That Which Transcends Death

Chapter 2

Evengii shook his head; Sergei had his own spin on things and always found a way to make sure the he didn’t do anything stupid. Then again for all of Evengii’s…maturity, Sergei was still older and had a bit more experience under his belt.

“I vant Vodka.” Evengii muttered, he had been legal to drink since before he was adopted and shipped to Canada but still, he was a Russian and Vodka solved everything, except for headaches, that just made them worse.

“And no I do not vant to vrassle.” No matter how long he had stayed in Canada for, his ‘w’ still came out as ‘v’ and sometimes even he had to poke fun at himself.He stopped only momentarily so that he could pull his skates off and slip his shoes back on. He leaned against his friend as they walked out, his eyes having the hardest time moving from the glare of the bright lights to the darkness that was outside, and for the longest moment he always thought that he had finally gone blind, like his doctors warned that he might if he continued to play under the bright lights.

Though like it always did, his vision slowly came back and his walk was less hesitant as he walked through the street with his friend. “I do miss them Sergei.” He whispered suddenly, his voice seeming louder because of the darkness. “I hate zat zey died coming to one of my stupid games.” He muttered the anger at himself back in place. He hated himself and had hated himself since they had died. He may have loved hockey, but he knew that his hockey career couldn’t go any longer then the promise of nationals, and if his dream came true, then they would make it to nationals, he just couldn’t afford to lose his eyesight.

“Let’s stop by the store then and pick up a bottle, my treat.” He claimed dibs on paying before Even could, mock-sulking when he declined a good ol’fashioned wrestling match. Sergei finished off his candy bar and dropped the wrapper in a city garbage can. He licked his fingers clean of the chocolate after.

He located their local store that sold alcohol, walking towards it at Evengii’s side: “Hey.” He chided again, stopping and tugging his best friend close: “Look at me. They wanted to share your game. Your joy, your pride.” His olive eyes darkened as he locked eyes with his albino-eyed friend: “I’m sure they have no regrets about a single moment of wanting to come see you play.”

/Not like my parents./ He grumped internally.

His mood stayed fixed in firm seriousness for a few seconds more before he pulled back and grinned with masculine charm. “Just remember the little story I told you. I still swear it happened.”

According to Sergei’s story, when he’d pissed off the opposing team’s right wing and the man had come after him and they’d gotten into a scuffle in which Sergei was knocked senseless as his head was clocked by the man’s hockey stick and his mask flew off, he’d hit the ice hard and gotten a concussion. But while penalties were being awarded and he was being carried off the ice by the paramedics, he’d looked over to the goalie. His friend.

He’d seen his parents. Both of them, the mom and dad he’d never had and loved. She was shaking her head with a small smile and he had a hand on Evengii’s shoulder, as if telling him everything was alright.

They didn’t look hurt or angry at all. Excited and overjoyed that in the end it seemed they’d made it anyways.

Sergei picked up a bottle of pure vodka at the back of the store and paid for it before Even could do anything. He carried it in the paper bag and smiled again at his roommate: “There you go, buddy. Vodka.”

Evengii nodded, yes he remembered that story, he had told it to his physiatrist who then had tried to rationalize it with him and who did Evengii believe?

His friend of course.

Evengii thanked his friend before he grabbed the bottle and unscrewed the top placing the bottle to his lips to drink it down as if it was mother’s milk to him and in a way, it was.

He was Russian and he loved his Vodka.

“Yes, vell, zey still left me.” He muttered, he held no belief in Heaven or Hell, he was very much the realist, when he wanted proof he had to see it for himself, feel it if could, he could never take anything at face value. If he did that that would make him no better then the child that believed in fairy tales, the one who always looked on the bright side…Evengii looked on the real side, the side that always spoke the truth, even if it did take some research in order to find.

Yes, well, they still left me

The biggest reason why Sergei was his only friend, it was the only person who had been stubborn enough to get through his main defense. Evengii never wanted anyone near him because he never wanted to be left behind and forgotten about.

He took another swig of the vodka as they walked into their house. Some people thought that their relationship was a bit odd, they hugged and shared a house and when Evengii got scared or just too grieved to sleep alone, he go and climb into bed with Sergei, not for any sexual reason but because…

He feared the pain that was left when someone left him, and Sergei always seemed to block him from that pain, he seemed to know what to say, what to do, and how to do it to make everything seem alright and even…a little optimistic.

He leaned over and tilted a little alcohol back, though he had to stay away from any large quantities. He was a recovering smoker, and though alcohol took his mind off smoking, he didn’t want to end up being an alcoholic. As he entered their house he took off his coat and his shoes and stretched again, yawning. “Which way are we sleeping tonight? Separate beds, you in mine or me in yours?”

It was his nightly question, never asked in aggravation or annoyance, just curiosity to the night’s sleeping arrangements. Whichever they were, he followed them. He knew when Evengii needed him, and the black-haired man knew Sergei would always be there.

“And remember to not drink all of that. Russian or not, you got sick the last time.” He said responsibly, when all he really wanted was to go ‘chugchugchug!’ Being drunk was not what his friend needed this night, not with a game tomorrow. Besides, Sergei liked sharing a bed with him better when he was sober.

Happily, he hung his and Evengii’s coat up and turned the television off, cracking his neck as he shuffled off to get into his pj’s and brush his teeth.

