Echo of the Past

29. Marcin | Nivan

Translator: Schiotka

Editor: bluwren

Marcin
________

He was spinning in the chair next to Nivan's desk. With his knees pressed to his chest, he was trying to calm his thoughts.

He'd made quite a nice bachelor pad out of the Redhead's room. There were bottles everywhere, cigarette butts, clothes strewn all over. He existed in this place. He worried, so he tried sleeping here as well.

He wasn't coping well. And it had only been five days since Nivan left with Nazarij for Russia.

To Marcin the days, contrary to the nights, passed calmly, without major worries. He was recording the album with his band, he was preparing, working.

He did not have time to worry.

Only a few months back, anytime he worried about something, when he couldn't fall asleep... he went out to chase ass. That was his way of dealing with his problems. With some forgettable person, the nighttime hours flew by.

Sex, alcohol, exhaustion - the three things that gave him sleep.

Visiting nightclubs while with Nivan was out of the question. Just as an open relationship was. Nivan was too territorial, he always wanted to be put first. He was unable to share.

But he himself was no different. Marcin would scratch out the eyes of anyone who tried to touch Nivan, even with only a finger.

So if anyone asked, an open relationship was not possible.

Marcin held a cigarette in his long fingers. He got up to go to the kitchen, to brew a pot of tea. He wanted to try to eat something. He thought about what a moron he was for allowing Nivan to spend time... (nights?) with Nazarij.

He was barely able to get that name past his lips.

Even though Nivan laughed when Marcin told him about his suspicions, he knew very well that he was right.

His gay instinct rarely failed him.

Nazarij felt something toward Nivan.

Marcin wasn't sure if it was just some sort of attachment. Something that only the nerds in their room could understand. He desperately wanted it to be just that.

Unfortunately, his assumptions crawled dangerously in the direction of something entirely different.

Nivan was attractive. He had a bit of exoticism, inherited from his grandfather. Despite strong arms and a solid neck, his face was pretty. Too pretty. A little bit too feminine. Maybe because of the long hair, which Nivan had had forever. Maybe because of the delicate, slender features of his face.

He did not smile all that often, he seemed to look down at everyone. His gaze always said: "I am not who you think I am".

That's what Marcin was afraid of.

He felt that Nazarij had taken a plunge into those green eyes, just as he had.

He missed the Redheaded cretin, looking at his empty mug. Squeezing the last drops of a lemon into his tea, he was thinking about what he did. How stupid he was to allow them to go together.

Anxiety coursed through his body, poisoning him once again.

_______

It wasn't as if Nivan didn't keep in touch, because he did.

He texted and called whenever he could. Each time he reassured Marcin that all was okay.

He told him for the thousandth time that nothing bad was happening.