Do not part with your loved ones ...

I

Spring was drawing to a close. The evenings were getting longer and warmer, as were the winds and the rain. It was now one of those quiet, summery evenings. A fresh night breeze was creeping in, adding to the beauty and comfort of the evening. The scarlet sun was sinking below the horizon.
A young man of about twenty-five hurried along the pavement towards his companion, a roll of paper in his hand. His long light grey coat was open over his shirt. His trousers were not stained with dirty splashes of meltwater, and his shoes were polished so that their shine could be seen from afar. It was Zhenya Dobronravov.
Suddenly he turned into the front door of one of the rather old houses in the old part of this provincial town and, having climbed to the third floor, rang the doorbell of flat number eight.
- Come in! - came a voice from inside.
Zhenya opened the door and stepped inside. Carefully taking off his shoes, he hurried into the room called 'the study' with the paperboards in his hands. It was a rather spacious room, with a large table, an easel, two large cupboards: one with books, the other with the same rolls of paper that Zhenya was carrying; a soft armchair in the corner, and a chair in front of the table. There were three doors leading out of the room: to the corridor, where Zhenya had come from; to the balcony; and to the bedroom. The bedroom had retained only its name and the bed. You could say it was also part of the study.
The desk was completely covered with papers, on the easel there were three drawings on large sheets of paper, and on the windowsill, by the door to the balcony, a young man of about twenty-five stood in the rays of the setting sun, bent over a model of a large building. With tweezers he was trying to glue small details of the facade.
- Zhen, is that you?' he asked without turning around.
- Yes. How's our project office? - He walked through the office and knocked the papers on the desk, causing them to fall to the floor.
- Everything is going according to plan... - the young man said, struggling to put back in place a part of the bas-relief drawing that had stubbornly refused to stay in place. - Have you got it?
- I got it. What are we going to do now? What haven't you started yet?
- Heating and electrical diagrams. Find them on the computer and redraw them, respecting our scale, - he pointed with one hand to the room called 'bedroom' and returned to his original position.
Zhenya went to the indicated place. There was another easel, a cupboard and a table with a computer.
The young man finished gluing the piece and straightened up, arching his back. With a crunch, he turned around, looked at the setting sun and walked over to the desk. He was dressed in the classic way: white shirt, top button undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, black trousers and shoes. He was a little taller than Gianni. His glasses were perched on his nose. It was Sergei Bessonov.
- Fifteen by thirty... - he murmured, turning the drawings on the table in his hands, went to the easel, measured something, - forty... - he whispered again, went to the windowsill and began to cut out the necessary piece of cardboard. A few minutes later he looked at his watch - eight... Maybe today,' he began to say to Zhenya, 'Sonya will come. It's Friday...
- Has she already done the project work?
- I don't know, I'm telling you: maybe...' The doorbell rang, 'I'm coming! - Sergei called.
He wiped the glue from his fingers and walked briskly to the door.  Opening it, he saw Sonya.
A girl about the same age as the boys stood in the doorway.  She was of medium height, her reddish hair falling below her shoulders. Her oval, slightly chubby face with a slightly protruding chin and thin nose made her look a bit like a hedgehog (at least that's what Sergei and Zhenya called her sometimes as a joke, which she never took offence at). Her big eyes were grey-blue, more silver than blue. But they were so clear and bright that it was a pleasure to look into them. Sonja was a very attractive girl. She was wearing jeans and a sweater. That was Sonja Lyubimkina.
- Hi, come in.
- Hi, - Sonya came in carefully and closed the door.
- Come into the living room, we'll be right there.
- Is Zhenya here yet?
- Yes, he and I have been working on the project since lunch. Have you finished yours?
- Yes, a long time ago.
- Come in, we'll be right in.
Sergei took a quick step into the study and Sonya, carefully removing her shoes, went into the living room. It was a spacious room with mouldings on the ceiling and a large antique chandelier. Opposite the front door was an armchair, next to it a door to a narrow balcony, against the wall by the door from the hallway was a sofa, opposite it a television. Against the wall to the left was a large wardrobe. The door to the left led to the bedroom. In the middle of the room was a small, but not small, round table.
