"My help? You?" Sasha asks mockingly, and Oleg swallows, trying to get rid of the nasty feeling. "And what did you get yourself into this time?"
"Not me," Oleg corrects. "Someone else."
Sasha raises his eyebrows and, narrowing his eyes slightly, peers into his brother's. The fact that Oleg came to him on his own is an event in itself, because Sasha never expected to see him in his office. The fact that he came to ask for something is doubly surprising. And what Oleg just said is completely beyond his comprehension and, because of that, incredibly intriguing.
Sasha sets aside the papers he was studying before the sudden intrusion into his workflow and leans back in his chair, resting his arms on the armrests. Blue eyes look back expectantly, and Oleg is glad at least that he wasn't kicked out on the spot.
He closes the door behind him and walks into the office, stopping at the desk. There are two chairs nearby, but Sasha doesn't offer a seat, and Oleg is simply afraid to do anything wrong, because he understands: this is his last hope.
"There's a professor at my faculty, he was set up. I know how to solve it, but I don't have the right people."
"Since when did you become an altruist?"
Sasha smirks, but Oleg swallows this jab and continues, clinging to the fact that he is still being listened to. Oleg realizes in the process of his disjointed explanations that he has to lay out the whole situation. He understands that if he omits something important, Sasha might only make things worse, if, of course, he agrees to help at all.
And the older brother is interested. His always arrogant and brazen brother stands before him, eyes cast down, looking like a guilty schoolboy, which he rarely did even in childhood, and talks about complete strangers. About a professor whom a student dragged into not-so-decent games, about some Ira who is taking revenge on someone, and Sasha wouldn't have understood anything at all if he didn't have at least some context.
Back on Friday evening, Vika told him what had happened at the faculty and said she didn't believe in her colleague's guilt. He even offered his help, noticing that his wife was genuinely upset for her colleague, but Vika asked him to wait, because she was sure they wouldn't find any evidence and everything would resolve itself.
And now Oleg is revealing new details of this story to him, but Sasha doesn't understand the main thing.
"What do you have to do with this?" he asks, cutting his brother off mid-sentence.
Oleg falls silent abruptly and doesn't know how to say it. He had almost stopped feeling awkward when he started presenting himself as a simple witness to the situation, and now Sasha asks him point-blank, leaving him no choice. There are already too many untruths in everything that is happening to continue lying.
"Ira is taking revenge on me."
Oleg speaks quietly, still looking down, and the puzzle finally clicks into place in Sasha's head. All these games and incomprehensible relationships he just heard about were started by Oleg himself. And now Sasha understands the reason for this request even less, because he knows: his brother is incapable of feeling guilt and certainly incapable of worrying about someone else. But he doesn't see either danger or gain for Oleg in any of this, and that throws him off.
"Let's say I can do it," Sasha says condescendingly, and Oleg immediately looks up at him, his eyes full of hope. "But what's in it for me? Wasting time, calling in favors..."
The younger one's face falls immediately, and he feels utterly helpless.
"What do you want?" he asks on an exhale. "I have nothing to give you."
"See," Sasha purses his lips, "you don't even have anything."
Oleg feels disgusted by these words. The person who took everything from him is now humiliatingly rubbing his nose in this fact, presenting it as his own shortcoming. Oleg clenches his teeth so as not to talk back or be snide, because another scandal will kill even the small chance he has, but this inability to defend himself simply drowns him in the most disgusting feeling.
Sasha looks him in the eye, holds a long pause, and cuts him off coldly:
"I'm not interested."
To Oleg, this sounds like a sentence. Despair washes over him like a wave and simply paralyzes him, not letting him move, while Sasha calmly returns to his documents. He failed. He turned himself inside out and achieved nothing, just let his brother wipe his feet on him once again. Anger rises slowly inside, and Oleg holds back with all his might not to explode.
But Sasha doesn't understand why Oleg isn't leaving. For some reason, he continues to stand in front of him, drilling him with an insistent stare, but doesn't take a single step toward the door after the obvious refusal.
"Anything else?" the older brother asks with a hint, looking up at his brother with an indifferent gaze.
Oleg is silent for a few more seconds, and then breaks into a scream:
"He'll be fired because of her!"
"He'll be fired because of you!"
