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Lev comes back home, not storming, not slamming doors, just... quieter than he left. His jacket is gone, sleeves rolled, knuckles split and red like he either punched someone senseless or punched something senseless. There's blood smeared carelessly across his wrist and the side of his hand, not his, but still on him and not dried yet.
No one sees him come in. The house is silent, everyones either in the guest rooms or left. He heads straight to his room's bathroom, washes his hands slowly and methodically, watching the water turn pink then clear, he checks his face in the mirror like he's making sure the anger stayed outside. It didn't, but it's contained. He showers and changes into something clean.
When he steps back out, his teta and aunt are sitting outside at the seating area near the pool, close together, knees angled toward each other, tea untouched, the kind of posture that easily tells that they're gossiping and it ain't hard to tell their gossiping about his mum since they keep glancing at her and then whispering.
Speaking of his mother she's sitting there too, seated a little apart, arms crossed, lips tight, staring at the pool like it'll make her feel less guilty. Lev stops in front of his teta and aunt.
"I'm sorry," he says, voice level, respectful, eyes steady. Not for what he did but for what and where it happened and who had to hear it. His aunt nods immediately, reaching out to squeeze his forearm as if saying it's okay through action.
His teta just sighs, soft but heavy, cups his cheek like he's still five.
"You did nothing wrong, Albi," she says quietly. Behind them, Emine clicks her tongue.
"Well, if everyone had just stayed calm-" Lev doesn't even look at her. Doesn't turn his head or even acknowledge the sound at all, like she spoke into a vacuum and got nothing back.
It hurts her more than if he'd snapped. Her mouth tightens and Silence stretches. No one rescues her. He gives his teta a small nod, presses a kiss to her temple, murmurs something low to his aunt, then steps back.
And then he thinks about Alex.
She's not there, It's midnight shes probably at home, knocked out cold. Lev stands by his car for a second, keys loose in his hand, staring at his phone as if it owes him something, he pockets it and starts the engine because thinking longer won't help.
He heads straight to her place before his head can even decide. He parks, turns the engine off, stares at the building for a second, debating if he should call her or not. He could leave. He should probably leave. Instead, he calls her and she answers on the third ring.
"Hello?" Her voice is wrecked, thick with sleep, "If no one's dying, wrong number."
"It's Lev," he says. There's a pause, a soft rustle, fabric shifting.
