Ruslan and Kolya/Lidantsovs

The train cut through the winter darkness, inexorably bringing their separation closer. Kolya kept his eyes down, hiding the trembling in his hands, but Ruslan saw right through his pain. When the silence became unbearable, Kolya was the first to squeeze Ruslan's hand, intertwining their fingers—cold against warmth.

Familiar St. Petersburg stations flashed past the glass, and time seemed to speed up. Without letting go of his grip, Ruslan quietly said:
— Soon Peter. I'll miss you this year.