"Danny, where are the other copies of those files? Hmm?" Green eyes were affectionate but unyielding. "Danechka, I won't let you use them anyway, so please don't make me declare you incapacitated. I have the report and can use it anytime. Even if you send the files to someone else, I'll claim they're forgeries."

Daniel remained sullenly silent. There was no doubt Alexander would do anything to keep him. The incapacitated status would come sooner or later, tethering him to Alexander - Daniel was certain of that. That's what long-term psychotherapy was for - the bastard had planned all the steps in advance.

Alexander didn't even try to pretend remorse - he wasn't familiar with it at all. He seemed somewhat relieved that he didn't need to play a role anymore. He spoke openly, directly, once he was sure Daniel wouldn't fly into hysterics. He promised him a wonderful future, showed him the account attached to his own. The number of zeros impressed but didn't convince him: every transaction had to be approved by the owner. And what was the use of such money without freedom? The meaning was lost, as was the dream: Alexander would never allow him to go back to New York and pursue his dreams there.

One thing was unclear: what did Alexander himself want? With the situation cleared up, he couldn't hope for reciprocity, couldn't expect Daniel to grow fond of him over time. This uncertainty was alarming: it was clear Alexander had specific course of action in mind. The erratic man was completely unpredictable and therefore frightening.

"Danny, I repeat: I don't want to ruin your life even more. On the contrary, I want your life to expand, become fuller. You can enroll in a doctoral program anytime, start working on a research project - our science is thriving too. And, unlike in the West, you don't have to beg for grants here. You'll have everything you need to build a reactor: money, a research center, and staff. All you have to do is say yes," Alexander shifted, wrinkling his nose - his legs must have gotten stiff from the uncomfortable position. He sighed dejectedly. "Danechka, please don't think it pleases me to threaten you with incapacitation and back you into a corner. I had hoped I'd never have to resort to such threats. I'm terribly sorry for you, but I'm willing to spend the rest of my life begging for forgiveness. I'll do anything, absolutely anything, to make you happy. Danny, you're smart, very rational, you understand how the world works. Try to see the positives in your situation, to understand me - a man who loves you madly. No one will love you like that, I'm sure of it, no one. And you... you care about me too, I know it. Yes, your attitude towards me changed a few days ago, but not fundamentally - I can feel it. There's nothing we can't change together for the better."

Daniel remained silent, seeing no point in wasting breath. Alexander wasn't wrong about his attitude remaining fundamentally unchanged. Deep down, Daniel had always suspected Alexander might pull another fatal surprise. So now he felt only impotent rage, without disgust or revulsion. Kneeling in front of him, arms locked at his sides, Alexander was still the same Sasha he had joked, worked, slept with, kissed, and embraced. The same familiar scent of woody perfume and a clean, healthy body filled his nostrils. The same enveloping velvet baritone, once soothing, now spoke. And with this impotent rage, Daniel found himself wanting to nestle against Alexander's broad, firm chest, seeking protection from himself.

Because there was no one closer in the world than Alexander.

Alexander moved forward, scanning Daniel's mood with his attentive green eyes, lips parting for a kiss, eyes misting in anticipation. Miraculously restraining himself from kicking, Daniel pulled back sharply on the bed. A spasm of pain crossed Alexander's handsome face. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if the rejection was unbearable, his nostrils flaring, lips trembling, crumpling the bedspread.

"Danechka, please don't chase me away. Please... Beat me, pour all your anger on me, but don't chase me away. I'll take everything from you, don't be afraid of the consequences," Alexander took a sharp breath as if about to dive into water, grabbed Daniel's legs to pull him close. That touch was the final straw. Daniel braced himself and kicked as hard as he could in the chest.

Alexander flew back, hitting a mobile laptop lectern, smashing the back of his head into the coffee table, another Italian designer creation of phoenix feathers and unicorn bone, and groaned, clutching his head.

