Kirill

Students in the university prided themselves on dividing into professional "zones" with a haughty sense of superiority. Philosophers, political scientists, and philologists deemed themselves the smartest. Medical students carried an air of divine infallibility. The so-called "rabble" of artists, art historians, and literary students considered themselves the brightest, most talented, and creative—true performers at heart. Meanwhile, engineers and teachers, claiming nothing, stood as the salt of the earth: open, straightforward, and undeniably friendly. 

For an engineer to approach an art historian was a luxury far beyond the bounds of propriety, and Kirill could hardly bring himself to not just speak to Anya but even come close to her circle. Adding to the challenge, Anya was almost never alone. 

It couldn't be said that Kirill was head over heels for this striking young woman, but he liked her more than anyone else and couldn't imagine forging a connection with anyone else in the same way. 

Too shy to approach her directly, Kirill decided to take the long way around—befriending one of her companions to get closer. Among her friends, Artyom seemed the most approachable. Besides, everyone knew Artyom was already dating Dasha, meaning he had no romantic interest in Anya, and there'd be no rivalry between them. Kirill reasoned this made Artyom the perfect bridge to Anya, and he spent nearly half a year seeking opportunities to join their group. 

Kirill was attractive enough not to struggle with his personal life, but as is often the case with people like him, once he fixated on someone, he stopped noticing anyone else. His attention was entirely consumed by becoming the kind of person Anya might find interesting. 

The ongoing game between Artyom and Valera entertained the entire university. Gossiping about it, however, was a risky endeavor—artists, especially painters, had unpredictable and rather fierce tempers, particularly when their pride was at stake. But everyone watched, curious to see how this bizarre game of cat and mouse would end. 

One day, Kirill happened to witness Valera cornering the ever-diplomatic Artyom. Valera was on the verge of crossing the line, ready to kiss the flustered young man in full view of everyone. Artyom, his face crimson, stood frozen, darting frantic glances at the crowd around him, desperately seeking an escape. 

Kirill saw his chance—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to not only help Artyom but also befriend him and finally get closer to Anya. He bolted across the room like a lightning strike, draped an arm around Artyom's shoulders, and turned to Valera with a question: 

"What exactly do you want from my boyfriend?" 

Kirill tried to make his voice as calm and friendly as possible, as if shielding their "relationship" from public scrutiny. Yet, despite his effort, his tone came off as sharp and possessive. 

Artyom looked at him with such genuine gratitude that Valera could only interpret it as heartfelt affection. His bravado deflated like a punctured balloon. With a resigned sigh, he muttered: 

"Nothing anymore... Be happy, the two of you…" 

Without any enthusiasm, Valera trudged out of the atrium, eager to escape the prying eyes of the onlookers. To him, it felt as though everyone was piercing him with their stares, whispering, laughing at his expense. 

Naturally, Kirill was thrilled. Out of nowhere, he had managed to forge a connection with Artyom, and the thought of his path to Anya becoming exponentially shorter filled him with excitement. Yet, seeing Valera in such a dejected state tugged at his conscience. Catching up to the distraught young man, Kirill slung an arm around him and guided him out of sight, away from prying eyes. 

"Don't lose heart, man!" Kirill said, his tone both firm and encouraging. "You and Artyom just don't click. You need more than a pretty face—you need someone strong and brave, someone who can protect you and take care of you. Artyom's not that guy for you." 

"Yeah, but… who'd even want someone like me?" Valera mumbled, his voice trembling as he struggled to hold back tears. "And Artyom… he's just so…" 

"Trust me," Kirill interrupted, giving Valera a reassuring shake. "There's someone out there for you—a real guy who'll see you for who you are. Open your eyes, will you?" He gave Valera a light pat on the back. "You're so fixated on Artyom, you're not even looking around!" 

With an encouraging clap on Valera's shoulder, Kirill added, "Come on now! Be a man!" Then he turned and made his way back toward Artyom. 

Kirill understood Valera's feelings all too well. He was in the same boat—yearning for Anya but too scared to make his move. The only difference was that Valera, for all his fragility, had the guts to approach Artyom. Kirill? Not so much. That thought drove him to quicken his pace, determined not to squander his own opportunity. 

