Chapter Text
“Oh, Bachelor,” a voice sang as the door slammed open.
“Shh,” another voice hushed. “I think he’s actually asleep, for once.”
“That won’t do,” the first voice replied. He grabbed the bunk by the frame and shook it. “Good
morning, dear Bachelor!”
Daniil Dankovsky startled awake. “Andrey, cut it out,” he groaned as he rubbed a hand over his face, feeling grease and old sweat practically slough away. “What time is it?”
“Five in the afternoon,” he responded. “I can expect that of us lowly students of the arts, but from an esteemed Bachelor of medicine?”
“Five in the… shit,” he hissed, sitting up too fast. His head hit the too-low ceiling and he cursed again. “Dammit, these bunks –”
“When did you go to bed?” Peter asked, the top of his head popping up over the side of the bunk.
“Er,” Daniil said, checking his watch. “Er…”
“You started when I went to bed, and you were still working when I woke up,” Andrey announced, sauntering over to the window and opening the curtains. The light streamed in, and
Daniil had to shield his eyes. “Sometime around noon. Hard to tell, with the curtains drawn.”
Daniil sighed, rubbing his eyes until he saw spots.
“You know, Danko, as your friends, we’re worried about you,” Andrey said, picking up one of the many books on his desk and turning it over. “So we’re taking you out to meet someone.”
Daniil squinted at him. “Right. You want me to drive you somewhere.”
“Well, yeah, how else are we going to get there?” Andrey replied, completely carefree.
“He’s a curious man,” Peter supplied. “I think he’s almost fascinating.”
Daniil rubbed the spot on his head he was sure would welt up. “I don’t need you playing matchmaker. Either of you.”
“Who even mentioned anything about matchmaking?” Andrey asked, joining his brother in peeking up over the bunk. “We just have an interesting friend we want you to meet.”
“Really? Where does he live?”
“Just a little outside the campus bubble,” Andrey replied. “He’s a grad student, too. Training to be a surgeon. Burakh, have you heard of him?”
“Never,” Daniil replied. “Go away. I just finished a massive report and need some rest.”
Peter’s long, pale fingers hooked over the top of his mattress. “I can buy you dinner.”
Daniil stared at the ceiling for a moment. He thought about how he would feel watching the little styrofoam cup spinning, yet again, in the microwave.
He groaned as he rolled over to the ladder.
“The dead, they rise!” Andrey cheered, clapping his roommate on the back. “Welcome back to the land of the living, old friend!”
“Shut up,” Daniil grumbled as he pulled on his boots. “I pick where we eat.”
Two months ago, Daniil’s father had lost a lot of money on an investment that he absolutely refused to go into detail about.
“There are a thousand smaller schools that would pay your tuition, with the grades you make,” his father had told him. “You have your bachelor’s. As far as I’m concerned, that’s good enough. You’re lucky I’m still paying for you to go to college at all.”
“Father,” Daniil protested, “The connections I have here are invaluable. You’ve talked to my teachers. You know what they think of me. I can’t leave now.”
“Well, you have to,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Or you can find a way to pay your own tuition. Your choice.”
His ‘choice’ had landed him in a small college, hours away from the capital. It had been the only one to read his stirring essay on his desire to defeat death and see the potential of such a fiery-eyed recruit. That, or they realized they could net a profit by making him live in the dorms. It really was a toss-up.
“Turn here,” Andrey said, pointing to a bedraggled parking lot.
Daniil blinked, pulled from his thoughts, and squinted at the dilapidated building they were pulling up to. “Where are we, Stamatin?”
“Which one?” Peter asked.
“Either,” Daniil sighed.
“River valley housing complex,” Andrey answered.
“This place looks awful,” Daniil noted, pulling into an empty spot. “Someone’s going to slash my tires. I’m staying in the car.”
“Staying in the car?” Andrey asked, shocked. “We brought you out here to meet him!”
“No, I brought you out here,” Daniil corrected, searching for the lever that tipped his seat back. “Go talk to your friend. I’m taking a nap.”
“Daniil, come on,” Peter said, gently.
“Yeah, come on,” Andrey said, much less gently. As soon as he heard the click of Daniil finding the lever, he grabbed the headrest and pulled it down so Daniil was laying flat on his back, looking up at the other man. “Look, Bachelor, I’ll level with you. We want the room to ourselves Saturday.”
“Oh, shocking. You mean this wasn’t all for the noble goal of helping me lose the nickname?”