There was alarmed stomping at the door, wary but no knocking. Daniel smirked wryly, climbing onto the bed with his feet - they must think they were having passionate makeup sex. Alexander moaned moderately more from longing than pain, rocking from side to side, sounding quite similar to moaning during sex. Finally, he quieted down, got up from the floor, rubbing the bruised back of his head, and walked uncertainly to the bed, looking at it with sadness in his eyes.

"Danechka, you've been sitting here for a week and you've been silent for three days. You don't even talk to your doctors. It's not healthy, Danny. You're going to get worse. The guests are coming today, go out for a while. You'll have a little fun," he paused, thinking something over, and added in a different tone, "I don't think I need to remind you of what might happen if you wanted to have a confession night."

Daniel turned back to the window, where the sky was a clear blue with wisps of white clouds. The same view greeted him: the luxurious concrete dungeon - no forests, no escape routes. After the sleeping pills, he had woken up already in the apartment and wasn't surprised at all. It was much easier to keep track of him in the housing complex than in the sprawling country residence Alexander had borrowed from his father. He looked grimly at the brand-new camera in the upper corner of the room and gave it the finger. The camera blinked back.

Despite being late, Daniel went out to the guests - he couldn't miss the opportunity to ask for a phone or simply steal one. Time was slipping away, the invisible war was surely gaining momentum, and he still hadn't found out what terms Sennoy was offering. Judging by the emptied dining room, he needed to look in the smoking room - Alexander always took his guests there after dinner for a sense of privacy. Daniel walked to the black door, hesitated for a few seconds, and then pushed it open.

Alexander breathed a sigh of relief as Daniel stepped in. He looked him over warily, searching for hidden irritation, threw the cushions off the couch onto the floor, and beckoned him over.

"We were beginning to think you weren't coming out."

Daniel greeted Varya, Katya, and Nastya calmly, shook hands as usual with Mark and Boris, letting Georgy pass. Georgy avoided looking at him but greeted him quietly. He hadn't brought Natella; perhaps he thought it best to keep her away from the psycho who might draw an unpleasant parallel between her and himself, or maybe he found it unpleasant to see them side by side, identical hostages of unrequited love.

The company was in a wonderful mood, fueled by excellent wine, cheerful conversation, and the liberating feeling of being in a circle of friends. Daniel, sitting next to Nastya, took the aloofness as a challenge.

"Did you have another fight or what?" Varya asked, propping her cheek in a sorrowful way. "That's why I see Sasha's face has fallen off."

Katya whispered something warningly to her, made big eyes, and Varya frowned, whispering loudly, "What's the big deal? They're all our own."

"You could say that," Daniel replied dryly, peering briefly at Alexander. He looked back hopefully but didn't interfere. "I don't think you need the details of the quarrel."

"Let's play a game, shall we?" Alexander suggested, becoming pretentiously animated and rubbing his palms together. "The game 'I Never.' The conditions are simple: the one who did what was voiced drinks, if not - skips. Huh?"

"I've never played such a game," Nastya said, elbowing Daniel in the side. He nodded, and everyone else nodded too, talking at once. Daniel whispered to Nastya, "Give me your phone, please."

"I can't," she whispered. "I'm sorry. Gosha would kill me if I did. And Sasha warned everyone not to give you a phone, no matter what."

Daniel choked with anger, casting a quick glimps at Boris, who sat on his right. Boris, clearly having overheard their conversation, furtively looked away. It was clear now - Alexander had covered his bases here, too. He must have told everyone he was dealing with another episode. It was strange they still put up with his presence. But their patience made sense - they were willing to accept Alexander's weird lover for the sake of their friend.

Mark swung the mobile bar closer to the coffee table, set up the shot glasses, and moved his hand from bottle to bottle listening to his friends preferences.

"Whiskey!"

"No, I don't drink whiskey. I'd rather have a gin and tonic."

"Vodka! It's an American game, but we're in Russia."

"What are you doing? I'll get drunk! Let's have something lighter - limoncello or liqueur, for example."

