Vlad darts around his apartment, hurriedly trying to get ready, cursing his vivid imagination, which caused him to sleep through every alarm, and now he's late for his first class.
Cherevaty doesn't regret what he did yesterday one bit. Kissing Oleg was the only way to get out of that stupid situation they found themselves in, but Vlad couldn't manage to fight his own subconscious. And it had gone off the rails again, tormented him half the night, painting pictures in his dreams of what could have happened in that elevator if Cherevaty hadn't been in a hurry to get his important papers from the Vice-Rector at the very end of the workday and had pressed the "Stop" button after all.
He finally puts on his jacket, throws a quick glance in the mirror, and, confirming he looks acceptable enough, hurries out of the apartment.
It's noticeably warmer outside, and the endless rain has given way to the long-awaited sun. Vlad even regrets not having time to calmly stroll to the bus stop and enjoy the beautiful weather. He takes a couple of wide strides from the entrance and suddenly slows down, raising his eyebrows in surprise: a few meters away, leaning casually against the hood of his car with his arms crossed, stands Sheps.
"You're late, Vladislav Vitalievich," Oleg says instead of a greeting, breaking into a sly smile.
"What are you doing here?"
"Decided to give you a ride."
Sheps answers simply, shrugging slightly, but Cherevaty doesn't like this idea at all, because after his crazy dreams, he's not at all sure they'll make it to the faculty if they actually get into the same car right now. However, after a moment's hesitation, Vlad glances at his watch, mentally curses, realizing he definitely has no chance of making it on time by bus, and purses his lips in displeasure.
"Fine," he agrees reluctantly. "Let's go."
Oleg smiles even wider, his gaze following the professor as he heads to the car, and dives into the driver's seat, for the first time, sincerely hoping for maximum traffic on the way to the university.
"How did this happen?" he starts the conversation calmly, and noticing Cherevaty's confused look, clarifies: "You're never late."
"Got caught up with work yesterday," Vlad invents an excuse on the spot. "Exam period is soon."
Silence hangs in the car, and Sheps sighs barely noticeably, trying to get at least some emotion out of Cherevaty:
"What, not even going to ask me the same thing, just to be polite?"
"You're always late," Vlad smirks. "No point in asking."
"A shame," Oleg purses his lips feignedly and shoots him a sly look. "I would have answered more honestly than you."
Cherevaty turns away instantly and immediately starts to get angry, because Sheps, quite logically, isn't falling for such excuses anymore, and besides, he himself is a terrible liar. A satisfied smirk is already plastered on the student's face at his confusion, and Vlad hastily changes the subject so as not to dig himself into a deeper hole.
"I wonder... how much does a car like this cost?"
"Honestly? No idea," Oleg plays along easily. "My father gave it to me for getting into university."
"I thought getting you in was the gift for getting in," Cherevaty lets out a quiet laugh, hoping Sheps won't take the jab seriously.
Oleg just chuckles in response. He senses Vlad isn't trying to hit a personal nerve, so he sees no reason to be offended by the decent jab.
"Do you always think in stereotypes, Vladislav Vitalievich?"
"Says the rich kid speeding around in a sports BMW?" Cherevaty laughs more loudly.
At first glance, Sheps really is a walking stereotype, and Vlad remembers being certain of this assumption a few months ago. But so much has happened since then that he, it seems, no longer knows what kind of person is sitting next to him. And he also doesn't know why he likes this morning so much, charged with adrenaline hanging in the air.
Oleg doesn't want to argue. The BMW really isn't the car he always dreamed of, but the gift from his father couldn't have come at a better time. The paperwork was delayed, and Sheps still considers that legal delay his greatest stroke of luck, because he received the car a month after all his property was transferred to Sasha. Oleg doesn't give a damn about the brand or the color, simply because this car is the embodiment of his status and moral freedom. It's the only thing his brother couldn't take away.
Sheps pulls into the parking lot of a small coffee shop, and Cherevaty frowns, spreading his hands in question:
"We're late, you know!"
"I'm not going to first period without coffee!" Oleg retorts, slightly petulant, and kills the engine, confusing Vlad completely.
"Are you insane?.."
Cherevaty asks, almost exhaustedly, because he can hardly believe Sheps is really going to stand in line, knowing that the professor could get in trouble for being late.
"Are you?" Oleg replies, smirking, and heads quickly to the door of the shop, leaving Vlad baffled.
Cherevaty frowns, trying to understand what Sheps meant, but finds no answer in his chaotic stream of thoughts. He leans back against the seat angrily, his gaze hypnotizing the clock on the dashboard, comforting himself with the fact that there are still about fifteen minutes until class starts.
Oleg returns surprisingly quickly, but stuns Vlad even more by placing two full cups in the holders between them. They pull out of the parking lot in complete silence, but even though Sheps doesn't say it out loud, Cherevaty has no doubt the second coffee is for him. And this feels impossibly wild to Vlad, because this small gesture seems more intimate than anything else that has happened between them.
Oleg's pulse skyrockets. He reaches for his cup, takes a sip of the scorching liquid like trying to burn away his stupid fear, and just waits silently to see if Cherevaty will dare to make another crazy move.
Vlad hates this situation. He demonstratively ignores his coffee and continues to be angry at Sheps, now for putting him in an awkward position. Because refusing is extremely foolish, and accepting is, for some reason, too difficult. And also because Oleg hit the nail on the head: in his morning rush, Cherevaty hadn't had time to drink coffee at home and now feels uncomfortable without his usual ritual.
He nervously bites his lips, trying to figure out how to act so as not to end up the loser in another round of their game, but suddenly notices Sheps gripping the steering wheel with both hands, staring intently at the road. Before their unexpected stop, Oleg was driving playfully, handling even the turns with one palm, but now he is sitting taut as a string and clearly isn't stressed about being late for a lecture.
Vlad takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and tries to look at the situation from another angle. Will he show weakness if he takes the coffee after all? Definitely. But isn't that exactly what Sheps just did, when he silently brought him the coffee without any hints? With a heavy exhale, Cherevaty grabs the cup on his side and almost immediately feels incredible relief at his own decision, catching out of the corner of his eye how the other man's hands relax on the steering wheel at that same moment.
"Stop here," Vlad breaks the silence after a few minutes, realizing they are only a block away from the faculty building.
Oleg understands perfectly well that arriving at the university together in the morning is one of the worst ideas they could possibly come up with, but he doesn't react to his phrase anyway, hoping to hear something else he can latch onto. He wants the last word so badly it hurts.
"I said, stop," Cherevaty repeats, harsher this time, and Sheps instinctively licks his lips, breaking into a satisfied smirk.
