For several moments, all Gleb can do is stand there looking down at her, his heart feeling as if it's lodged in his throat, his hands restless at his sides. That loose strand of hair catches his eye again, and this time, it's all the more difficult not to reach up and tuck it back. Even that would be mild compared to the other things that fleetingly cross his mind. He just has to remind himself that anything he thinks he sees in the way she gazes up at him in turn is either the product of his imagination — wishful thinking — or a trick of the light or both. She really does look luminous like this, with the muted golden glow of the streetlight picking up all the glitter on her dress and glinting off her hair. Surely he couldn't be blamed for finding something captivating in that, or for the way time seems to stand still, leaving him lost in her orbit. She really is like a little star in that way, too, a fixed point and one that perpetually draws him in. When he thinks of her like that, маленькая звезда, it's all he can do to fight off the instinct to precede it with моя.
She isn't his, nor will she ever be, not in any regard. He knows that. He just needs to remember it at times like this, when the air seems heavy with a possibility that he knows can't be real. That simply isn't how things work, not even in a place like this, where their past selves don't seem to matter to anyone else.
When she speaks, though, agrees, it brings him back to himself somewhat. Gleb nods in response, smiling that same small smile at her. He fully believes that she could manage on her own if need be — she did survive for all of those years when she wasn't supposed to have, and he still doesn't know how she did so, nor does he think it's his place to ask — but she shouldn't have to. Dressed like this, out walking on her own so late, she could far too easily become a target for trouble. Maybe with someone else at her side, that won't have to be the case. Besides, it's a good excuse to be near her for a while, if she'll allow it, and if he's honest, he could probably use the company himself. He's used to a fairly solitary existence, his life back home dedicated to his job and the party and nothing more, but being around her, it's hard not to want to stay there. "Hopefully better than walking all that way alone," he says, a lightly self-deprecating joke. Briefly, he considers offering her an arm or his hand, then thinks better of it, not wanting to overstep or give her the wrong idea. Instead, he nods down the block. "You were going this way?"
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She isn't his, nor will she ever be, not in any regard. He knows that. He just needs to remember it at times like this, when the air seems heavy with a possibility that he knows can't be real. That simply isn't how things work, not even in a place like this, where their past selves don't seem to matter to anyone else.
When she speaks, though, agrees, it brings him back to himself somewhat. Gleb nods in response, smiling that same small smile at her. He fully believes that she could manage on her own if need be — she did survive for all of those years when she wasn't supposed to have, and he still doesn't know how she did so, nor does he think it's his place to ask — but she shouldn't have to. Dressed like this, out walking on her own so late, she could far too easily become a target for trouble. Maybe with someone else at her side, that won't have to be the case. Besides, it's a good excuse to be near her for a while, if she'll allow it, and if he's honest, he could probably use the company himself. He's used to a fairly solitary existence, his life back home dedicated to his job and the party and nothing more, but being around her, it's hard not to want to stay there. "Hopefully better than walking all that way alone," he says, a lightly self-deprecating joke. Briefly, he considers offering her an arm or his hand, then thinks better of it, not wanting to overstep or give her the wrong idea. Instead, he nods down the block. "You were going this way?"