"Enough!" Mark howled, grabbing the first bottle he could find. "We'll drink what I've chosen. Whoever passes out, loses. What have we got here? Yeah, British Royal Navy Imperial - great, neither yours nor ours. We're drinking Jamaican rum aged for years. Who's starting?"

"I will," Varya said, tossing her hair back. "I've never been skydiving," she bravely drank and waved her hand in front of her mouth.

Nastya, Boris, and Georgy drank. Daniel sighed as Nastya slid him a shot glass, raising her eyebrows questioningly. He had jumped once in that unforgettable old life. He did a lot of things when he was free.

"I never studied abroad," Katya said sadly. "My parents wouldn't let me go, and then Mark," she clinked a full shot glass. Everyone drank except her.

"Come on," Mark kissed her on the cheek. "Katusha, do you want to study remotely? Daniel's also considering doing his doctoral studies like that, right, Daniel? Sasha told me."

Daniel exhaled slowly, irritated. The warmth from the alcohol spreading through his stomach spurred him on.

"I haven't made up my mind yet."

"I've never kissed a woman!" Mark chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, and drank, then immediately kissed Katya on the lips. She laughed and pushed him away. All the men drank, and the women giggled.

"I've never slept with a woman!" Nastya declared, still laughing. The game predictably took a vulgar turn. All the men drank again, except Alexander, who gritted his teeth.

"I've never slept with a man!" Boris laughed openly, winking at Alexander. The women and Alexander drank, while Daniel, feeling his anger rising to the brim, stared hatefully at his shot glass.

"You need to drink too, my friend," Boris swayed groggily. "Well?"

"It's supposed to be voluntary, isn't it?" Daniel hissed.

Everyone instantly tensed, smiles slowly fading from their faces. Daniel raised his shot glass, looked through the caramel-nut color at the lamp, and turned it so that he could see Alexander's distorted, deadened face. He spoke clearly, loudly.

"I've wanted to tell you for a long time but never had the chance. I had never slept with a man voluntarily, that is, of my own free will. Then I met Alexander and wow! I enriched my sexual experience with gang rape in prison, where he put me on false charges. After six months of hell, I asked to go to him. I figured it's better to get ass fucked by one person than a whole bunch of people. When a criminal case is opened against you, though you're innocent, and they threaten to put you away for another fifteen years, the choice is obvious, don't you think? You can take it all: the beatings, the forced sex, the need to pretend to be in love. I don't know how much longer I'll have to live like this. Maybe until I die!"

He poured the precious rum on the table and threw the shot glass away in disgust.

"S-sasha..." Varya pressed her palm to her mouth, trembled with her whole body, and bolted from the sofa. Green-eyed Katya ran after her. Boris and Mark were stunned, staring at Daniel in disbelief or shock. Nastya breathed heavily, as if holding back tears. Georgy mumbled into his palms. Alexander, who seemed to age several years in seconds, sat with his eyes closed, rubbing his lips with his fingers, as if erasing something.

"Have a good evening," Daniel uttered as he stood up. The irritation vanished immediately after his outburst, as if a boil had been lanced. He headed to the bedroom, shut the door, and collapsed onto the bed. Downstairs, muffled, hysterical female screams mingled with the clattering of dishes and anxious men's voices. A hornet's nest had been stirred. Silly and petty, but he felt no regret. It was about time everyone knew the truth.

The apartment quieted down after about an hour. Shaky, uncertain footsteps approached. The doorknob twitched, and the lock turned with the master key. Daniel closed his eyes wearily - there was no escaping the jerk now. Alexander entered the bedroom, slamming the door and rustling his clothes. Daniel tensed - they had been sleeping separately since the fight. Even the thought of sharing the bed with Alexander, as if nothing had happened, was infuriating. He got up, grabbed a book from the nightstand, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Alexander asked quietly, looking at the floor.

"To the other bedroom. I told you I wouldn't sleep with you," Daniel said, picking up a pen and then pausing to clarify. "Did you tell them I was out of my mind and made it all up?"

