the sky was bright and clear and cold over eastern montréal

[m1895]

Who: Vasiliy (m1895) and various others!
What: Non-event happenings around Milton and Lakeside as Vasiliy begins to pick up the pieces following a major, prolonged post-traumatic stress disorder breakdown and continues to mend his and Kostya's homestead.
When: Throughout December.
Where: Milton + Lakeside

Content Warnings: TBA as they come up!

Comments

for @sputnik; early december

[m1895]

[ It still doesn’t feel real: Kostya is his. Kostya has been his for a long time, longer than either of them knew. They’re in love.

Slowly, the dark shroud of the attack begins to lift; moments of relative normalcy begin to dot the landscape of their daily lives again, however brief. They begin to repair their homestead, their farm that they own in common, as a couple—Vasiliy never thought he’d be a farmer, but that’s what he is, isn’t he, now that they have poultry (in a manner of speaking) and have raised chicks to pullets and have a reindeer quickly hitting adolescence and training for her career as a beast of burden.

On one such occasion, on a clear crisp morning, they find a pond, separated from the frozen lake and the shadows of monsters below the ice, a much shorter walk from the small homestead at the edge of town, one that Vasiliy remembers passing in his treks toward the meadow where he catches ground-crouching ptarmigans, and has returned to doing recently, replacing the breeder birds that were killed.

It’s strange. They’ve been in love, and operating as an effective marital unit, for quite some time, if he’s to be honest with himself, but he still feels an odd giddiness as they walk through the snow while holding their ice skates by the tied-together laces in gloved hands. In many ways, it feels like a first date. A date with Kostya—he never thought he’d see the day.

But Konstantin loves him. Konstantin loves him.

Vasiliy lets out a huff when they reach the edge of the frozen pond, surrounded by the stark black-barred trunks of leafless birch trees and slimmer gray ones of the interconnected aspen saplings between them. As if set out just for ice skaters who need somewhere to sit while they do up their laces, a massive stone covered in pale green reindeer lichen juts from the snow a few steps away from the shallow edge of the pond, covered in the hulls of cracked-open acorns left behind by some creature. ]

I’ll go onto the ice first, [ Vasiliy says as he approaches it and sits down, pulling one wool-socked foot out of its boot. ] Then I can pull you on. It’s hardest when you’re at the edge.

[sputnik]

[ It's something he's probably known for a long time, not-so-deep down. Vasiliy's become many things for him, important things like caretaker and best friend, but also things like his person. The one Konstantin falls asleep beside every night and wakes up beside every morning, the one he finds himself coming to for— everything. For a year now, they've shared a home, a life. Joy and pain and many things inbetween.

Maybe he didn't quite realise the shape of that feeling until more recently. He's known he's felt attracted to the other man on a new and frightening and wonderful level for months now (and attempted to hide it....) but maybe he realised it was love when he listened to Vasya spill his darkest secrets, sobbing like a broken man. When he realised that nothing in the world could ever make him want to leave that man's side.

Then came the attack, and... everything that happened during it, and the heat of the moment allowed for those things to come to the surface, to be felt and said. On some level, Konstantin's still afraid. But he wouldn't retract any of it. For the first time in— his entire life, he knows what it is to truly love someone in this way. And to be loved in return.

It makes him silly, stupid, like some shy teenager as opposed to the seasoned commander he's supposed to be. He can't stop smiling. He's smiling now as they walk, heading out (it does feel like a first date, and his heart's skipping an odd beat or two), breathing puffs of fog out into the chilled air. Winter's setting in, everything's darker and heavier, but his heart feels the opposite of that.

He moves to sit at the stone and work his way into his skates, gloved fingers stiff and slow as he undoes his boot laces, looking over at Vasiliy, unable to stop one of those bright smiles from appearing again. ]

I'm glad to have your expert advice on all of this. I don't know how well I'll do. It's much easier to be graceful when there isn't any gravity to contend with.

