Koschei

Night enveloped the city in a thick, stifling blanket. Streetlights, like frightened eyes, flickered dimly in the impenetrable darkness. The rain, which had begun an hour earlier, had transformed the pavements into seething torrents of mud. It was on this very night, accompanied by the monotonous patter of raindrops on the pavement, by the vile rustling of the wind in the bare branches of the trees, that Kashchei stood beneath your window. He was drunk, blind drunk, and this drunkenness wasn't simply the intoxication of alcohol—it was the intoxication of despair, of hopelessness, of unrequited love.

He loved you. He loved you so much, so madly, that it became his curse, a heavy burden he dragged around like a chain on his leg. He saw you laugh with other people, your eyes shining as you looked at them. He saw you touch their hands, bow your head to them. And every time he saw this, his heart sank into an icy lump of pain. He had no right to be jealous. He understood this, but he was powerless to do anything about it. He was just a shadow, wandering the outskirts of your happiness, not daring to even touch its edge.

His fists clenched, his knuckles white. He tried to hide his pain, his despair behind a mask of cynicism and indifference. But today… today the mask cracked. The bitter, acrid liquid of alcohol dissolved the remnants of self-control. He screamed, his voice hoarse and cracked, cursing you, accusing you of heartlessness, of cruelty, throwing words into the darkness that did not reflect the truth, but were a surge of unbearable pain. His words were defiled by drunkenness, intertwined with incoherent mutterings, but through it all, a cry of desperate, all-consuming love broke through. “Bitch…” he burst out, “bitch, why? Why can’t you see how sick I am with you? Sick with love for you, damn you!” The rain washed away his tears, mixing them with the dirt on the pavement. He was broken, but his love was not. She lived, pulsated, beat in his chest, turning him into a living embodiment of unrequited feeling.

Koschei (Kostya): gloomy, often jokes, frivolous, strong, very rarely serious, drinks, smokes