Alexander sighed heavily, confirming without words. Daniel hummed, swinging the door open. In the next bedroom, he was surprised to find Maxim fully clothed, lying on top of the bedspread, seemingly unfazed by his arrival. Beginning to understand, Daniel moved to the next room, turned the knob, and heard Mark's voice from inside.

"Go to bed!"

Daniel stormed through the bedrooms on both floors, seething with anger. All the sleeping areas, including even the couches in the living rooms, were occupied by guests and bodyguards. Alexander had him surrounded. Fuming, he returned to his bedroom.

"Are you out of your mind? You think this is funny?!"

"It's not funny," Alexander whispered, nervously adjusting the T-shirt on his shoulder. "But you came back to me, so it worked. Danny, I'm sorry, please. Please."

"You're infuriating, you bastard!" Daniel threw a book at him, hitting him square in the cheekbone, which reddened immediately. Alexander rubbed the bruised spot, not even trying to dodge, and sighed ruefully. "Do you want to know under what condition I can forgive you?"

Alexander looked up at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of wariness and hope, and leaned forward. Daniel continued mockingly.

"If you spend as much time in prison as I did, serve a chorus of convicts, humiliate yourself in front of everyone, become a shot caller's mashka - then you might have a chance for my forgiveness. Well, can you do it?"

Pale Alexander tried to say something but couldn't manage a word, simply shrugging in shame. Daniel, breathing hard and clenching his fists, felt an overwhelming urge to smash those trembling lips. Forgiveness, the bastard demanded forgiveness! He'd kill him! Alexander, struggling with his emotions, whispered quietly.

"Danny, please... Pick something else, something feasible."

"Shut up! I'm giving you the only option! No other options will satisfy me!" Daniel ripped the blanket off the bed, yanked the pillow, and threw it on the fluffy rug by the window. "Sleep on the bed, you asshole! I'm not sleeping with you anyway."

Alexander silently walked to the dressing room, rummaged around, brought two blankets, covered Daniel with one, and with the second, he fell on the bed. After a few minutes, he offered in a squeaky voice.

"I can lie on the floor, Danny."

"Fuck you!" Daniel twisted around to make himself comfortable, angrily beat his pillow, and lay down. The flash of black hatred had drained his remaining strength, the rum had made him drowsy, and sleep covered him like a thick blanket. It didn't matter. The dream rocked him, smelled familiar and pleasant, touched his lips weightlessly, whispered "Danny," and pressed his hot body against his.

Daniel awoke to a sweet sensation of peace, savoring it unconsciously, still floating in a light sleep. He bumped his nose against the source of the pleasant smell and opened his eyes, realizing whose arms he was in. Alexander, who had been frozen in an uncomfortable pose, blissfully breathing on the top of his head, was petrified when Daniel jerked, releasing himself. Daniel propped himself up on his sleep-dampened arms, looked at the guilty face, the strong fingers crumpling the blanket, and groaned.

His feeble resistance would eventually dissolve in suffocating care, in relentless control. He would lose himself completely unless he surrendered to the victor's will. Without submitting, he wouldn't be allowed to go outside, wouldn't have a chance to contact Sennoy and defect to another side. But was there any freedom in another's camp? It was futile to struggle. He was trapped in an impenetrable tunnel. Daniel fell back onto the bed and shut his eyelids tight: he didn't want to sleep anymore, but he didn't want to face the carefree sunlight either. The apartment was already buzzing with other people's cheerful life. Laughter was heard distantly on the first floor, vacuum cleaners hummed in the guest bedrooms, dishes clinked at the late breakfast table. They were trying to force him into this alien life, to make him assimilate, to accept it as the only option.

"Danny, it's time to get up," Alexander said hoarsely, gently touching his shoulder, offering comfort by pressing against him. "Danechka, do you want me to send everyone away, and we'll have breakfast here? What would you like to eat? Dan? Alright, I'll think of something. You rest for a while."