Dear All,

here is the new chapter as promised today.

I really hope you will enjoy it and as always, I will be looking forward to reading your comments and messages! You know how much I love them :-)

Once more, thank you for your support and for being such wonderful readers.

I wanted to dedicate this chapter to my dear friend Derreck Sanchez and I want you all to know he's an amazing author and he actually published 2 works that can be found online for purchase (search in Amazon): "Shadow Wood", book 1 and book 2 is: "Shadowed Choices", they are part of the "Shadow Wood Chronicles". You will find them under the names of Dee Jordan and Konstantine Alexandre. Please, let us show him our support, he deserves it very much!

I added a picture of Vincent, gang's member and former friend of Anatoly (--> very handsome model Kieron Wraith) and a song from Relient K that was suggested to me by FrozenEscence: thank you, I really like it and it really fits Anatoly and his story :)

For now, please enjoy the chapter!

"Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do", by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

OLEG POV:

My eyes darted open as the dream faded away and I closed them for another short, indulging moment, almost praying for the dream to not be pure fiction of my brain and desire. Anatoly yet again was the sole object of my recent dreams, aside one I had on Sunday about my late grandmother; she always used to say that they were meant to guide our minds and hearts, because generated by the most sincere, candid desire and wish. Only now her words made sense in my mind and only now I understood what she meant entirely. My eyes kept closed as my mind recalled the fading image of Anatoly sleeping beside me in complete peace and serenity, feeling undisturbed by very light kisses that my lips dared to leave on his forehead.

How ironical to realize that two persons like Anatoly and I, very similar in wanting privacy, in not desiring unnecessary physical contact and in being not touchy-feely in the least, we seemed to behave the complete opposite when together. He had a way in me that made me want to bare myself completely naked in front of him, in every possible meaning. It was now clear to me, since last weekend, that he reciprocated my identical feeling and need.

I willed my eyes to open at once and I sat on the bed, looking at the side of my bed that was empty, because that was the right thing. Or was it not? I doubted that Mr. Denisov meant to say those words in any other way than honest kindness and gratitude, and the idea that they made me doubt my own resolution was something I could not forgive to myself. It felt as if I was abusing of his trust and kindness, using it to justify what I wished to take for myself only.

Would I ever be able of losing Anatoly to another man? The question kept going in endless circles in my mind and resonated such a painful note in my soul and body that the best was to shut it down.

Would I ever be able to of losing Anatoly? I let out a dry and short laugh.

I knew the answer all too well, and I knew what the mere thought moved inside me. I did not like it, because it was all too foreign and unknown things were always the most dangerous and difficult to handle. I got up at once and walked to the punching bag, letting out what the thoughts had triggered in me. I was mostly upset with myself for my complete lack of true and unbreakable resolution, for how I tried to justify every single word and touch conveyed to Anatoly. I was considerably livid and disappointed by the fact that a man of my age let a young punk fifteen years younger take troubles in his hands and solve it in a way that was not real solving. My hook sank in the bag viciously and the chain threatened to break as my jab followed with merciless ferocity.

"Enough, Lt. Azarov," I commanded myself, leaving the bag alone and going for a shower.

Anatoly and I stepped the line that we should have not crossed and that had been very clear on Sunday. To be honest and fair, I let us step that line, because I could have prevented it, avoiding any sort of possible consequence and trouble. Now I had to face the consequence and sort the way out of the minefield, because upon my word and honour, I would not let Anatoly handle this burden alone. I would not let him handle this at all any longer; I was the one meant to look after him and be at his side until he wished for it.

Other two questions had taunted me since Sunday, when I caught sight of his eyes and when the meaning of his "Spasiba" completely sank into my system, when in the past days it was evident that he tried with all his might to avoid being alone with me, or simply talk and look at me: was I about to lose Anatoly due to my decision of placing duties above him? What would I do if I were to completely lose him? I was aware that once I had lost him, there was no going back or other chance to revert the excruciating reality.

We indeed entered a very dangerous mined maze and there were a few chances only to leave it alive and not injured. One thing was sure and obvious in my mind: I had to be one leading the way out and prevent Anatoly from any possible harm.

ANATOLY POV:

It had been a darn long day and all I wanted was to go home, sprawl on my bed and read a book I have begun on Monday. Someone had took the pleasure to spray all sort of insults on my locker's door and no matter how many times Adrian and I cleaned it, in the morning I would still find it nicely "decorated". I almost thought of giving up, but it pissed me off and honestly wanted to share a couple of words with the fucktard that did it; of course my past behaviour naturally called for such things, but the annoyance began to reach high levels. Adrian was annoyed by that and tried to guess who could be the "artist", but I told him to let it go. It was probably safer to not find the idiot, because I couldn't vouchsafe for my reaction and temper.

Viola reacted in her own colourful and crazy way, because the skinny doll actually took some colours and decided to cover the insults with some drawings. I had to admit I gaped at that wanting to smash my head on the locker, because it will clearly attract even more attention, but I left it. She meant it good and I had to admit that spending time with them in school never gave me a dull moment.

That shithead of Sergey was keeping a very low profile and after what happened last week, it was useless to suspect of him. His father sure had him locked up for the rest of the year and I have heard that Oleg himself had given him such dreadful and not-so-subtle glares that only a suicidal idiot would do something stupid. Last night during dinner, when mum enquired about Kirill's son, my father had told me that the impassive bastard had been very upset and in front of Sergey he voiced a not very veiled threaten: "next time I will take the matter in my own hands".