“With your attitude, I doubt you ever will,” Andrey returned. “He’s lonely, you’re lonely. Worth a shot, right?”
Daniil pulled the lever again, bringing his chair up halfway. “I’ll study in the library this weekend. Go.”
Andrey grumbled as he shuffled out of his seat.
“If you want to join us, it’s apartment 231,” Peter said, pointing to a staircase tucked into the side of the building. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime,” Daniil grumbled, digging his fast food bag out of the back. His ‘choice’ had come with a caveat: the place had to have a dollar menu, and he had to order off of it. Oh, well. Ars imitatur vita.
He scowled at Andrey and Peter as they made their way up the stairs and into the apartment. He rifled through the bag to find his burger and sat back to eat with a long sigh. At the very least, he had dinner, he thought to himself as he let his tired eyes close for a moment.
He was brought back to reality by a heinous scraping noise. He immediately sat up, pressing his face to the window. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he shouted at the little boy who was running something sharp over the side of his car.
The child, who couldn’t have been more then ten, looked up at him with confusion. “Scratching your car? I thought it was obvious.”
“Wh – why? Stop it? Don’t?” he stammered, smacking the window like the kid was a fish at the aquarium he could scare away. “Go away! What are you even doing out here alone?”
“I’m holding you hostage,” the child replied. “The burger or your life!”
Daniil stared at the child, dumbfounded for a moment. When it passed, and rage replaced confusion, he furiously stepped out to tower over the boy. “How about you take me to your parents, young man?”
The boy stuck his tongue out. “Which set? I’ve had a few.”
“Whichever one can answer for this, ” he snarled, pointing at the line of missing paint. “Tell me, do you make a habit of destroying others' property?”
“I’ll destroy more than your property, my big-city friend,” the kid returned, undaunted. “I saw your plates. You’re from the capital, so you must have money. You’re lucky I only want a snack, dandy.”
Daniil squinted. He had the feeling that if this kid knew a stronger word then ‘dandy,’ he would have used it. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck. If I had any money, I’d still be in the capital.”
“Got enough for a burger.”
“Not even that,” Daniil replied. “A friend bought it for me. Now take me to your parents so they can pay for the repairs.”
“Don’t see why you can’t fix it yourself,” The boy replied. He wielded his weapon: a rusty pocket knife. Daniil examined it for a moment, somehow not too worried. The tip had broken off, and he was wearing a thick winter coat.
“You’re really testing my patience,” Daniil said through grit teeth. “I’m a lot bigger than you, boy. What’s your name? I’m sure the authorities will want to know.”
“This doesn’t have to come to blows, dandy,” the boy replied, eyes narrowing. “Hand over the
burger and I’ll be on my way.”
Daniil re-wrapped the foil and set the burger on the roof of the car. “Or what? The only thing that knife will do is give you tetanus. I hope you have your shots.”
The boy glared at him, crouching like a cat about to strike. “Big words for a little man.”
“Speak for yourself!”
“I’ve got growing to do,” the boy said.
Something in the child’s eyes flashed. Daniil saw his gaze flicker for a moment, and went to turn around and see just what the kid was looking at. Before he could, however, the child had the audacity to launch at him, screaming.
He wheeled back around, shoving the boy to the ground in a panic. The kid hit the ground and rolled back onto his feet like a thrown cat. He scurried around and jumped onto the hood of the car with a metal-bending thunk, scrambled up the windshield to grab his prize, and slid down the passenger side in one smooth motion.
Daniil raced around and found, to his shock, that there were two children now – and one of them was spiriting away with the bag that contained his fries.
“Next time,” the boy who had keyed his car shouted, “get one with a toy!”
“You little –” Daniil ran after them, but they quickly disappeared into the small forest belt the property backed up onto.
“As for my name,” the impish voice called from somewhere in the underbrush, “you can call me Notkin, chieftain of the Soul-and-a-Halves!”
Daniil fumed as the sound of half-melted snow crunching under little feet disappeared.
Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Outsmarted by a child. He really was exhausted.
He stormed back to his car and rifled through the compartments, trying to see what else the children got into. The change in his cup holder was gone. He should have figured as much. Strangely, his aux and charging cord were gone too. He had no idea what use children that young would have for some wires, and chalked it up to the universe wanting him dead. He stepped back out and ran a finger over the scratch. Holding his breath, he moved to the hood to find a small, but very noticeable, dent.
“Fucking townies,” he hissed, once again returning to the scratch. The sharp black paint job was now off set by a long, silver scar. Kids around here didn’t mess around.