"Are you scared?" The car immediately shifts to the right curb and stops, and Oleg turns to Vlad with an insolent squint, his burning gaze digging into him. "Or do you just like giving me orders?"
Cherevaty almost chokes on his coffee at this openly seductive tone and at how Sheps's words once again detonate his imagination, arousing him to the limit.
"Thanks for the coffee," Vlad forces out, reaching for the door handle with a trembling hand, wanting to get out of this damn car as quickly as possible, where Oleg just burned up all the oxygen for both of them.
"You'll owe me," Sheps throws with the same smirk and hits the gas, completely satisfied, as soon as Cherevaty slams the door.
Oleg won this round with a crushing score and is now racing to the lecture, eagerly awaiting a worthy rematch, while Vlad practically runs to work, clutching the ill-fated cup, cursing the fact he ever agreed to this ride.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
Cherevaty enters the auditorium almost calm, but immediately collides with a mocking gaze from those light eyes. Sheps breaks into a sly smirk, rising slightly from his chair along with the other students, but immediately sits back down and presses his lips to his cup, taking a sip of the already lukewarm coffee.
Vlad has only his unchanging folder in his hands, and Oleg is dying of curiosity whether he finished his drink or threw it away on the way to the faculty. The professor begins the lecture sitting down, to catch his breath at least a little after the crazy morning, and Sheps sends him a message, pursuing two goals at once.
First, Oleg wants to know the answer to his question, and second, he wants to test how long Cherevaty's patience will last before he allows himself to get distracted from the class to at least read the notification. Sheps is sure Vlad will have no doubts about the sender.
And Cherevaty does indeed sigh barely noticeably, feeling the quiet vibration of his phone in his pocket. He shoots a glance at Oleg and, noticing the expectant look, immediately understands he wasn't mistaken in his assumption, but confidently continues delivering the material.
About ten minutes later, Sheps starts to get angry. Vlad writes on the board, explains some points, but never takes out his phone, even when standing silently by the desk, giving the students time to copy the necessary material into their notes.
Cherevaty is dying to know what's written in the still-unread message, but he wants to tease Oleg much more. He occasionally glances at the student pursing his lips, irritably twirling a pen in his hands, and this gives him the strength to hold out and not look at the screen.
"Well then," Vlad begins to wrap up when there's only a little time left in the period, "we have covered the last topic. I will see some groups at the practical seminars this week, and I'll meet the rest at the consultation, where we'll discuss points from the exam tickets and organizational issues. I also want to say that if you have any topics left that aren't completely clear, I'm willing to set aside time after classes to help you. Come see me after the bell, and we'll try to choose a day for this extra session."
He glances at the clock, informs the students there is time left for questions on today's topic, and pays no more attention to Sheps until the end of the class.
Immediately after the bell, Oleg heads toward him decisively, but a small crowd quickly gathers around the desk, wanting to discuss the extra meeting with the professor, and Sheps turns around abruptly, leaving the auditorium in anger.
Before the start of the next period, when Cherevaty finally has a few free minutes, he takes out his phone after all, eagerly opening the message.
Oleg Sheps
Don't like Americanos?
Vlad smiles at such a simple question. He actually likes Americanos quite a lot, but Oleg got the sugar amount completely wrong, so Cherevaty couldn't manage the whole cup, throwing it away somewhere on the way to work.
Vladik
I don't get how you can drink unsweetened coffee.
The reply doesn't take long.
Oleg Sheps
I'll keep that in mind ;) By the way, do you offer private tutoring, Vladislav Vitalievich? haha
Vladik
For statistics—yes.
Oleg Sheps
A shame... Not interested then.
Vlad smirks, thinking this is the right decision. Imagining the two of them in an empty office discussing study problems seems impossible. His thoughts immediately turn in a completely different direction, and for a few seconds, Cherevaty even feels a little sad that Sheps gave up on this tempting idea so quickly. The bell yanks him out of his fantasies, and Vlad greets the next stream of students, trying to brush aside images of himself disjointedly explaining memorized material to an Oleg who is rhythmically twitching beneath him.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
In the next three lectures, where the professors are already summarizing the semester, Sheps sits with a bored expression, not understanding why he's wasting his time. He and Artem agreed not to skip the last classes, and although Oleg understands he needs to confirm his exam plans, this pastime brings him no pleasure.
He is also still angry at Vlad. Sheps had geared himself up for something vivid, for another explosion from Cherevaty after his morning provocation, but instead, he got total stonewalling and a dry reply to his completely transparent hint. Oleg doesn't doubt, of course, that this was part of their match, but he didn't like this move at all. He listens to the professors with half an ear, hoping Krasnov will nudge him if any important information is mentioned, while he himself tries to come up with something else that will finally make Vlad react the way he wants.
By the end of classes, no worthy idea appears in Sheps's head, and he decides to postpone his own rematch until tomorrow.
"Go smoke, I'll be down in a sec," Oleg throws to Artem after the bell and heads to the restroom to wash his face, because his head is pounding from all the active thinking.
The cold water helps him pull himself together a bit, and Sheps walks more briskly down the corridor toward the stairs, when he unexpectedly runs into Levin coming around the corner.
"I'm coming already!" the PE teacher shouts, immediately pulling the phone away from his ear. "Oh, Sheps! Take this to the staff room, I don't have time."
He holds out a register to the student and, as soon as Oleg takes it, runs toward the steps, continuing the conversation with the person on the phone. Sheps sighs wearily, rolling his eyes slightly, and, turning around, shuffles resignedly to the right office.
He knocks on the door quietly, even timidly, sincerely hoping Raidos isn't in there—she returned to work yesterday after her short sick leave.
"Come in."
Oleg flinches at the other familiar voice and mentally curses Levin, realizing he is completely unprepared for this meeting: Cherevaty is sitting at the desk, looking intently at some grade sheets.
He looks up from the papers and swallows barely noticeably, spotting Sheps entering the staff room.
"Professor Levin asked me to drop off the register," the student explains emotionlessly, stopping at the entrance.
"Put it in its place," Vlad answers, matching his tone, motioning with his hand toward the shelf in the corner of the room, and returns to his grade sheets.
Oleg silently crosses the office and frowns, not understanding what happened. Just this morning, Cherevaty was acting completely different, and now he has abruptly returned them to the "student-professor" framework, and Sheps doesn't like this transition at all. He replays the entire day in his head, trying to analyze every moment, places the register on the correct shelf, and just as wordlessly, heads for the exit. Lost in his thoughts, Oleg doesn't notice the wide strides behind him as Vlad quickly catches up, and feels his pulse instantly skyrocket when the door slams shut right in his face.