Sonja walked slowly past the windows on the right, opened the curtains and peered through the soapy glass. After standing for a while in the grey evening light, Sonja sat down in an armchair.
Suddenly Zhenya and Sergei came out of the bedroom.
- Hello, Sonya, how are you? - Zhenya said as he entered.
- Hi, I'm fine, how are you? - she looked away from the window and smiled at her friend.
- Ta normal, I live slowly.
- Well, comrades, now the kettle is boiling and we can start our evening. - Sergey said, gesturing with the forefingers of both hands, - Wait a minute, - he dived into the hall, then into the kitchen and brought some chairs, - Sit down, please, gentlemen!
- Thank you," said Sonia, rising from her chair and sitting down gently, femininely, on a wooden chair that seemed to be the same age as the whole house, but in very good condition.
The kettle was boiling. Sergei brought in the service on a saucer, followed by various delicacies.
- Sergei, can I help you? - Sonya asked.
- No, no, it's all right, - he brought a ceramic teapot and poured the brewed tea into glasses.
- So you're working on the project? - Sonia asked, taking a sip of the hot tea.
- Yes, the electronic documents are ready, but not all the drawings. Although they are not really necessary, they can be made later, but they can dig into it, - said Zhenya.
- And what is your subject?
- The plan of the Palace of Youth for our city with a park. - Sergey replied, "Have you seen a large wasteland not far from the city park? Well, they wanted to build a hospital there, but now it has been demolished. It's just a convenient place.
- Oh, yes, yes, that's right, it's in the city centre and not far from the schools.....
- What have you been working on? - Zhenya asked.
- That's right, modelling costumes. I even made some outfits. I hope they'll give me a 'plus' for it in the exam.
- I see... - Sergei's mobile phone suddenly vibrated. He turned it on and saw a message. It was from his classmate.
- Fuck...' Sergei whispered, tilting his head to the side and pulling a frustrated face.
- Has something happened? - Sonya asked worriedly.
- Simonov wrote... reminded me that I have a project to do for him too... I thought I'd get some sleep today, but I guess it's not destiny... ....
- How many jobs have you done for others? - Sonya asked.
- About a dozen. Since the beginning of May. I don't even know the exact number.
- How much is one?
- Two thousand...
- Aren't you tired of doing other people's work? - Zhenya asked with some reproach.
- I am. I often ask myself why I do all this, but I go on anyway.
There was a moment of awkward silence. Suddenly Sonia broke the silence:
- Are you going to have an event to celebrate the end of the semester and graduation in general?
- Oh my God!...! - Sergey ran his hands over his face and Zhenya laughed, - Is it funny? - Sergei looked at his friend, questioning and perplexed.
- You're the boss! - he continued.
- Don't forget that I'm not the only one who will be preparing the auditorium,' Sergei smiled, gesturing with the index finger of his right hand, and laughed at the same time as Sonya.
- And when will it be? - Sonya asked, smiling sweetly.
- I think it will be on the thirtieth or the first of June. So we will prepare the equipment a few days before. If you want to come, it'll be interesting.
- I'll do my best.
And while our friends are having tea, we should tell you a little more about them. Sergey is one of those good people who never refuse to help their comrades with whom they are sailing in the same boat of boring student or office routine. Quiet and silent, never arguing with anyone, quietly doing their work and the work that is assigned to them, they exist quietly, without worrying about difficulties, troubles, grievances, political news and all those trivialities that are hotly debated by everyone else. They do not ooh and aah at unpleasant news, do not get indignant at a sudden check or new documents. Such people usually live alone. They are the last to be remembered on holidays, they spend their birthdays alone, and God forbid that anyone should remember them and congratulate them. But such people have close friends with whom they have walked through fire, ice and copper pipes. That's what Gianni and Sonya were. And this lack of a large number of friends is not due to sociophobia, not to selfishness, but to ... God knows what. And if such a person was suddenly gone for some reason, they wouldn't even remember him until the next meeting or when someone needed his help.
