Я хочу быть с тобой (Conrad/Ruslan)

Even without him saying her name Zhenya knew that Conrad wasn’t happy with her. He was right, of course. But she was panicky. Her career, her life was at stake or so she felt. Ruslan felt like a threat now. What if he really told the family things? What if he added suspicions of what Conrad and Zhenya were doing? She wasn’t ready to sit down with her parents for a lecture on how she had to take her career seriously and break up with Conrad because he wasn’t helping her to become a better artistic flyer.

Conrad reminded her of how she was already struggling with her own schoolwork and the sixth year looked down, feeling how her cheeks reddened and she forced herself not to cry. This wouldn’t help; wouldn’t make anything better.

He was right, of course. She was failing with her own schoolwork. Doing Ruslan’s was a very stupid idea. She shrugged as Conrad asked if she didn’t know any of her brother’s secrets. Rusya was still a child. He didn’t have any dark secrets.

“I… don’t know…” Zhenya said timidly, already imagining herself sitting in the living room with her parents during spring break.

Ruslan spoke again and the girl looked at her little brother whom she usually adored and who, now, seemed like a stranger to her. She huffed as he said that he forgot what he was supposed to say or not to say when he was busy. “Are you kidding me?” she asked weakly. What did he expect? That she did all his schoolwork?

And then he went on asking for money because he had already spent all his pocket money. Zhenya’s eyes narrowed. She glanced at Conrad, feeling that her boyfriend expected her to be strong now and she was really mad at her little brother now anyway.

“I should probably write home and tell mama and papa that you sneak into the kitchens to steal cake and that you don’t watch your diet,” she said sweetly. “I think they’d like to know that. Soon you’ll need a bigger broom because you’ll be too heavy for the junior broom you’re working with now.” It didn’t feel right to say this. It wasn’t like her. Zhenya felt like running away from her boyfriend and her brother now.

Now that he was back on his feet, Conrad was struck by how small Ruslan was, small enough that he was looking down on him. Small and stubborn. Surely he had secrets, he wanted to argue – all children had secrets – but Ruslan had overheard him anyway, and had something to say about that. (Of course he had something to say about that, he thought meanly; had nobody ever told this boy that nobody cared what he thought? He clearly could stand to hear it more often.)

Zhenya was being mean, maybe even meaner than he’d been. Conrad had never heard Zhenya be mean to anybody, not even to him, not like that. He wasn’t sure if he was impressed or not; he wouldn’t have expected it of Zhenya. He knew it was hypocritical to be so surprised that she was being mean – he’d been mean first – but it had taken him badly aback anyway. He'd never thought of her as a bitch.

This was his fault, though, more than Zhenya’s, and Ruslan’s fault more than his. He glanced sideways – Zhenya fortunately didn’t look any happier than he felt about this – and then back down at Ruslan.

Ruslan was just so small – that was what was giving him pause. Conrad had pretty much never been the larger party in a beating-up situation, and even though he hated that, he couldn’t imagine it was all that much nicer to be on the other side. It still had to be done – he knew that – he knew that, if this tiresome negotiation fell through, he’d have to follow through with his threat – but he was going to hate it.

Maybe that was what he had to say: as soon as Ruslan was out of leverage, there was no reason for Conrad not to beat him up – he didn’t give a shit if the eldest Shishkin brother was going to beat him up back, since he’d kind of deserve that – but he didn’t want that any more than Ruslan did. It was avoidable, but only for Ruslan. Now that he was calmed down, Conrad pitied him. Once he’d been just as small and stubborn and capable of making things easier for himself and for everybody around him; almost invariably he had chosen the hard way, and invariably he had paid for it. Maybe that was what he had to say – maybe that would get through to Ruslan – but he didn’t want to.

Ruslan was feeling quite pleased with himself, convinced that he'd got the upper hand over the older students and was going to be strutting back to the Klyk common room with a fine tale to tell him dormmates that evening. Zhenya looked worried, and he did feel a tiny twinge of guilt, because whatever she said, she was his sister and he wasn't going to tell anyone what he'd seen, not unless she was really mean to him. She didn't know that though, so really in his eyes there was no problem in trying to exploit the situation a little.

