Mischa woke up and found he was not alone in his bed. Yuri often found his way into Mischa’s bed when he was worried. Surprisingly, it was not a nightly occurrence. As broken as Yuri was, he was usually so disconnected from everyday life, that it took something Solange did to actually shake him.
“Yuri,” Mischa groaned, trying to get out of bed without kicking the younger man. “What’s wrong?”
Yuri was sitting up, his eyes following Mischa in the dark. It was a little unsettling. “Pomoshch. Pomoshch.”
“Help? Tell me what’s wrong and how can I help?” Mischa found a clean pair of pants and pulled them on.
“Ubivat, ne umer. Novoye Koshchei.” Yuri told him, as Mischa turned on a lamp. He blinked, but didn’t seem particularly blinded. His eyes were wide and wild. The Russian worlds rolled off his tongue quickly. He was catching glimpses of the old Yuri Utkin in small pieces.
“Yuri, slow down. Who isn’t dead? Who was killed? What do you need help with?” Mischa took out his journal, ready to sort through Yuri’s jumbled mind. He sat on his bed and slipped a pen from its place tucked against his journal’s spine. Yuri grabbed both from Mischa’s hand and flipped to a blank page. His pen worked over the pages, Yuri’s eyes looked everywhere on the page, following the ink. Mischa watched him, scribbling away.
“Izvinite, Mischa.” Yuri started to apologize again. But this was different. “Ne spit. Volnovalsya.” He didn’t look up, still focused on what he was writing in the journal.
“What were you worried over?” Mischa decided to pull a shirt on. It didn’t seem like he’d be going back to sleep any time soon.
“Novoye Koshchei. Tikhaya geroya.” Yuri insisted. Mischa was confused. He usually was able to figure out what was going on in Yuri’s mind. This time he was lost. Finally Yuri held up the journal triumphantly. He had drawn a figure in profile, a man with a strong nose and chin. He had light eyes beneath his heavy dark brows. His dark hair was combed back neatly, and though Yuri hadn’t drawn his whole body he’d put the young man in a crisp shirt and suspenders. “Ya sdalal!”
Mischa took the journal and stared. Who was this man? Had Yuri seen him a dream? Had Yuri entered his mind? And he was still trying to figure out who wasn’t dead, and what Yuri had been apologizing for, and why he needed help.
“Mischa?” Yuri got his friend’s attention, “Kak ya mogu pomoch bolshoi?” He was earnest, his eyes still wide but somehow more calm.
Mischa closed the book slowly, and looked at Yuri. “He needs our help? Why? What’s wrong?”
“Da. Bezdeystvovat. Solange prikazal ubit. Ya spas yego. Teper ispravit.” Yuri said, his Russian getting better, words actually strung together and not just thrown at Mischa’s ears.
“Don’t worry, Yuri. We’ll put him back together. He’s going to be okay. I promise.” Mischa said, putting his arm around Yuri. Maybe Yuri saving this comatose man’s mind would, in turn save Yuri’s. That was something definitely worth trying. They would fix him.
YOU ARE READING
Looking For A Legend (Book 1)
Bí ẩn / Giật gânA young telepath is unexpectedly left with leading his class when his teacher takes leave. One of Elijah's new students Valentina leads him down a path where mysteries only get more mysterious and nothing is as simple as it looks.
