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The tension in the air could be cut with a knife.
Boris had his eyes driven in the small screen, where the operator was turning buttons and doing things Valery probably would understand. Boris didn’t. What he did was that he had provided the robot, and it was on the fucking roof .
It had to work.
He threw a glance at Valery. The man was pale, tense. Almost shaking. Heavy bags under his eyes -- when was the last time he had slept? Boris had taken upon himself to make the scientist eat at least one meal a day. Ration from the army, the only edible thing here, disgusting, but still necessary.
But he couldn’t force Valery to sleep. All he could do was telling him to go to bed when he heard him walking in circles in his room. Sometimes, Boris took the sofa, if only to assure himself that Valery wouldn’t get outside working among the radiation during the night.
But now, in the dim light of the operator room, he could see the black circles under Valery’s eyes. They glinted in the darkened room. Boris thought that he would cry if he had any tears left. Half bent, alone.
Boris hated it. More than once he had wanted to report, to ask, send him back in his lab, he’s dying here . But they were all dying, and they needed Valery. Boris needed Valery.
In any other circumstance, Boris would have casted out the idea. Stupid. The very thought of it was dangerous.
It could mean his doom, it could mean Valery’s. It could mean Chernobyl’s.
But here, in the dark, in the elated air of this almost-possible victory, here where the one saving them all was all alone and tired, Boris couldn’t care more.
He could hear the seconds ticking on the clock behind them. He couldn’t hear Valery’s thought because the same were running circles in his mind. What if this doesn’t work? What if nothing does? What if this is doom, and we gave our lives for nothing? What if, what if, what if-
Boris extended his index, until it brushed against Valery’s knuckles. A slight contact, warm, soft. Valery tensed and looked at him sideways, taking a sharp intake of breath. Almost a gasp. Valery turned towards him, frowning, his eyes asking thousand question, full of fear, incomprehension, and maybe, maybe a little bit of hope.
Boris felt his chest swell. He had done that. He had put that hope there.
Boris’ finger crept its way into man’s palm, and something softened around Valery’s eyes. I’m here , he wanted to say, I’m here with you. You’re not alone. You won’t be, ever.
Valery’s eyes returned on the monitor, where the robot’s camera would soon appear. Boris made a step in the side, so that his big cloak would cover their hand from any indiscreet eye behind them, and as he moved, he felt Valery’s hand open softly under his touch.
They were there, hands clasped, holding their breath for so many reasons, and yet Boris didn’t dare to go further. Going further would be madness, it would be suicide -
Valery’s palm moved under his, and the scientist laced their fingers. He gave a squeeze, and Boris felt something warm settle down his stomach. He offered a grin to the operator who asked his permission to light off the robot.
Only two people in the room knew that his smile wasn’t for him.
The screen was alight, and the robot on the roof. Boris and Valery turned towards each other, the tension evaporating from their bodies in a second, a big breath of relief. Valery was smiling so much it could have light up the darkened room. His thumb move in a soft caress in the back of Boris’s hand.
They would be fine.
“Valery, what’s that? A smile?” he asked teasingly before a booming joy and a big grin took over his face. Valery blushed and looked down, then up to Boris’s eyes, full of gratitude, and fuck , did it make Boris heart do strange things in his chest. That, or the radiations.
Boris took Valery’s face between his palms, and the younger man looked at him with a joy that made him look so much younger, a startled sort of tenderness that made Boris want to kiss him here and there.
He couldn’t, of course, so instead he crushed him in the biggest hug he had ever offered. Valery laughed a little, in this breathy, shy sort of laugh that suited him so well, and they turned back towards the monitor.
Boris left his arm over his shoulder. Grounding.
They would be fine.
The robot shut down. Boris closed his eyes, and the smile fell from Valery’s lips.
Five years.