Zhenya is a boy with a complicated story. His parents died in a car accident when he was just a few months old. His grandmother, with whom he spent his entire childhood, died before his eyes while they were walking in the park. He spent the next twelve years in an orphanage. As usual, his peers bullied the boy, who was excluded because of the recent loss of his only relative. Despite all the difficulties of adolescence, he retained a spirit of humanity and culture. Together with Sergei, he studies at the architecture faculty of the city university. He rents a room from his second cousin, whose address was left to him after his grandmother's death. This woman is stingy and does not like her relative at all.
Sonja is Sergei's classmate. Their parents have been friends and neighbours since they were children. No matter how many friends Sergei changed during his school years (and there were many), Sonya remained his friend since primary school.
The house where Sergei lived was built in the late nineteenth century, and as a connoisseur of historical architecture, Sergei asked to keep all the decorative elements of his grandmother's apartment, which she had bequeathed to him when she died ten years ago.
- Zhenya, don't you have anything important to do today? - Sergei asked.
- Mmm... No, why?
- Listen, can you please defend the project tomorrow? Well, I mean...
- Sergei, Sergei, you know I'm not very good at explaining things, especially as there will probably be questions....
- Yes, listen to me. You will simply recite the text that is on the table in front of you. We'll announce that you're just going to say it and I'll answer questions or explain what you're saying. It's just, I'm not going to sleep tonight....
- OK, I think it'll work. I have to go now, you don't mind, do you?
- Of course not, the text of the defence and the paper itself are on the table, take them.
- Thank you, - Zhenya took the folder with the documents and walked out into the corridor, Sonya and Sergei following him.
Zhenya put on his coat, said goodbye to the boys and went out. It was getting dark. Sonya and Sergei talked at the table for half an hour.
- Sonja, why don't you go home? It's late, you could have got ready... - Sergei said shyly, trying not to offend.
- I don't like to get ready. Then I can't do it. I don't even have a text to defend myself. I just say what pops into my head. - She twirled an unwrapped sweet wrapper in her hands, - or was that a hint that I should leave?
- No, no, no, no, no. I'd never throw you out of my house.
- ... - Sonya smiled and her eyes faded a little, - Do you need help with Simonov's project? - she asked, looking him straight in the eye. Sergei could never resist that look and answered her as he really was, without modesty.
- Well, it wouldn't hurt... - he replied shyly.
- May I help you?
- I'm worried that you won't fail... ....
- Don't worry, everything will be fine,' she got up and carried the glasses and empty plates into the kitchen, 'I'll clear the table and help you.
- No, no, no!' Sergei jumped up and took her hands, 'Don't be, really...
- Don't worry,' she looked at Sergei so tenderly that he couldn't answer. Sonia slowly pulled herself out of her friend's arms and walked into the kitchen. Sonia's eyes always fascinated him, and he could not resist her gaze when she looked at him. It should be said that he had cared for Sonya for a long time, he was even a little in love with her... a strong and long friendship was almost impossible to distinguish from love, so it was impossible to say for sure if one of them was in love with the other or if they were just friends.
Sergei stood by the table for another half minute. When Sonya came back into the living room, she stopped in front of Sergei.
- How many times can I tell you the same thing? Go and work on the project! - she looked at him with a smile, - or I'll hit you! - she added, and they both laughed.
- Well, thank you Sonya, what would I do without you! - he looked at her sweetly and tenderly and went into the study.
While Sergei finished the model of the building, Sonya typed up the project for Simonov according to Bessonov's design. About an hour passed and the model - the last part of the work - was ready. Sergey began to prepare the layout for the second draft. In order not to bore the reader with a boring description of Sergey and Sonya's joint robot, it is enough to say that everything was ready at half past two in the morning.
- Sonja, perhaps you'd like to stay with me tonight? - Bessonov cautiously suggested, "The neighbourhood here is not safe, there's no telling what might happen...
