"Ilarion Aleksandrovich-" Liadov's voice was grave, and melancholy. "I would never."
Lasha frowned. Nika sounded sad. Russian sad. And perhaps a little-
"Are you drunk, Liadov?" he asked, before he could stop himself.
"I would say that I am drunk," agreed Liadov, philosophically.
Ilarion's voice dropped into his chest, and he could not suppress the possessive note that entered it.
"You're alone?"
"As alone as you are."
Lasha flinched slightly.
"You don't know how alone I am."
Liadov gave a weary laugh, bloodless and colorless.
"Believe me, Lasha, I do."
"How can you say you never toyed with me? Just this morning-" began Lasha, demanding, but he was gently pre-empted.
"No. I didn't call to turn the knife, Ilarion. I merely called to tell you that I'm ready to do my share of the wash, as I always have, and always will. And I called to tell you what you already know."
Lasha fell silent, feeling a stitching pain.
"...I'll love you from the cradle to the grave, Ilarion Aleksandrovich."
A moment later he was holding a dead line, and his ear was filled with the white noise after the click that predominated the airwaves in Tselinoyarsk.
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Lasha frowned. Nika sounded sad. Russian sad. And perhaps a little-
"Are you drunk, Liadov?" he asked, before he could stop himself.
"I would say that I am drunk," agreed Liadov, philosophically.
Ilarion's voice dropped into his chest, and he could not suppress the possessive note that entered it.
"You're alone?"
"As alone as you are."
Lasha flinched slightly.
"You don't know how alone I am."
Liadov gave a weary laugh, bloodless and colorless.
"Believe me, Lasha, I do."
"How can you say you never toyed with me? Just this morning-" began Lasha, demanding, but he was gently pre-empted.
"No. I didn't call to turn the knife, Ilarion. I merely called to tell you that I'm ready to do my share of the wash, as I always have, and always will. And I called to tell you what you already know."
Lasha fell silent, feeling a stitching pain.
"...I'll love you from the cradle to the grave, Ilarion Aleksandrovich."
A moment later he was holding a dead line, and his ear was filled with the white noise after the click that predominated the airwaves in Tselinoyarsk.