Sasha raises his voice in response, but the blow isn't from the volume. His words hit Oleg like a sharp punch and finish him off. He started all this himself, and in the end, he destroyed both Vlad and himself.
His feet bolt toward the exit, but his inner voice screams, begging him to do something, and Oleg freezes, his trembling hand gripping the cold door handle. He slowly turns around and struggles to focus on the blue eyes.
"Help him... please." Sasha flinches at the barely audible whisper and looks at his brother in disbelief. "He doesn't deserve this."
No answer follows, and Oleg lowers his gaze resignedly, realizing this is the end. He opens the door and takes a step into the corridor.
"What's his last name?"
The stern voice hits his ears like thunder, but Oleg doesn't even have the strength to turn around.
"Cherevaty," he squeezes out quietly, turning his head slightly to the side, his eyes fixed on the doorframe.
"Get the fuck out of my sight!" he hears from behind, and Oleg slams the door shut, immediately bolting down the stairs.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
The lock in the car clicks the moment the driver's door closes, but it doesn't help. Oleg thought that here, in the cozy interior, he could hide from everything he had just run from down the stairs, not even thinking of the elevators. But nothing changed. Inside, it's just as empty and disgusting, and Sheps doesn't know where to run from these feelings.
"Please." He last said this word to his brother four years ago, when he sincerely begged him to believe he'd been set up. Oleg never intended to repeat it to that man ever again, but today it burst out on its own. Just pushed out from inside by some extreme desperation, and Sheps can't figure out what he felt in that moment.
Oleg wants to get distracted, but his brain keeps replaying fragments of the conversation over and over. The car reeks of smoke because Sheps is afraid to even open the windows, but even in the thick haze, he still sees the mocking and contemptuous gaze of those blue eyes, seared into his consciousness.
He doesn't want to go home. Oleg sees no point in even starting the engine, because he feels utterly lost: he has nowhere to run from his thoughts. Nowhere and no one to run to. And in this state, when his hands are too weak to even hold the steering wheel, driving off is a bad idea. Sheps didn't commit that small suicide just to crash somewhere on the avenue this same evening, never having reached the most important thing.
The image of Sasha, stuck in his head, is immediately replaced by another, and Oleg reaches into his jeans pocket, pulling out his phone. Stupid. Calling is stupid and pointless, but Sheps presses the call button anyway with a kind of childish stubbornness. He doesn't know what he'll say if Vlad actually picks up, but right now, for some reason, he desperately wants to hear the voice of the person for whom he just broke himself.
It's quiet in the car, and the long rings pound in his ears, while Oleg is afraid to even look at the screen, staring blankly at the shiny logo on the steering wheel. The phone lies on the passenger seat on speakerphone, and these monotonous sounds make Sheps feel even worse.
Cherevaty doesn't answer and doesn't reject, and Oleg wonders what he's going through right now after what happened today. Is he drinking again, or did he let his friend in to talk? Or maybe he's just sleeping, disconnected from the hell raging in his head? Sheps dials again and flinches like from a slap at the cold, automated voice on the line: "The wireless customer you are calling is not available."
He's not sleeping. He's reacting. And Oleg should be happy, because this means Vlad hasn't returned to his apathy, where he ignored all calls, but somehow this doesn't make it better. Sheps is alone again, and today there is definitely no one to pull him out of his own hell.
He reclines the seat and stares at the ceiling, thinking about what comes next. Oleg is almost one hundred percent sure that Sasha will help, just as he is sure that Cherevaty won't deny the "evidence" that exonerates him. For all his feigned righteousness, Vlad—Sheps senses—is capable of walking over people. And Oleg has already partially unleashed this side of Cherevaty, and the current situation has taken too much strength from him to resist it like he did before.
And after that, the professor will calmly return to work. Although this return will only be calm on the outside. Sheps remembers what it's like—to pick himself up in pieces, diligently proving to yourself that you are still alive.
In this whole situation, Oleg is now worried about something else. The fact that he framed Ignatenko to get Vlad out doesn't prove that the accusation itself didn't come from him. Cherevaty won't believe him. And this is what scares Sheps the most, because, it seems, for the first time, he needs this trust to start his main match in their game.
Oleg feels like a lonely pawn on a board crowded with pieces and doesn't understand how to break through the deaf wall of the other's defense.