Meanwhile, Artyom stood frozen, still reeling from the sudden end to the Valera saga. But then a troubling thought struck him: 

"What's gotten into Kirill? Why is he acting like this? Could it be… Oh no." 

A cold chill ran down his spine. What if Kirill had feelings for him too? And what on earth had he said—or done—to poor Valera, dragging him off into some dark corner? 

Kirill approached, his face lit with a wide grin, but Artyom instinctively tensed, overwhelmed by the thought that he might have walked into yet another trap. 

"Did you… did you hit him?" Artyom blurted out, his voice filled with concern for both Valera and himself. 

"What?!" Kirill looked genuinely taken aback. "Do I look like that kind of guy to you? I'm a normal person—I don't hurt the weak!" He slung an arm around Artyom's shoulders with an air of camaraderie. "Come on, let's get you back to your friends. Will you introduce me to them?" 

"Introduce you? A… as… as my…" Artyom stammered, his words almost choking on their way out, "…boyfriend?" 

"A… as… as your fake boyfriend," Kirill teased, mimicking Artyom's stammer, and burst into hearty laughter. 

Artyom exhaled with such force and for so long that even he was shocked at the amount of air in his lungs. "Thanks!" he said sincerely. "Valera's a good guy, sure, but that was way too much for me. Besides, I've never been interested in guys. I like girls! What even gave him that idea? It's insulting! Do I really look like someone who… who's into guys?" 

Artyom rambled on, finally letting out thoughts he had kept bottled up for far too long. His friends had all sided with Valera, leaving him without anyone to confide in. 

Kirill, still holding Artem by the shoulders, squeezed them encouragingly. "Love, my friend, works in mysterious ways. Someone can fall in love with someone like you. Masculinity has nothing to do with it."

Artyom froze, stunned and a bit offended. "Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean?" 

Kirill burst out laughing again. "Relax! Don't try to flirt with me—I already like you the way you are!" 

Artyom straightened up, shrugging off Kirill's arm. "What do you mean by that?!" A hint of panic flashed in his eyes. Could Kirill actually be hitting on him? 

Doubling over with laughter, Kirill waved him off. "Chill out! I'm joking! I'm into girls, girls! Calm down, will you?" 

Artem relaxed a little and, without even noticing it, returned Kirill's hand back onto his shoulder. It looked so amusing and unexpectedly romantic that the onlookers, though not entirely understanding what was going on, gasped in approval at such a sweet sight. Kirill was shaking with a small, uncontrollable laugh. Artem, completely lost in the situation, decided to just let it go and stop overthinking, instinctively grabbing Kirill's hand with both of his own to keep it from slipping off his shoulder. This earned an even louder cheer from the audience, clearly delighted by the overt display of "romance." Artem glanced at them, still clueless about what had caused their reaction. 

Kirill, meanwhile, strode proudly beside him, making sure everyone could envy him. After all, Artem was undeniably one of the most handsome and desirable students in the university. Kirill didn't need to work on a "macho" reputation—his good looks were already carved into him by the excellent genes inherited from his parents. 

The gang, as usual, was gathered at their table in the central recreation area, sprawled in various picturesque poses over their textbooks. Noticing Artem with his "new boyfriend," Dasha casually remarked: 

"Oh, look, he's picked up another one. Where does he even find them?" 

"Don Juan," Anna added dryly, giving Kirill a quick appraisal. 

"More like Donna Anna," Vadim quipped, seizing the opportunity to tease Artem. 

"Well, at least he won't have any constipation issues," Anna concluded with a smirk. 

Vadim shot her a stern look. Sure, it was always fun to jab at his perpetual rival, but there were limits even to that. 

Max, ever the peacemaker, stepped in to mediate: 

"Anna, everyone gets to decide how to use their own backside! Jealousy should be kept to yourself," he said firmly. 

Anna, realizing she had crossed a line, looked genuinely remorseful. 

"Oh, I said something stupid without thinking. Don't be mad, guys. I love Artem and didn't mean to hurt him," she apologized. 

The group, in perfect synchrony, turned their curious gaze toward the guy accompanying Artem, openly wondering if he was a good match for their friend.

Max was the first to speak, stepping forward and positioning himself between them like an impenetrable barrier. 

"Well!" he addressed Artem, scrutinizing Kirill with an appraising look. "Introduce us!" 

"This is Kirill," Artem said hesitantly, still unsure how to explain the situation to his friends this time. 