- No, thank you, I'm fine. I don't want to embarrass you in your own home. Thank you, I'll go. - She had already picked up her briefcase when Sergei spoke again:
- Sonja, I'm worried. Please stay...
- Well... - she looked at her friend with sleepy eyes, - OK, you got it, - she smiled sweetly.
Twenty minutes passed and the lights went out in the flat. Sergei opened the window in the living room and looked out into the fresh night air. It was quiet. Not a single sound...
Silence... how pleasant it is to hear it...' Bessonov thought, standing at the window, 'tomorrow is an important day... wow! It's been seven years again! My God! All hope is in Zhenya. The main thing is that he should tell all the work, and then I'll sort it out...' He stepped away from the window and tiptoed into the bedroom, 'Is Sonya asleep yet? - He looked in - it was silent, only a soft, measured breathing could be heard in the room, - sleeping... well, good... - now he also lay down on his sofa and stared at the stucco pattern on the ceiling, illuminated by the blue light of the night, - Still, she's nice... very nice...' - With these thoughts Bessonov fell asleep.
They woke up three hours later. Sonia had to go home and Sergei to Zhenya. He walked her home in the dark and then went to see Zhenya, who lived not far from the university. It was after six o'clock when he arrived at Dobronravov's.
When everyone had gathered in the large lecture hall and started defending, Sergei was pleased to see that everyone he had written papers for had defended successfully. But now it was their turn. Everything happened as agreed yesterday: Zhenya read the text of the defence, Sergey went through the slides and sometimes explained some technical points. But now Zhenya's part was over. Sergey stood up and announced that he was now ready to take questions from the audience and the experts. The answers to the questions dragged on for an hour.
The experts, knowing that Sergei is a very ambitious student, capable of passing all the final exams with 'excellent', began to 'drown' him. As usual, those who pass exams without any problems either pay for him or are very lucky. The examiners asked questions with more in-depth content than was taught at the university. They came up with all sorts of 'buts' for Bessonov's defensive sentences.
The defence of the project was becoming like a government meeting, with two politicians shouting and arguing at each other while the rest of us watched the fight.
But Sergei was not the kind of person who was willing to pay. Then again, it was hard to call him lucky. When it was noon, and exactly one hour had passed since their discussion began, one of the experts announced:
- 'Well, gentlemen, despite Mr Bessonov's impeccable defence and Mr Dobronravov's story, I'm asking for an 'unsatisfactory' grade for the examination because of the excessive delay of the public and the committee of experts! The project 'Palace of Youth' is NOT... - he stressed NOT, - NOT protected in the proper form. The test has not been passed! The time and day for the repeat...
- What right have you! - Bessonov couldn't stand it and shouted at the judges: -What right do you have not to credit the exam after, and I quote: 'flawless defence'!
- Attention, the auditorium is free for the lunch break, and you ....
- And you, Stirlitz, I'm asking you to stay! - interrupted Bessonov, - I will not leave the auditorium until you show me objective reasons for the failure of my project!
- Mr. Operator, please switch off Bessonov's microphone....
- That won't stop me! - he shouted to the whole audience, putting his hands on the table, - Comrades, students! Dear friends! Stop! You have heard our project, you know all the rules of its design and the technical requirements of the buildings! Raise your hands if you think our project is at least satisfactory! - The whole audience stopped and more than two thirds raised their hands.
There were voices from the back of the crowd:
- Down with the experts! Score" Bessonov and Dobronravov! Soap the judges!
- Silence in the audience! - Comrade Bessonov, if you continue to try to humiliate the committee of experts, your defence may lead to your expulsion from the university!
- We should expel people like you! Don't you think I know what you want? You want money! - Why did Litvinov get his diploma before everyone else, for example, without taking a single exam? Because his parents are rich, they have to milk the cow before they let him go! Corrupt!
- Down with the experts! Down with the committee of experts! - Bessonov felt the support of his classmates.
- Sergei, stop! - Zhenya whispered.
