The door flew open, Akihito burst in, looking strained.

"Your classmate hat some kind of fit", he told them, "he's snapped out of it, sort of, but…", he paused, taking in the scene - Pjotr on his knees in front of Mikhail, Takato in 'physician's mode', even Alexej uncharacteristically tense - "right now, he's still acting… kind of…young."

He took a breath.

"You, Tak", he shoved his friend, "stop doing that 'oh, you poor patient' thing, you've still got a lot to learn, you ass," Takato flushed, " and you", now where had he seen the burly, dark haired Russian before? "you, could you cut that 'oh, you're so cute, so sexy' crap…", Alexej narrowed his eyes, "goes for you too", at Pjotr, " 'you smell so good', huh?"

He exhaled, hassled.

"I know he invites it…but for god's sake…!"

Nervously, he threw a glance over his shoulder.

"He belongs in hospital, but…", to Mikhail, who was looking up with a lost, longing expression, "you know he can't go there."

Even to him Asami hadn't explained exactly why not. A pity he couldn't question the blonde Russian about his uncle right away…Mikhail too was rumoured to have Mafia connections, coming from one of those old, obscenely rich Russian families whose political clout pervaded all social spheres and outlived all regimes.

"Hello."

Fei was standing in the doorframe, much as they knew him, his hair bound back in a pony tail, his face open, if a little shy, his posture diffident.

"I'm very sorry to have caused you all such trouble…", he seemed unable to continue.

Akihito turned toward him. They looked strange next to each other, the Chinese taller, more athletic, more elegant even in his thrown together clothes, the trousers hanging a little low on his hips, revealing a peek of that tantalizing line formed by the rectus muscle, sloping inwards, down into the groin. On another person there might even have been a glimpse of pubic hair…

He was also looking kind of fragile beside the self assured, down to earth counter culture youth (how old was Akihito? Pjotr made a mental note to ask Takato).

"Have a seat." Akihito spoke in a firm, but friendly voice, indicating the mattress beside Alexej. Alexej made room willingly, giving his classmate a casual nod.

Hesitantly, but with his usual, inherent grace Fei lowered himself onto the mattress, taking care to leave space between himself and the hefty Russian. He was looking so insecure they all caught themselves wanting to pet him again, soothingly, but Alexej merely gave him a friendly shove, the way he was physical with everyone (Pjotr supposed it was a wrestling thing). Fei smiled at him, shyly.

Akihito also went down into a squat, addressing them at eye level.

"I want to tell you your classmate would like to invite you all to breakfast in the Café St. Petersburg…", Akihito announced, "to make amends for the inconvenience he feels he's caused you, and also because he wants to thank you for your support."

He sighed.

"Unfortunately, that's not such a good idea right now."

He had hated to pop Fei's bubble of happy relief.

"Too conspicuous…"

He didn't have to elaborate. So far nothing had followed…but with the emotional upheavals somewhat in check, the memory of their dramatic exit from the pub came back in full force. Someone was out for Liu Fei Long.

"What about you going for some rolls, Tak? In case anyone's watching us…you're often here anyway…and perhaps some cold cuts from the butcher's…or are you all vegetarians? I've got Tofu spread too…"

He turned to Fei, smiling at him reassuringly, as one would speak to the new kid in class. "But thank you so much, it's a really nice idea. Let's just postpone it, ok?"

Half an hour later they were all lounging around Akihito's low couch table, laden with breakfast things, drinking coffee and orange juice out of chipped mugs or recycled paper cups (there hadn't been enough glasses or mugs to go around), contributing to the clutter with crumbs and dirty cutlery, jokingly quarrelling over the chocolate/nut bread spread, jostling each other…

Fei was sitting curled up between Alexej and Akihito. He wasn't saying much, not like they usually knew him, talkative and witty, at times even imposing. He was looking happy, somewhat nervous, but part of things, included. Pjotr realized he had always seemed a little lonely, in spite of Yoh being constantly at his side.

"Would you pass me the cherry jam? My Gran made it. Don't know why she gave it to Aki, had a thing for him since we were kids", Takato was easily saying to Fei, "must be his little boy appeal. A shame I don't have it, and us both exactly the same age, a ripe 24..."

Fei laughed. "If you're nice to me", he returned flippantly, immediately reddening. It wasn't his usual kind of rather too sophisticated humour, and without being aware of it, he buried his nose in the jumper he was wearing…as if to reassure himself…the army red which had looked nice on Mikhail was looking stunning on him…he stole a furtive glance at Mikhail.

Mikhail was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his elbows on his knees, gripping a mug of long cold coffee in his hands. He seemed sunken into himself, rousing himself only when directly addressed, avoiding at all costs to look up in the direction of the mattress. He hadn't eaten a thing, and Pjotr noticed how Fei was becoming apprehensive again.

What an idiot his friend was…the poor Chinese was surely wondering if he didn't like him anymore, if he had disappointed him in some way…

He wanted to shake him, again. He tried engaging him in a conversation about Macau, a topic which had never failed to bring his friend out of himself, since he thought his family had been cheated out of their (questionable) rights to the casino…but for some reason this seemed to tense Misha up even more…of course…! he could have bitten his tongue off, how could he have been so blind, so stupid…how typical of him, to make such an horrendous blunder…

At the mention of the word "Macau" both Fei and Akihito had indeed turned around, the Japanese scanning Fei's face really startled. Hard to keep in mind sometimes, but not only was Fei leader of the most powerful Triad clan, controlling most of the South Chinese Sea from Hong Kong, but Mikhail too was scion of that extremely powerful old Arbatov family clan that also had a hand in the said former colony. Why in the world had that compulsively provocative idiot brought up Macau at a time like this? Had he done it on…purpose…?

Would Mikhail Arbatov and Liu Fei Long get into a fight now?

But Fei did not look business at all. They knew now they had sometimes witnessed him like that, when he had gotten phone calls with a certain signal, making him excuse himself, speaking in clipped Chinese tones, getting completely different features…

Mikhail had sensed Fei was looking at him, and reflexively looked up. Their eyes met. Mikhail instantly blushed deepest red. Fei blushed too, but he also questioningly searched Mikhail's face…and whatever he saw there seemed to completely fluster him…and make him look away again, breathless, looking almost scared…panting a little, he faced Mikhail again, with an expression that could only be called brave.

There was a lull, as the others tensed, fearing another breakdown.

But Fei was speaking to Mikhail, who was boring into him with blazing eyes, and this time it was he who was uttering a few Cantonese words first…and then some halting Russian.

And again, Pjotr couldn't understand the Cantonese…but he knew he would have to translate the Russian later, which had been,

"it has nothing to do with torture"

- to be continued -