Daniil groaned, burying his face in his hands. His ears burned with the cold, and he honestly couldn’t stand being around the car anymore. Who knows? Maybe the kids' parents were around the corner, waiting to take the rest of what he had. That Notkin boy must have picked it up from somewhere.
His stomach snarled. He grit his teeth and started up the stairwell. Might as well be warm while he stewed in his misery.
He found the right number and knocked. He heard the room go silent, then heavy footsteps approaching the door. The peephole went dark, and there was some muffled conversation from inside. He recognized “pale,” “coat,” and “grumpy.” His jaw clenched again. He’d heard worse.
After thirty solid seconds of locks snapping open, he was greeted by a very tall man.
And… for a second, that was just about as far as his thoughts went. Wow, he thought to himself, trying to not stare. That is a very tall man.
“Daniil?” The tall man asked.
“What?”
“... Daniil, you’re Daniil?” the man repeated.
“Oh. Oh, right, yes. Daniil Dankovsky, bachelor of medicine. You are?”
“Uh,” the man replied, “Artemy. Artemy Burakh. I have a degree in… anatomy, basically? But I took… Do you know what a corollary is? It’s like a minor, but not. Sometimes it’s called a certificate. But I, uh. I have one in religious studies. So… yeah.” Artemy shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry, are the titles relevant? Are you... with the school or something?”
“What? No,” Daniil said, suddenly aware of the Stamatins staring at him from the couch. “It’s just. You know, on the first day, you go around the table and you introduce yourself with a fun fact?”
“Oh. Sure.”
“That’s mine. That I’m...” He pulled his eyes away from the broad chest he was eye-level with. “You know. That I’m a bachelor. ... Of medicine.”
They stared at each other for a minute.
“Do you… want to come in?” Artemy finally asked.
“What? Oh, right. Yes. It’s…” he awkwardly ducked into the room, then stood there for a moment in complete silence. Maybe it was his empty stomach. Maybe it was his lack of sleep. Maybe it was the fact that this man was 6’4” and built like a brick wall. One thing was sure – any semblance of sense Daniil had had before driving over had gone scurrying out of his ear the moment the door opened.
“You can sit down,” Artemy said, gesturing to a chair. “Do you want some water? You look tired.”
“Yes, actually, I am very tired,” Daniil responded, taking a rigid seat in the recliner. “You live around here, right?”
Artemy looked up from pouring his glass of water. “... I mean. Yeah.”
“This is his apartment,” Peter gently reminded him.
Daniil opened his mouth to respond, had nothing to say, and ended with his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. A child keyed by car and stole my burger. I’m a little...” he gestured vaguely. “Frazzled might be the word.”
Artemy hummed. “Soul-and-a-Halves?”
“You know them?” Daniil asked, sitting up straight.
Artemy nodded, handing him his glass. “The burger’s gone, I’m afraid. But if they take anything else from you, I can get it back.”
“Yes, please,” he sighed, relieved. “They took some chords from my car.”
Artemy clicked his tongue and made a sour face. “Ohh… rough. Those are gone too.”
“What? Why does a ten-year-old need my charging cable?”
“For his phone, probably,” Andrey snarked from the couch. “It’s not medieval times anymore, Danko. Kids have phones.”
“Actually, no,” Artemy replied, settling into his own chair. “They use them as leashes.”
“Kinky,” Andrey remarked around the lip of his bottle.
Artemy shot him a glare. “Classy, Stamatin. Watch your tongue. They’re children.”
Daniil couldn’t believe his eyes – Andrey sank back into the couch like he was trying to hide.
Artemy turned back to Daniil. “It’s a game they play. Half the kids are dogs, half the kids are kids.”
“So, what, they just… lead each other around by the neck?” Daniil asked, only getting more confused.
“Well,” Artemy continued, “Not quite. They say dogs, they mean wolves. The game is to have the most leashes. I’ve had to break up a few fights.”
“This part of town, huh?” Andrey laughed. “Even the kids are in gangs.”
“It’s just kid stuff,” Artemy shrugged. “Me and my friends used to disappear into the steppe for days. Builds character.”
“Right. The kind of character that leads to innocents being held at knifepoint,” Daniil scoffed. “How do you know all of this?”
“I just asked,” he said with a shrug. “Kids are always proud of what they’re doing. Notkin’s not bad, I’ll tell him not to bother you anymore.”
“Can you tell him to put the paint back on my car?” Daniil asked, more than a little annoyed that his young assailant would essentially be getting off the hook. “Or maybe I can talk to his parents. I’m sure they’d love to hear about it.”
