[SERGEI]
Goodbyes were not foreign to Sergei.
He’d said them a few times over the years, and they’d been a part of his life, the kind that he’d made peace with one too many times.
And even now as he drove around the city, he knew he’d have to make a visit to one last spot.
One more time before he went and changed.
He wasn’t sure if it was this time, really, because what he was going to fight for wasn’t what he always fought for.
Power came easy for Sergei. He broke people and managed them with their fear of him. Their fear of what he’d become.
But he knew there were some who thought the fear was an illusion created by Sergei.
That Sergei was all talk despite everything they witnessed. And Sergei didn’t correct them.
He wouldn’t have.
But then they’d threatened the peace he’d promised he’d protect. The happiness he’d promised he’d always lean toward.
The chrysanthemum flowers in his hands were the reminder of what had happened.
Who he was back then.
What he had become after it all.
Three decades.
And yet even then the hurt was still the same.
"Mr. Moskowsky," the cemetery guard greeted.
He’d worked here in all the years since Sergei had first come here.
Even when some of the graves the guard protected were of those Sergei had murdered.
He knew this man.
The devil of Frolo.
The boyfriend the city knew.
But more than anything, he knew the man who came to the cemetery every three days like clockwork back then.
The man who slowly transitioned from a three-day interval to a week, to two weeks, to a month, and now to every three months.
The guard who had seen Sergei break the very first time a grave had been dug, the kind that tore through Sergei’s heart.
And today, even as Sergei smiled softly at him, he knew where Sergei was going.
The same place.
The one place the devil of Frolo had cried more than he’d smiled.
But at least today the devil wasn’t crying, right?
It wasn’t hard to find who he’d always come for, really. Sergei had cleaned up the headstone occasionally.
It was the cleanest grave in here. Almost as if cleaning it up that well would make the pain slow down.
But loss didn’t just disappear.
And grief didn’t just fade because there was someone else.
"Moya dusha," Sergei breathed, as he looked at the headstone.
Vitya Moskowsky Gamov.
The one man who’d dared him to be happy.
Who’d dared him to live.
And Sergei... he’d kept his promise to Vitya.
He’d lived.
He’d loved.
He’d chosen peace a few times too many, more than he’d ever done before.
But now...
That peace was endangered.
And Sergei needed to let Vitya know.
To inform him, in case Vitya heard stories about what Sergei had become.
And even if they were horror stories, Sergei would snitch on himself before fate did.
"How have you been?" he said, sitting beside the grave.
Normally, he’d always lie on the grass, crying, mourning everything that he couldn’t hold.
But today was different.
Not because he was stronger now.
But because he’d learned to be what Vitya wanted.
Happiness.
Oh, the irony of it all.
"Yaro and I are doing fine. Not as fine as we would have been if you were still here, moya dusha. We’re managing, maybe...
"So far we haven’t crashed and burned yet, so it sounds like that’s a good start, right?" Sergei said, putting the chrysanthemum flowers on the headstone.
"The last time I came... I... I’d killed a lot of people... I know that doesn’t sound like progress, especially with what I’m about to tell you.
"...but I promise it was a necessity," Sergei said, leaning against the headstone, holding onto it like he was striving to be better.
He was.
Gods, he really was.
"I... I have to become the devil again, moya dusha... Just one more time. Not for our dear boy... But... But to protect what I found... Him... The boy with pretty eyes who drags me out of the darkness each time.
"You’d like him too, I think... I... I came because I might not come back for a long while. This war... It might take really long. And I don’t want to come to you when I haven’t won yet.
"I can’t be a failure to you, moya dusha. So please don’t be too angry if you don’t see me for a while. I’ll fight so hard to win. And then I’ll come back.
"I’ll always come back to you. Don’t miss me too long; I won’t be too long, I promise," Sergei said, drawing lazily along Vitya’s name on the headstone.
Beloved husband, it said.
Light in the darkness, it read.
Father, husband, light, it read.
Gone too soon... Sergei had written by his own hand.
"I still love you, I promise," Sergei said, a smile on his face.
"Which is also why I’ll have to protect the love I found, the one you told me to lean into. I have to go now, moya dusha. See you in a few months," Sergei added, staring at the quiet headstone.
Then he took that moment to look around the cemetery.
So many headstones, but very few polished headstones.
He wondered if Vitya’s headstone would be that unattended. But even so, he always told the guard to clean it up.
"Until next time, moya dusha," Sergei said, kissing the headstone.
Then he got up reluctantly, hoping to the gods his Vitya wouldn’t be mad at him.
But he also knew Vitya would’ve encouraged him to end the war and choose peace.
Which was why a part of him was still confident.
Because no matter what happened, he’d slowly become the man Vitya wanted him to be.
Alive.
Happy.
In love.
Normal.
"You came out soon, Mr. Moskowsky," the guard said as he looked at Sergei’s face.
"I made him another promise... And I have to keep it so I can come back soon too," Sergei said earnestly.
And the guard...
He understood.
Of course he understood.
He’d carried a mourning Sergei from the gravesite one too many times over the years.
He’d cleaned this man up so many times whenever he came to the cemetery hurt and ruined, yet too stubborn to take care of himself.
Back when Sergei thought physical pain was the only way to reconnect with Vitya.
This guard had been there for him.
When Sergei couldn’t go home to Rastenkin and Anya and Yaroslav like that, because he didn’t want them to worry about his grief again.
"I’ll take care of your beloved, Mr. Moskowsky. Take as much time as you need. You deserve happiness too, and if you have to cross lines to get it...
"I don’t think your beloved would judge you for that," the guard reassured.
And Sergei smiled softly at the reassurance he hadn’t even realized he needed.
Maybe that was why he pulled the man into a hug, one that lingered a little longer.
When he pulled back, he just smiled again.
"Thank you for always seeing through me," Sergei added in quiet.
"Go on, son. The lilies will dry if you stay here longer," the guard insisted, and Sergei looked toward his car, where he’d left the lilies he was taking to Katya.
He’d made a needed detour, but now...
Now he had to go back.
To reality.
To the reason he was choosing to attack instead of defend this time.
His Katya.
His lyubim.
His Solnyshka.
"See you in a few months," Sergei said, and the guard waved in acknowledgement.
Then the alpha drove off.