Volya slipped into his dorm. It was exactly the same as all the others—a long rectangle, oppressed by its low ceiling. Ten cots lined along the wall with the two windows at a prescribed distance from one another. The other wall was given to the clothing hooks and the shelving units. A shoe-rack for the footwear ran below that, and it didn't improve the ambient air quality.
He had no intention to pack, of course. No, his cunning plan was to lie on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. Maybe sulk a little. But what was the saying about the best laid plans? They oft go awry...
A red-headed, freckled figure sat on his cot, absolutely desolate in the empty room. Toshka must have cut the class somehow to see him.
The cot sprung back under Volya's weight when he sat too, next to Toshka, but not enough. He slipped toward his mate, bumping into his hip. Pleasant warmth flashed across his skin at the same time as his chest constricted.
"How did you know I'll come to the dorm, not back to class?"
Toshka shrugged. "I don't know. Just had a feeling, I guess. What happened?"
"It wasn't anything bad."
"Oh, thank God! Thought they were transferring you to Rostov or something."
Maybe for this one day, it was okay to give up the struggle with the crappy furniture and snuggle together. "Liam Anders is now a spokesman for some charitable joint, so he—"
Toshka's eyes rounded. He jumped up, stubbing a shaking finger at the wall above his own cot, plastered over with pictures of the musicians. "This Liam Anders? The singer?"
Sure enough, Liam was smiling between Jim Morrison and BTS. "Yes."
"Wow! Here!" Toshka's eyes gleamed the brightest blue Volya had ever seen. "And you've talked to him!"
Before Toshka used up the orphanage's annual budget for exclamation marks, Volya rattled out what happened. He just made his exit sound more graceful than it had been and didn't mention the secret tongue. Or the genes part, because it sounded like bragging, like, a super-star told me I have cool genes...
"You refused?! Are you... are you nuts?! Go back! Go back! Tell them you're going!"
Toshka planted his feet on the ground and pushed at his shoulder, trying to dislodge him off the cot. They would tumble on the floor together if Volya gave way, but Volya set his feet wider apart and held his ground.
"No," Volya said in exasperation. Of all people, Toshka should understand why he'd refused. "No, I'm not doing that. It's not good. It's unfair. We're going together or not at all."
Toshka tossed his carrot top. In the excitement of the argument, his cheeks heated up to match his hair. "Vol', you must! Please... Don't you see it? We don't have anything going for us here."
"I was barely in your band. I can't sing. Why the heck should it be me?"
Because you're special, remember? The inner voice wheezed mockingly in Volya's head. Or maybe he thought this. Hopefully, he thought it, because hearing voices ended up badly.
"Is that it?" Toshka asked incredulously. "This can't be it."
"You invested your whole heart into the band. I thought you'd be crushed. Or you'd hate me."
"I'm envious, no question.... But I'd give anything for you to get out of here. Someone has too." The cot screeched when Toshka dropped back on it. "Besides, it's fair that it's you. Any attention we've got was thanks to you."
Volya's jaw hung. "Because I'm such an awesome singer?!" Anna Leonidovna confessing that she was his number one fan was understandable, but Toshka?!
"Good grief, no! I didn't ask you to join for your singing either. You are super-handsome. Don't tell me you don't know that," Toshka said.
People only choked on their words in rubbish TV shows, right? Or so Volya had thought, until he legit coughed the next word letter by letter around the constriction in his throat.
"Wh-a-t?"
At the same time, an extra-valve opened in his heart, pumping him full of oxygen, because Toshka called him attractive. Maybe in a round-about way, but whenever Toshka said something like that, Volya couldn't help hoping that everything was possible.
"It's all that is important in show-biz with the mixing software and stuff," Toshka told him with an air of authority. "Once Liam's fans spot these high cheekbones, they'll check us out too, and we'll make it. Now, I know you're proud as Hell, but can you please, please go back and tell Liam that you accept?"
The valve shut after a few mad heartbeats. Toshka meant he was attractive to Liam's fans. Basically, to girls. "You... you want me to leave?"
"For an internship with Buzzkill? You bet!"
Maybe he should have stopped, but words wanted to get out so badly, that he let them. "It was always supposed to be us leaving this effing place, Toshka. Us, together."
"Vol'—"
He wasn't reading manic happiness that Toshka usually put on to mask his true feelings.
"Vol', just don't be a dick, don't forget to mention us, mere mortals, once you're trending. We'll bask in your reflected glory. Am I right? Right?"
Toshka whipped his hand up, and Volya gave him a half-hearted high-five. Maybe he should squeeze his teeth together, shut up and go abase himself before Anders with apologies. Or promise Toshka he'd be back, but why bother with promises? He wasn't wanted.
"I just thought you'd be upset about me leaving," he muttered.
"I am! And I'll miss you. But it's your golden ticket. Things like that, they usually don't happen to guys like us. You have to take it."