Was he kidding? Well he hadn't even started the homework, that much was true, but he didn't really expect his sister to do it for him. If he wanted help he would ask Rodion, that was a lot more convenient given that they were in the same house, or one of the second years which would probably be even better because they'd have done the same lessons much more recently. And although he didn't exactly flaunt his abilities, everyone knew that Ruslan was related to the artistic flying world champion and could get autographs for anybody who wanted one, which gave him at least a little bit of status with several of the not-much-older students in his house.

As for the quill, well he did need a new quill, because he'd accidentally dropped and then sat on his favourite one, and while it still worked fine, it was bent halfway down and didn't feel quite comfortable in his hand any more. He was about to say something more when Zhenya said... she said...and he felt his blood run cold.

It had been a birthday cake baked by Ommer Valera, and everyone knew ve made the most amazing cakes. Ruslan hadn't been able to resist, it was so delicious with four layers and vanilla icing with fresh blackberries. He'd been in bed, but he was still hungry and everyone else had been asleep, and "It was only one slice! I don't break my diet, and I'll need a bigger broom anyway because I'm growing, everyone says so..." he replied, feeling scared and frantic. He was breathing faster and his eyes were shimmering wet, but even in the midst of his fear Ruslan knew how small and innocent he looked. If they thought he was that upset, maybe they might take pity on him and he'd get the new quill anyway.

He blinked hard, and a perfect tear ran down each cheek as he nibbled his lower lip and stared at the floor, shuffling his feet.

When she had threatened her little brother Zhenya struggled to stay calm. She felt like she had wronged little Ruslan and felt terrible about it. However, there was no going back, no making things unsaid.

She looked at Conrad, wondering what he was thinking of the way she had just acted. It wasn’t like her. Conrad liked her the way she usually was. She was worried that he’d hate her now; that he might think that this was her real face now. The girl chewed on her lip and wished that her boyfriend would speak, that he’d say something to reassure her that between them nothing had changed.

While she was still in doubt about what this scene meant for her relationship with Conrad, she could tell that she clearly upset her little brother. It was his fault that it all had come to this... or maybe not.

Ruslan was still a child. She should have taken better precautions so that he could have never seen them together. She should be the more mature of the Shishkin siblings and reach out to try and make things alright again. However, she had panicked, had overreacted and now she had to deal with the mess she had made.

There was a tear running down Ruslan’s cheek now and Zhenya was close to crying herself as she saw it. “It’s okay Rusya,” she said feebly. “Don’t cry. I won’t say anything if you don’t say anything either.” She glanced at Conrad, hoping for some kind of support or a sign of approval.

This was sort of disappointing; Conrad, still standing next to Zhenya looking down at her little brother, felt inexplicably let down. His family arguments were something to be reckoned with, cruel and mean and angry and so personally insulting that often there was no way to resolve it but to pretend nothing had happened. The Shishkins, clearly, were not like that; the little boy fell apart as soon as Zhenya threatened to tell on him about a slice of cake he’d stolen, and Zhenya fell apart as soon as her brother did.

Conrad caught her gaze, feeling like he’d been saddled with armour and protective padding and a horrid heavy helmet only to be pushed into an arena with a kitten. Zhenya was giving up. Why was Zhenya giving up? Just because Ruslan was crying? Over one slice of cake? Big deal!

He might have shrugged – that would probably have communicated everything he was feeling, off-balance and irritated and confused – but he didn’t want to seem like he was endorsing anything she’d just done. If she’d wanted to be mean to Ruslan, she couldn’t just back down as soon as she felt bad. That would get them nowhere; all it would do was teach Ruslan that he could cry his way out of this, and then Ruslan would start crying his way out of everything, like a girl.

To hide his expression – he knew well enough when he was having no luck concealing his irritation – he looked back down at Ruslan, and tried to figure out how to tell the boy that he wouldn’t be fooled by this pathetic act as easily as Zhenya had been, without tipping Zhenya off that he thought that. He came up short. He said, “Stop crying. Nobody ever died over one piece of cake.”

