The house seemed deafeningly quiet when Volodya sat there. Only Gerda lay nearby, whining quietly and wagging her tail. A lot has happened in the last six months at least. Meeting again after twenty years, renewing their friendship, and then love. In some ways it warmed his soul, no doubt, but there were other problems.

Volodya and Braginsky had a very serious fight recently. The older man found out the truth about Volodya, about his orientation, and refused to work together. Not that the other wanted the same. How could he work with someone who didn't even understand him?

What gnawed at Volodya the most was that he had left him alone, in a country far away, with depression and a creative crisis, completely without support and his warmth. He knew very well how attached this man was to him, how he needed him, but out of selfishness he thought that he would be better off there. There, where he would not be judged again for his style, for his behavior, for who he was. But it's a stupid mistake.

It all got to the point that Volodya called Angela. A psychoanalyst who helped both him and his partner figure out what would be right. Even if he himself could not find a way out.

"I can't share details about his depression. But he loves you deeply, I can tell you that for sure. You better go to him as soon as possible." The woman spoke, looking at Volodya through his computer screen.

Of course he should have. That evening he thought about what to do, but in the end he made a decision. He will do it. And not for a few weeks, like last time, but for as long as he needs. But how to deal with the rest of the affairs in Kharkov as quickly as possible?