The lock clicks, and Sheps doesn't even have time to react before Cherevaty yanks him by the neck, spinning him around, and smashes into his lips with a demanding kiss.
Oleg answers. Crumbles to ash in the other man's hands, stops thinking about anything else, and feels like a goddamn phoenix that was just set on fire to be brought back to life in the only way possible.
Not breaking the kiss, Vlad shoves him against the wall, going crazy himself from what he's doing. From the moment Sheps's car left him on the curb with that damned coffee in his hands, he had hoped for a good opportunity to get revenge. He saw he had angered Oleg with his behavior during the lecture and wanted to keep him in that state for as long as possible, but he couldn't pass up this perfect chance. His prey had walked right into the trap, and Cherevaty slammed it shut with immense pleasure when Sheps least expected an attack.
Oleg is almost suffocating, barely staying on his feet from the wild adrenaline, and reaches his hands toward the other's neck to hold on, but Vlad grabs his wrists, instantly pinning them to the cold concrete. This is his damn move, and he has no intention of giving up an ounce of initiative, dissolving completely into the power he so desired.
Cherevaty breaks the kiss and smirks in admiration, seeing that Sheps can't even open his eyes. He squints predatorily, tilting his head, and bites down perceptibly on his earlobe, and the reaction doesn't take long. Oleg's hands jerk, clenching into fists, and Vlad tightens his grip on his wrists, not letting him break free.
"No," Cherevaty cuts him off short, and that low voice, right by Sheps's ear, runs over Oleg's entire body in goosebumps, setting his skin on fire even more.
Even Sheps's lips start to tremble, and this small detail arouses Vlad even more. He barely holds himself back from snapping and ruining his revenge, his wild gaze darting over the other's face for a few more seconds, like absorbing Oleg's helplessness, and Vlad kisses him again.
And Sheps sinks somewhere deep inside himself and, it seems, stops feeling even the parts of his own body Cherevaty isn't touching. His lips are burning, his hands are almost numb from his tightly gripped wrists, and his chest already hurts from the double pressure: from the outside, Vlad presses him into the wall with his whole body, and inside, his heart pounds violently against his ribs, like trying to jump out. Oleg can't focus on any other sensation except these, drowning headfirst in his euphoria, and doesn't even notice himself moaning softly into the kiss when Cherevaty's knee nudges his legs apart slightly.
Vlad pulls away again, realizing he only has a few seconds of restraint left, and bites Sheps's lip hard enough to hurt, tearing him out of his trance and forcing his eyes to fly open.
He takes a step back, trying to catch his breath, while Oleg nearly falls, bracing himself with his hands on a nearby small table.
"What's wrong now?" Sheps asks exhaustedly, struggling to get the words out.
Cherevaty turns away to the window, taking several deep breaths, and doesn't understand how he managed to pull away. It seems the thing he just unleashed for a few minutes has far more self-control than he does. He is in physical pain from arousal, and his body is trembling no less than Oleg's, but inside, everything is just churning with pride and delight, because right now, this damn revenge was what he wanted far more than sex.
"Vlad, fuck!" Sheps almost growls, and Cherevaty breaks into an impossibly satisfied smirk, finally turning back to him.
Oleg is still standing there, drilling his lost gaze into the table he's afraid to let go of, and this picture sears itself into Vlad's consciousness with a bright flash, because he understands he did this to Sheps. Coldly, calculatedly, finally not on emotion in response to another provocation, but simply by the force of his own self-control and power, he drove him to such a state.
"Everything's right," Cherevaty answers, his voice more level now, and Oleg raises his clouded gaze. Vlad takes a couple of steps, approaching, looks down at him with a smirk, and explains:
"That was for the coffee. I don't like being in debt."
Sheps raises his eyebrows, and a few seconds later, he finally understands what just happened, and it sobers him up a bit. He bites his lip with a chuckle, closes his eyes, and shakes his head in disbelief. He was completely unprepared for Cherevaty to take revenge like this, but it was the most beautiful move of their entire game, and Sheps can't help but admire this insane side of Vlad, which it seems he himself never suspected.
"Go wash your face," the professor says, slightly mockingly, sitting back down at his desk. "Maybe it'll help."
"You knew there were no cameras here." Oleg turns to him, stopping at the door.
"Of course, I knew," Cherevaty nods with a smile.
It was the first thing he thought of when he saw Sheps in the doorway, and it took him just a couple of seconds to scan the corners of the office while Oleg was putting the register back.
"Remember this morning when I said you were just as insane as me?" Sheps asks slyly, and Vlad squints slightly, waiting with interest for him to continue. "The coffee shop was less than a mile away from the faculty. The car was unlocked. But you didn't leave."
Cherevaty smirks, lowering his eyes, and Oleg breaks into a smile and, sighing deeply, slips carefully out of the staff room. Another round is over, and they both understand again that it was a total draw, because it's impossible to tell who won, who lost, or who even started the match, unconsciously making the first move.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
Tyomych
Where are you stuck?
Oleg
Go on, I'll be delayed.
Sheps has been sitting on the restroom windowsill for about ten minutes, trying to fully pull himself together, smoking out the open window. After what happened, he has no idea what else Vlad might pull, but this unpredictability causes nothing but wild delight.
Oleg wasn't wrong in his guesses, he just terribly underestimated his opponent and never imagined that Cherevaty, throwing all rules to the wind, would sweep all the extra pieces off the board with one flick of his hand to make his own move. It was calculated, cunning, brazen, and Sheps desperately wants to respond with something equivalent, but for now, he can't even think about a new combination, because his ears are still ringing and his body is aching desperately, forcing his imagination to fill in the blanks of what didn't happen.
Oleg heads down to the first floor, intending to finally go home after this crazy day, but suddenly freezes in the hall, spotting a slim figure outside through the glass door.
His brother's car is parked next to his, and Sasha himself is standing near the entrance, his gaze glued to his phone screen. Oleg feels panic rising inside and instinctively recoils to the side, hiding behind a wide column.
Vlad, despite all his attempts, can't get back to work after Sheps left, and, having calmed down a bit, he starts to slowly pack up to go home. The hall is empty because the next class started long ago and the students who were free have long since dispersed. Cherevaty's gaze snags on Oleg's strange movement.
Vlad frowns, not understanding who the student is hiding from, and flinches in surprise when Raidos's voice suddenly sounds from the side.
"All the best, Vladislav!"
"Goodbye, Victoria." He nods respectfully, bidding his colleague farewell in return, and slows his pace, letting her pass him.
