The Only Question
"Would you kill me?" Kostya asks him, drunk out of his mind and hungry for blood. Anton is drunk, too, but nowhere near as much as Kostya is, because it's night and Anton is supposed to be sober and alert and all this bullshit.
"Would you kill me?" Slurred words coming out of Kostya's mouth. The young vampire leans into him, heavy, warm and cold at the same time. Anton reaches out and puts a hand on Kostya's shoulder, steadying him. Anton would do anything to keep them from having this conversation. Maybe, if he holds on to Kostya's shoulder hard enough, he can hold the words back. Somehow stop them from leaving Kostya's mouth.
"I mean...if I got...a license...it would be ok. Right? Right? " A drunken shout and Anton nods because, yes, it would be ok. He would hate it, but Kostya is a vampire and it would be ok. Vampires need blood and sometimes they want human blood and Kostya...
Anton stares into the wood of their table, stares through it, and tries not to think anymore. Another glass of vodka and the bottle they bought seems too empty to get him through the night. Because Kostya is a vampire.
"And if I got in some trouble? Just bit a random guy on the street? Because I was hungry? Or angry?" Kostya doesn't sound so drunk anymore now. Anton looks up into Kostya's eyes. They are bright red suddenly, and God, how Anton hates this. Hates this colour as much as he loves it. He looks down again into the mixture of beer and vodka that's spilled all over the table.
Kostya is a vampire.
Kostya could kill somebody, initiate somebody, ruin somebody's life. Because he isn't what he looks like, he isn't human, and Anton shouldn't sit with him at this bar. Shouldn't spent time with him at all. Because Kostya is a vampire.
And Anton doesn't like vampires... hates most of them, in fact. But Kostya's family has been close to him before he knew that he belonged to the Others and Kostya...Kostya has gotten closer even after it, despite everything. Not close enough, never close enough, and sometimes Anton wonders if he would have chosen the Day Watch if he had known...known that Kostya and him could have been...more.
But now they couldn't. And as often as he wonders about it, he never answers to his own musings because there are some questions that shouldn't be answered. Ever.
"Would you kill me?" Kostya asks again, louder, and Anton doesn't look up this time. Stares down at his hands and hopes for the alcohol to knock Kostya out. But Kostya is a stubborn guy; he has to be, his kind is dying out around of him, and his fingers are hard around Anton's chin when he forces Anton to look up.
"Would you kill me?"
Kostya's eyes demand an answer; he's staring at Anton and - damnit, Anton knows he can't answer, can't say it to Kostya's face. And he wants to lean in, wants to pull Kostya close, wants to kiss him. Because Kostya is Kostya and, God, if Anton drinks any more, Kostya won't need a license to get blood from him. Won't need anything...
Anton pulls back because he has seen this before, has seen those who got turned because they loved somebody; and he won't let this happen. He has chosen years ago and that was a decision for life; and sometimes loyalty has to be more worth than love. Sometimes friendship and pretence have to be enough to live on.
"Thought so." Kostya gets up now, tired and slowly. He almost falls and Anton reaches out. But Kostya is faster, pulling out of his grasp and leaning against the wall. He looks at Anton, and he looks so tired, unbelievable tired, and Anton wants to speak, wants to say something to make it better.
But he doesn't. Because Kostya will not remember this tomorrow. He was never good at drinking and all this won't matter. They will still be friends, and that has to be enough. And Anton will never answer this question because it would change everything. Because Anton could only give the wrong answer.
And Kostya leaves. His steps are loud in the almost empty bar, his body framed by the light of the streetlamps when he stands in the door frame. So small for a moment, so human, and Anton wants to leave with him. Wants to bring him home safely. Wants to keep everybody else safe from him. But he doesn't, because Kostya would only see the latter and Anton couldn't tell him the first.
Couldn't tell him that he wants to keep him from hunting because Anton doesn't want to give the wrong answer. Because Anton doesn't want to face it, doesn't want to face his own failure.
And then Kostya is gone, and the night outside gets a little bit more dangerous and much more bitter. The question hangs in the air for a moment, like a forgotten towel, and it seems to lose its meaning without Kostya there. Seems to be less dangerous, less important. Just some words on a chain, letters and a question mark.
And then Anton can answer it, quietly and slowly, to the closed door.
"No."