"Isn't everything here?" Gleb counters, though his voice doesn't carry the disdain that it might have under any other circumstances. As it is, being here with Anya, her hand suddenly around his as she leads him out of the way of the crowd, it's hard to mind any of this as much as he thought he would. Just days ago, before he blinked and found that the world had changed around him, he thought it would be enough for him to know she was alive and safe somewhere, or at least close to it. He would have held onto that on his way back to Russia, up until the very end that he knows would have been coming, which would have been worth it for that knowledge. This is already so much more than that, and than he was ever supposed to have gotten. She owes him nothing, her friendship included, but she seems to be offering it in spite of all the reasons she'd have had not to do so. He knows better than to take that for granted.
At least it's a little less packed over here, too, though there's no missing the crowd around them cheering in anticipation of midnight, each second drawing them closer to a year that he was never supposed to have lived to see. If he was going to begin it with anyone, though, here or otherwise, he'd have wanted it to be her. It's a strange thing, having the awareness of how much he was prepared to give up for her without ever really needing to do so. While he may never shake the moment when he realized that he couldn't follow his orders and the mess of complicated emotions that comes with that, he'll never question whether or not he made the right decision. Every time he looks at her, he knows he did. What that says about him, he can't entirely figure out, but that, too, is worth bearing.
"Well," he starts once they've found a place for themselves, but he doesn't finish whatever he might have said. He tips his head back instead, taking a long swallow of his drink — for courage, he thinks, though what he'd need courage for, he can't quite determine. Maybe just to be here at all. For warmth, too, though the sight of her in his coat leaves him warm enough. "They're counting down, I think."
no subject
At least it's a little less packed over here, too, though there's no missing the crowd around them cheering in anticipation of midnight, each second drawing them closer to a year that he was never supposed to have lived to see. If he was going to begin it with anyone, though, here or otherwise, he'd have wanted it to be her. It's a strange thing, having the awareness of how much he was prepared to give up for her without ever really needing to do so. While he may never shake the moment when he realized that he couldn't follow his orders and the mess of complicated emotions that comes with that, he'll never question whether or not he made the right decision. Every time he looks at her, he knows he did. What that says about him, he can't entirely figure out, but that, too, is worth bearing.
"Well," he starts once they've found a place for themselves, but he doesn't finish whatever he might have said. He tips his head back instead, taking a long swallow of his drink — for courage, he thinks, though what he'd need courage for, he can't quite determine. Maybe just to be here at all. For warmth, too, though the sight of her in his coat leaves him warm enough. "They're counting down, I think."