Cherevaty watches the woman break into a happy smile and finally notices the reason. Sasha, standing outside, rushes up the steps and opens the door for his wife, greeting her with a short kiss on the lips, and then leads her by the hand to the car. Vlad can't hear what they're talking about, but now he realizes who Oleg is hiding from in such a childish way. A bunch of questions surface in his head again, and he decisively heads toward Sheps as he sees the other car slowly pull out of the parking lot, disappearing into the flow of traffic.
"They're gone."
Oleg flinches at the quiet phrase, throws a frightened look at Cherevaty, and immediately drops his eyes in shame. The last thing he wanted was for Vlad to see him in this state again, but the professor looks somehow thoughtful, leaning his shoulder against the adjacent side of the column, and for some reason, this gesture makes Sheps feel a little calmer.
"If I ask for a ride, will you tell me?" Cherevaty asks gently after a short pause.
Oleg swallows nervously and, without looking, answers in a strained voice:
"I wanted to take a walk."
And a second later, he regrets his words. Something changed yesterday, when Vlad finally made it clear that Sheps's confession hadn't scared him and hadn't broken anything in their relationship. And Oleg is still scared to open up in any way, but he seems to be impossibly tired of his own burden and just wants to tell someone about it. But his internal reflex worked faster, and Sheps just deprived himself of this opportunity.
"Well, let's go." Vlad shrugs and smiles slightly at the corners of his lips when Oleg abruptly raises stunned eyes to him. "I have to finally get a decent coffee today, after all."
The professor pushes off the column, silently takes a few steps toward the exit, and turns around, looking at Sheps expectantly. Oleg mentally smirks at this pressure, with which Cherevaty leaves him almost no choice, and, sighing deeply, follows him.
"Let's go through the courtyards," Sheps suggests, walking down the steps, and immediately clarifies, noticing the questioning look: "We're unlikely to run into anyone from the faculty there."
Vlad is surprised by such consideration but nods and immediately turns off the busy street into a small archway. An unfamiliar warmth mixed with awkwardness spreads inside him, and they both don't know how to start the conversation. Cherevaty doesn't want to press, and Oleg feels it's just plain weird to walk next to him silently like this, not trying to return to their usual game.
Despite how Vlad acted just half an hour ago, for some reason, Sheps isn't afraid of a trick right now. The professor looks different, and Oleg is sure it's stupid to expect a sudden attack: it seems this is that rare moment of truce, where they can exhale and try to just be human, although Sheps isn't sure he's capable of that anymore.
Cherevaty is better at it. He orders two Americanos himself, adds sugar to his own cup with his own hands, and silently holds the second one out to Oleg. They go back outside, duck into the courtyards again, and Vlad is the first to sit on a bench near an empty playground, inviting Sheps to join him with a look.
"Do you know she's pregnant?" Cherevaty asks quietly, as Oleg lights a cigarette and finally sits down next to him, his gaze fixed on the smoldering cigarette between his fingers.
"No," Sheps answers without emotion. "I don't talk to them."
"For how long?"
"Four years."
An unspoken question hangs in the air, and Oleg sighs deeply, taking a long drag.
Vlad doesn't dare to ask and just waits for the story, suddenly realizing he didn't come for this at all. Of course, he is still interested in finding out what is going on between these people, but more than that, he wants to be sure that Sheps really trusts him enough to reveal something so personal—the thing that turns the brilliant manipulator into a broken and impossibly frightened person in one second. Because if that's true, then everything Cherevaty feels when he's near him definitely makes sense.
"It was before I started university," Oleg begins, barely audible, and Vlad exhales in relief, completely tuning out even the nasty smoke the wind blows toward him, even though Sheps tries to exhale the other way. "I got drugs planted on me at a club. I just found them in my pocket, but didn't have time to toss them: someone called the cops. They took me and a few other people in. Let us go the next day. I figured Sasha paid them off. I don't know, he didn't explain. Just silently picked me up, and at home, both he and Vika just ignored me."
Oleg speaks in a monotone, staring at a single point, but Cherevaty notices his hands are trembling slightly and frowns, realizing the story is far from the banal squabble between two brothers he had imagined.
"And then a few days later, they came for us with a specific charge. Turns out, several people testified that I was the one who sold to them." Sheps pauses, taking a sip of coffee, throws away the finished cigarette, and reaches into his pocket for a new one. "They took me in. For two weeks, Sasha never came. He passed a message through his lawyer that it was my own fault and he wasn't surprised at all."
"And your parents?.." Vlad asks carefully and takes the lighter from his trembling hands, seeing that Oleg is struggling to light it.
The flame flares up, allowing Sheps to inhale the life-saving smoke, but he doesn't dare to look up, not even to thank Cherevaty with his eyes for the gesture.
"They live abroad. He forbade me from telling them."
"Did he get you off?" Vlad realizes Oleg doesn't want to drown in the details of those two weeks, and prompts him toward the end of the story himself.
"Yeah. During one of the meetings, the lawyer brought me a stack of papers and said I had to sign them, or I'd go to jail. I signed, and the next day they told me there were no charges against me and all accusations were dropped. I've been broke ever since." Sheps smirks at the last phrase and finally throws an unreadable glance at Cherevaty. "Money, the apartment, shares in my father's company—it all belongs to Sasha. Only got lucky with the car: it came later."
"You moved out right away?" Vlad asks, understanding.
"I got back from the precinct, and Vika had already packed my things. So of course I moved out. And now I don't give a flying fuck what's going on with them. I have nothing to do with them or their kid."
Oleg sighs deeply and falls silent, emerging from the memories. A nasty, sticky fear immediately spreads through his veins, and he waits with a sense of doom for a reaction to his story, but Cherevaty is silent, not knowing what to say after what he heard.
Vlad understands almost everything. Why the family fell apart, why the younger Sheps is so desperately closed off, not letting anyone in, and why, for Oleg, his older brother is an uncontrollable power that, with a snap of his fingers, stripped him of everything at the very moment he just needed help and support.
"The coffee's gotten cold..." Cherevaty tries to change the subject, to somehow pull Sheps out of the web of his terrible past, but Oleg thinks it's a hint.
"Want a ride home?"
"No, that's okay."
Vlad doesn't know how to diffuse the awkwardness and thinks prolonging it is a bad idea for both of them, but Sheps hears something else entirely in his words. The very thing he feared most. His hands start to tremble even more, and Oleg thinks he has pushed Cherevaty away with this truth after all. A truth that, apparently, no one will ever believe.
