get suspicious if I don't turn up. And I don't fancy the thought of anyone chancing to read my mind tonight."

A grin spread across Kostya's face. "And why's that?"

I sighed. Probably best to 'fess up. Still… it both hurt my pride and completely punctured my ever-ongoing tries to downsize what had happened. "Because I won't be able to think about anything else than… this… for the entire night. Worst case scenario," I added hurriedly.

"You nervous?" he inquired charmingly.

"Of course I am," I muttered honestly. I felt a bit irritated at his indifference; that he seemed almost gleeful at my angst concerning the probability of someone finding out what we'd done. Well, sure… it wouldn't affect him like it would me.

"Well, I can help with that…" Kostya whispered, leaning in and kissing me again. I had no power nor will to refuse him anymore. I was completely and utterly powerless against him. And he knew to take advantage of it.

All sorts of prospects disturbed my already fragile peace of mind, keeping me occupied. Would Kostya maybe consider this just an extraordinary accomplishment – that he'd managed to seduce a Light magician, a Night Watch employee? Would he perhaps even brag about it? No, that was crazy. Who did he have to boast to? He didn't have a lot of friends that I knew of. And if his father found out… blood ties or no blood ties, he'd probably kill Kostya. Imagine the shame of your vampire son ending up with a Light Other… a male Light Other. Double the atrociousness!

But what was I thinking? There would be no ending up with anyone. This had been an unfortunate mistake, fuelled by my own uncertainties and hangover angst, and must never happen again. I had a girlfriend. Turning to Kostya for comfort, as pleasurable as it had been… I couldn't make a habit out of it. It would only end in tears and bloodshed. Literally.

I tore myself from him again, biting my lip and trying hard not to display any feelings when I looked into his eyes. "Kostya… I've got to go."

He looked disappointed. The look on his face alone made me want to declare I'd just been kidding and stay the night, but I summoned up the last scraps of strength I had left and shrugged. "I'm—I'm sorry. Really, I am. But if I don't show up… and they find out where I've been… well, someone could get the wrong idea."

"And the wrong idea…" Kostya paused, looking at me intently. "What would that be, exactly?"

"Don't play the fool; I know you're not stupid," I retorted dryly, my heart seemingly throbbing in my throat, intent on choking me. With great effort, I got to my feet and started pulling my clothes on, piece by piece – the shirt wouldn't close, of course, without any buttons left. Slightly embarrassed, I continued my little unrehearsed speech. "But okay, I'll lay it down for you. I don't even know where to start! Ever heard the expression "sleeping with the enemy", Kostya? It never ends well. I'm too old for you—"

"I don't care!" Kostya blurted out.

"—I'm also in a relationship, with a woman. And you, you're just confused about your sexuality, which is okay, it's normal for your age, but…"

My ridiculously self-righteous stride was abruptly broken by Kostya, who suddenly started to laugh. A hollow, but still somehow genuinely amused sort of laugh. And here I'd thought I was making my point in the simplest of ways, to ensure he'd understand that this, whatever it was, this thing between us could never be acted upon again. Instead, I'd ended up the punch line of some joke I didn't even comprehend. I suddenly felt like I was shrinking in front of the exceptionally self-assured Kostya, who had now got to his feet; leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

When his genial laughter had finally died out, he said, still smiling, "I'm sorry, but I just find this kind of funny. Is that really what you think? That I'm "confused about my sexuality"? That I'm just trying different things on, to see what fits?"

"Yes," I said, feeling my cheeks turn a fervent shade of red.

"So you're telling me… all these years… and you never noticed?"

"Noticed what?" I replied stubbornly, though I knew perfectly well what he'd meant.

"The way I feel about you, you idiot," he said bluntly.

Even if I could've seen his answer coming a mile away, it was just too much. I felt my anxiety multiply, burning holes in my stomach like acid. I'm such a bastard. I knew someone had done wrong in this situation – someone had to have done wrong – I just couldn't for the life of me figure out if I'd been the one to take advantage, or if it had been the other way around.

It was as though Kostya had read my mind – what an encore. "Anton. The things you said… I know you're hitched. I've seen her a few times… in the stairwell, coming to see you. She seems nice." He paused, and the awkwardness of the moment made me yearn for an explosion to break up the conversation. "It's like you said: I'm not stupid. But do you know what I think?"

I shook my head, silently dreading what he was about to say.

"I can give you things she can't." He looked at me, his visage defiant now. And I think you know it."

I winced. I hadn't counted on this. I'd thought that my mentioning Svetlana would put a damper on all further conversation – that he'd maybe throw me out, screaming. That would've been easier… at least for me. But he was obviously not interested in making things easy for me. "And what're those things, Kostya?" I replied, trying to sound as indifferent as I could.

For a moment he looked like he was about to answer me. His lips parted, but it was like he had a change of heart, and just smiled weakly at me. "That's for you to find out."

My heart leapt. I couldn't help but feel a bit lost in translation, but caught a quick glance at the clock on the wall, which told me I needed to hurry up; I was already in danger of running late, and Geser doesn't look too fondly upon tardiness when the person in question is unable to produce a plausible and valid explanation. This conversation could stretch well into midnight, and I also had a strong suspicion that somewhere along the line, it wouldn't be conversation we would be engaged in any longer, but another form of… intercourse.

Kostya's voice followed me out into the stairwell.

"Come around tomorrow?"

I didn't turn around to face him again. I know that it's regarded as basic politeness to look the person you're engaging in conversation with in the eye, but truth to be told, I feared that one more single look at Kostya would drive me to turn back, and I wouldn't reach headquarters until the next morning. Elbowing my own door open, I threw back my response to his invitation, still not looking at him. I didn't need to. Didn't need to see the triumphant look on his face: I could just close my eyes, and there he was, grinning, welcoming me back.

"Sure," I said curtly.

We both knew what it meant.

Closing the door behind me, moving on to raid the kitchen for a cup of decent coffee, I found myself thinking about the next day, the probability of seeing Kostya again. It wasn't like I was risking much by going back, really… nobody could possibly think twice about a burnt-out old Watchman heading over to see his neighbour on the weekend. Nothing I hadn't already risked would be put in danger. And besides, the damage already done, I might as well see where this took me.

Heaven, Hell, Purgatory…

It's all the same to me, anyway.