This whole situation was weird and Ruslan still wondered if he could manage to just run away if he took the older boy by surprise. He hated arguing with his sisters anyway, and even when they did argue it tended to be over stupid things like where was the broom polish or who had the best performance music. This felt personal and made him uncomfortable, and what he really wanted to do was hug Zhenya and they could just forgive each other and pretend it had never happened and go flying together. That couldn't happen though, not with Conrad there, and Ruslan decided then and there that he did NOT like the other boy at all. He was going to ruin everything and that just wasn't fair!

He let his lip tremble just slightly and glared fiercely at the older boy before answering his sister "I won't say anything. I don't know why you had to go and hide anyway if you weren't talking about your free programme" he said, genuinely meaning it. Even if Conrad was her boyfriend, why they couldn't just go to the library or their common room or something rather than hiding out in an empty classroom like they were doing something wrong? It didn't make any sense, at least not to the first year.

Oh, but he really, REALLY didn't like Conrad, and not just because it seemed like the older boy wasn't at all convinced by his sad expression. He swiped a hand across his face and put on his best Thoughtful Expression. "I guess it would depend how big the piece of cake was" he mused "if it was a giant cake the size of a mountain, then you might die if a piece of it fell on you...and you definitely wouldn't be able to eat that much cake unless you were a mountain troll. And even a mountain troll wouldn't be able to eat a cake the size of a mountain...oh! But there's that snake...I can't remember what it's called, the one that can change it's size? That might be able to eat a giant cake...but which one would win in a fight?"

If he couldn't win by stealth, Ruslan would try misdirection!

Zhenya didn’t like conflict. She liked to do what was expected of her to avoid fights. She wasn’t usually rebellious. Having a boyfriend was the most rebellious thing ever for her anyway. She enjoyed spending time with Conrad, she felt better about herself in his company, he didn’t put her under pressure, he didn’t seem to expect anything from her and that made her feel free. With him she could relax and yet she always had this vague feeling that nobody would approve of their relationship. Probably because she shouldn’t waste time on a relationship in general and because of Conrad’s attitude in particular.

However, while she could accept that her parents would judge her for this, Ruslan clearly wasn’t in a position to do so. The siblings should stick together rather than make their lives harder. In the past they had all supported each other. Was this going to change now?

Zhenya could not bear seeing her little brother on the verge of tears. She wanted to cuddle him and beg him to never tell a soul anything about what he had seen and heard. However, she couldn’t do this now. She glanced at Conrad again as Ruslan said that he wouldn’t say anything. She wanted to believe her younger sibling but she wasn’t sure if she could do so. Zhenya didn’t think that Ruslan would write home the moment they let him go, but she wasn’t convinced that he might not accidentally make a comment that would give her away at some later point.

As the girl was still trying to figure out what she was thinking and feeling, the boys talked about pieces of cake and whether or not one could die of them or something along the lines of that. Zhenya frowned and then shook her head impatiently.

“Stop that nonsense, Rusya,” she said, “that’s beside the point. If you swear that you won’t tell anyone anything I promise not to tell anyone about the cake either. Deal?” she asked, still feeling that even with her brother’s promise she couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t let some information slip. Wasn’t there some kind of vow that Ruslan could make that would prevent him from ever telling anyone about it?

Ruslan stopped crying at once, which pretty much answered whether he’d been honestly upset, and switched tack entirely, as though he were trying to confuse Conrad out of being angry. He was almost successful; Conrad squinted first at the younger boy, then at Zhenya, then back at the boy, and said finally, “What?”

Perhaps it was just that a dozen years’ hard work and trouble to learn Russian still hadn’t given him the fluency that a little kid who was actually Russian had, but nothing in that tirade had made any sense, or been relevant at all to what they were talking about, and (like most things that made Conrad feel stupid) it only irritated him. He put his hands in his pockets; Zhenya, fortunately, came to his rescue, and Conrad hunched his shoulders and retreated a few steps.