Dad even asked me what I thought of that and the only answer I could give was that such words were much like his style; he seemed surprised by my answer and after a short smile, he admitted he didn't think I came to know Oleg that well, because he also thought those words fitted his way of acting and his personality. Apparently smartness hadn't been granted to me, just as coolness of temper, because for some reason his reply irked me badly and sudden irritation clouded my moronic brain. Without thinking twice, I replied to my father that I sure didn't have the privilege to know the impassive bastard as well as he did, and that I still didn't know a damn thing about his past. My father stared at me completely surprised and gave me a smile that froze my blood. I came to understand that nobody on this world was more suicidal and moronic than I was; not even my cheesy and dofus twin brother.

I shook my head and sighed as I went to grab the helmet. It was pointless to dwell on the thought now, because the milk had been already spilled. The only thing to do now was to check my temper and my thoughts, acting more cautiously. My father couldn't know a damn thing, because right now I had not the slightest idea how to explain it. Good thing Oleg didn't sit at dinner with us, but at the same time it pissed me off; I wanted to see him and I wanted to know what he was doing. Yet, I didn't want to see him because I was a damn coward.

For crying out loud, Anatoly! Get a freaking grip! Was I turning in some ridiculous and vomit-inducing retarded character of some teen-moronic-fiction? Fuck that, over my dead body.

Still, I couldn't get that hot and ice-made bastard out of my mind and the more I thought about him, the worse I felt. The problem was that since Sunday it was probably rather evident that I tried to avoid him, because even my mum asked me whether we had argued. The issue was that I couldn't face him, not after what I told him on Sunday and after how I acted in the evening. I mean, I had basically almost confessed to that bastard...that had to be a joke. Shit, I had hugged him as if it was the last deed I would do in my freaking life and he...I froze and stopped.

He had hugged me back.

Oleg hugged me back and rested his chin on my head, sighing in a way that it was impossible for me to interpret. Why had he done that? He understood that it was out of place, but he indulged me and it seemed that he almost indulged himself...but wait. No, that was not possible. We were talking about Oleg here. It was out of question. But why had he then hugged me back in that way? I felt it and it felt so freaking good. I groaned out frustrated and ran a hand in my hair, trying to ease the exasperation down.

Impossible task: good freaking luck Anatoly.

I was such a moron; actually I was a pathetic loser.

The best solution I thought of was indeed to let it go and run away. I didn't miss how the other night he had tried to talk to me, but I ran away. I freaking ran away with the excuse of homework. I was so pathetic that it was ridiculous, but this was all so complicated and my brain couldn't figure out a way to deal with this. The truth was that I had fallen for Oleg and it went beyond mere physical attraction; desire was there and very loud and suffocating, since even the other night, when he had tried to approach me right before dinner, in a moment where we were alone in the kitchen, fuck, I felt like tearing his shirt in pieces. Once more we stared at each other in some mute conversation and for the first time, I had been able to read into him: his mind had recalled what happened on Sunday evening. Once more we stared at each other in that silence that we felt comfortable and his eyes tried to read into me, but right when he began to talk, I beat it and barricaded myself in my room.

Was I fifteen years old or what? I even told my mum I had to eat dinner in my room because I had to study; I wasn't sure she bought it, but at least she spared me from questions.

I honestly had no freaking idea how to deal with all of this. Sure, I could simply let it go as I decided on Sunday, but the truth was that it wasn't easy one damn bit. Whenever we met, desire almost took the best of me and completed suffocated me, for the reason that it was so raw and powerful that it almost drove me mad. Let's not consider that there was no way in hell I would be able to leave Oleg in someone else's hands. To boot it, what more drove me mad was the fact that I couldn't understand what he actually felt or thought. I recalled the entire weekend and I wasn't that dumb as my brother: we had moments where we surely felt the same. In his kitchen, in the evening, I didn't miss it, I didn't misunderstand, I knew it, but...was Oleg gay? I had no idea and there was no way I would go and ask him. I was afraid of how he might react and mostly, I was afraid of losing him. Sure, he told me that it would never happen and that he would always stick around me, but fear was more powerful than hope and trust sometimes.

I didn't want to lose Oleg. I couldn't lose him. But fuck, I wanted him like anything else on this world. I had fallen hard for that impassive bastard.

I was a masochistic suicidal fucktard. I slammed my forehead on the helmet trying restoring some sense into my retarded brain, but I began to think that I was mostly doing more damage.

My head began to hurt for all the thinking and frustrating around, and the only thing I needed was to lock myself in my room and read that damn new book. It was awesome and it had been a suggestion from Travis; that guy was crazy, but I liked him. So I walked fast to my bike and prayed nothing would be out of place, given yesterday I had to fix a taillight. Whoever had fun at my expenses really began to get on my nerves very much. However, to have such luck was not my case and when I reached my bike, someone was there waiting for me, casually leaning on my black babe, his head covered by a dark hood.

What the hell...what was he doing here? What the hell did he want from me?

My blood suddenly froze in my veins and my mouth went dry, because seeing him didn't bring good memories back and mostly, seeing him triggered my repressed fear for my past. I was scared of my past coming back for a pay check, or worse, coming to taunt the people around me that I loved.

I recognized him immediately, even with the hood covering his head and face. I damn well knew that bastard over there, his cocky stance and way of bending his leg, the way he smoked the cigarette, the way he would grin at me. My blood started then to rush into my head and I saw red, rethinking about what happened months ago. Nevertheless, anger immediately died out as fear took over once more.

What was he doing there? I had already left that crap months ago and I did not belong there anymore.