- So I leave a copy of my project work on the computer and wait until Sunday. If I'm not on the list of those who have defended the assignment, I'll use this - he showed a dictaphone - and this - he pulled out a flash card - to go to the prosecutor's office and write a complaint against the entire expert committee! - There was an uproar at the Commission table, the audience was talking, cheering, shouting, applauding.
- What is this! - said a fat professor of the experts in an agitated voice - what are we allowing this upstart! This is an unprecedented insult to professors! Gentlemen, I demand an immediate preliminary vote on the expulsion of Comrade Bessonov from the university! - The whole committee raised their hands.
- Ah, that's it! All right, I'll go to the public prosecutor tomorrow! You've got the wrong man! Did you think you'd be wasting money or ruining a good student? - No way! - and pounded his fist on the table.
- Get Mr Bessonov out of the classroom!
- Thank you, I'll do it myself! - He went to the exit door with a folder full of documents, to the applause and cheers of the audience.
Sergei walked out and slammed the door.
- Comrade Dobronravov, you can tell your friend that the document on his expulsion is almost with the rector of the institute.
Zhenya ran out after Sergei.
- What have you done?! - Sergei said nothing. His soul was on fire, like the soul of a revolutionary, like the soul of a genius, unrecognised by the state, but recognised by the people. - Where are you going?!
- To see his only friend, the teacher.
When he reached the right office, Sergei knocked on the door. Yes, yes!" came from inside, and the boys went in.
- Ivan Petrovich, are you busy?
- No, what is it, Sergei? - replied a grey-haired old professor with glasses, reading a book and drinking tea.
- My dear friend, I want to unburden my soul to you!
The professor had often listened to his student in similar situations and knew that such an eloquent request meant something very serious.
- Sit down,' he said worriedly, putting down his book and pointing to the seat across the table, 'what is it?
- It's about the exam. Here are the papers and here is the recording. I always make it just in case, listen to it .....
The professor listened to the recording for half an hour, checking Bessonov's and Dobronravov's work.
- I am very sorry, Seryozha,' he took off his glasses and looked at the recorder with a desperate expression, then at the student, 'you really are one of my best students, and your project has only two minor flaws that do not affect the work. All of this,' he pointed at the recorder, 'all of this is deliberate destruction and suppression of ambitious people in order to get a bribe, you are absolutely right. More than one has already fallen on these teachers. And the public prosecutor's office is powerless. Let me make a copy of the tape and show it to my contacts in the university administration. I'll do everything I can to get you a diploma.
- Thank you, Ivan Petrovich, you don't know how much your words mean to me!
- You're welcome. You've earned them. Go with God, rest, relax. Let me come and see you on Sunday. Six o'clock.
- Yes, of course, for God's sake!
- Thank you very much. Well, good luck, mate! - He smiled, got up and walked the students to the door.
His old, wise and friendly smile spoke volumes about what this man felt for Sergei. Indeed, they were not just student and teacher, but friends and comrades.
- Idiot! - said Dobronravov and walked off somewhere along the corridors.
- Sorry, friend, - whispered Bessonov and walked in the opposite direction.
Back at home, Sergey spent the rest of the evening going over all the drawings, looking for errors and mistakes. He knew that his fate would be decided at the university.
He fell asleep from exhaustion at his desk in his office around nine o'clock in the evening.
He woke up around midday. He spent the whole day in a depressed mood, with no desire to do anything, go anywhere or think about anything. He fell asleep early again, and towards the evening of the next day, Sunday, there was a knock at his door.
He went up and opened it to find Zhenya standing on the threshold with some documents in his hand.
- Hello, Sergey, I'm sorry I was so hard on you on Friday, calling you an idiot, it was ... unnecessary, - he said, a little ruefully.
- Never mind. Come in. - Sergey invited Zhenya a little lazily, turned slowly and went into the kitchen. He switched on the kettle and brought a plate of biscuits into the living room.
- What are these? - Bessonov asked, pointing to the papers.
- Oh yes, these are... lists of graduates who have defended their dissertations... .....