Vlad's head starts to ache, either from the smoke—because Sheps has been smoking nonstop this whole time—or because he wants to help somehow, but Cherevaty can't find the right words. Or rather, he finds them, but is afraid to say them out loud, so as not to press even harder on the weakness Oleg so desperately didn't want to show and only gave up out of hopelessness. Vlad is sure that even if Sheps subconsciously wants to be pitied, he isn't ready to accept that pity.
"What, you think I deserved it too?" Oleg smirks and jerks his head up, and Cherevaty, from his gaze, suddenly realizes with horror what he means.
Several phrases spin in his head—from gentle to harsh—with which Vlad wants to say how wrong Sheps is, misreading his reaction to his story, but Cherevaty doesn't have time to choose. He lunges forward sharply and just kisses him, hoping Oleg will understand everything this way.
A trembling palm lands on his neck, pulling him closer, and Vlad mirrors the gesture, deepening the kiss. And Sheps understands. He doesn't feel unwanted pity, immediately gets rid of the awkwardness and fear he almost drowned in, and mentally thanks Cherevaty for once again doing the one thing that is more honest for them than any conversation. He didn't run away, didn't continue to sit in silence, but in one second answered the main question, showing that he had taken his side.
Vlad breaks away and, with a slight smile, gets up from the bench, picking up his cup. He silently takes a few steps away, but suddenly turns around, breaking into a small smirk:
"Now you owe me for the coffee."
Oleg smiles widely, nods in response, and watches the retreating Cherevaty with that ignited gaze again, finally getting rid of what had been weighing on him most lately.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
In the following days, they both drown in their respective worries: Vlad stays late after classes for extra help sessions, helping his students sort out remaining questions, while Sheps crams for his exams, trying to stuff his head with materials from the notes for those subjects he couldn't negotiate.
"I forgot how to solve this again," Artem whines pitifully and flings his pen into the far corner of the room.
He is sitting on the floor in Oleg's living room, leaning his back against the sofa, and has been suffering over statistics problems for about two hours while his friend pores over a different subject.
"What is it?" Sheps asks with a sigh and, setting aside his notes, rubs his eyes.
He moves closer, peeks into Krasnov's notebook, and recognizes the problem he also got stuck on yesterday.
"I have the solution with an explanation, I'll send it now."
Artem perks up at this, and Oleg reaches for his phone, angling the screen slightly away from his friend. But Artem, on the contrary, practically leans over him, impatiently waiting to see the solution.
"Let's go smoke while I find it," Sheps says, noticing this, and gets to his feet, opening his chat with Vlad on the way to the balcony.
Yesterday, Oleg despaired of understanding this problem and, without thinking, texted the professor. Cherevaty gave him a hard time with a couple of messages, annoying Sheps a bit, but in the end, of course, helped, explaining all the confusing parts in detail. And now Oleg quickly tries to save the photo Vlad sent, so as not to forward the message to Krasnov directly.
"Where'd you get this?" Artem asks, slightly surprised, opening the notification. "That's Vladik's handwriting."
"Someone sent it," Sheps shrugs. "Maybe they solved it in the extra sessions."
"Honestly, I thought you'd pull it off," Krasnov lights up and puts his phone away, deciding to take a break from studying for at least a few minutes.
"What?"
"Our bet," Artem clarifies, and Oleg immediately looks away.
"Why'd you think that?" Sheps asks, out of curiosity.
"You've changed. And I think it's because of him."
"You're imagining things."
Oleg fakes a smile and takes a drag on his cigarette, surprised by his friend's perceptiveness. He really doesn't want to expose Vlad, revealing details of their relationship to anyone, but Krasnov hasn't forgotten about the damn bet, and Sheps doesn't know how to dodge the topic. He regrets that he ever proposed this bet, because now he's at a crossroads. But at the same time, he probably wouldn't change anything if he went back to that day. Because that detail was the real start of the game that led him to this point—to where he now has a person he wants to hold onto, and definitely doesn't want to let go.
They return to the room in silence, getting back to studying, but about half an hour later, Sheps finally can't take it anymore:
"Tyomych, let's wrap it up for today. My brain is fried. I want to go for a drive."
He really is tired of economics, but after the conversation on the balcony, his thoughts have veered off in a completely different direction, and Sheps is definitely incapable of studying anymore today. They say goodbye at the building entrance, heading to their respective cars, and Oleg pulls out of the courtyard, turning on the music to just get distracted and enjoy the feeling of the road, which always calms him best.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
Vlad pores over the questions, checking the exam tickets he prepared. It's around eleven PM, and he already wants to sleep, but the consultation for the fourth years is tomorrow, and the professor wants to be confident in what he'll be telling the students.
The ringing of his phone breaks his train of thought, and Cherevaty gets slightly angry, but smirks immediately when he sees the name on the screen.
"Can't solve another problem?" he teases, picking up the call.
Vlad has only recently noticed that he and Oleg never greet each other. Not in texts, not in calls, not in person, unless formalities require it. And this creates a feeling of either continuity or intimacy, because at the start of every new dialogue, it feels to both of them that the previous one never ended, and the several days they hadn't seen each other never happened.
"What, I can't call for another reason?" Sheps parries in a playful tone.
"Well, let's say you've intrigued me."
"What are you doing?"
"Prepping your exam tickets. And you, by the way, are distracting me." Cherevaty's voice turns stricter, and Oleg bites his lip, leaning his elbows on the steering wheel.
"That's really not good of me... I can apologize."
Sheps speaks sultrily, and Vlad feels the room getting hotter, despite the slightly open window.
"Try me."
"Words are boring." A smirk is audible in Oleg's voice. "I know better ways."
"Sheps, I'm busy," Cherevaty says more sharply, realizing that a few more phrases and he definitely won't be able to sleep tonight. "What did you want?"
"You."
Vlad sighs heavily, feeling his pulse instantly accelerate, and mentally admits that this was a gut punch. Oleg managed to ignite him with one word, without even being nearby, and Cherevaty springs up from his chair, starting to pace the room.
He wants to snap back just as sharply so Sheps doesn't feel like the winner, but his head is already filled with nothing but dirty fantasies, and Vlad thinks retreating is the most sensible option right now.
He pulls the phone away from his ear to just end the call, but doesn't manage to press the button before the second, and definitely final, kill shot comes from the speaker:
"And what if I said I'm downstairs, in my car?"
Cherevaty closes his eyes, stopping in the middle of the room, and realizes he has lost. He takes a few deep breaths, struggles to peel his eyelids open, and notices that Oleg has already ended the call. Because he has nothing more to say, and he's waiting for a completely different kind of answer from Vlad.
And Cherevaty answers. He practically bolts down the stairs, sending everything that could have stopped him to hell, and just wants to smash into those cursed lips right now and make Sheps regret his audacity. And preferably more than once.