I decided to man up and face it; the moment he saw me, a taunting grin spread on his lips, but he kept his hood on. Damn, I had forgotten how hot he actually was, with those dark green eyes always holding a smug self-satisfied grin, dark hair styled in that peculiar way that made him look a magnet for chicks, his set of muscles and tattoos...muscles and tattoos that were nothing if compared to...but this was not the point. The point was what the hell was he doing there right in front of my babe and right at my school.

"What the fuck are you doing? What do you want?" I hissed as greeting, already clenching my fist ready to act if the situation called for it.

No time for old memories. He was there when they beat me up and when they left me all fucked up; he was there and sure did not prevent any of that from happening. The memory stung badly in me and moved something I had wanted to forget and bury away with burning passion. Why was he now here?

"Vince, what the hell are you doing here at my school?"

"Tolya.."

"Anatoly for you, now." I sneered already pulling the defensive mood up. He looked taken aback, but immediately recovered, the traitor. "Spit it out soon, what do you want?"

"I wanted to see if you were doing well, buddy."

"Well, I am alive and functioning. Now you can beat it."

"Anatoly.."

"What?"

"I saw what happened last week; I had followed you because I wanted to talk to you and saw them beating you up and I swear I was about to jump there and beat their sorry asses."

I let out a dry laugh.

"Who are you trying to kid? You think I forgot? They beat the crap out of me when I left the gang and you were there, beating the crap out of me, too, not moving a finger to stop it, even if I sure deserved it."

"I had to be there, man," Vince said with tired voice. "I asked to be there and take part of it."

"What the fu.." He interrupted me immediately by placing a hand on the nape of my neck, playing with my ear, like he used to do.

"Anatoly, I asked to take part of that to avoid having you killed, do you get it? You know how our leader is crazy and Caden took your leaving the gang very bad." I said nothing to that as I could not bear to listen to those lies, even less to believe them, because a lot went through between the two of us.

I jerked his hand away without much bothering to cover my increasing irritation and then planted my angry eyes on him.

"You haven't answered my question, yet. What the fuck are you doing here?"

Vince took a step closer to me and grabbed my bicep.

"I told you I wanted to see how you were, also, I wanted to warn you: Caden might be back soon." At those words a chill ran down my back, but I kept my mouth shut. "And Anatoly?"

"What else, Vince?" I grunted out in lack of patience.

He took another step and now he was a mere inch away from me, his hand snaking on my back, tasting my muscles under the jacket. His trade-mark smile appeared on his full lips, as he leaned his face close to my ear, his lips almost stroking my lobe.

"I damn miss you and I still want you."

That bastard had the guts to stand right in front of me with that smirk of his, looking still that damn attractive in his own way and studying my face with a mixed of feelings. His hand still touched my back and I realized that in its entireness only when his fingers dug into my muscles and he let out a quiet whistle of appreciation.

"You have been working out seriously now, hmm, Anatoly?" He clearly mocked my entire name and smirked once more with evident and annoyed entertainment, just as if he would be a cat playing with a mouse. Too bad I was not the mouse and too bad I was more a dog person.

I took a step back and moved his hand away. He missed me? He still wanted me? He must have been kidding and big time, because I could not believe half word.

"Give me a break, Vince," I said sounding dry and somehow tired.

This had already tired me enough and for a few days my mind was full enough of too many things that happened last weekend. In these past days I had behaved in a very pathetic and immature way, it couldn't be helped. I was scared of what I felt and I was scared of what he might say had he the chance to approach me.

Yes, it was absolutely not normal and it was a straight shot in my own leg.

I was the one taking not two steps back, but thousand.

Now, this traitor here standing in front of me and having the guts to tell me such bullshit straight into my face pissed me off so much that I felt like punching him with all my anger, almost to the point of breaking my own knuckles, but I was still at the parking lot of my school and I had to take this bastard somewhere else and see what he had to say. He had mentioned that lunatic on crack of Caden and the mere thought froze me.

"Anatoly, I am not here to taunt you or to waste this chance of finally seeing you," he pressed stepping closer to me once more. I took a step away, because the memory of him, of someone that always called himself "my friend", beating me together with those other assholes was still fresh in my mind.

"Shut the fuck up, Vince. Do you take me for some idiot? You were there and you beat the shit out of me just like everyone else." At those words something passed on his face and his eyes for once lost that arrogant light, averting away, almost showing regret and shame. I sure was hallucinating, because this mother fucker here sure could not know the meaning of such feelings.

"That day I asked to be there," he admitted, now moving back his eyes on me.

"What?" I hissed going to grab his leather jacket. "What did you just say?"

He didn't back down and didn't motion to remove my grip on him, he simply kept silent for a few seconds as if considering his words carefully. He then let out of a short and quiet sigh, shaking his head.

"Yes, I asked to be there to somehow cover you, shield you from that." Was this piece of crap on some new drug? He sure enjoyed smoking weed, so it wouldn't surprise me.

"Are you kidding me? Which part of kicking my guts and punching me was to cover me or shield me, to use your words, ha? Answer me, you dickhead." My blood was now boiling at the rage mounting in me, making me almost shiver. Time ago I had really trusted Vincent and I thought of him as my only friend, the only person I could actually trust and rely on in that shit hole. But it was wrong, it was very wrong.

"Which of my punches and kicks actually made you bleed, which of them broke anything in you?" He challenged me with such firm stare that I paused a moment and then let go of his jacket, shoving him away, catching sight of something on his hand and then neck as the hood fell on his back. "None of them, right?" I said nothing. Those scars, he never had those scars. My eyes roamed them and my mind tried to remember if maybe I had seen them before, but I knew he never had those scars. What had happened to him? "I asked to be there to avoid those bastards to kill you, because you well know they would have killed you or sent you to the hospital in such way that today you wouldn't be able to stand on your own feet." I swallowed down at these words, realising the truth in them. "I almost begged to be there and I had to swear that what I felt for you was only disgust for the fact you betrayed us, while to say it all, I was fucking happy you had finally found the guts to leave that wrecked life."

