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Dismantling a crime syndicate was both harder and easier than Grief ever expected. It probably helped that more than half of his crew was dead or retired. He pitied Notkin for having to pick up the slack. Despite everything someone still had to rein in the violence, and what a great job he had done at that.
He was done. Done. Completely. Done with everything.
Retirement. It was funny. Retiring at the ripe age of 28.
The door slammed open making him jump a little. If it was the little urchin Grief would skin him alive, he told him he wanted to be left alone for a bit.
"What are you doing?"
Oh. Andrey. Great. He had foolishly hoped he would have been able to avoid him altogether. He had hoped Andrey would still be licking his wounds at the Broken Heart, but no luck.
"Closing up shop. What does it look like?" It did sound more venomous than he had intended. He was just tired. So, so tired.
"You're really leaving? What the fuck?" Andrey looked angry. Furious even. Not that he had been anything else for a while now. The emotion contorted his face to an unnerving scowl. His eyes almost wild.
“The hell you want Andrey?”
"You are not just leaving." Nοt a question. A statement. Andrey did have that habit, saying things as if the mere fact that he had would will them to be true. "Why didn’t you tell me?"
He didn't have a real excuse for that. He felt too much for him to ever have this conversation lead anywhere. His feelings weren't even confusing. He knew what they were. He just didn't want to name them. That would mean acknowledging them, and he certainly knew they were one-sided. That had been made clear a while ago.
"I don’t owe you anything"
"Fuck you don’t. I thought..." Andrey trailed looking a bit dazed. He took a step closer to him eyeing him with the intensity that Grief had only ever seen in his eyes. He grabbed his hand, hard enough to bruise but Grief didn't care. Andrey touching him after he hadn't for almost a month felt heavenly.
"Let me go"
Andrey did in an instant.
"Where are you going?" He demanded.
"What part of I don’t owe you anything didn’t you get?"
Looking at Andrey more closely now he could see how truly wrecked the other man looked. The plague had done a number on all of them but Andrey looked as if he was about to drop dead at any moment. His hair was disheveled sticking on his forehead. It had gotten significantly longer since the last time they had seen each other. The eye bags under his eyes were ten times more pronounced and he looked like he hadn't eaten a proper meal in weeks, which was more than likely true.
Despite his state, he was still breathtaking. Or maybe even because of it. Grief had spent far too much time with Andrey not to admit to himself that the other man would always be gorgeous to him. He hadn't and he never could lose the spark in his eyes, the arch of his nose, the quip of his lips... The way he carried himself, his voice. His fucking voice that haunted his fantasies as if they were nightmares. And they might as well have been.
"I’m staying at Artemy's for a bit until I find a new place" he couldn't help but answer.
"Oh! Oh! I get it now." Remember the angry expression? It was definitely fury now. He looked like a painting. One of those evocative ones that Peter loved to draw. People in the throws of all kinds of intense emotions. Andrey kept one right above his bed. It was practically engraved in Grief's brain after having fallen asleep to it so many times.
He had admittedly gotten distracted again. Andrey was yelling now, perhaps he should pay attention.
"He abandons you for 5 years and now that he is back you abandon everything to run back to him" or maybe he shouldn't.
"I'm not doing this right now. I have better things to do" Better perhaps not. He still hadn't found anything better than interacting with the other man, even if it was in this way.
"It wasn’t Cub’s fault he left"
"Does he fuck that well?"
So that was it? Andrey was jealous at the thought that someone else had touched what was his. He didn't really care about Grief leaving. The bastard.
"Oh fuck you, Stamatin"
He could see that the change of name hurt. Good. Andrey stopped his raving and looked at him as if he had punched him.
"You never seem to want to do that anymore"
Bastard.
"If you haven’t noticed there was a plague going on"
Lies. Grief would easily accept death of any kind to spend time with Andrey, but the only thing that hurt more than being separated was being together. Seeing Andrey’s complete lack of any feelings but perhaps those of a flimsy friendship towards him was devastating. A fate worse than death.
"It’s been a week since… I heard nothing from you. Not a word. I had to learn you were leaving from fucking Notkin"
The stupid kid couldn't keep his mouth shut for once in his life. Maybe Grief could have slipped out without having to confront Andrey. That would have been better.
Who was he kidding? The kid was doing him a favour. If he hadn't said goodbye it would torture him. Running away was the coward's way and for the first time, he didn't feel like being one. He would leave gracefully with his head held high.
"Don’t you have a child to grieve? Why do you give a rat’s ass about what I do? You should be with your brother or he might get lost in the bottom of his bottles" Okay, maybe not gracefully.
In seconds, like a shark smelling blood, Andrey grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to one of the walls.
"Get my brother out of your mouth!"
"Are you going to hit me? Or are you too much of a coward even for that, Stamatin?" He was tempting fate. At least the other hitting him would mean he felt something for him. Even if it was hatred. He could live with that.
But Andrey didn't move. Just breathed heavily.
Oh, fuck it.
Grief punched him.
Andrey stumbled back. His nose began to bleed. He had gotten him good, Grief was almost proud. The other touched his nose studying the blood on his hands, confused.
The confusion didn’t last long. He advanced towards Grief. This was how he was going to die then.
But the hit never came. Instead, Andrey grabbed him again and kissed him. He could taste the metallic notes from the blood mixing into the kiss. Fuck he had missed this.
"No." That made Andrey halt. Grief got away from his grasp. "This isn’t enough for me anymore. I can’t do this dance with you. I need something serious" He walked to the door. "Goodbye, Andrey"
So this was it.
"I love you."
Goddammit.
"No, you don’t" Why did he have to do this to him? Did he always have to have the last word? This was cruel even for Andrey.
"It was serious for me. Stay. Please"
Andrey began to cry. Actual tears running down his cheek. He dropped to the floor. In the five years they had known each other the one thing Grief learned was that Andrey never cried. Not once. Not even from pain.
Fuck.
He walked back and hugged him. It killed him to see him like that. Shit. The other leaned into him hard shoving his head in the crook of his neck.
"Don’t leave me." He said between sobs "Please, I'll do anything"
They lay like that on the floor for a while, Andrey’s pleading getting more and more incomprehensible until it stopped altogether.
"Do you really love me?" Grief asked hating himself for hoping once more
"What do you think?" They both smiled a bit at that. They were silly, weren't they?
"Fuck. I love you too"
"Shit!" Andrey laughed. The sound falling almost like a prayer to Grief’s ears. Holy and sacred.
He leaned in for a kiss. Blood and tears were mixing with it. They had really put their blood, sweat, and tears in this relationship, huh?
God it was disgusting. But neither of them would have it any other way.