#ozrus

Ivan was nervous; he grabbed his scarf in an attempt to calm down, and took a deep breath, once, twice, three times.

He felt like an idiot for being there in that bar, waiting for someone whose face he had never seen.

It was Alfred's fault – and, if he thought about it, his own luck. He shouldn't have done that fucking bet with Alfred's bastard. "Damn" was the perfect word for that situation. What a pity for himself, his self that day, having already had a few more vodka glasses, he had decided to place a bet on something he didn't remember well – damn it!

And now he had to meet a friend of his.

He knew almost nothing about him: his name was Jett, he was an Australian and they were the same age. Alfred had said that he had a dressing on his nose – he hadn't said the source of the wound. He should have asked more about the young man, but there with the glasses (and that secret desire to have a partner, be it in friendship or love) didn't remember. Too bad now he didn't know whether or not he was in that room. Until he looked for someone who fit the given description, that is, with a dressing on his nose, but nothing. No one.

He reached for his scarf again; Oh, if Alfred fooled me..., he thought bitterly. He looked at his glass – with vodka, obviously – and wondered how many more glasses he would need to forget that night.

"Ah! Sorry for being late!"

He heard behind him and, hopefully, turned to the person who had just spoken.

"You're Ivan, right?"

"Yes…"

He looked at him, at that big, self-contained smile. It imparted an air of confidence.

And he was beautiful.

Very pretty.

Ivan blushed, not knowing what to say. Jett reached out for the Russian to squeeze as he sat down. He was corresponded, half-way.

"I'm Alfred's friend. My name is Jett, as you should know. "

"I know…"

Jett asked for a beer and started talking about himself, everything Ivan secretly wanted to know. He spoke of his work as a wildlife reporter, of how a giant crocodile had scarred the Australian's face – that surprised Ivan.

"Aren't you afraid that will happen again?"

"No!" He took a sip of beer. "We don’t know what can happen in the future, but that doesn't stop us from continuing. The way to fight is fate – to make our own destiny. "

Ivan was stunned; the convictions of the other were very different from his – the Russian was a pessimist of the worst kind: one who doesn't show discontent, hidden by a false smile. It was the destruction of himself.

He would like to be influenced by it.

It wasn't just Jett who had opened up. Ivan had also talked about himself, about his concerns and certainties about life – that could be overthrown at any moment.