His words hit me badly and for a while, it felt as if they kept ringing and echoing in my ears and in my brain; we just stared at each other in utter silence, because I had no idea what to think of it.

"What are those scars?" I could only ask that, as his voice and words still danced around in my mind, leaving me breathless. His eyes were now burning and he instinctively pulled the hood back on his head. He was hiding something and I recognized it by the way he quickly narrowed his eyes and lingered his fingers on the hem of the hood. We knew each other too well to hide things from one another.

"Nothing."

"Just tell me, Vince. Tell me what the hell those scars are. I want to know."

He took a deep breath and shook his head.

"None of your business, idiot."

"What?"

"I want to leave it, too," he confessed suddenly out of the blue, tilting his head up and staring at the sky, smiling in a way I never saw on his attractive and arrogant face.

"What?" I only asked, once more, almost sounding retarded.

"I am tired of it, Anatoly. I don't even know why I joined them in the first place and I really tried to make you change your mind the first time you asked for that."

Realization hit me so fucking hard that it almost knock me on my ass.

"That's why you always behaved like an ass in the first months..." He simply nodded.

"Let's go somewhere else," he mused, once more his eyes shining and dancing with his usual haughty and sardonic light.

"Tell me what those scars are, Vince."

He considered it a moment and then simply cracked one of his most infamous smirks, the one that had most of the girls throwing themselves at him.

"They understood I did not hit you as I should have had."

I gulped and he saw it.

"Anatoly..."

"Why didn't you want to tell me?"

"Because I know you well, at least I think I know you a bit, and of course you would have felt guilty, even though let's be honest: I fucking deserve them."

We stared at each other in silence because my mind was completely blank and I had no idea what to tell him.

"Is everything OK, Anatoly?"

A hand stopped on my shoulder and I knew to whom it belonged, because his cologne had been blown on me by the light breeze, and because he had his delicate way to approach me, never wanting to invade my privacy. However, it surprised me to a point that I almost jumped out of my skin, as in that moment I was lost in the meeting and in trying to decide how to feel about it. What was he still doing here? Oh right, he stayed over to help his sister in organizing the Halloween party. My eyes then quickly darted to Vincent and I froze, as the last thing that I wanted was to bring Adrian into this mess and involve him with my past.

"What are you doing here? I thought you already left," my reply came out too sharply than I intended, a simple product of my being nervous, but he did not mind it, because he simply assessed me with a calm look and then observed Vince with composed expression.

"Are you OK, Anatoly?" He asked me once more and I simply nodded. He had understood that this bastard in front of me was not one of my usual friends and he had probably grasped quick glance at the tattoo on his neck. Adrian simply nodded and then completely shocked me by extending his right hand to Vincent.

"I am Adrian, Anatoly's friend and classmate, and you are?"

I could see Vince studying him with now palpable interest and curiosity; he then darted his eyes on me with questions flashing in them, but I shook my head. It was not what he was thinking about.

"Vincent, but you can call me Vince," he replied by shaking his hand and giving him the most cutting and predatory smirk ever.

Adrian did not retrieve, absolutely not minding that stupid grin and clearly not feeling intimidated by his looks and tattoos at all. Man, the Taylor siblings sure were a formidable pair and I was more and more happy they decided to stick to my sorry ass. Adrian simply reciprocated the hand shake with what seemed to be real assertion because the guy that used to be my friend widened his eyes in short and almost confused surprise, for then keeping them fixed at my classmate.

"I shall then call you Vince, if you promise me to not draw problems onto Anatoly." Since when was he this freaking protective? It somehow pissed me off that he felt the needed to defend me, but I let it go, understanding that he was actually exposing himself. I was going to have a few words with him tomorrow. I still had no idea why Vincent was here and no way in hell that I would involve anyone anymore in my past mistakes.

"I am not, believe me." The ass in front of me could not stop staring at Adrian. It wasn't that he just found my friend attractive, but there was more to it. Adrian felt as if he was mustering the situation at his own pace and whit, allowing Vincent to take part of it. This was what intrigued him. I knew the idiot well enough. "I just want to borrow him for a quick ride. Would you perhaps go for a quick ride later with me?" I knew that predatory smile and I took a step in front of my friend. It had gone long enough and it was time to end it.

"Vince," I warned him. He simply sent me a smile.

"I am not here to mess your life Anatoly or to spy on you. I just want to talk to you." I pondered his words. "So Adrian," he voiced the name with evident attention and amusement, weighting how it felt on his tongue, "Adrian, you can rest assure," he had the guts to try to mock him, but he received an answer in kind, his tone of voice actually making Vince take a serious expression.

"I am aware that I can rest assure, Vincent, because Anatoly knows he can count on me and that I would not let someone like you drag him back to a life that was not cut for him," he smiled in a way that surprised me to say the least, and that clearly left Vincent in more wonder, increasing his interest. Adrian stopped a moment to stare at him and study his eyes and expression, as if he was reading behind that. Then a sudden and rather mischievous smirk formed on his lips. "And, Vince, once you are tired of wasting your life in this rather childish and useless game, you can come to find me," his words took Vince aback just for a fraction of a second.

"I will," he seemed to promise and I cursed under my breath. The last thing I wanted was to get a person like Adrian involved with this ass here.

