Five years, [ Vasiliy chokes out, the fabric on Kostya's shoulder wet and hot against his tightly closed eyes. He knows the number from memory. 1939, plus three years, plus a year here. ] I deserved it but they—they didn't do anything, Kostya! None of these people did anything! I was the only one who—
[ It's the longest set of words he manages to string together before breaking down into another series of quiet sobs, bringing his arms up to wrap around the other's broad back. He grasps so tightly his fingers hurt, short-trimmed nails sinking into the fabric and skin beneath them, as though he expects to be ripped away from Konstantin's hold at any moment—because he does, because this kind of comfort cannot last, not for someone like him. Momentary reprieves and feelings of comfort and security have never lasted for Vasiliy Ardankin or the people like him, not since the day he was born in a nondescript tenement in Petrograd.
He manages to break from the sobbing, maybe just because of bodily fatigue. Vasiliy takes a few wet, gasping breaths, struggling to ground himself before he tries to speak again. His heart still races. ]
I... killed innocent people, Kostya. I have... deserved everything that came to me except... except coming back. That's what I can't understand. There isn't a god because if there was He wouldn't have chosen me to bring back.
no subject
[ It's the longest set of words he manages to string together before breaking down into another series of quiet sobs, bringing his arms up to wrap around the other's broad back. He grasps so tightly his fingers hurt, short-trimmed nails sinking into the fabric and skin beneath them, as though he expects to be ripped away from Konstantin's hold at any moment—because he does, because this kind of comfort cannot last, not for someone like him. Momentary reprieves and feelings of comfort and security have never lasted for Vasiliy Ardankin or the people like him, not since the day he was born in a nondescript tenement in Petrograd.
He manages to break from the sobbing, maybe just because of bodily fatigue. Vasiliy takes a few wet, gasping breaths, struggling to ground himself before he tries to speak again. His heart still races. ]
I... killed innocent people, Kostya. I have... deserved everything that came to me except... except coming back. That's what I can't understand. There isn't a god because if there was He wouldn't have chosen me to bring back.