“Oh, good luck,” Artemy replied. “I’ve known the kid for two years and couldn’t even tell you what part of town he lives in.”
Daniil groaned.
“Hey, at least it won’t happen again. Look on the bright side,” Artemy soothed, leaning over to give him a pat on the back. “I have granola bars, if you’re hungry.”
Daniil’s stomach snarled. He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting up what was left of his will to live.
“Yes, please,” he said after a long moment. “I would appreciate that.”
“Always good to catch up, Burakh,” Andrey said with a wolfish smile. He thumbed through his wallet and produced a small wad of dirty bills. “But I think we should be going. Our ride is fading out fast.”
Daniil blinked, blearily. He hadn’t noticed, but he’d spent the last ten minutes completely zoned out, barely half-awake. “Sorry, I –”
“You’re good, Danko,” Andrey replied, crossing to ruffle his hair. “Just keep your eyes open while we’re on the road.”
“Come around again sometime,” Artemy said, helping him to his feet. “I don’t get up to much. Maybe we can study together?”
“Oh, uhm,” Daniil managed, blinking the sleep away. “Yes. Yeah. Actually, I would like that. I don’t know how much overlap there is, but… sure.”
“Great!” Artemy clapped him on the back. Daniil caught himself before he fell over, but the other man’s hand still jumped to his chest to steady him. “Woah, easy. Sorry.”
What the hell are you apologizing for? Daniil thought as the warmth of the other man’s hand spread through his chest. He was so caught up in it that he barely noticed Andrey dropping the bundle of bills on the coffee table, or Peter picking up a bag he hadn’t walked in with.
“Are you good to drive?” Artemy asked, still holding him steady. “I can take these guys home. You can take a nap on the couch, I don’t have anyone coming over tonight.”
Oh, wow, Daniil thought, blearily. Showing some basic concern for my well-being. Keep talking dirty to me, Burakh.
“...Daniil?” he asked, worry creeping into his expression.
Daniil realized he’d been staring. Shit. “Oh, no, no, I appreciate it. But I’m fine,” he lied, laying a gentle hand on the one on his chest. “I’ll manage.”
Artemy nodded, and his hands dropped away. “Nice to meet you, Oynon.”
“Oynon?”
“It’s, uh –”
“Can we go?” Andrey interrupted.
Oh, right. The brothers were still standing there, waiting. Daniil grit his teeth and took yet another blow to his pride as he dug out his keys. “Right, sorry. I’ll stop by sometime.”
“Right,” Artemy replied.
“Right,” Daniil echoed.
“Okay, I’m leaving,” Andrey said from the doorway.
When they made it back home, Daniil sat and morosely watched the little styrofoam cup spin in the microwave. Behind him, Peter uncorked a bottle and thrust it towards the bachelor. “Drink?”
Daniil regarded the bottle with a skeptical eye. “Twyrine? On a Thursday night?”
“‘No’ would suffice,” Andrey snapped from his bed, nursing his own bottle.
Daniil turned back to the microwave. The smell of Twyrine filled his nose now. He pursed his lips as his brain connected the scent with somewhere, though he couldn’t place quite where. Somewhere nice, at least. It was a good memory. A recent memory. A very recent memory.
“Oh, my God,” Daniil groaned, turning from the microwave to the elder Stamatin. “That was your twyrine dealer. You tried to set me up with your plug. Who do you think I am?”
Andrey took a long sip of his twyrine and said nothing.
He rubbed over his face. “I can’t believe you’ve done this. Well, no, that’s not quite right. I can completely, one-hundred percent believe that you’ve done this,” he grumbled, retrieving his noodles. “I just can’t believe that I fell for it. Tell me, do you get a free bottle for every warm body you bring him?”
“Cynical, cynical man, Danko,’ Andrey laughed. “You were singing a different tune when he was holding you back there. You practically swooned.”
Daniil stammered for a comeback, found none, and felt his ears burn with just about every emotion that makes blood rush to the face. “I’m eating in the common area,” he grumbled, slamming the door behind him.
The dorm was silent for a moment.
“Do you think he was mad?” Peter asked, breaking the silence.
“When’s he not?” Andrey returned with a shrug.
Outside, Daniil held his noodles to his chest as he ate. The heat from the cup was a hollow shadow of the warmth that had emanated from that hand.
“God damnit,” he hissed under his breath. “I like him.”
And with that, Daniil made up his mind. He’d never see the man again.