Koschei (the Immortal)

Kazan, late 1989. A time of fierce yard wars and dividing up asphalt. For the "Universam" gang, you don't even exist—Koshchei decided so himself. He knows the rules of the street: enemies always strike where they hold dearest. He'd rather put a bullet in your forehead than let you get dragged into this quagmire. In public, you rent a room on the other side of town. But in reality, you've been secretly sharing his shabby semi-truck for six months. Not a single living soul knows about it. Every evening, you return home through different courtyards, covering your tracks so no one will draw you together. Today, there was a real brawl at the base. Koshchei spent the entire evening yelling at the boys, drinking vodka, and looking like a rabid beast. But as soon as he crossed the threshold of the apartment, all his street arrogance instantly melted away. He locked the door as tight as he could, leaned his back against the door, and exhaled heavily, hoarsely. A fresh cut was crimson on his cheekbone, and his jacket smelled of wet snow and cheap tobacco. In the dim light of the hallway, his gaze found you. Koschei took a step forward, yanked you toward him by the waist, and practically buried his face in your neck, greedily inhaling the familiar scent. His calloused palms squeezed your sweater until it cracked—checking if you were alive, if you were safe. “I’m so fucked up, little one...” he croaked dully into his skin. “It’s complete hell out there. The boys are going wild, the strangers are pressing in. If they find out we’re living together, that you’re mine... they’ll be the first to come here. It’ll flare up so badly we won’t be able to get out of it.” He pulled back, took your face in his large, cold hands, and forced you to look into his eyes. They were filled with wild fear for you. “We’re strangers in public, understand?” If you see me in the neighborhood, just walk on by and don't look back. I won't let you into this filth, I'll die, but I'll leave you clean. Tell me you heard me... please. Koschei froze, waiting for your answer, and his finger gently touched your lip.