"His fake boyfriend!" Kirill introduced himself with a playful smirk. 

Artem glanced at Kirill with gratitude once again. Anna perked up. 

"And here I was, just about to envy Artem. He always gets the most delectable cuties falling for him." 

"So, fake, you say!" Max cut her flirtation short, still scrutinizing Kirill. 

"I'll be Artem's partner for a while," Kirill explained with refreshing honesty. "Just until Valerka calms down. He's a good guy but head over heels in this mess. He needs time to move on from Artem." 

Kirill's tone was so sincere and open that even Max decided to grant his approval. 

"Well then, let's get to know each other. I'm Max, a lawyer," he introduced himself. "This is Dasha, a teacher, and Artem's girlfriend." 

"What?!" Kirill exclaimed in mock shock. "And what about Valera? He didn't know? How does that even work?" 

"Boys and girls have certain… differences," Dasha replied with a slightly sarcastic tone. "My existence didn't bother Valera in the least since I can't provide what he can." 

"Well, I'd argue that whatever he can provide, you probably have it too. And these days, plenty of options are available at adult stores," Kirill quipped, scratching his head and wincing slightly at his own joke. 

"Oh, come on, you can't compare silicone to the real heart of a man," Anna retorted, grabbing Vadim by the collar dramatically. 

"And this," Max continued the introductions smoothly, "is Vadim and Anna, another one of our lovebirds. He's an artist; she's an art historian. She's his muse, and he's her object of detailed study." With a grin, he added, "I trust you won't mix up who's who." 

Max then casually returned to his seat, having lost all interest in the unfolding drama.

Kirill felt as if someone had just hit him hard with something solid and heavy right between the legs. Anna's taken, he realized. 

Stunned, Kirill struggled to hide his emotions. How did I not know Anna and Vadim were a couple? How could I have missed that? 

About a month before New Year's, Kirill had seriously underestimated the weather and gotten caught in a sudden cold snap. It left him with pneumonia, and he spent over a month bedridden, missing everything—Vadim's romantic displays, the freshman talent show, and the moment their status shifted from friends to a couple. It was hard to process how much had changed so drastically in such a short time. 

"Alright, I'll head out," Kirill said a bit uncertainly, glancing toward his department. "See you tomorrow. Oh, and don't overdo it with the makeup tomorrow," he joked, directing the comment at Artem. "Someone might steal you away again. I'm a jealous guy!" he added, forcing a smile. 

"Uh, sure..." Artem nodded, as if committing the odd task to memory, completely missing the joke at first, while Kirill walked away. Then it hit him.

"What the heck? Idiot!" he suddenly blurted out. "What is he even talking about?! I don't have any makeup!" 

"I'll lend you mine," Dasha deadpanned without even looking up, calmly flipping the page of her book. 

Artem shot her a helpless, exasperated look. His friends, meanwhile, were silently shaking with laughter, desperately trying to keep their eyes fixed on their textbooks.

Kirill hurried to get out of sight, turning into the nearest hallway without a clue if it would lead to his classroom or end in a dead end. Right now, all that mattered was disappearing as fast as possible. 

He barreled straight into someone standing in the dim corridor, their combined weight nearly sending them both to the ground. Grabbing the stranger tightly to keep them upright, Kirill managed to steady himself and gently pushed them back to check. 

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay? I didn't mean to!" Kirill stammered, panic and frustration evident in his voice. 

"You're really determined to shake the soul out of me today, aren't you? If not with words, then with brute force?" came a shaky reply. 

Kirill froze as he realized who it was. Standing before him was Valera—utterly drained, his eyes puffy and red from crying, his nose raw, and his cheeks streaked with tears. Kirill's heart sank. He felt a wave of sympathy for the boy, understanding all too well what he must be feeling. What Kirill had just endured with Anna's group was nothing compared to what Valera had been suffering for so long. 

Looking him over carefully, Kirill asked, "Are you hurt? Does anything feel broken?" He gingerly checked Valera's arms and shoulders, ensuring there were no injuries. 

"I'm fine," Valera mumbled through trembling lips. "Not much left to lose anyway." 

"You're such an silly," Kirill said, his voice soft with fatherly warmth, pulling the boy into a gentle hug, relieved that he hadn't accidentally hurt him. 