- You've come to remind me of that? To aggravate my present condition? - he said in an unemotional, monotonous voice. - If so,' he paused for a moment, 'get the hell out! It was clear to me that I would be expelled! - He spoke in a rough, loud voice, banging his fist on the table; the doorbell rang, -Who the hell is this?!
Opening the door, Sergei saw Sonya on the threshold, a happy smile on her face.
- Hi, how are you? - She asked, smiling.
- Yes... well... fine," Bessonov muttered, stepping aside to let his friend into the apartment.
- Oh! Zhenya, you're here too! - Sonia was surprised as she entered the living room.
- Have a seat. The kettle is boiling. - Bessonov added.
Soon the tea was poured and everyone sat down at the table.
- So, how are you doing? How's the defence? - Sonya asked, Sergei lifting his head and slowly stirring the sugar into the tea.
- No,' Bessonov muttered in a low tone.
- 'Partly,' Zhenya corrected him.
- What do you mean? - Sonia was surprised.
- There was such a situation, in general ... - and Zhenya told what had happened on Friday.
- So I was expelled and our work was cancelled... - Sergei added at the end.
- H-how?... - Sonia asked, her voice shaking.
- Unfortunately it's true. Here's a letter of cancellation... - Zhenya put a piece of paper on the table, Sonia took it frantically and read it.
- What about all this?
- The cat's tail on all this! - Sergei said curtly.
- Well, to be honest, I only cared about the defence... - Zhenya added shyly.
- Ha-ha-ha... - Sergei laughed hysterically, - ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha! - and tore his hair with his hands, pulling strands out of his head.
The doorbell rang.
- Who is it? - Sergey said in the same hysterical voice as he approached the door.
On the threshold stood Ivan Petrovich, a leather briefcase in his right hand.
- Hello, Sergei. How are you? - he said.
- Good evening. I'm fine, and how are you? Come in for tea!
- Thank you, but circumstances are such that I must leave immediately. I just brought you this... - he opened his briefcase and handed Sergei a dark blue folder with a leather cover, - Well, sorry mate, I have to go! Good luck! - He shook the student's hand goodbye and walked down the stairs.
- Goodbye! - Sergei said a little confused, closing the door only when the teacher disappeared down the stairs.
- Who is it, Sergei? - Sonya asked.
- Professor... - he said, entering the living room and opening the file.
His eyes moved quickly along the lines of the documents, which spoke of the official rehabilitation of the student S.M. Bessonov in the person of the teaching staff, and the accusation of the expert commission of extortion, corruption and violation of the rights of students, as well as the punishment for them - dismissal. The next document was the diploma, followed by a copy of the criminal case.
- Zhenya, - Sergei said in a slightly excited voice, - give me your lists....
- Here... what do you need them for?
Sergei took a pen from his breast pocket and wrote his surname in block letters at the end of the list and crossed out the request for expulsion.
- See, Ivan Petrovich kept his word! I love him! - said Bessonov and handed the blue folder to his friends.
The evening passed happily. The plan for the ball and its organisation was decided. Around midnight everyone left, and the next morning preparations for the graduation began.
Sergei and Zhenya arrived at the university auditorium early in the morning. It wasn't as big as it looked, but it would certainly take a day or two to decorate. That's how long they had.
Not only did they have to remove all the chairs from the hall, which had about five hundred seats (which was not a lot), but they also had to clean the floors, prepare the scenery, the equipment, in short, everything had to be organised.
At lunchtime Sonia arrived. While Sergey and Zhenya had a snack, they all continued to prepare the scenery. A lot of pictures and letters had to be drawn, cut out and pinned to the curtain.
Something unusual happened to Sergei that day. He was very thoughtful, his face was serious, he seemed to be thinking about something incredibly important to him. The subject of his thoughts was Sonia. He had noticed for years that she had a strange influence on him. When she was near him, he suddenly felt unusually good, he forgot about problems, routine worries and affairs, he became somehow happier than usual. It could not be said that he was completely sad in her absence, but it was impossible for him not to notice the change in his mood. Being around Sonia, Sergei felt a certain inner satisfaction with life and calmness, but each time she also stirred his heart and mind. One could say that he was like an insect who, being near a fragrant flower, inhaled its poisonous pollen and felt a sense of happiness as if in a narcotic intoxication.