Volya's heart bobbed in his chest like a float when a fish took the bait. Okay, maybe it wasn't hopeless. Maybe he was being childish, breaking into sweat over nothing. It was just Toshka's obsession with the band talking, not some personal signaling. "I swear to mention you every chance I get."
"Now you're talking!" Toshka gave him a thumbs up.
"If I get a toehold, I'm coming back for you. And if I don't, well, I'm still coming back. If I have to crawl, I'm coming back."
Toshka checked over his shoulder and wrapped Volya in a hug. "I believe you, but you don't have to, honestly. I'll be alright."
"What about the Bruiser?"
Toshka waved his hand as if the Bruiser was a fly to be swatted away. "I'll handle him. He's dumb, and we'll be famous."
Maybe Toshka could handle the Bruiser and the rest of it in his own way when Volya wasn't around. Maybe he was even looking forward to it. Volya swallowed hard, tasting the mustiness of the room as if for the first time.
Did Toshka even need him? Ever needed him?
From the first day they had met, when Volya stepped in because he just couldn't stand someone picking on a kid with fractured blue eyes? Did Toshka want him to step in back then?
Toshka smiled into the pause. "So, Vol', no worries. If you get away, stay away, for God's sake. There's nothing to come back for."
"Not nothing," Volya muttered. "Not nothing! I'll come back for you. Heck, I'll adopt you, if that's what it takes."
Toshka snorted into his shoulder, more of a sniffle. "Oh, Vol', if only it was this simple."
"Marry you then," Volya quipped. Impossible dream, but eff that. It sounded nice. Really nice.
Toshka released his hold with a chuckle. His lips and nose left a wet spot on Volya's T-shirt. "Look at you, talking crazy already and not even famous yet. Now, stop dragging your feet and go, before it's too late. God, I hope it's not too late!"
Volya gathered his hair, twisted it into the shortest ponytail in the world. It fell apart as soon as he let go, since he didn't have anything to tie it with. That wasn't the point though. The point was to keep his hand from clapping over the imprint of Toshka's lips and save its warmth for a second longer.
"Fine. I'll go."
***
It wasn't too late.
Anna Leonidovna needed time to shake Liam down for donations, so Volya caught up to the strange trio of the popstar, the principal and the interpreter as they were inspecting the gym. Though what was there to inspect?
The place was the size of a basketball court. The markings for the same game got rubbed off by many feet stomping over the floor since the gym teacher had repainted them over the winter break. The paint underneath was also giving way. The hoops in the opposite corners stared at one another across the empty space, like, how's it hanging?
For a second, Volya hung back at the entrance to the gym, watching Anna Leonidovna work. Maybe, she was as transparent as glass, and more than a bit fishy, but he couldn't argue with her logic. He didn't even mind her racket because Toshka was staying here for another year. They needed every penny the fancy Fund could spare.
The group circled the gym, their backs still to Volya. He drew in a shuddering breath. "Anna Leonidovna? Liam?"
They all whirled.
He didn't know the interpreter's name, but he figured it was okay if he just nodded to her.
An expression of relief might or might not have crossed Liam's face.
The principal pressed one hand to her shriveled bosom. "Wolkov! Must you always sneak up on people?"
Volya didn't think she expected him to answer that question. So, he skipped straight to the apologies.
"Hello there! I've..." He took in another gulp of air, even bigger than the first.
Three pairs of eyes watching him this intently made talking extra-hard. But he could do it, because Toshka had asked him to.
"I've reconsidered. I accept your offer."
Out of fear to appear sheepish, he decided against adding, if it's still available. But mentioning how it was Toshka's idea again, just like the band—
Anna Leonidovna squinted at him, and he shut his teeth. She was right. They would never appreciate Toshka's noble heart. Nobody ever did.
The interpreter conveyed his words to Liam, while that squint morphed into a withering stare. What more did she want from him? A genuflection? Or an apology... Crap. He acted like a brat. Of course, she wanted him to apologize.
What about Liam?
Volya gazed into the popstar's large, warm eyes. They didn't demand apologies. He just wanted Volya to help him. Guilt tugged at his gut.
Liam didn't know him or Toshka. Didn't understand their dreams. As far as he was concerned, he offered to take Volya away from existence as drab as this gym they stood in now.
"Thank you," Volya said. Actual gratitude rang in his voice.
Gratitude alone wasn't enough, not after slamming doors and yelling.
"And I am sorry. So sorry. I was a fool and blew up like, you know, a fool."
"Excellent!" Anna Leonidovna beamed, like she didn't threaten to remove him from the premises bodily if need be.
"Wonderful and thank you," Liam replied.
A spark that flickered in Liam's eyes more than made up for Anna Leonidovna's falsetto. It set Volya's chest aglow. The popstar was happy, because he, Volya Wolkov, a nobody of no importance, had agreed to work for him.
He smiled at the interpreter. "I understood what he'd just said."
He did, and far better than she ever would. With his thank you, Liam made Volya's wishes matter.