[m1895]

[ Vasiliy can't help but to grin at that, wide, showing extensively doctored and cigarette-tinged teeth, almost silly. It's a side of himself he hasn't experienced for years, and to date has only really felt around Kostya. It's the effect the man has on him. ]

You say that. I wouldn't know what to do in space. Not the slightest idea. We can't all be space commanders like you. I just ice skate.

[ He finishes putting on his skates and waddles the few strides from the stone to the pond's frozen edge, legs spread wide until he's able to return to a more normal posture on the surface the blades of his skates were intended for. ]

Just go slowly when you stand up on them.

[ He extends a hand for Kostya to take once his own are done up, intending to pull him onto the pond—he's taller and heavier, even with the atrophy that's taken place over the past year compared to where he was when he first arrived, shaped by the Soviet Union's extensive physical regimen for cosmonauts, but Vasiliy trusts in his own lifetime's worth of balance on the ice. ]

[sputnik]

[ Konstantin laughs at that — a deep sound that starts as a rumble at the core of himself and bubbles out, bright and boisterous and free. ]

I wouldn't make light of such a thing, you know. It's probably strange that a Russian who's as old as I am doesn't know how to ice skate by now. [ His grin persists as he watches Vasiliy make his way over to the frozen water's edge. It's odd to think back about the fact that he never had time to learn such a thing, even as a child. So much of his life has been a whirlwind and it's only now, in this past year spent in this place, that he feels he might be learning activities and hobbies outside of any expectation or role or needed thing. It's strange to think how very little "human things" he's actually done in his forty years of life.

Konstantin takes a deep, steadying breath after his laces are done, and begins to stand. As Vasiliy instructs, he goes slowly, but he's still unprepared for the feeling it gives him, a lack of balance. His body gives an involuntary wobble, and he winces, embarrassed and amused in equal parts as he reaches for the other man's hand. All his vigorous years of space training and these skates have him feeling like a newborn fawn...! ]

Don't let me pull you down. If I start to topple over, just let me. [ He teases again, although... there's some real threat to all of this; he feels very uneasy on his feet right now, and Konstantin laughs again as he clumps out onto the ice alongside his companion, hand grasping his tightly. With another slight, jerking wobble, he quickly grasps ahold of Vasiliy's shoulder with his other hand, taking a moment to steady himself as he stands there awkward and tense on the ice, but the smile never once leaving his face, delighted. ]

[m1895]

[ Vasiliy beams, filled with a rare almost-giddiness as he watches Konstantin’s first wobbling steps onto the ice, the way the familiar, handsome body reflexively tenses to counterbalance. It’s amusing, and further, Kostya’s joy, his smile, his self-effacing jokes, they’re contagious—warm and genuine, different from the smiles and laughs he gives strangers by default. He’s privy to the man, not the cosmonaut—the real Hero of the Soviet Union, the man who earned that accolade, not a state portrait. It’s so endearingly human.

He imagines he probably looked like that when he first tried, and he certainly saw plenty of others assume the same pose as they staggered out onto the ice at Gorky Park, but he first stepped out in a pair of ice skates so long ago that he would have been too little to remember.

Briefly, very fleetingly, he thinks it would be a wonderful thing to be able to coax their own child out onto the ice like that, then brushes the thought to the side, still glowing. ]

See! You’re standing already! That’s good. Just take your time, stand up straight when you have your balance.

[sputnik]

[ When Vasiliy smiles like that, everything seems to glow — not a bright, aching blast of sunlight to the eyes but something soft and so warm, something comfortable, something safe.

Konstantin is no stranger to people looking at him with wide, starry-eyed smiles, even with love (but it's more adoration and maybe that's not quite the same thing). Oh he enjoys the glory, there's no denying that's a huge part of all of it, but this in comparison is... almost dazzling to him. He hasn't done anything spectacular, he's only stepped out onto the ice like a thing taking its first steps, and it's made Vasya smile like that.