And again this incomprehensible, strange state... - Sergey thought, sitting on a high windowsill, looking at the setting sun, - Why do I feel this pleasant fever, frost running over my skin? Okay, if I had a cold and felt feverish all the time, but... why do I feel it sometimes? What could be causing it? - He shifted his gaze to the dimly lit part of the hall where Sonya was attaching letters to the canvas curtain. Sergei noticed how suddenly his state of mind changed again: he felt a kind of exhilaration and a slight shiver ran down his spine. He rubbed his unusually cold hands and looked away from the window again, "Do I still have feelings for Sonya? It was so long ago...'
Sergei suddenly remembered the eleventh grade, the time when he was half in love with Sonya... He remembered his meetings with her in the park by the fountain, at the Pushkin monument, where they recited poems by heart together, and their chance encounters in the school corridors, which made him so happy, and the waltz they danced together, and the dusk when they met on the riverbank, looking at the scarlet dawn, the yellow field and the turquoise sky... He remembered how his heart burned, and at the same time... love smouldered. It was not burning, but smouldering... burning, warm and pleasant... for several years.....
Why didn't I say anything? We were so close, so longing for each other... Why are we afraid to tell those we love? I am sure I was not the only one who could not say the three words in time... Why are we afraid, why do we avoid it? Needless to say, dozens, if not hundreds, of people are probably forever lonely for these reasons? Is it all because of a banal fear? Fear of rejection? Fear of the unknown? The unknown after the words have been spoken? Or the unknown of the future? - He rubbed his palms so hard that they began to sweat, but they were still cold. He put them to his forehead and it was as if ice and flame touched at that moment.  His hot forehead was burned by the icy cold of his hands, -maybe these reasons are purely subjective? Individual? Why didn't I mention them? - He stopped thinking for a moment and looked at Sonia's silhouette again, -Because I didn't want to disturb her... I didn't want to burden her with my company, I didn't want to impose myself... Then why didn't I stop talking to her, stop going out with her, stop loving her? Love... because I loved her... Or was it and is it only love and affection? It's so similar but so different... What is falling in love? It's attraction, interest, affection... it passes in a month, as it did much earlier, before Sonia... And what is love? It is duty... it is care... it is a desire not to harm, it is a desire to give, to help, without expecting gratitude in return.... If we like a flower, we pick it... If we love it, we feed it, water it day after day... A simple allegory, but one that so accurately reflects the essence of falling in and out of love... - Sergei stopped thinking for a few seconds, sighed unevenly, his whole body shuddering as if in a fever, and his thoughts were once again seized by strange questions, - Still, why don't we talk directly about feelings? Why are we afraid to show them by explicit and implicit hints, allusions, intrigues? Why do we think on days when we are ready to confess? When our hearts and souls are on fire, we say, 'Tell her! You love her!' but suddenly the brain, the mind, stops us at the last moment and says, 'No. You shouldn't'? Why do we think about what to say and what not to say? If it's not a bad thing and love is the most beautiful and important part of a person's life? Why do we question whether it is a good thing? Is it necessary? Is it worth saying? What might be the consequences?  Why do we ask ourselves these questions, which in this case are unnecessary? - Sergei lowered his head to his knees, ran his hands through his hair and concluded: - The secret behind the seven seals...'.
The next day we had to prepare the equipment, clean up and check everything one last time before the closing. The day flew by and it was already evening. Sergei and Sonya were on their way home. Sonya lived in the block next door, so it was on the way. Sergei, again tormented by feelings and thoughts, decided to tell Sonya about his feelings at the most deserted moment, in the park, when they would pass there.
Tall, crooked maples and aspens swayed in the light breeze, crows that had flown into the city for the night cawed, a light summer breeze was in the air.
- Sonja, I have something to tell you. - Sergey began resolutely, slowing his pace.
