Yugantsovs

The train clacked rhythmically over the rail joints, cutting through the thick winter darkness. Outside the compartment window, a monotonous white desert stretched out, occasionally interrupted by the bare skeletons of trees. Inside, it was warm and smelled of strong tea, but the warmth brought no relief—it only emphasized the nearness of the end of their short journey together.

Kolya sat across from Ruslan, barely raising his eyes. Every minute, marked by the rhythmic clatter of the wheels, felt stolen from the future. Ruslan was leaving for St. Petersburg. Studies, a new life, a different city—it all sounded right, but for Kolya, these words meant only one thing: an empty apartment and endless video calls instead of a real presence.

The silence in the compartment became almost tangible, heavy as lead. Kolya felt, as a dull, aching pain grew inside him, somewhere under his ribs. He looked at Ruslan's hands lying on the table and understood that in a few hours these hands would be picking up suitcases on the platform of the Moscow station, and then they would disappear altogether.

The boy, his eyes tired and pained, glanced at Ruslan. He was having a hard time accepting the thought of temporarily parting with his loved one; his hands trembled occasionally. This gesture didn't go unnoticed; Ruslan glanced back at Kolya, his dark eyes seeming to see into Zheleznyak's state from the inside.

A winter snowstorm blew outside, and the scene behind him was constantly changing. Kolya, his head down, looked at the windows, the floor, anywhere but at Tushentsov. After a long silence and inaction, Kolya grabbed Ruslan's hand, squeezing it in his own. Their fingers intertwined, Tushentsov's warm hand contrasting with Kolya's cold one.

The train seemed to be moving even faster, eager to separate the two men prematurely. Ruslan held his hand tightly to the man sitting across from him for a long time, and the man himself was hesitant. Beyond the same transparent window, the stations of St. Petersburg began to flash by. Kolya was so reluctant to accept the fact that in a matter of minutes they would have to part ways. Ruslan quietly muttered:

"Coming soon, Peter. I'll miss you this year..."