The jumbled thoughts start to press on his temples along with wild fatigue, forcing him to close his eyes, and eventually, Sheps simply passes out, falling asleep right in the cold car in the middle of the deserted business center parking lot.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
Ilya was genuinely surprised when Vlad himself called him the next day and calmly asked him to come over. Larionov was even more surprised when an absolutely sober and composed Cherevaty met him at the apartment door and voiced the most unexpected thing: "Can you stay with me for a few days?"
It was impossible to refuse. Ilya had already taken a risk by sending Oleg to his friend, and he couldn't bring himself to abandon him now, when he had asked for help himself.
For the next three days, they don't say a word about Sheps's visit or about how abruptly Vlad returned to life. Cherevaty acts as usual, spending entire days preparing study materials, breaking only for meals, and in the evenings, asks Larionov to play a few games of chess.
Ilya sees that Vlad has switched on an aggressive defense mode, forcing his brain to work to the point of exhaustion, but decides not to interfere. He understands that his friend won't last long in this state and at some point, Cherevaty will run out of all the energy he is desperately using to shield himself from what he feels. All he can do is wait.
Larionov finishes his last video session for the day and closes his laptop, glancing at Vlad. He is sitting at the computer, carefully reading the text on the screen, and doesn't react the first time to his friend's voice cutting through the quiet music in his headphones.
"Vlad." Ilya approaches, touching his shoulder carefully so as not to startle him. "I said, should we have dinner?"
Cherevaty glances at the clock and raises his eyebrows slightly, surprised that it's already approaching eight.
"Yeah, sorry." He takes off his headphones, carefully placing them in their case. "Got a little carried away with work."
Ilya smirks barely noticeably, swallowing the "as always" that threatens to escape, and heads to the kitchen, hearing the ring of Vlad's phone from the hallway. A couple of minutes into the conversation, from which only Vlad's short, monosyllabic replies reach Larionov, Cherevaty appears in the doorway with a stunned expression.
"I've been reinstated," he exhales in disbelief. "The Dean called, said to come in tomorrow."
"Congratulations!"
Ilya breaks into a genuine smile, but watches closely as Vlad's armor finally drops before his very eyes, and he sits down at the table looking somehow exhausted, not at all happy about the objectively good news.
They start dinner in complete silence, but a little later Larionov breaks it after all:
"Did he say how it was resolved?"
"He said he found out what really happened..." Cherevaty shrugs. "Honestly, I can't imagine what he could have learned that would exonerate me."
"Don't you think Oleg might have told the truth?" Ilya asks carefully.
Vlad frowns instantly, putting down his fork, and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest:
"Ilya, first of all, if Oleg told the truth, I would definitely be fired. And second, why would he pull me out of something he orchestrated himself?"
He voices his question and immediately finds the answer in his head: Sheps could have pulled all this just to paint himself as a savior in the end, making Cherevaty feel indebted. But Larionov, in the next second, makes the entire construct in his thoughts wobble with one simple strike.
"Why are you so sure he was the one who reported you?"
"Who else?" Vlad smirks, but to Ilya, this again looks like a defensive reaction.
"You've created a logical motive for yourself and are clinging to it, without a single argument," Larionov says calmly, looking him straight in the eye. "Do you know why?"
"Why?" Cherevaty asks, pursing his lips nervously.
"You're afraid."
"Of him?" Vlad smirks again.
"No, Vlad. Of yourself."
Cherevaty sighs heavily, looking away, and doesn't know what to say to that. He understands that Ilya is right. Because his anger at Oleg is the only thing saving him from what he is truly terrified to think about.
His mind instantly flashes to those wrists, gripped tightly in his hand, those lips burning like fire, bitten by him, and that damn moan, which Vlad, no matter how he tries, can't throw out of his consciousness all these days. He liked it. He liked it insanely—to feel that power and see Sheps like that. And Cherevaty wants, to the point of grinding his teeth, not only to repeat what happened, but to see it through to the end.
And he also understands that Larionov was wrong when he gave him that seemingly sound advice. Because none of his manipulations can compare to what he felt when he kissed Oleg and thought of nothing, ceasing to control himself. And being without that control is truly terrifying for Vlad, and even more terrifying is the fact that he wants exactly that, more than anything.