His heart swells so fast that it almost hurts. He keeps his tight grasp on the other man's hand and shoulder as though they're preparing for some formal dance, and beams right back at him. Vasiliy's so handsome, and beautiful, and maybe it's strange to describe a man that way, but— he is, he always has been. Being up close to him is almost dangerous. Konstantin is at once very aware of how close they are, which is a strange awareness to have, considering they've shared a bed for nearly a year now. ]

You're a good instructor, Vasya. Encouraging. [ He grins wider, continually playful as much as he truly means the words, and lets himself stay there for a few long moments as his body finds some sense of balance. Slowly, he'll start to stand up straighter, though it's a little awkward, hips pushed backwards a bit and torso just slightly nudged forwards. To correct himself, he maneuvers his lower half forwards a bit, bumps flush to Vasiliy for a moment, having to tilt his head back so that it doesn't knock into his companion's. His body's difficult to control; he gives a sharp, fast exhale. ]

I think I can stand now. Standing is good. The next part is where I'm in danger. [ The moving. And his heart's pumping fast, weirdly nervous for reasons that have less to do with the actual task at and and more to do with the fact that his body's still so aware of the closeness of the other one right there. ]

[m1895]

[ Kostya almost stumbles--almost--but seems to catch himself in Vasiliy's presence, standing so close that he can feel the warmth radiating through his clothes. Were it anyone else, he'd consider Konstantin, at his height, to be looming over him, and would find it unpleasant--yet somehow, he's completely unbothered by it when it's him.

Vasiliy meets eyes with him for a moment that stretches on a little long, feeling slightly breathless. ]

You can just stand there for a few minutes. No need to hurry. You have to adjust, like going up into space and then coming back down into gravity. Or so I'd assume.

[sputnik]

[ Face to face, it's at once so much harder to hold the other man's gaze and yet impossible to break it, and Konstantin doesn't, keeps staring down at him. That silly, light-headed sensation keeps him feeling dumb and young and happy.

His eyes travel downwards when Vasiliy speaks again, and this is probably a mistake, because now he's staring at his mouth for a few seconds too long. Konstantin swallows, gaze moving back up, hands still curled tightly against the other. He's kissed him before, but not again since then. It's not that he's been unwilling to, not that he's gone out of his way to avoid it, but he's had time to process and absorb and feel a certain apprehension that's kept him from instigating it again. (He's objectively disgusting, and he knows that, and he doesn't know how to make that okay.) ]

It sounds like you know all about it. You don't even need any training, you could come with me next time, [ he teases again, still playful but a little more quietly now. His fingers loosen some tension against Vasiliy's shoulder and arm, and re-adjust themselves so that they're not in danger of a death grip, just— holding on as he lets himself stand, body getting used to the sensation. ]

[m1895]

[ Vasiliy doesn't miss the way Konstantin's eyes linger on his mouth for a moment before he ultimately decides against the kiss he seems to be considering, but—it's alright, moving slowly, much more slowly than he has in any other relationship. Even in the looming shadow of the Darkwalker and an inhospitable landscape, for the first time, Vasiliy finds himself feeling as though he has time, like the sudden removal of a claustrophobically low ceiling that's been a fixture since the day he was born into Petrograd's urban poor. ]

I wouldn't mind that. Seeing space. The night sky is so beautiful from the ground here it must be... incredible. [ He grins, a little self-effacing. ] All I can show you is how to skate.

[sputnik]

Oh, it's so beautiful, Vasya. [ Konstantin breathes softly, dark eyes shining. ] It's surreal. It's... empty of everything you know, so there's room for everything else to come in. You think of things you never would have, before. You see yourself. When you come back, you're different.

[ There's nothing like it, he thinks. Though parts of this place come close, sometimes. The stillness, the clear skies. ]

I'm glad there are still things an old man can learn. It's exciting — this is the first new thing I've done since I can remember. [ Beat, and then he chuckles. ] Apart from raising farm animals.