- Yes, is something wrong? - she looked at Sergey with her big, sweet eyes.
- Yes, something's wrong..." he hesitated a little, looking into her eyes, which he couldn't resist, "Tomorrow is graduation... I'm worried that you won't be able to come....
- Don't worry, our institute's graduation is only a week away, so I'll definitely come,' she smiled again, looking at Bessonov so sweetly that he smiled involuntarily, his eyes dimming, and they went on their way.
How stupid of me! - was the only thought in Sergei's head. They walked in silence until they said goodbye.
The next day, after the official ceremony, there was a disco. Sonya came, as promised. They were all together: Sergei, Zhenya and her. When it was time to slow dance, Bessonov and Sonya were alone. They took each other's hands (Sonya's were warm and Sergei's were usually terribly cold) and began to slow dance around the hall, not noticing how they came to the windows. Sonia's hands rested lightly on Sergei's shoulders, and Sergei's hands gently cupped Sonia's waist. In a moment they were no longer dancing, but embracing each other, standing in one place. The fingers of both of Sonia's hands touched behind Sergei's neck, and Bessonov gently and tenderly pressed Sonia against him. At one point Sergei touched his lips lightly to Sonya's forehead and said softly, "How I love you..." and laid his head on her shoulder. She shivered, but then hugged Sergei's neck tighter, kissed him lightly on the cheek and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. I love you too...' - Sonia thought.
The whole evening Sergei spent in oblivion, and the next day they behaved as if that evening had never happened, although they both remembered it well, but for some unknown reason they were ashamed of it, so they did not want to remind each other of it, afraid of the judgement of all that had happened then....
Some time passed. Maybe a week, maybe two. It was a warm, rainy summer evening. Sergei and Sonya were coming out of the city theatre under an umbrella. Sonya was holding a large bouquet of Osean roses - creamy pink roses with large buds.
- How did you like the play? - asked Sergei, carefully holding the umbrella over Sonya, getting his left shoulder wet.
- Wonderful! It's been so long since I've been to something like this!
- Are you leaving tomorrow?
- Unfortunately, yes...
- For how long?
- A year or two... but I will try to come back or visit as soon as possible....
- I'm going to miss you very much... even... now that I know you won't be here tomorrow, I'm starting to miss you. I can't imagine how I'll live without your eyes, your smile... without you.....
- Don't exaggerate, everything will be fine. It's not like we'll be living in different countries.
- In a way, yes.
- Thank you for the roses, - Sonya brought the bouquet to her face and inhaled the sweet scent, - are they expensive?
- No more expensive than you.
- Ha,' she grinned slightly.
- There's something else I'd like to leave with you.
- What is it? - She looked at him questioningly.
- ... - Bessonov took a pair of antique gold pocket watches on a chain from the inside pocket of his jacket. He passed the umbrella to Sonia's free hand and showed her the round, flattened watch. Pressing a button, he opened the lid. The lid revealed a dial with moving hands, and on the back of the lid was a picture of the two of them. The same picture was on the second watch. Here... keep it close to you... in your pocket, purse, wallet... somewhere. Close to you. Think of us, our friendship, our past... just remember that somewhere out there, far away, I'm there. And I'll always hear your voice, drown in your gaze. This picture... so that we do not forget at least to look at each other... this is my last wish, for goodbye.....
- How... beautiful... romantic... thank you... - And now they were approaching the house where Sonia lived.
- Are you leaving tonight? Is there anything I can do to help you move?
- Thank you, I'll travel light tonight. You and I have already moved everything we need. Can I ask you a favour, though?
- Can I?
- Don't take this the wrong way, but... don't come to see me off... don't torture me... ....
They embraced, Sergei running his hand through her velvety red hair and seeing a raindrop glisten on Sonia's cheek. He hurried to get an umbrella, but Sonia said goodbye and ran into the dark entrance.
Back home, Sergei could not sleep for a long time, not stopping to think about the meaning of his existence without Sonia... He only fell asleep in the morning, when Sonya was also awake in the compartment of the train.