"If you tell me that everything is OK, I will leave you and I am already sure you will chew my head tomorrow for having dared to worry this much for you," Adrian offered me that kind and rather flirting smile as he rested his hand on my cheek. I let him do it without retracting back, even though his touch brought nothing to me; at least, nothing if compared to what Oleg's touch could do to my crazy mind and body. "I will see you tomorrow, hermoso." He winked at me and walked back to school.

Alright, time to get the hell out of here. Vincent had mentioned something about the leader of the gang and I had to know what he knew and what he meant.

"Your friend is quite the interesting one and I am surprised you have nothing going on with him...or wait, maybe nothing serious? Just some innocent-not-so-innocent fun?" He offered me that devious smirk once more and I snorted.

"It is none of your business, but no. We are friends and stay away from him, I mean it, Vince. He is not a piece of crap and he doesn't deserve to be dragged into some mess. You hear me?"

"I'm not here to mess your life, can you please try to believe me?"

"Why should I believe you?" Once more annoyance took the best of me, because too many old memories surfaced and it was not easy to handle it.

"You really want to discuss this here?" He said looking around and pointing his chin toward the school. Damn, he was right; this wasn't the proper place where to discuss, but something kept me chained here and I was not able to tell him to go somewhere else.

What would Oleg think of this? What would he say?

I shook my head. He definitely could not know about this, or else I was afraid he might decide to go after the entire gang alone and the mere idea terrified me. He could probably take all of them down in a fair fight, because that scary bastard had been in war and he had been...blood shot damn wild as I replayed his words in my mind. How did he manage to talk about that with such cold and composed voice? Damn impassive bastard.

"What do you want to talk about? I left the gang and I got my ass kicked for that. I owe them nothing and we have nothing to talk about, Vincent."

"Anatoly, just listen to me," he said moving once more a mere breath away from me. I stepped back, because this proximity to him felt out of place. His eyes caught that and silently indulged on my face. "You mind my being this close; did you find someone?"

Did I find someone?

Yes and no.

I found someone that I had fallen for and that represented what I could never dream of in my entire damn life, and I found someone that I could not have. At least, logically speaking, it felt too complicated and wrong. Because it was wrong, wasn't it?

I snapped out of my daze as Vincent came closer.

"None of your business," I roughly replied and then grabbed my helmet. I had to know more about that lunatic of Caden. "You want to talk? You are right, not here."

"So do I get to ride that black beauty with you once more?" I didn't really like the idea, but it probably was the only option.

"Fine, but I decide where to go." He nodded and smiled like a cat after having caught the mouse. "Wipe that grin off your face, Vince. I am not the same Anatoly anymore." My words this time really struck him and this time he actually took a step back, really looking at me for the first time.

"Yeah, I can see that you changed. Better, I can see you probably went back to your real self." His lips formed a smile that I had never seen on his handsome and arrogant face. An honest and sad smile. "I'm happy for you," he moved his hand on my face and tried to caress my lips with his thumb, but I pulled back. I didn't like the feeling of him touching me in any intimate way; for a fact, I couldn't imagine any other man, aside him, touching me in such way.

"I honestly miss you, and yes, let's go talk somewhere else." He stepped aside letting me time and space to start my babe, and in one quick move he sat behind me, snacking his arms around me. I tried to not think about it. It felt different and it felt as if...I had to stop with that.

My bike roared powerful to life and, after checking that nobody was following us, I drove to a place where we used to spend time together when we felt like escaping, when it all weighted down too much. Vince didn't have an easy life, too. It was a playground in the complete opposite side of the city and it was always empty. I wondered why it had been created many times, but it gave us the perfect escape place; there stood a play house that should have functioned as castle, but as I said, nobody ever went there to play.

Even after a few months, we found the place deserted and I parked my bike in the usual, hidden spot. We simply walked a bit around to check if people were about to come, but no soul was in close range. I looked at that small castle and I looked away the following moment, remembering the first time Vincent had kissed me, declaring his being bisexual and his being attracted to me. It came as a shock, because at first I was afraid he was trying to trick me, but then I understood he was serious. We kept our sexual orientation a secret, because Caden was a pure and hardcore homophobe. Nobody knew about our "agreement" and sometimes I had to fake to lust after girls, maybe kissing one and flirting around right in front of the gang. It was all so wrecked and fucked up. I felt disgust in my mouth and I had to sit down.

"Maybe we should have picked another place," Vincent quietly said, guessing what was going on in my mind.

"No, here it's fine. I need to deal with my shit and take responsibility for that. I did it and there is no undoing it," I said as I forced my head up and my shoulders squared. My eyes turned at him and I decided that the past had to stay where it belonged: exactly in the freaking past. "Now tell me about that lunatic."

"You honestly want to talk about him now? We haven't seen each other in months, Anatoly." He sat beside me and without many compliments he went for my mouth, but I pulled back. He hadn't really grasped the fact that no more I was that Anatoly he was used to and that a lot had changed since those old times. "Don't play around with me, I know you well and I know how to make you happy," he said while laughing in that over confident way of his, always sure to get what he wanted.

"I mean it, Vincent. I am not that person anymore and it never was the actual me. You said you wanted to talk, so here I am. Spill the beans and let's get over with this. I want to go home and I have things to do, so make it fast."

Finally he understood I was being serious and he rested his shoulders on the bench, looking in front of him with empty eyes.

"Is it because I am still part of the gang?" He asked still looking straight, but at nothing in particular.

I sighed as my patience reached its limit. This game was going on too long.

"Look, if you have nothing to say, I will leave your sorry ass here and you'll have to deal with getting back. I'm sorry you got it back for trying to shield me. I really am sorry and no, I don't smoke anymore," I said as he lit a cigarette and made it to pass it to me.