"What did he say to you when he came by?"
Ilya's question yanks Cherevaty out of his reflections, and he frowns, looking at his friend in confusion.
"How do you know Oleg came by?"
"I ran into him at the entrance," Larionov continues, almost without emotion, and Vlad starts to get irritated by this calmness. "You didn't answer my question."
"Am I supposed to?" Cherevaty snaps.
"Vlad, listen," Ilya sighs, trying to speak gently, "I'm not going to judge you or blame you for anything. I want to help you figure this out."
Vlad calms down slightly, realizing it's stupid to be angry at his friend, but says what he was going to anyway:
"Ilyusha, you listen too. I'm very grateful for everything you're doing, but we're not talking about this anymore, okay? This is personal, and I have to figure it out myself."
Larionov looks into his eyes and understands: Cherevaty isn't lying. Oleg is no longer just an annoying problem at work that needs to be solved. For Vlad, this is now truly something personal, and that's exactly why Ilya, after a knowing nod, feels obligated to say what he wasn't planning on voicing.
"Then there's one thing you need to hear."
Cherevaty rolls his eyes, because he hoped that after his words, Larionov would drop the subject of Sheps once and for all, but he asks anyway:
"What?"
"He's not what he seems." Ilya pauses for a few seconds, but Vlad listens silently, so he continues: "Yes, he's an excellent manipulator, and I managed to understand that during our short conversation, but... behind that mask hides a person. A person who was just smoking by your entrance, broken and dejected, not even knowing the apartment number."
Cherevaty's expression changes, and Larionov rises from his chair with a heavy sigh.
"I don't know what happened in the Dean's office, or between you two, but he was the only one who managed to pull you out of that fucked-up mess. Think about it."
Ilya leaves, leaving a pensive Vlad in the kitchen, and begins to slowly get ready for bed, confident that Cherevaty definitely won't be needing the chess set today.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
"Good morning, Dean Basharov."
Basharov looks up from signing documents and breaks into a welcoming smile, trying to create a friendly atmosphere.
"Indeed it is a good morning, Vladislav Vitalievich! Please, take a seat."
Cherevaty sits on the chair and looks at the Dean with interest, still not understanding what exactly he managed to find out.
"First, as I said yesterday, all accusations against you have been dropped, and the teaching staff has already been informed," Marat begins his explanation. "Second, I understand why you didn't immediately report the situation, but once it escalated to an accusation, you really shouldn't have protected her..."
"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand..." Vlad frowns, completely lost.
Her? Cherevaty has no idea who he's talking about.
"Vladislav Vitalievich, I only found out yesterday that the harassment situation was the other way around, and that Ignatenko herself is at fault."
Vlad struggles to maintain a calm expression because he still doesn't understand what is happening. The Dean's words sound somewhat absurd, and Cherevaty can barely even remember who Ignatenko is.
"By sheer luck, we managed to discover your text history on Irina's phone. Or rather, her messages. We know you didn't reply to them. And still, Vladislav Vitalievich..." Basharov sighs barely noticeably and looks at him with a hint of fatigue. "Why didn't you show me these messages yourself?"
"I had nothing to show."
Vlad is telling the truth. He realizes that all the evidence Marat saw is a well-crafted lie, but for some reason, he doesn't want to confess how things really were, and just tries to justify to himself that he, specifically, isn't lying to anyone.
"I understand," the Dean nods. "You deleted the chat."
Cherevaty remains silent again and smirks internally at how Basharov is saying everything for him, not forcing him to bury Ignatenko completely with his own hands. Some part of Vlad resists desperately, screaming loudly that what he is doing is terrible, shifting the blame onto another person based on someone else's setup. But Cherevaty listens to the other part. The one that has gripped this lifeline with tight hands and won't let go under any circumstances, forcing him not to think about the collateral damage.
"In any case, I must apologize to you," Marat concludes, rising from his chair and extending his hand. "I hope the incident is resolved and you will return to your work, which, by the way, I am very pleased with."
"I understand." Vlad stands up too, accepting the Dean's gesture. "You were obligated to react."
"Well, thank God!" Basharov exhales with a smile. "I hope you've had time to prepare for today's lectures?"
"Yes, everything is in order," Cherevaty nods with restraint and, saying goodbye to Marat, heads for the exit.