That was all it took for Valera's fragile composure to shatter completely. He broke into uncontrollable sobs, burying his face in Kirill's chest to muffle the sound and avoid drawing attention. Kirill stood firm, holding the boy close and stroking his back like a father comforting a child, letting him cry out every ounce of his bitter sorrow. 

The two of them stood there for what felt like an eternity. The corridor, thankfully, seemed to be an unfrequented corner of the building—quiet, isolated, and the perfect place for someone like Valera to hide and cry without fear of prying eyes. 

Eventually, Valera's sobs began to subside into hiccups and uneven breaths. Kirill didn't let go, silently offering the comfort of his presence as the boy slowly calmed down. 

"Well, how are you?" Kirill asked him. "Feeling better?"

"Yes!" the boy replied almost silently, nodding.

"Well, that's good," Kirill said kindly. "Let's go up to the roof; you can get some fresh air and pull yourself together. I could use some air too."

Valera nodded again, and Kirill gently put his arm around him and led him to the stairs up to the roof. Valerka's legs didn't work very well.

Once they reached the roof, Valerka almost ran to the railing, which seriously frightened Kirill. Who knows what someone with a broken heart might do? He caught up with the boy and stood next to him, looking at him sternly. Valera glanced at Kirill briefly.

"Are you not afraid Artem will get jealous, you spending time with me?" he asked.

A gong seemed to sound in Kirill's head, because he was pretending to be Artem's partner—especially in front of Valera. My God! He almost set Artem up! But on the other hand, if Anya is busy, why should he be tangled up in all this nonsense? "No!" Kirill thought. "I am a man of my word. I made a promise, so I'm sticking to it." He decided.

"He won't. He's fine. And besides, between the two of us, I'm the jealous one."

"Just... You...," Valera started uncertainly.

"What?" Kirill responded.

"I don't... I really... well... I don't like you in that sense…" Valera stammered shyly.

"Listen!" Kirill replied, surprised but with a hint of joy in his voice. "You're really brave! You've got more courage than those macho guys! You weren't afraid to make a move on Artem in front of everyone, and you turned me down like a real man. But, you know, you're a bit of a whiner... but maybe that's just your thing... Actually, maybe it's not so bad that you don't bottle everything up. Don't worry! I'm the safe person for you. And not just in that sense." He smiled.

"Mmm…" Valera replied. "Artem's lucky..."

"Why's that?" Kirill asked, surprised. "Oh, right…" He remembered again that he was pretending to be Artem's fake partner. "I have to be more careful with my words." He thought to himself. "Well, maybe he's not so lucky after all," he said aloud.

"What are you guys doing here?" A new figure appeared in the doorway leading to the roof.

"Oh, Yura, you? Just getting some fresh air!" Kirill responded. "What about you, why aren't you in class?"

"I can't, my brain just can't take any more today. Damn, it's really cold out here!" Yura said, shivering from the cold, and started dragging Kirill toward the ventilation booth.

Kirill, still worried about the boy with the broken heart, followed Yura, glancing around to make sure he could keep an eye on Valera as well.

"What's this about?" Yura started, getting on his case. "Planning to start a harem? Isn't that a bit much for one person? You've already snatched up the two hottest guys! Leave one for the rest of us! By the way, I've been trying to win over that good-looking guy for six months, but he's all about Artem. And now, just as an opportunity opens up, here you are, popping up out of nowhere, and I can't just wipe you away like a smudge, but here you are, shining like a brand-new penny!"

Kirill smiled, having never even suspected that Yura could be gay. Now that he realized it, he remembered often hearing that one in every ten men is gay, and that it's very hard to tell them apart from straight guys. And it really was true, he thought.

"Don't get all worked up. We have nothing and can't have anything. And if you're interested in him, then I think I can help you. Just give him a little time for the wound in his heart to heal. Come on, I'll introduce you and leave you both here, and I'll go to class and warm up."

"Uh-huh," Yura nodded.

"Damn, it's cold out here! Just be a good boy and take care of the guy. Don't hurt him!" Kirill said, showing Yura his impressive fist. "Until he's ready for it, don't touch him, not even with a finger — and definitely not anything else!" He pointed to Yura's lower body with the same fist.

"I got it, I got it!" Yura assured him with genuine enthusiasm.