"Something else maybe?" He mused giving me lopsided smirk. I shook my head and grabbed my helmet. I had enough of this. His grin dropped and he stood up in a quick move to grab my arm. "I'm sorry, Anatoly. I think I'm happy and being an ass right now because I finally see you after many months and you look in a way that I can't almost believe my own eyes. It's damn obvious that you changed and I quitted weed." I widened my eyes at that and he gave me another smug grin. "I mean it, buddy. With you leaving the gang, man, I began to open my eyes and I didn't like to look at myself."

"Then leave it, Vince," I said sitting down beside him once more.

He tilted his head towards me and stared at my lips, again leaning closer, his right arm grabbing my left hand and his left arm effectively blocking my head. The asshole here... He stopped a mere breath away from my mouth and his eyes closed, but mine kept wide open and I had to check on my temper, because I was very tempted to punch his stupid face.

"Ah Anatoly...maybe your friend could cure me, what do you say?"

"Leave him out," I warned him none too subtle and his green eyes shot open smiling in his derisive way.

"Or what?" He provoked.

"I am warning you and if you don't let go of me in a second, I'll punch your irritating smirk." Vincent burst out laughing loud at my words and instead of pulling back, he moved on me so fast that I found myself on my back on the bench with him straddling me. He had always been very fast and right now I felt rage and irritation about to overpower me. First, being suddenly attacked in this way triggered a rather disgusting memory back and it made me want to puke; second, I wasn't going to let him have his ways with me. Yeah, he was freaking hot and so what? Whatever we had in the past was over.

"You still like this, Anatoly?" He mocked my name and this time it was him not seeing me moving, as my punch connected with his jaw and threw him on the ground.

"I warned you, Vincent," I groaned as I got up. "I warned you I'd punch you. Now let's get over with this complete waste of time. You want to leave the gang? Then just fucking do it. Get your shit together and do it. You have news about that madman? Then spill it out. I'm tired of playing games and don't try that on me anymore."

Vincent sat on the ground and massaged his jaw. I had spilled no blood and it was a pity.

"You never were a violent person and the way you punched me now just proved it once more." He got up and sat again beside me. "But I got your message. No more sudden attack. If you want me, you know where to find me." He smiled like a snake and then winked, but a sudden serious and rather tired expression replaced it. "Yes, Caden is about to be back and I'm sorry to bring it to you, but that man is not normal and for some reason he was obsessed with you. He isn't gay for sure, we all know that. He is not trying to hide his being gay, either. He's sick and period. If he knew what we had together, he would have killed us with his own hands."

"I know this," I admitted running a hand over my hair.

"He ran away some months ago because he got involved in some very deep shit with a drug dealer and someone got shot to death. I don't know all the details, because his right hand, Skull, kept most of it for himself. After your beating, I can tell that they don't trust me that much anymore and I might soon need to disappear."

I dropped silent as a graveyard at his words and my mouth went so dry that swallowing down became almost painful. I had been a huge ass once more without realizing what Vincent had risked by getting my back; he had exposed himself very much and now I could only imagine how the rest of the gang felt about him. They were insanely crazy paranoids, with incredible sick ideas and behaviours, an fanatical passion for drugs, and I let someone else get involved with my shit.

"Leave it today, disappear Vince," I said staring at the dusty ground.

"I cannot do it and you know that. They would find me and if I want to quit the gang, I need to pay the price for it."

"Are you out of your mind? They would kill you," I seized his leather jacket and made him look straight in my eyes. "Are you listening to me? Didn't you see what they did to me? And that was nothing compared to what they would do to you. You have been there for longer time and you know more shit about that lunatic than I do." He smiled at me in a sincere way and leaned back to the bench, resting his elbows on the head rest.

"Forgive me for throwing this on you, Anatoly. I see now that I should have never sought you out again...you left it all behind and I envy you in a good way. But I heard that Caden will be back any time soon and man, he had something left hanging with you and I cannot leave until I find out what the hell he really is after."

Ice coated my veins at his words. Had I left something unsettled or hanging with that madman? No, I didn't do such mistake, did I? It couldn't be possible and it wasn't as Vincent said: Caden wasn't obsessed with me in particular. He simply couldn't take that someone left the gang and his authority. That was the only thing there and nothing else...nothing freaking else...I swallowed down and took a couple of deep breaths, praying he was being wrong, praying nothing had been left behind to be exploited. My thoughts ran immediately to my family, my friends and to...my eyes shut completely. Oleg told me countless time to count on him and never keep a secret to him like months ago; he countless times repeated he would always have my back, be at my side and look after me, but this was out of it. No. He could not be involved in this shit, because he was the last person I would want to put in danger and the impassive bastard would have probably marched to that madman and killed him.

I swallowed down once more right when realization sank in me almost as painfully as a knife sunk in the guts would be.

He had gone after that piece of crap that used to be a teacher because of me, wasn't it like that? And after what he told me on Sunday, I was afraid he would go after Caden and the entire gang.

More ice coated my veins and my heart, while fear slowly snaked around me and hissed in my ears, luring my imagination in rather dark and nauseating paths.

Oleg could not be involved, but shit! The bastard had me promise to always tell him what troubled me and shit, for once I really felt that I could rely on him completely. What should have been done? What should I do in this situation? I took another deep breath and scorned at my weakness. Was I some stupid and pathetic brat? Caden hadn't come back yet and I would think about it and decide what to do when the right time called for it. One thing was certain: in the past I kept everything for myself and it all led to a huge mess. Another similar mistake could not be made; I had to rely on him. I owed him.

I pushed my head back and looked straight into Vincent's eyes.