"By the way," the Dean calls out to him at the door, "if you're interested, most of the professors didn't believe you were guilty, just like me. And you can thank Victoria Raidos: she was the one who accidentally saw Irina writing another message to you."
"Thank you," Vlad answers on autopilot and leaves the office in complete shock, trying to process everything he just heard.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
The first two lectures go surprisingly well, and the third-years are even genuinely happy to have Cherevaty back. Vlad gets distracted from his thoughts, focusing completely on the classes, but the absence of a third period in his schedule forces him to return to his reflections.
Raidos brought the lead about the obviously fake chat to the Dean, which means she is definitely involved in this twisted plan to save him. But how and why the principled Victoria went along with something like this, Cherevaty doesn't understand at all.
And just now does he realize he was so stunned by Basharov's story that he didn't ask the most important question. Vlad stands up from his desk, firmly intending to find out what's bothering him most, but Levin enters the staff room.
"Look who it is!" the PE teacher breaks into a happy smile and sincerely hugs a slightly surprised Cherevaty. "I'm very glad to see you."
"Thank you, Mr. Levin," Vlad smiles back, thinking he actually missed this man. "The feeling is mutual."
"Listen, come on, stop it," Levin says, a little hurt. "What's with the 'Mr.'? Just Max."
Vlad bursts out laughing and nods in agreement. After everything Maxim had done for him, it really was strange to just consider him a colleague, and Cherevaty, it seems, stopped feeling their age difference back at the first training session in the gym.
"How are you? Settling back into work?"
Levin habitually sits on the desk, and Vlad, deciding to drop by the Dean's office a bit later, returns to his seat.
"Trying, little by little..."
"Yeah," Maxim sighs. "The situation is definitely not pleasant... Do you even know why she did that to you?"
"What do you mean?" Cherevaty looks up at him, not understanding the question.
"I mean Ignatenko. Why did she frame you?"
"Did the Dean tell you that?"
Vlad almost stops breathing, hoping that Levin will now confirm his words with the most solid argument, but he instantly shatters his hopes:
"No. I figured it out myself."
Cherevaty chuckles. Of course. The big picture, for everyone, looks like Irina did it out of revenge for his indifference.
Vlad understands that it's logical for Maxim to reach such a conclusion, however, in the next second, he looks up, stunned, when he hears the PE teacher state, a bit quieter:
"— Vlad, I know there was no text history."
"Relax!" Maxim sees the genuine fear in the guy's eyes and pats him lightly on the shoulder. "Only Sheps and I know about it."
Levin's attempt to calm him fails instantly because the name just mentioned hits his ears hard.
"What does Sheps have to do with it?" Cherevaty asks, barely audible.
"You don't know?" Maxim raises his eyebrows, looking at Vlad in surprise. "He's the one who pulled you out. He came to me for help, and well, I just... gave him the idea..."
"Who told you Ignatenko framed me? Sheps?"
Cherevaty asks almost through clenched teeth, articulating every word, and Levin, it seems, is starting to understand the point of his questions.
"I figured it out from what he said," the PE teacher shrugs. "He said he found out who framed you but had no proof. And when he eventually turned it all against Ira, I understood it was her."
Vlad is completely lost. Everything he learns only confirms his theory that Oleg pulled off the most brilliant and complex of all his manipulations, but the minor inconsistencies won't leave him alone.
If Sheps wanted to make him hit rock bottom and then paint himself as a heroic savior, then why did what Ilya mentioned happen? Oleg didn't text about having a plan; he just drove to his place without even knowing the apartment number. And based on Cherevaty's dirty theory, it would have been more logical for Sheps to pull him out of his drinking binge using completely different methods, emphasizing that he would get him back to work and everything would be fine. Vlad remembers exactly how Oleg behaved in his apartment, and thinks it didn't look like a well-thought-out plan at all.
And why did he go to Levin? Cherevaty is somehow certain that Maxim is the kind of person who would never participate in any of Sheps's manipulations, which means his words can be trusted. And if he says that Oleg asked him for help... Why? How? And Vlad can't even imagine Sheps asking anyone for something like that.
His head starts to split because the questions multiply with every second, and Cherevaty doesn't know where to find the answers.
"He was worried about you," Levin says for some reason, and this kills Vlad even more.
