#| plot drop 007

The aftershocks of the panic attack were still fizzling in Levi’s blood.

He knew he should head back to the hotel, knew after that trainwreck of a hookup attempt, there was nothing he could do to save the night. But his feet lead him elsewhere—away from the center of the city, down quiet side streets where locals traveled in twos and threes, where the streets were lit with elegant street lamps instead of flickering neon.

A shrill noise caught his attention and his head snapped over. It was a child—no older than six—and she was giggling gleefully. Levi melted into the shadows.

She had one parent on each side gripping her hands in theirs and with each step, they were swinging her up and forward and with each step she laughed and laughed and laughed. Her father was telling her something in lilting Russian and her mother was shaking her head but smiling.

Levi watched them until they turned a corner and were gone.

When you lived your entire life in the dark it was so easy to forget that some people had only ever known the light. This family? The light sprang from them.

His thoughts only grew more jumbled on the walk back to the hotel. Whatever alcohol was in his system had long worn off by now and everything was coming crushing back. The sheer relief of seeing Mortimer again. The kiss that Levi’d fought to keep restrained. The stranger in the bar, how badly he’d needed that hookup to work. 

The door in front of him wasn’t his own. The number swam before his eyes. Part of him always knew he’d end up here.

Mortimer was back.

Mortimer was back and the first thing he’d done upon seeing Levi was kiss him. In the middle of the Red fucking Square.

They hadn’t talked about it—Mortimer had been too exhausted and as soon as Levi’s rush of adrenaline faded, as soon as Mortimer was gone, the panic set in. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t get himself involved. He’d been devastated when he had thought Mortimer was dead, devastated in a way he wasn’t ready to admit.

It took almost losing Mortimer for Levi’s emotions to finally crystallize. There was no going back now—only attempts to minimize the damage.

First order of business: get piss drunk.

The bar across the street suited his needs just fine and he parked himself in a back corner booth. He opened a tab and told the waiter to keep the drinks coming. Perhaps alcohol would help him solve his Mortimer dilemma and if it didn’t, well, then he’d at least be drunk and that always made the world a bit easier to handle.

Mortimer was back.

Mortimer was back and the first thing he’d done upon seeing Levi was kiss him. In the middle of the Red fucking Square. 

They hadn’t talked about it—Mortimer had been too exhausted and as soon as Levi’s rush of adrenaline faded, as soon as Mortimer was gone, the panic set in. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t get himself involved. He’d been devastated when he had thought Mortimer was dead, devastated in a way he wasn’t ready to admit. 

It took almost losing Mortimer for Levi’s emotions to finally crystallize. There was no going back now—only attempts to minimize the damage. 

First order of business: get piss drunk.

The bar across the street suited his needs just fine and he parked himself in a back corner booth. He opened a tab and told the waiter to keep the drinks coming. Perhaps alcohol would help him solve his Mortimer dilemma and if it didn’t, well, then he’d at least be drunk and that always made the world a bit easier to handle.

Levi was up for just over thirty-six hours before crashing.

Twenty-four on the ground in Las Vegas. A rather mundane day, a glittering neon night; crimson blood smeared across his face, down his calf; an exhilarated rush instantly snuffed out by a devastating blow.

Twelve in the air on a flight to the last country Levi wanted to be in.

He’d have stayed awake for longer—he wasn’t exhausted—but upon touching down in Russia there simply wasn’t anything more he could do. And because the universe couldn’t seem to stop kicking Levi while he was down, they’d all been assigned their own rooms. The pristine room, the freshly-made bed mocked him. It was so quiet he could have heard a pin drop.

The silence was unbearable.

He couldn’t even bring himself to unpack his bags because that would mean rifling through Mortimer’s books of code and Levi wasn’t ready to face that just yet.

He was aching for a drink, but somehow his flask was empty (had he even bothered to refill it after the night in Mortimer’s room?) and despite the fact that they were in Russia, there was no alcohol to be found anywhere else in the suite.

So, he’d toed off his shoes, sprawled fully clothed onto the covers, and willed sleep to take him.

––––––––

Levi was in the lobby at seven o’clock sharp. His hair was still damp from the shower but brushed neatly, and the scent of aftershave lingered on him—musk cut through with something sharper, citrusy.

For once, he was more than content for Lena to take the lead. Despite the hours he’d slept, he somehow felt more exhausted now than he had the night before.