anya (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
homelovefamily) wrote2018-08-23 09:37 am
homelovefamily) wrote2018-08-23 09:37 am
[life is a road and I wanna keep going]
Katyusha is at her door.
Anya is confused when she opens her door, heart skipping a beat at the sight of the furred beastly queen of a cat. Pushkin has been whimpering, scratching at the door and couldn’t be coaxed away from it. No treats or promised walks as soon as she’d finished hemming the skirt she’d recently purchased secondhand could dissuade him. Finally she had given in, opening the door to show her dog that there was nothing there. The cat sitting there on the doorstep as if she owns it quickly proves her wrong.
Scooping up the feline, she gives her a scratch. “Did you escape Dima again? He ought to get his screen fixed,” she murmurs to the cat. Looking down at Pushkin, she bends down to give him a little scratch as well. Then she steps inside to scoop up her purse and keys. “I’ll be right back. I just have to take Katyusha home.”
Hastily Anya sets off to do just that, moving as fast as she can without running and with a large amount of cat in her arm. When she gets to Dmitry’s building she finds that his name is no longer on the buzzer or the mailbox. Confused she negotiates her way inside and up the lift to his down. Readjusting the cat in her arms, she knocks on the door, wondering if he’s inside before trying the handle. It gives easily and when it opens, Anya feels her heart stop.
Dmitry’s gone. The emptiness in the apartment isn’t that of someone who has just stepped out, gone to work and will be back. No, this emptiness feels heavier. It’s a weight she knows too well. Throat tightening, she takes a few cautious steps into the apartment, just enough to confirm her suspicions. He really is gone. Katyusha mews and nuzzles under her chin.
The idea of lingering turns her stomach. The apartment feels like a tomb. Making her way outside and down to the street, she hails a cab, no worrying about the expense for once. As the car winds its way back across the city to her apartment, Anya calls Gleb leaving a message for him to please come over as soon as he can. Her voice sounds hollow and oddly cracked.
Without quite processing it, she pays the driver and makes her way back inside her apartment. Pushkin is waiting eagerly on an armchair, wagging his tail as she sets the cat down. Absently she makes food and water for both animals, settling down on her couch to wait. She doesn’t know what to do or how to feel. She just knows that she can’t be fully alone, that she has to tell Gleb. That she wants him here.
When the knock at the door finally comes, Anya has her knees tucked half under her, one bent so she can rest her chin on it as she flips through a book but can’t fully manage to read the words.
“Come in,” she calls knowing already who it is. Her heart needs to see his face. She needs reminding that Gleb is still here.
Anya is confused when she opens her door, heart skipping a beat at the sight of the furred beastly queen of a cat. Pushkin has been whimpering, scratching at the door and couldn’t be coaxed away from it. No treats or promised walks as soon as she’d finished hemming the skirt she’d recently purchased secondhand could dissuade him. Finally she had given in, opening the door to show her dog that there was nothing there. The cat sitting there on the doorstep as if she owns it quickly proves her wrong.
Scooping up the feline, she gives her a scratch. “Did you escape Dima again? He ought to get his screen fixed,” she murmurs to the cat. Looking down at Pushkin, she bends down to give him a little scratch as well. Then she steps inside to scoop up her purse and keys. “I’ll be right back. I just have to take Katyusha home.”
Hastily Anya sets off to do just that, moving as fast as she can without running and with a large amount of cat in her arm. When she gets to Dmitry’s building she finds that his name is no longer on the buzzer or the mailbox. Confused she negotiates her way inside and up the lift to his down. Readjusting the cat in her arms, she knocks on the door, wondering if he’s inside before trying the handle. It gives easily and when it opens, Anya feels her heart stop.
Dmitry’s gone. The emptiness in the apartment isn’t that of someone who has just stepped out, gone to work and will be back. No, this emptiness feels heavier. It’s a weight she knows too well. Throat tightening, she takes a few cautious steps into the apartment, just enough to confirm her suspicions. He really is gone. Katyusha mews and nuzzles under her chin.
The idea of lingering turns her stomach. The apartment feels like a tomb. Making her way outside and down to the street, she hails a cab, no worrying about the expense for once. As the car winds its way back across the city to her apartment, Anya calls Gleb leaving a message for him to please come over as soon as he can. Her voice sounds hollow and oddly cracked.
Without quite processing it, she pays the driver and makes her way back inside her apartment. Pushkin is waiting eagerly on an armchair, wagging his tail as she sets the cat down. Absently she makes food and water for both animals, settling down on her couch to wait. She doesn’t know what to do or how to feel. She just knows that she can’t be fully alone, that she has to tell Gleb. That she wants him here.
When the knock at the door finally comes, Anya has her knees tucked half under her, one bent so she can rest her chin on it as she flips through a book but can’t fully manage to read the words.
“Come in,” she calls knowing already who it is. Her heart needs to see his face. She needs reminding that Gleb is still here.
no subject
She doesn't know the way that she loved Dmitry, just knows that she did, just as she was frustrated by him. It wasn't the same way that she loves Gleb. So much confusion over something that should be easy, something that she hadn't given much notice to before. What she wouldn't give for one of her sisters to guide her.
As if sensing that something isn't quite right, Pushkin comes and brushes against her shins. The feel of his fur makes her crack a faint smile despite herself. "I shouldn't be burdening you like this," she admits, looking up at Gleb and reaching out to touch his cheek. "I'm not good at losing things, that's really it. I haven't had something to lose in a long time and this caught me by surprise. Thank you, for coming when I asked."
no subject
Anyway, Dmitry is gone. It wouldn't seem right for him to be able to come between them even in his absence.
"I will always come when you ask, Anya," he says with a wry little curve of his mouth. He's not always sure that that's a good thing, but he does know that he wouldn't change it even if he could, which he can't. "And I am sorry you had to lose someone you care about, even if I am not sorry he's gone."
no subject
She appreciates that Gleb is giving her condolences, that he's here beside her as she muddles through this complicated loss. She couldn't bear to lose him again, not when she's only just gotten him back.
Carefully, she leans up to softly kiss his mouth. "Thank you," she says quietly. "And I'll come if you call. Please know that."