Conrad had been a difficult kid, but his parents hadn’t been able to afford any of this time-wasting wishy-washy pleading stuff – they were busy people, and they had hard lives, and he had been too much to handle any other way but quickly and severely. Conrad was used to that, but Ruslan evidently wasn’t. Ruslan had grown up in a family of artists; Ruslan’s parents worried about him getting too big and not too thin; Ruslan was still talking about artistic flying as though it were the only thing worth keeping a big secret over. Everything was going wrong because stupid Ruslan didn’t understand how the world worked.

But nothing that Conrad had tried had done any good, and Zhenya was somehow doing fine with her time-wasting wishy-washy tactic, so all Conrad could do was lurk and be annoyed by it, so – hands in pockets, slouching like a scarecrow – he lurked, and was annoyed.

"DON'T call me Rusya!" he muttered, staring at his feet and kicking one shoe with the other, a childish habit he hadn't yet quite managed to break. There was nothing wrong with the diminutive at home, though something about the sound of it annoyed him more and more as he got older, but now he was at school Ruslan felt as though he wanted to use his full name at all times, even though hardly anyone else agreed with him. At the back of his mind though, he was mentally celebrating and a small inner voice was whispering "Yesss!"

His misdirection had worked - or at least, it had been confusing enough that he had successfully changed the subject. He didn't seem to be in trouble any more and Conrad wasn't threatening to beat him up. True, it didn't look like he was getting a new quill or help with his homework any time soon, but as he hadn't had either of those things half an hour ago, he didn't think that was too terrible. He grinned at Zhenya and nodded.

"Deal!" he said happily, holding out his hand for her to shake and seal the deal. Once the siblings had shaken hands, as far as he was concerned he would take the secret with him to his grave. Really, did it matter if Zhenya had a boyfriend, so long as he was into flying and didn't try to distract her from practising? At the age of eleven - and quite a young eleven at that - Ruslan didn't think being boyfriend and girlfriend meant anything more than holding hands and maybe buying candy for each other once in a while. Of course, he would have preferred that Zhenya chose someone nice who didn't act like he was so grumpy, but he supposed that wasn't really his choice.

"I'm going back to my common room now" he announced, watching to see if the older boy was going to say anything. Apparently not, he was doing a very good impression of the world's sulkiest statue. Ruslan decided not to say anything more to him, but instead unexpectedly threw his arms around his sister's neck and hugged her, before turning and walking down the corridor, making his footsteps as quiet as possible so he could hear if he was being followed. As he left, he thought he heard then starting to talk again, but as they weren't following, he pretended not to hear anything. As soon as he rounded the corner, Ruslan began to run, not stopping until he was safely back in his common room.

Homework seemed almost appealing now!

[out]

Zhenya really didn’t understand Ruslan’s problem being called Rusya or Lanchik but instead of commenting on it she just raised her eyebrows a little, looking down at him in bemusement. The sudden changes of topic made her head almost spin and she was feeling rather tired all of a sudden.

Fortunately the younger Shishkin held out his hand to seal the deal that neither of them would betray the other and talk about their secrets. It was strange and an absolute first that Zhenya had, at least for a moment, feared her younger brother. She naturally didn’t like this feeling at all. However, she was certain that the older they got the more situations like this might come up.

They were all under immense pressure and, while Zhenya and Ruslan would never compete against each other in competitions, they were all taught to see each other as family as well as as rivals. In the Shishkin and Tikhomirov families, success in the sport was very important. They were all fighting for praise and recognition and in this they were also, in a way, competing against each other.

As Ruslan announced that he’d head back to his common room, Zhenya offered a small smile. She was almost relieved that she wouldn’t have to deal with her little brother anymore today. Surprised by the sudden hug, it took her a second before she, too, wrapped her arms around her sibling and squeezed him tightly.

She watched as he walked down the corridor before turning to Conrad. “I’m sorry,” she said, unsure what she was really apologising for. “I guess we’re not going in there again, right?” She felt how her cheeks reddened. The atmosphere was ruined now anyway. She didn’t even feel like snogging Conrad anymore. In fact, and that surprised her more than just a little bit, Zhenya thought that she should do some homework soon and things really were bad when the girl voluntarily considered doing homework.