Vlad shoves the entrance door open forcefully and freezes immediately, clenching his fists in anger. There's no one outside. Neither Oleg nor his car is in sight, and Cherevaty realizes how beautifully he's just been played. He licks his dry lips, bursts into loud laughter for a few seconds from the tension, and then doubles over, resting his hands on his knees, exhaling heavily.
A few minutes later, Cherevaty slams the door, disappearing into the building, while Sheps, standing by a tree in the darkness of the courtyard, heads back to his car with a delighted smirk. Vlad's self-control just lost its last safety catch, and Oleg has just confirmed it personally.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
Sheps arrives at the consultation in a fantastic mood, despite having just run into Raidos in the corridor. Vika briefly asked if he was ready for her exam, and Oleg was surprised to realize he didn't even want to make a snide remark in response, not wanting to waste his emotions. He definitely had a more interesting target for the next hour and a half.
Cherevaty looks reasonably refreshed, and Sheps is even surprised, because he finds it hard to believe the professor managed to get a normal night's sleep. Yesterday's hysteria is still playing in his mind, keeping Oleg in a state of mild euphoria, and he is dying to know how much coffee Vlad had to drink this morning.
Students attack Cherevaty with questions, asking him to go over the most difficult topics one more time, and Vlad patiently works through some examples on the board, distracting himself from his thoughts at least somewhat. But he can feel Sheps's burning gaze even with his back, pulling him back again and again to last night's conversation, or rather—to its consequences.
Of course, Cherevaty couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned half the night, mentally cursing Oleg for his stunt, and when he finally did fall asleep, he was tormented until his alarm went off by extremely realistic images his subconscious attacked him with. Vlad woke up completely exhausted and already mentally prepared to lose today's round completely, because he had no strength left for any kind of revenge.
The consultation drags on a bit, but eventually, the students run out of questions, and the auditorium begins to empty quickly. Cherevaty doesn't doubt for a second that Sheps won't just leave, and he's right.
"Sleep well?" Oleg asks with a slight smirk, once they are alone.
"Perfectly," Vlad answers calmly. "Shouldn't I have?"
"Well, after that..."
Sheps looks at him slyly, but Cherevaty doesn't get the trick.
"You overestimate your abilities," the professor smiles condescendingly. "A few phrases over the phone isn't the most lethal weapon."
"Oh, really?" Oleg tilts his head slightly, leans his hands on the desk opposite him, and peers intently into his eyes, dropping to almost a whisper. "Gray T-shirt, slightly darker sweatpants... and a full-blown hysterical laugh by the entrance because you had no one to punish."
He watches Vlad's expression change with every word, sees his lips clench in anger, and then finishes him off briefly:
"I was there."
Check.
A loud sound cuts through the air as Cherevaty slams his palms down on the desk with all his might, jumping up from his chair. Sheps flinches in surprise but smirks even wider, because he achieved exactly the reaction he was counting on.
And Vlad is being torn apart by rage and helplessness. They are in a damn university classroom, under the camera's eye, and he doesn't have a single opportunity to do anything he wants. Everything inside him is trembling from the fact that he himself trampled his pride yesterday, and now Oleg is savoring the details of his shame with relish, knowing he won't get a response.
"Know why you have nothing to say right now?" Sheps continues his taunting. "Because this isn't you. This proper little professor in his suit wants to hit me. But the one hiding inside wants to fuck me hard. And the real you likes the second option much more."
Checkmate.
Cherevaty swallows nervously and is most furious that Oleg sees right through him. Sees and says out loud what Vlad doesn't dare to say himself.
"See you at the exam, Vladislav Vitalievich."
The phrase sounds simple, but to Cherevaty, it feels like a sentence has just been passed. Sheps heads toward the exit and turns around at the door.
"If you don't snap sooner," he smirks one last time and finally leaves, and Vlad realizes that was too much.
Oleg finished his provocation in a way that left him no choice, because after these last words, Cherevaty definitely won't make a single move in the next three days, so as not to bury his pride even deeper.
Although, how much deeper could it be, when Sheps just buried it alive? Vlad sinks back into his chair and drops his head into his hands, realizing he was completely unprepared for such a total defeat. An insanely bright feeling of anticipation flares up in his chest, and Cherevaty realizes that was the last straw. The cage inside him shatters, its thin bars striking painfully at his temples, and Vlad suddenly stops being ashamed of everything he just heard.
Oleg got through to the one he wanted to play with so badly, and Cherevaty has no intention of losing anymore for one simple reason: the game is over.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
"Kolya, did you call them?" Basharov asks, slightly slowing his pace, worried.
"I left a request, Dean Basharov." The head of security spreads his hands helplessly, stopping in the middle of the hall. "But you know, by the time they get here..."
"I know!" the Dean snaps. "But I have exams running, and it's dark as... Anyway, keep me posted!"
Kolya nods briefly, watching his boss run off, and, turning, notices students approaching him.
"So, we have no power today?" Oleg asks, greeting him.
"Not for now. Hell knows when they'll fix it..."
The power had gone out at the faculty about an hour ago, and the guard was the first to react, even before the professors started arriving. Kolya understands the Dean's fuss: he feels sorry for the students who will have to strain their eyes from the lack of light, but the repairmen never come quickly.
"On the bright side, more chances to cheat," Krasnov smirks. "It's harder to see in the dark."
"Unlikely."
Cherevaty's stern voice sounds from behind them, and Artem guiltily bites his lip, afraid to turn around, while the guard bursts out laughing:
"Your day is just off to a great start!"
Kolya pats him encouragingly on the shoulder and goes about his business, while Krasnov, with a heavy sigh, finally looks up at the professor.
Vlad is amused by his expression, and also amused by the interest with which Sheps, standing next to Artem, is staring at him.
Oleg hadn't made a sound in these three days, and it was logical. He had made his last move and was now impatiently waiting for a reaction, but Cherevaty isn't in a hurry to respond.
"Vladislav Vitalievich, I was joking," Krasnov tries to smooth things over. "I really don't have any cheat sheets."
"I'll be watching you closely," Vlad nods with a slight smile. "And don't worry so much. I'm not a beast," — he darts a look at Oleg, — "I'm not planning on screwing anyone."
Sheps raises his eyebrows at the ambiguity of the phrase, but doesn't cut into their dialogue. He is dying to know how Cherevaty will behave today, but it seems Oleg hasn't seen him this calm and confident in a long time.
The exam drags on. Or so it seems to Sheps. Vlad behaves professionally: he carefully scans the room, occasionally reprimanding some, simultaneously listening to those answering, and doesn't ask additional questions when they aren't needed.