"Did you make that up too?" Cherevaty snaps, emotional, and immediately gets even angrier, because he doesn't want to snap at Maxim.
"I said what I saw," Levin answers calmly and gets to his feet, noticing how Vlad's expression changed abruptly. "Alright, I'll get going... If you need anything, you know where to find me."
He opens the door but turns around anyway, thinking he should share his opinion:
"You know... If you think Sheps framed you, you're wrong. He was really looking for a way to help you."
Maxim leaves without waiting for an answer, and Vlad drops his head into his hands, completely tangled. If Ignatenko really did frame him, then Levin's first question was the most logical one. For what? They had no conflicts, neither academic nor, especially, personal. Could Oleg's plan have been so sophisticated that he would use his class rep so cruelly? Cherevaty wouldn't be surprised if the answer was yes.
"Good afternoon!" A female voice bursts into his consciousness, and Vlad looks up, instantly adding several more questions to his thoughts. He had already forgotten about that small detail he heard from the Dean: Raidos's role.
"Good afternoon, Victoria."
"I'm glad you're back," the professor smiles.
"I assume it was with your help?"
Vlad answers harshly, and Raidos immediately drops her gaze, hearing the notes of justified accusation in his voice.
When Sasha asked her to participate in his plan, Vika didn't agree right away. She genuinely wanted to help Cherevaty, but she didn't like the method her husband chose at all.
Raidos was generally surprised why Sasha suddenly decided to pull out a stranger, and in such a complicated way, and was shocked when she learned the initial reason. The fact that Oleg came to him to ask for Vlad had, for a time, broken almost everything in their minds. Both her husband and Vika herself could hardly believe the reality of this event as a whole, or any of its details.
First, the younger Sheps always made it clear he wanted nothing from his brother. Pride—that was something Oleg always valued even more than money, so asking for help from the person he tried so hard not to depend on was something out of the realm of fantasy.
Second, he came to ask not for himself. A consummate egoist, who all his life didn't even care about his own family, had swallowed his pride for another person. Raidos is still trying to process this fact, replaying the key part of that dialogue with her husband in her head.
"You really decided to help because he asked you?"
"He didn't ask, Vika... He begged..."
And if Sasha himself hadn't told her this, Vika would never have believed it was true. She doesn't know if this became one of the reasons why she ultimately agreed to lie about Ignatenko, but for her, it was definitely a deal with her conscience. And Vika can't even imagine what Vlad is feeling now, caught in the very epicenter of this event, which has become a personal apocalypse for every participant.
"I couldn't have done otherwise," she finally answers after a long pause. "Sometimes justice is worth such sacrifices."
Cherevaty sighs deeply and doesn't know how to respond to this. He has no right to reproach Victoria, but for some reason, his tongue won't move to thank her. He silently heads for the door, but suddenly turns around when the professor unexpectedly calls out to him in a timid voice.
"I'm sorry, I... I heard what Maxim told you..."
Raidos falters, not fully understanding why she is saying this, her eyes darting to the floor.
"Oleg really was the one who pulled you out," she looks up, meeting his dark eyes. "And believe me, it cost him dearly. And I'm not talking about money right now."
Victoria exhales, like she just threw a heavy weight off her shoulders, and turns away, starting to look for the register she came for on the shelf. The door closes behind her, and Raidos wants to believe she did the right thing.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
What Victoria said finishes Vlad off completely. He knows absolutely nothing about her relationship with Oleg, but he understands that the conflict between them is practically a war, some battles of which he has personally witnessed.
The flowers from Sheps, to which Raidos is allergic, her slap in the corridor—they are clearly not just a professor and a student. They are enemies, and Cherevaty understands this. And based on this fact, he understands that Oleg could in no way have bribed or asked Victoria to be part of his plan. And if she might have agreed to help Vlad out of a sense of justice, those final words about Sheps were... sincere?
Cherevaty feels his theory simply crumble in an instant and slip like fine sand through the fingers of his trembling hands, which have nothing left to hold onto. He sits on the windowsill in the empty faculty corridor and has no idea what to do next or how to save himself from the desperate desire to finally submit—either to Oleg, or to himself.