“I’ll sleep in my own bed tonight.” Evengii muttered, looking at the vodka bottle as if it could solve all of his problems before he shook his head and put the bottle in the refrigerator. He shuddered when he heard his friends neck crack then pushed the thought away; the sound had never bothered him before.

Alright, it bothered him when he saw it in horror movies, but a lot of things that were in horror movies bothered him.

He had Thanatophobia, and Eremophobia, the irrational fear of death and the irrational fear of being left behind, he knew that it affected his health at times and that it did affect his social life as he placed all of his trust in one person after his adopted parents had died.

At times he didn’t think that it was very fair to Sergei to always have to stick around him, as Evengii knew that there were times when he would lose patience with himself. He just…didn’t know how to –live- without Sergei, not since he was the first person that he was close with after he came to Canada and didn’t speak a –word- of English.

Evengii sighed and headed into his own room, removing his clothes and only keeping on a pair of white boxers and a long t-shirt. He hated to be bare-chested. He called out his own goodnights to Sergei and collapsed into his bed.

When he was asleep…

That was when the nightmares started.

And he woke up in a panic with tears streaming down his face.

He always dreamt that he was back in Russia seeing his parents getting shot, which then phased into what the death of his adoptive parents must of looked like when they got in the car accident, but at the end, it was he and Sergei in the car and it was Sergei who had died.

He woke up with Sergei’s name being the first thing out of his mouth.

The only thing Sergei was afraid of was when the puck came in at his face and he doubted the strength of his face guard. And the Mafia, but what kind of crazy bastard wasn’t scared of the Mafia?

He scrubbed his teeth well, proud to be slowly getting them back to being ‘pearly whites’ rather than yellowing… ugh. He spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth clean and then flossed, took a swig of Listerine and felt it burn along the underside of his tongue even after he’d spit it down the drain and left a pale blue stain in the sink.

Now, where his friend slept in a shirt and boxers, Sergei felt no need for constricting himself at night.

He slept in the nude.

He pulled his covers back and turned on the fan in his window, then slipped under his covers and pulled the lighter weight sheet up to his chin and tucked his face partly under his clenched hands. Slowly, he felt weights hung on his eyes and slid under into sleep.

Only to wake with a startled noise as he heard his name called in that fearful and teary voice that indicated he simply shouldn’t have backed down when Evengii said he’d be fine to sleep alone.

He tore the covers off his body and grab pajama pants from his crooked dresser drawer and yanked them on as he ran across the hall and opened the door to his friend’s room: “Even?” The brunette called and located his frightened friend.

He crossed the room slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to catch Evengii’s shoulder and give him a firm shake to let him know he was there and to snap him out of whatever trance he might be in: “What dream was it this time, buddy?”

Evengii knew the moment that Sergei was in the room with him that it had all be a terrible nightmare. He buried his face in his hands and wept quietly, his shoulders shaking from the force of his suppressed grief and fear. “You…DIED!” He cried out finally, turning to look over at his friend.

And instead of his friend he saw his dream again, Sergei laying in a coffin and he, himself, standing outside of it looking down at the corpse that held nothing of what his friend used to be.

“I saw my Parents die in Russia all over again.” He whispered hoarsely, “I saw my Parents die in zere…car accident and zen…you died.”

He turned his face away and looked down at his blankets, all rumpled from where he had thrashed around. “You left me behind and I could not follow vere you vent.”

There it was. His fear that Sergei would leave him as his parents had left him. He had lost everything except for his friend and had a terrible fear that one day he would lose Sergei as well. “You just…died.” He whispered again “And my heart…it hurts so bad now.”

The larger Russian held out his arms, biceps flexing powerfully as he wrapped his friend in a bear hug and held him tight, stubble probably scratching at Evengii’s cheek as he rumbled soothingly: “I’m here though. I came for you. See? I’m not dead.” He patted the other man’s back firmly, Sergei understood the gravity of the situation.

He’d heard this dream before.

“Shh, comrade.” He said, meaning it partly as a joke and partly as the truth. He didn’t know Russian as extensively as Evengii, but the man had taught him single-word add-ons he could use in his English that meant a great deal to the other. Comrade was a big one that Sergei didn’t use often, it had more meaning when he used it periodically, at the time of when their emotions were strongest. Positive or negative emotions.

The fact that Evengii kept dreaming of his death sent shivers down his spine.

/Someone walking over my grave./ He thought, and shuddered again, shaking his head to banish that macabre thought.

“Scoot over, pinky.” He ordered, a throwback to Evengii’s albino eyes, and shoved his friend over in bed, tugging him down and holding him tight as he prepared to spend another night with his best friend in the same bed.

He always seemed to sleep better. Both of them did.


The smaller Russian let out a shuddering breath as he used his friend as a pillow and kept both arms wrapped tightly around him. That dream was more then just recurring, it was downright terrifying and Evengii hoped that it only stayed a nightmare.

He moved one hand up to wrap it in Sergei’s hair, whispering a prayer in Russian, just in case God preferred Russian to English…which he did. He prayed that his friend would remain with him, he’d do anything and give up anything and that included hockey. If God wanted to trade, he’d trade…he just didn’t want to give up Sergei.

“Serg,” He whispered, his breath playing hot across skin as he sought to wake his friend up once again. “Do not forget…you and I have to play in nationals together, it is my last game and I vant you to be playing in it with me.”

No one else knew that it was Evengii’s last game, just Sergei, and that was how it was going to stay. Nationals, win or lose. It was his last time on the ice.

They just had to make it there first.