Everything is going according to the standard scenario, but Oleg is starting to feel sick from how often he feels that predatory gaze on him. Cherevaty doesn't try to look away, even when Sheps looks back, and Sheps himself doesn't understand why it's so hard for him to hold this eye contact today.
Oleg wants to answer last. The satisfied students leave the auditorium right after their answers, and Sheps waits in anticipation for the moment he can be alone with the professor. But for now, he stares at his exam ticket with a bored expression and listens to his classmates' answers with half an ear, trying not to show his tension.
"Well, Sheps," Vlad crosses his arms over his chest, as Krasnov takes his grade book with a well-deserved 'B' and heads for the exit with a sigh of relief, "are we going to sit here longer, or are you ready to answer?"
Artem turns around, gives his friend a 'good luck' gesture, and closes the door behind him, leaving them alone. Oleg decisively rises from his chair and approaches the desk, sitting down opposite Cherevaty.
"Can I start with the second question?" Sheps doesn't rush to break the frame of formality, because Vlad seems completely unpredictable.
"You can start with the first one," the professor replies with a light mockery in his voice, and Oleg desperately tries to brush aside the thought that Cherevaty is being impossibly sexy.
Sheps begins to recite the material, glancing at the notes he jotted down while preparing, and Vlad listens attentively, interjecting his corrections here and there. But to Oleg, it feels like he's being undressed by his gaze.
And he's not wrong. Cherevaty is surprised himself at how easily his brain is processing two parallel streams: he takes in the student's every word without difficulty, all while letting his imagination run wild.
Over the previous three days, Vlad had replayed this exam in his head a thousand times: how it would go, and how hewanted this moment to be. And the second scenario, of course, is far more interesting. Especially in light of the non-working cameras. But Cherevaty sees Sheps's confusion and has no intention of easing his state so quickly. Vlad wants Oleg to break first.
Sheps moves on to the second question from the ticket and suddenly falters when the professor stands up and silently removes his jacket, carefully hanging it on the back of his chair.
"Well, continue," Cherevaty says, like not understanding why Oleg stopped, and then sits on the edge of his desk, forcing the student to look up at him.
Sheps's throat goes instantly dry. He swallows and immediately licks his lips, and Vlad just smirks barely noticeably, reminding him of the question he's still waiting for an answer to. Oleg's gaze slides to the tight-fitting turtleneck, and it becomes even harder to speak.
"Explain this formula." Cherevaty points to the line on the paper and immediately pulls his hand back, his fingers fleetingly brushing the other's. Vlad notices Sheps flinch like from an electric shock.
"I don't remember," Oleg snaps, jerking his chin up, looking at the professor with a challenge.
He knows the formula, of course, but Vlad is skillfully playing on his nerves, and Sheps realizes he's losing control.
"Not a single variable?" Cherevaty raises his eyebrows indifferently.
"Not one," the student articulates, not looking away.
Vlad sighs deeply and slides off the desk, pursing his lips feignedly:
"Does that mean you've failed?"
They look at each other silently, and Cherevaty breaks into a victorious smirk as Oleg slowly stands up and walks toward the door without a word. But Vlad knows he won't leave. And he knows exactly what's coming next, as Sheps locks the classroom door and walks quickly toward him.
"And what are you doing?" he asks mockingly again, watching Oleg unceremoniously unbuckle his belt.
"Passing my exam."
Cherevaty intercepts his forearms, yanks him forward by the hands, attacking his lips with his own, and Oleg doesn't have the slightest doubt that this time, they definitely aren't stopping.
Vlad breaks the kiss, sharply spinning Sheps around to face away, and leaves a bite somewhere below his shirt collar, feeling the body in his hands start to tremble. His fingers skillfully unfasten the slim jeans, instantly pushing them down his hips along with his underwear, and Oleg is already struggling to breathe from arousal as Cherevaty slams him chest-first onto the desk, sweeping the papers and his grade book onto the floor in one motion.
Sheps looks back, obediently staying in the position he was put in, and watches, mesmerized, as Vlad slowly pulls his belt from his trousers and folds it in half.
"Didn't I say I don't give grades just like that?" the professor says in an uncharacteristically low voice.
No answer follows, and Oleg flinches from a strike on his buttocks, biting his lip from the pain. Cherevaty is torn to shreds by how loud the sound seems in the silence of the empty classroom.
Vlad raises his hand again but watches only the reaction, slowly going insane. Sheps's body jerks, sending goosebumps over his own, but Oleg doesn't even wince, staring at him through his shoulder with eyes almost black with arousal.
Cherevaty wanted to do this since their very first kiss. To pour everything that burned inside him like a wild fire into every blow, to see Sheps exactly like this: compliant, submissive, and completely in his power. Vlad stands a step away, not even touching him, but Oleg isn't resisting what's happening and waits for the next blow not with resignation, but with wild anticipation.
The belt strikes the burning skin again, and Sheps moans barely audibly, his fingers digging into the desktop. It gets more painful with every hit, but Oleg can't remember if he has ever felt anything like this.
He isn't turned on by the pain or the sharp sounds. He looks at Cherevaty and sees that very beast with the bright fire in its eyes he had hunted for so long. For months, Sheps searched for the keys to the damn lock, desperately tried to break the bars, and finally just blew up the cage, setting him free. And Oleg has no intention of running from this beast, because all this wildness is his. It belongs only to him. And that is what's driving him so crazy right now, making his whole body tear apart from the sensations.
"Should I repeat the question?" Vlad's phrase flies into his clouded consciousness, but Sheps doesn't have time to answer before the next strike.
"Tell me what to do..." he exhales in a breaking voice.
And Cherevaty melts at that tone. His gaze slowly traces over the bright red skin on the firm buttocks, and he puts the belt down on a chair, stepping right up to Oleg.
Sheps freezes when he hears the sound of a zipper unfastening behind him, and Vlad practically lies on his back, scorching his ear with hot breath:
"Make sure no one hears you."
The commanding whisper shuts down his brain completely, and a few seconds later, Oleg chokes on air, feeling the first movement inside him.
Cherevaty straightens up, his hands sliding under Sheps's shirt, and grips his waist forcefully, thrusting his hips harder. Through the haze in his eyes, which prevents him from focusing properly, he catches frames of what he sees: the empty classroom where he spent a huge number of lectures; the board where he wrote precise formulas for his subject in neat handwriting; exam tickets scattered on the floor, and his student, laid out by him on his own desk.
Vlad never imagined it would be like this. He broke every possible rule he had lived by his entire life, and right now, he feels nothing but crazy delight, a kind of exhilarating freedom, and almost unbearable pleasure spreading through his body with every new thrust.
