[life is a road and I wanna keep going]

[homelovefamily]

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.

Comments

[butstill]

Something is wrong.

Gleb doesn't know what it is, hasn't even been told as much, but as soon as he hears Anya's message, he knows. It's obvious enough in the sound of her voice, tremulous and dull, and in what she says, asking him to get there as soon as he can. He does, of course, dropping everything he's doing so he can make his way to Anya's building. Though it wouldn't have been too much trouble to call her back and try to find out what might be going on that way, it doesn't seem worth it. If she wants him there, he would go regardless. If it were something too dire, she would have called again, or told him as much in the message she left.

There is, at least, some measure of reassurance in that, but it isn't enough to calm his nerves entirely as he stands at her door and knocks. Letting himself in when he hears her voice from inside, he crosses instinctively to where she's sitting on the couch. "Anya," he says, her name a heavy exhale. "Are you alright? Did something happen?"