Ruslan gave him another rather testy glance, and Conrad raised his eyebrows impatiently, trying to spur him along; as the younger boy disappeared down the corridor and Zhenya turned back to Conrad, he was sure he heard the boy’s footsteps break into a run, little rodent that he was. “No,” he agreed wearily, glancing back at Zhenya, unsure whether to be impressed or annoyed that she’d broached the topic of their interrupted kiss. He tried to unslouch his spine, and pressed the heels of his hands at his temples, hard, as though that would make him feel any better about the situation.

What else could he do about it, now, but feel lousy? Whatever Ruslan decided was painfully out of his control, that was clear enough. He’d done pretty much everything wrong, and he didn’t know why – he didn’t know what it was about Ruslan (who seemed on the surface to be very like Conrad had been at that age, nosy and annoying and rash) that made him indomitable. Even Conrad had been reasonably domitable.

“Uff,” he said, and dragged his hands down his face. He was exhausted for no good reason, and thought maybe he ought to just give up on today, and go lie down, but he knew better than to abandon something that was his fault, or at least he ought to. He put his hands back in his pockets, and pointed his gaze floorwards, and said bracingly, “I shouldn’t have yelled at him.” This wasn’t a real apology, but he wasn’t really sorry, and he didn’t make apologies he didn’t mean. It wasn’t his fault if Ruslan Shishkin was too dumb to threaten; how could he have known that?

Zhenya wasn’t sure if she was relieved or upset that Conrad didn’t want to pick up where they had been interrupted. Clearly her mood for some secret snogging was gone now but it still bothered her that he didn’t seem willing to kiss her anymore now. While she felt uncomfortable about it, about the entire situation actually, Zhenya decided not to comment on this part anymore. It was likely not going to make anything better anyway.

She chewed on her lip as she watched Conrad who didn’t really look his best either. A secret relationship had had some appeal while it had still been entirely secret. Now she saw all the complications it brought rather than the excitement. Why couldn’t they just make it public? She asked herself but didn’t have to think about it long before finding the answer - she’d be in a lot of trouble. It was better if nobody knew about her having a boyfriend. In fact, the easiest option was probably not to have a boyfriend in the first place and, given how Conrad had treated her little brother earlier, she wondered why she cared this much about him anyway.

He said that he shouldn’t have yelled at Ruslan and a smile spread across Zhenya’s face, his words immediately made her doubts go away. He was apologetic about how he had treated her little brother and that was all that she needed at this point.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice tired. “Let’s just try to forget about it and return to the common room.” She paused and then wrinkled her nose. “I still have some homework to complete.” She was tempted to grab his hand but in a secret relationship that wasn’t advisable, of course. Therefore, she took a step back, bringing some more distance between them and started her way back to the Drakonya Krov common room.

[out]

Conrad grunted noncommittally – Zhenya had the luxury of forgetting about this, and Conrad had a standing threat to stick to – but he didn’t want an argument. She was smiling at him; he figured he ought to quit while he was ahead.

“Fine,” he said. She stepped away and he shrugged his shoulders in farewell, and watched her turn around and leave. There had definitely been an invitation to walk with her, in  her parting words, but he let her round the corner before he sloped after her, in the interest of secrecy.

(After all, now this really was secrecy; threats had been exchanged and silence extorted, and that was kind of his fault, since until Ruslan Shishkin had asked if he was Zhenya’s boyfriend, all they’d really had was a relationship they hadn’t told anybody about. Just another drop on the hot stone of Conrad’s unfailing ability to wreck things for himself.)

It didn’t matter, he decided. If Zhenya had followed along, she must have wanted to keep the secret too, and whatever her reasons were, he cared about her enough to keep it up, and in six months – six months! – it really wouldn’t matter either way.

Ahead of him, Zhenya turned the next corner, and Conrad slowed down and dragged his feet.


END