"Listen to me: just leave the gang and do it today." He shook his head and smiled more, going to light another cigarette. "Are you listening to me?"

"No and I will not. Leaving the gang now would be the most stupid thing to do. I will stay and see how things are moving around. If I think or just suspect that Caden is after you, I will warn you, and then, when the right time comes, I will leave it."

"Vince..." I went to say, but he stopped me.

"Just let it go, Anatoly. I will do as I say and if you think about it, you will see that it's the best solution." He got up and stretched his arms in the air. "Let's go, OK? You said you had to go back and let's not worry your parents." Another mocking smile formed on his lips and I pushed myself standing. He moved closer to me and I saw that usual arrogant self-confidence dance in his eyes. "One kiss, Anatoly? One kiss only?"

I didn't reply immediately for my mind was in a complete mess, but I felt him observing me and waiting for my reply.

"I told you: I'm not that Anatoly anymore."

OLEG POV:

I had made an appointment to a very good tattoos artist, the one that had done some of my inks and I explained what had to be done; he agreed to first see the tattoos and then decided how to work on them. It was my intention to talk to Anatoly during dinner, as tonight, after another invitation made from Mrs. Denisov, I decided to accept. He had clearly avoided me in the past days and two days ago, when I approached him in the kitchen, for a moment none of us could talk. My mind for a moment blanked as his word surfaced in my mind, recalling that painful feeling. For the first time in my life, I was in front of a situation where I found myself unprepared and without a clear strategy. Anatoly had completely triggered the mine field in my life and I was in the middle of it, trying to understand how to get out alive.

No, he was not the only that triggered it. We both did it. I allowed too much and I indulged myself more than I expected myself to be capable of. Should I let him take the matter in his hand? Should I let him, fifteen years younger than me, take lead on this matter and clear the mess for both? I could not believe myself for even considering this a moment only. It was out of question that I would leave everything on his shoulders and decision. Yet, Anatoly was avoiding me with all of his power and I decided to give him some space, avoiding burdening him in this delicate moment. I somehow understood only then how he must have felt when I decided to take distance from him and I humourlessly laughed at myself.

The table had turned and now Anatoly was the one taking steps back.

There was no denying on how we both felt Sunday evening and there was no denying on how that thin and stretched line of limits had already blurred and was about to rip apart entirely. There was no point in denying that I wished for him to completely shred my strings, but it was not up to him; and it was not to happen until I had sorted this out with myself.

However he appeared at dinner with a haunted expression and his eyes often darted around in some distress, especially when they caught sight of me and of my observing him. We exchanged a silent look as he sat in front of me, but he averted his eyes after a moment, still looking troubled. Before his parents noticed my studying their son, I commanded my eyes to move somewhere else and I went to assist Mrs. Denisov in serving dinner. At first she told me to only sit, but she understood how I felt about this and, giving me a smile that only a true mother at heart could be able to convey with such tenderness, she explained me what I could do. As I attended my chores, my eyes often darted on Anatoly, trying to penetrate into his mind and trying to read deeper into his eyes, for a moment staring at me with real tiredness. He had stared at me as if wanting to say something, but he shook his head and pretended to look into his phone, until Dmitri joined. Then they talked about school and other related topics. My hands tightened the grip on the dish and I reminded myself to rule my personal emotions before shattering the object in my hands.

What had happened to him?

Even though he had not told me, I knew that yesterday he had to fix the taillight of this motorbike and it was obvious that someone in school was creating all of these small incidents on purpose. My worry lay on the fact that I could not tell till where the incidents would stretch, at which limits they would stop, given there was a settled limit.

As I observed him more, a cold and rather calculating calmness moved in me, trying to control the sudden anger and sense of protection that his face and expression had triggered in my mind and body. I had to investigate on these incidents and petty attempts to shake his balance, and if I were to catch the perpetrator, this time I would not pass by Mr. Denisov first. That troubled expression did not wash away during dinner and I knew it was not related to the incident in school. It must have been related to something else.

What had happened to him?

I imposed necessary composure and apparent blankness on myself as I ate dinner in my usual silence, making conversation only when directly consulted. I methodically kept my attention on Anatoly without letting Mr. and Mrs. Denisov notice that, having his words still fresh in my mind. He had been very gracious and generous in talking to someone like me in such terms and blessing me with so much pride, credit and affection, much more than I deserved; yet, as he had explained, I also had the feeling Mrs. Denisov was not so comfortable with how Anatoly and I somehow grew closer. I felt her eyes on me, observing me and trying to see whether I had some sort of attachment for her son. She tried to make it with discretion and indeed it was not open and meant in any bad way, but I was trained and I had a good instinct. For me, it was evident and I wonder if Anatoly had the same impression, because she observed her son, too. I believe that having him spend the weekend at my place had not been the wisest idea, especially conserving his personality; indeed it had not been entirely prudent and sensible, but in that moment I could not chase him away and deny him what he had asked for. And this was a problem indeed: it seemed I fell for Anatoly to a point that I was not sure I was able to deny him anything.

My need to talk to him found no fulfilment as he escaped to his room once more. I was tempted to follow him there, had I not missed the look Mr. and Mrs. Denisov exchanged with each other. For tonight I had to exercise deep patience and wait for another more favourable moment; but he was not getting out of this. I had to know what had happened to him and what was going on in his stubborn mind.