And, of course, Cherevaty understands that the reason for all this is Oleg. The very person who dragged his true self out and simply surrendered in every sense, just to bind him tighter. And it worked. Because Vlad can't and doesn't want to imagine anyone else in his place. He needs exactly this body and exactly this brilliant manipulator, who knows how to piss him off with a single word, to show him that beyond the monochrome walls of these corridors, there is something vibrant. Something that makes him feel like a living person, not a doll woven from principles and rules imposed by someone else.
And now Cherevaty dictates those rules himself. He sees Sheps, almost unconscious, reaching his hand toward his own cock, and immediately twists his arm, leaning toward his face again.
"Don't even hope to come first," Vlad breaks into a smirk, and Oleg, with his last bit of strength, smirks back and barely noticeably twitches his other shoulder, intending to repeat the movement with his other hand.
Cherevaty lets out a quiet laugh and pulls away, grabbing his belt from the chair. Even in this situation, Sheps manages to continue being a fucking provocateur, and Vlad admires this detail as he tightly binds the other's wrists behind Oleg's back.
He thinks for a few seconds, and then wraps his arms around Oleg's torso, lifting him from the desk, and immediately lays him back down, but facing him this time. Vlad wants to see. To see those eyes, where the irises are almost invisible, to see Sheps biting his lips, trying to hold back moans, and to see him thrashing, not knowing what to do with himself, because he isn't getting what he wants.
Cherevaty thrusts inside again, catches a ragged exhale with his lips, and kisses him deeper, taking the last of his oxygen. Oleg doesn't give a damn about anything. He kisses back aggressively, trying to vent at least some of what he feels in the kiss, because Vlad left him no other way. This hurricane inside is already tearing his body to pieces, weaving all emotions into an incomprehensible tangle, and Sheps can't distinguish individual sensations, but still wants more. Wants it harder. Madly wants to get the release he desperately needs, but at the same time desperately doesn't want this torture to end.
Oleg watches like hypnotized as the other man's fingers unbutton his shirt, and only now realizes he is lying naked and bound under an almost fully clothed Cherevaty. And this contrast kills him most of all.
"This isn't how you pictured it when you started your game, is it?" Vlad asks with an unbearable smirk, not stopping his movements.
"The important thing is that you pictured it exactly like this..." Sheps squeezes out, finally breaking into light moans. "...Vladislav... Vitalievich..."
Cherevaty completely loses his mind at that damn patronymic, because Oleg knew exactly where to strike. Vlad growls, his fingers wrapping in a tight ring around the base of the other's cock, and, changing the angle, he thrusts harder. A jolt of electricity shoots through Sheps, and a moan escapes on its own, but a strong hand immediately squeezes his throat for a few seconds.
"I said, be quieter!" Cherevaty seethes through clenched teeth, and Oleg closes his eyes, exhausted.
The arousal is already physically painful, and Vlad's every imperious gesture only makes it worse, because Sheps loves, more than anything, seeing him like this, hearing that commanding tone, and knowing that Cherevaty himself is going crazy from this control. Oleg arches, wrapping his legs around him, pulling him closer, and sinks deep inside himself again as Vlad speeds up the pace.
Sheps responds on autopilot to the kiss with which Cherevaty seems to seal his triumph, and only returns to consciousness when Vlad finally unclenches his fingers, a few strokes of his hand bringing Oleg to orgasm right after him.
They lie on the desk, trying to catch their breath and pull themselves together. Oleg's hands are numb, and the weight of the other man's body presses down on him, but for some reason, Sheps feels warm that Cherevaty isn't rushing to pull away.
"Don't you dare start running from me again," Oleg utters quietly.
Vlad props himself up, smirking into his eyes, and answers just as quietly:
"Watch out you don't feel like running."
"I won't."
Sheps says it seriously, looking at him directly, and Cherevaty understands he has been accepted completely. None of what just happened scared or pushed Oleg away, and that's what Vlad was thinking about not long ago. The game is over, and what remains is the most important thing.
Cherevaty kisses his lips, but this kiss is completely different. Not rough or imperious, not tender or soft. It's just different, but they both understand what it means. And they both really wanted it to turn out exactly this way.
They spend the next ten minutes cleaning themselves and the classroom up, and then Vlad sits back in his seat and silently writes a 'B' in Sheps's grade book, leaving his signature next to it.
"Submitted," the professor smirks slightly, handing it to Oleg.
Sheps takes the grade book with a chuckle, takes a few steps, and turns around at the door:
"And yousubmitted."
He leaves the auditorium, and Cherevaty breaks into a happy smile: even if that's true, it was definitely worth it.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
"What, were you two fucking in there or something?" Artem asks with a laugh when Oleg finally finds him at the smoking spot. "What took so long?"
"Yeah, right," Sheps laughs in response. "He fucked my brain so hard with his questions, I won't be forgetting Statistics anytime soon."
Oleg finds it funny, both Artem's question and the whole situation, but most of all, the fact that Krasnov is actually buying his completely believable story.
"Did you pass, in the end?"
"Of course, I passed." Sheps opens his grade book, and Artem gives him a high-five, happy they've successfully dealt with one problem this exam session.
"Maybe we should celebrate then? First exam, after all!"
"Fuck, we already celebrated the first exam back in winter so hard we couldn't wake up for the second one," Oleg bursts out laughing again.
"But the second one is in two days."
"In winter, it was in three!"
Sheps laughs even harder, along with his friend, remembering that funny story, but he's refusing now for a completely different reason than the one he's giving. They didn't agree on anything with Vlad, but for some reason, Oleg is sure he'll definitely have something to do tonight. And Krasnov is not part of those plans.
They chat a bit more at the smoking spot, say goodbye until tomorrow's consultation, and walk just a few steps apart before Oleg suddenly stops, looking at his car.
"Tyomych!"
Krasnov turns around and instinctively catches the small object flying toward him, looking at the BMW key fob on his open palm.
"Did I win?" he asks, slightly surprised.
"No," Sheps smiles confidently. "I lost."
He turns around and walks slowly past the parking lot, feeling incredible relief inside at finally closing this stupid bet. Closed it the way he was supposed to, because what happened today is just between them, and even Artem doesn't need to know about it.
Oleg takes out his phone to call a taxi home but doesn't even have time to open the app. A notification lights up the screen, and Sheps breaks into a satisfied smirk, opening the familiar chat.
Vladik
You still didn't explain the formula. Come over at 9. You know the address.
Oleg Sheps
As you say, Vladislav Vitalievich :)