By the time Anastas turned twenty-one, Thomas had become an important part of his life.
For a long time initially, he felt a certain irritation about it, treated him with caution and anxiety, tried to push him away and ignore him. He had never allowed anyone to be this close before; it didn't happen immediately, it truly took a lot of time, but Thomas became an uninvited exception. He simply entered his life and stayed.
Thomas was different from the other children who wanted to befriend him. He didn't ask him stupid, tiresome questions, didn't pry into the past, and didn't demand explanations for his oddities. He accepted Anastas as he was — silent, detached, at times cold.
Thomas was lively, bright, and friendly. Perhaps that was the reason they grew closer.
Anastas understood that he was making a mistake, but with Thomas, it was as if he forgot this precaution. Or did he want to forget?
The decision to set out on a journey had been ripening for a long time. It was not a sudden or impulsive decision, but an event that went without saying.
Preparing for the journey, he thought about his family. About how his mother would worry, how his father would nod silently, understanding his decision, how his brother would see him off with parting words, and his sisters would hug and kiss him tightly.
He felt sad at the thought of parting, but he couldn't do it any other way.
He began packing the evening before his departure. A minimum of things, weapons, money, paper with stamps for letters to his family. He planned to set out early in the morning.
Anastas and Thomas were sitting near the stables. They were silent, each thinking about his own things. Suddenly, Thomas decided to break the silence:
"You're leaving," he said.
Anastas looked up at his friend. He had been meaning to tell him, but the latter beat him to it.
"Yes," he answered, pressing his lips together.
"For long?"
"I don't know."
"Alone?"
A pause.
"Yes," Anastas said firmly.
Thomas was silent for a while. Then he said resolutely:
"I want to go with you."
"No."
The answer sounded sharper than intended.
Thomas turned, looking at his friend.
"Is it not up for discussion?"
"No," Anastas repeated. "You will stay here. Safe."
"And won't it be dangerous for you alone?"
"I'm used to it."
"Why do you say that?"
"You are dear to me," he finally said. "And that is exactly why you will stay here."
"And do you think you aren't dear to me?"
Silence fell once again. They looked at each other longer than usual.
"I know you're looking for someone," Thomas averted his gaze.
Anastas's heart skipped a beat.
"What did you say?" his voice became serious.
"I said I know you're looking for someone. You're not just leaving for no reason."
Anastas felt a chill run down his spine.
"How? I never told you about this."
"Remember how severely ill you were last winter?"
Anastas frowned.
"And?"
"You had a fever. You were delirious. I was there with you." He swallowed. "You talked in your sleep."
Anastas tensed.
"You were calling someone," Thomas continued quietly. "By name. You said that you didn't make it, that you were late again, that you wouldn't bear it if you lost them once more. There were a few unusual names."
Anastas swallowed hard.
"You kept repeating a name..." Thomas faltered, his voice growing quieter. "You said you would find him or her."
The words knocked the wind out of him.
"Why are you telling me this only now?" Anastas asked hoarsely.
"Because you're leaving," Thomas answered. "And because you're planning to do it alone."
He shifted closer and looked into his eyes.
"Don't pretend it's easier for you alone. I know that's not true. I've never questioned you about anything. But I don't want you to go through everything alone; I want to be there."
Anastas felt something crumble inside him. He suddenly looked at Thomas with different eyes.
Anastas closed his eyes. Everything inside him was mixed up and resisting.
"If you come with me," he said slowly, "I won't be able to promise you anything: neither safety nor a return."
"And I'm not asking you to," Thomas smiled. "I'm just asking to be there."
The silence dragged on. Anastas continued to look at him and suddenly realized that he wanted Thomas to be there.
A long pause. Thomas froze; Anastas let out a doomed sigh.
"Alright."
Thomas breathed out in relief right after:
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me," Anastas replied. "You might still regret it."
"I won't," Thomas countered.
Anastas turned away. But somewhere deep inside, for the first time in a long while, he felt relief—perhaps because the one who had become almost a home to him would be by his side.