EXTERNAL POV:

Natasha Denisov silently observed her son, Anatoly, and then casted a quick glance in the direction of Oleg Azarov, sitting in front of him and eating dinner as usual without speaking much. Nothing looked out of place between them, but she had witnessed a certain degree of uneasiness in her son and she was trying to understand what had generated it. She was still afraid that something might break the balance he had finally found and after the weekend, she began to arbour the idea that Anatoly had a soft spot, or probably something more, for that man. However, since Sunday evening, the two had not spoken to each other at all and at first she thought they had quarrelled; Anatoly explained nothing of the sort happened, describing Oleg as a "boring old geezer". He sure was older than her son and she feared that Anatoly's crush could destabilize his new found peace.

Was she wrong to think that? She had talked with her husband and he had different feelings and thoughts, trusting Oleg first of all, and secondly, telling her that their son was actually stronger than they thought. Zhenya seemed almost at ease at the idea of Anatoly liking Oleg, and even more at ease at the idea of his son finding such a partner. Natasha Denisov was not so at ease and, as mother, she considered all the possible obstacles: a clear difference in age, rather difficult personalities, Oleg's role and position inside the family, even if he was of course considered a member of the Denisov family, and then what happened to Anatoly in the past, the fact that perhaps Oleg did not reciprocated those feelings and that...she had to stop.

Tonight Anatoly looked more tired than usual and after dinner, she followed him in his room, quietly knocking on his door.

"Yeah?"

"Can I come in?" She asked

"Yeah mum, sure." She smiled hearing the shyness in his voice and the sudden moving around to reach the door and open it for her. He was holding a book in his hand and papers were spread on the desk.

"Are you studying?" She asked as she closed the door.

"Kind of. I need to prepare a paper about Capote next week, so I decided to do it already." He nervously scratched his hair and then continued. "Do you need anything, mum?"

She liked to hear him calling her "mum" and it gave her great pleasure to see all of them sitting at the table nicely talking for dinner.

"Not really, but you seemed tired before and I wanted to ask you if everything was OK with you and ask once more if maybe you argued with Oleg?" At her question he looked startled for a brief moment, like a deer caught in the light of a car and she understood what was there to understand.

"I'm fine, I mean it, I just had a long day in school and I helped for that moronic Halloween party and you know, Viola can be rather tiring," Tolya explained passing a hand in his hair. He then took a short deep breath. "I didn't argue with Oleg, why you ask me again? It's not like he talks and interacts with us like a normal human being anyways. He mostly keeps for himself and I mean it, I didn't bother him during the weekend," her son averted his eyes as he spoke about that man. She doubted the feelings his son had for that man were shallow and only dictated by the fact Oleg had helped him in one of his worst moments.

No...she looked at her son and simply witnessed a young man in love. What was there to say or to do? Nothing much, aside being at his side ready to give him her help, steady support and advices, if he required them.

"Yes, Oleg is usually very calm and silent. It is hard for him thinking of himself part of this family, because he still holds immense gratitude towards Zhenya. He still thinks he hasn't paid that off," she explained smiling with sincere tenderness, because she had always greatly esteemed Oleg Azarov and she will never forget in which circumstances they met that man. "It is good if you didn't argue with him, then. It looks like you became closer," she ventured a bit, wanting to see her son's reaction.

"What do you mean?" Was his immediate answer, now staring at her with serious eyes, then smiling in his old shy way. "He sure has a lot of patience with someone like me, I grant him that," Anatoly smiled more. "We are not close, mum. I..." he sighed and played with the book in his hands. "I...I simply feel at ease around him. I mean, I'm at ease here with you all of course, but if I have things in my mind, his place or in his room are the quietest places for me. I don't want to sound weird or make you think something strange or don't know..." he was clearly nervous and she smiled more.

He simply felt at ease around that man and wanted to be in his quarters, as Oleg's always called them, whenever he had things in his mind? He was indeed very attached to him. An attachment that did not look unrequited, all considered about Oleg, and an attachment that did not seem to bring further problems. To have Anatoly telling her such private thoughts was a bless itself and she felt overwhelmed with joy that her son finally felt he could talk with her in such open way.

"I mean, he's always so silent and impassive, he doesn't ask annoying questions, so with all that happened, being around him sometimes is like..." he looked around as if searching for the right word and she had already guessed it. "Yeah, I know how it is being around that impassive old geezer: it's healing." In that moment he was mostly talking to himself.

"I think I understand what you mean, Tolya," she sincerely said and then laughed as Anatoly somehow realized what he had just said and began to mutter not-so-polite words.

"Oh fuc-freak...what did you make me say? Don't say this to anyone or it'll be the end of me, especially not to Dima! That dofus will drive me nuts with his jokes," her son grunted and she went to hug me, feeling that he stiffened less and less. To see her son completely himself, joking as usual with his twin and still reading like he used to, it all was the greatest happiness she could feel.

"I promise you that I will not say a word to anyone about this, so happy now?"

He looked at her not knowing exactly what to do; then he sighed in his exasperated way that was meant to cover his incredible shyness.

"Cool and...Thank you," he said between his teeth, trying to hide his face looking somewhere else.

While hugging her son, Natasha Denisov decided to trust her husband and his instinct, which to be honest never failed her and always guided the family to the right direction. It was clear Anatoly had sincere feelings and witnessing such openness and shyness made her realise she did not feel like saying or doing anything to make him feel bad or distressed. Mrs. Denisov could not bear to disappoint her son and act against his feelings, not after all that has happened.

Author's chit-chat:

Were you all expecting something like this? I must admit that from now it won't be very easy for Anatoly. But don't worry, he can count on Oleg.

What about his mother? What about Oleg's thoughts and self-confession?

Who will break the ice first?

I will update soon, possibly next weekend or next week, so stay tuned and let me know what you think with your amazing comments!

For now, lots of love, hugs and Meow ^^

-TheWitchAndTheCat-