The bell for class yanks Vlad out of his thoughts, and he realizes with horror that the next lecture in his schedule is for the fourth years. Cherevaty returns to the staff room for his things in an almost panic and spends the entire break trying to calm down before the meeting with Sheps. Vlad doesn't even hope that Oleg won't show up for the lecture.
──── ♛ ♙ ♛ ────
Cherevaty enters the auditorium with a firm resolve not to look at Sheps, but he loses this battle with himself in the very first second. His gaze immediately darts to that same spot, and Vlad chokes on air at the bright smile with which Oleg rises from his chair along with the other students.
But Sheps himself doesn't notice how his expression changes the moment Cherevaty appears in the doorway. After all the hell of the last week, Vlad is here again, in his place, and Oleg realizes that everything he went through was not in vain.
Sheps didn't know until the last moment if Sasha intended to act on his request, and Oleg didn't have the strength to call and check. All these days, checking Vlad's class schedule, he would drive to the faculty an hour before his classes and just wait, sitting in his car near the entrance. Cherevaty never appeared, and Sheps would drive back home with a heavy sigh, because he was in no state to attend his own classes.
When Ira called him three times last night, Oleg, though he didn't pick up, hoped it had worked. And when he received an angry message from her after that, with a ton of profanities and hysterics about being expelled, he was finally convinced the plan had worked. Only the last part remained—hoping Vlad wouldn't turn on his stupid righteousness and confess that the arguments in his defense were a blatant lie.
And now, seeing him here again, at the class, as the professor, Sheps smiles, not so much because everything fell into place, but because he turned out to be right: Cherevaty walked over people for his goal. Which means he really does have that thing Oleg liked so much, and it continues to break through the mask of principles and rules by which Vlad diligently tries to live, refusing to set his true self free.
Cherevaty is lost at the very beginning of the class, but slowly calms down after a few minutes, noticing with surprise that Sheps, like the other students, is calmly writing notes, not trying to start a new round of their game.
On one hand, Vlad feels calm because of Oleg's behavior, but on the other—every minute of this obedience forces the professor to spend more and more energy on his internal struggle: Cherevaty feels power. Not authority, which works on the audience as a whole, but damn power over one specific person, who is now doing what Vlad, albeit in his right as a professor, demands, without arguments or smirks.
He miraculously survives until the end of the lecture, because after everything that happened today, he is insanely tired of himself, but Sheps doesn't leave with the stream of students, stopping at his desk, and Cherevaty takes a deep breath, gathering his strength before the final blow to his internal chaos.
"I'm glad you're back," Oleg says quietly, as soon as they are alone.
"You framed her," Vlad delivers coldly, trying not to think about the fact that Sheps's phrase sounded sincere.
"I pulled you out."
"Expecting gratitude?" Cherevaty finally brings himself to look up at him, making his gaze as indifferent as possible.
"No," Sheps answers honestly. "I just want to understand what happens next."
The light eyes look at him somehow unusually, and Vlad is reeling from his words because this sounds too personal and scares him to death.
"Nothing," Cherevaty cuts him off briefly, and Oleg flinches at the sharp word.
"Vlad, it wasn't me."
"Listen, Oleg," Vlad sighs heavily and automatically takes a step toward him. "I believe it wasn't you who framed me. But that doesn't change anything."
But for Sheps, this changes everything. He freezes, staring at Vlad in astonishment, swallows, trying to get rid of the pathetic lump somewhere in his throat, and struggles to process what he just heard. The most banal phrase seems like the most important thing he has ever heard in his life, and it simply explodes the old, familiar, aching pain inside, turning it into almost weightless dust.
Without a single piece of evidence, not a single fact, and based only on his own guesses and his emotions, Cherevaty did the impossible thing. What even his own brother couldn't do. He just believed. And this turns the world Oleg lived in for four years upside down.
Vlad looks him in the eye, sees how his gaze changes, but, desperately trying to put up a final barrier so as not to drown, doesn't even realize what he is actually doing to Sheps right now.
"I am your professor, and you are my student," Cherevaty delivers, as firmly as possible in his state. "And let's end it there."
He snatches his folder from the desk and simply leaves, and Oleg, for the first time in several years, takes a free breath and thinks that Vlad said it exactly right: Cherevaty is his professor, and Sheps is his student. And Oleg definitely has no intention of ending what they both started.