ELI
The house had grown quieter lately.
Not in the sense that no one was around Damir was always around, somehow, even if he wasn't saying much but quiet in that way a memory feels when it's beginning to change. When you start seeing it differently. Like watching the edges of a painting blur, but you can't quite tell what it's becoming yet.
Dad had been working longer hours. Ever since he started chasing that dream of opening his own company by the end of the year, he'd been consumed. I wasn't mad about it…i admired him, really but it meant I saw him less and less. It also meant that Damir was the one I saw the most.
And that… had begun to shift things inside me.
It started small. I'd be eating dinner alone in the kitchen and Damir would walk in, phone pressed to his ear, barking Russian at someone I didn't know. But the second he'd see me, his voice would soften just slightly. He'd raise his eyebrows in that familiar, amused way and mouth "you ate already?".
I never asked him to stay. But somehow, he always did.
At first, I kept my distance. I wasn't sure how to act around him. He had this presence like he walked into a room and filled every corner of it with invisible heat. It was overwhelming, honestly. But over time, I found myself… gravitating toward him.
We'd talk. About stupid things. About the weather. About some drama happening at my college. About the weird show he couldn't stop watching on Netflix. He teased me constantly, the way he always did, but it wasn't mean anymore. It felt… familiar.
Comfortable.
Then came that night.
It had been one of those really cold evenings in Moscow where the air seemed to freeze in your lungs the moment you stepped outside. My classes had drained me, my head was pounding, and I just wanted to crawl into bed with my wireless headphones and zone out.
But Damir had other plans.
He was lounging in the living room, dressed in his usual all-black designer nonsense, sipping something from a short glass. When he saw me dragging my bag behind me, he patted the couch beside him like he'd been expecting me.
"Tough day?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
I nodded, collapsing beside him. "You have no idea."
He pushed the glass toward me, offering it wordlessly.
I blinked. "Wait…is that alcohol?"
He smirked. "Relax. Just a sip. Won't kill you. You're what….eighteen now?"
I stared at the glass. I had never tasted alcohol before. Dad always kept that part of his life separate. But Damir's expression was unreadable, somewhere between amused and expectant.
"What is it?" I asked cautiously.
"Whiskey. Expensive. Very smooth."
He said it like it was a badge of honor. Like drinking it made you stronger. Older. Braver.
I lifted the glass and took a small sip. It burned. My throat flared up, eyes watered, and I coughed like someone had just pepper-sprayed me.
Damir laughed…really laughed…and reached over to thump my back. "Easy, малыш. You don't gulp it like water."
"Malysh?" I choked out, still coughing.
"Means little one in Russian," he grinned.
I rolled my eyes but didn't stop smiling.
After that, he poured a little more. Just a splash. I don't remember how many times he refilled it. Maybe two. Maybe three. I just remember how warm I started to feel. Not just physically….but inside. Like all the weight I'd been carrying suddenly slipped off my shoulders.
My words came easier.
"I don't even like college," I told him, voice low. "Everyone just stares. Pretends to be nice, but they're not. They still call me things behind my back, calling me pretty boy and one even said he wants to fuck me real good" I said sighing.
Damir was listening. Really listening.
"Let them," he said calmly. "They don't matter. You're smarter than all of them and that one bastard is sick, if he ever says shit to you again…punch him in the guts"
I smiled faintly. "You don't even know my grades and the fucker isn't even smart."
He sipped his drink. "I don't have to. I know you."
His voice sounded far away, but close at the same time. Like I was falling asleep while still standing up.
I kept talking.
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm even normal. I see people talk about love, about… attraction, and I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. Sometimes I just want someone to understand me. But nobody does. Not Dad. Not even me most of the time."
Silence settled between us. But not the awkward kind. It was thick. Heavy.
Damir looked at me then. Not like he was analyzing me. Not like he was trying to fix me. Just… present.
"You don't have to figure it all out now," he said gently. "There's no deadline for understanding yourself. You just live, and eventually… it comes."
I think I nodded. Or maybe I just blinked too slowly.
That night, I stumbled up the stairs with Damir's voice echoing in my mind. You just live, and eventually… it comes.