[June 1945]
It's been more than a month after the war ended. And just a week ago, the surviving ensemble members are back to their work again in CSKA building. It's not a common view of several men are still look solemn during break time, remembering the hardship and loss over the dead colleagues or... friends.
Fyodor may not one of them. He already accept some members already gone, from the time he stayed to guard Moscow in 1941. He knew he won't see Oleg's grin and Vasily's boisterous laugh anymore. And he already guessed Anatoli will soon quitting, from how that once cheerful man looked so lethargic nonstop.
But from everyone... Fyodor still cannot stop pondering over one of oldest colleagues; Dmitry. The black-haired man with green eyes still had the same vacant stare, and the picking lip behavior. Just exact like the first meeting 13 years ago. There is inexplicable ache seeing Dmitry; as if Fyodor could travel back to the past and think the war never begins... and he will expect the dead ones are not truly dead.
And now, that man with his rolled newspaper found Dmitry sitting alone on the bench. In front of him was the stacked flower bouquets. And actually... behind the bouquets are small portraits and name list, glued to the board as temporary obituary. From the gaps of those bouquets, Fyodor can see Alexei and Vasily's portrait, led the reason Dmitry choose the specific bench....
He hasn't greeted Dmitry since they worked a week ago. Fyodor was on the bass section, and Dmitry was on tenor section. The gaps between rows and columns are too great. And he cannot find Dmitry at cafeteria during break, or the corridors after end of rehearsal.
"Dima," called Fyodor as he approached that green-eyed man. He won't let the chance lost forever.
Dmitry lifts his head and wipes the rest of flowing tears fast, "Oh, Fedya. You.... survived..."
Fyodor can see that man trying to smile, despite the eyes swollen in red. Then he sat together with Dmitry and nodded, "Yes, quite a miracle. Thought I'm gonna die from the fallen rubbles several times..."
"...That's really a miracle. I guess... your cigarettes do help giving you extra lives..." Dmitry mumbled, trying to joking. His eyes didn't stare at Fyodor's, though. The same sight Fyodor has witness for a long time.
And so, Fyodor can only chuckled lightly, "Maybe. But hey, you survived too without smoking at all. You are stronger than me."
"Oh no, not really. I am still lamenting over our friends. I should have known they are gone. Not all of us will survive and have same life just like the past," denied Dmitry.
For some minutes, they were silent. Dmitry's hands start to touching his own lips. Fyodor glanced again.
"So... Any new plans for the future?" Fyodor asked as he leaned to the bench and start opened Pravda newspaper.
"Saving salary more, together with my girlfriend. We planned to get married by next summer," the answer from Dmitry raised Fyodor's eyebrows.
"Girlfriend? Whoa, I... don't know you had one. Where did you meet her?"
Dmitry nervously chuckled, "Long ago, when we had concert tour in Belarus. She was the janitor there. Then... we mailed each other for years. The mail stop during war, but... thankfully both of us alive. We even met at Berlin during the celebration."
"Both her and you were lucky... I hope-"
"No... I didn't..."
"Why?"
Dmitry's green eyes averted more and corrected himself fast, "Yeah, I guess I am lucky..."
"...I said you're lucky, because I haven't think of love yet. I was busy on other things..." explained Fyodor with his newspaper flipped slower.
"...May I know what you've been busy at for now?" wondered Dmitry, who fixing his back to sitting straight.
"Throwing the garbages that my dead old hags has hoarded. Then taking my family to better communal - I planned to rent a wider place than the one provided by the ensemble. And..." Fyodor paused, considering his most fixed plan to be told or not.
"And?"
"... Adopting more cats, perhaps."
Now the answer from Fyodor made Dmitry's swollen eyes looked intrigued. "You follow Olya's path, at last. And just like what Vasya has predict about you, haha..."
"Really? So I was not that mysterious, huh..."
"Your face was that obvious whenever Olya brought his fat cat to work, remember?" teased Dmitry a bit.
Fyodor can only huffed, "Ah, right. That bastard was testing me nonstop..."
"But you won't bring them to the rehearsal too, will you?"
"No, I won't. My cats seemed allergic to be calm. Will ruin the rehearsal in just minutes."
Dmitry lowered his head in disappointment, "Ah... A bit of bummer. I... wish to see your cats. But to remember Boris Alexandrovich becoming more present at work... I guess it's a wishful thinking now..."
"Yeah. Unlike his father who more laidback to all animals, the sons are dog lovers only. What a bummer," Fyodor rolled his eyes. The newspaper now has reached the last page, and he rolled it again before slip it under his armpit. He cursed inside his mind; why such words he actually want to let out were hard to spoken? Instead he made more conversation, astray further and further from his original purpose. He has to speak right now...
But soon, Dmitry gets up and said, "Thanks for accompanying me, Fedya. And... I hope you and your cats stays happy."
No. Fyodor won't miss another lost apology. He has lost his chance for Oleg and Vasily. He doesn't want to only succeed to apologised to Anatoli. And yet... he has more burden to this green-eyed man more than anyone.
"Wait, Dima. One more thing."
Dmitry now turned his back, after four steps away from Fyodor. Meanwhile, that man shifted his round glass and stare directly at Dmitry's green eyes.
"I was wrong for always thinking you are timid. I was wrong to cut your words, when you were panicked the war began. Turn out you are actually stronger than me since beginning..."
He can see Dmitry blinked in disbelief, till answered, "What...? Why? You weren't wrong, back then."
"I should have still listened first, before assuring you the war is inevitable. I was thinking everyone should have been prepared, forgetting not all people has same pain tolerance."
Both of them are holding their breath. Nobody starts to open a sentence till a minute passed. But finally, Dmitry relaxed his shoulders. He slightly drop his tears again, but this time his smile was truly addressed for Fyodor.
"Then allow me to also thanking you. For not correcting me, when I lamented about our dead friends. No bullshittery about bidding a better farewell. Made me realised, you actually cared to our friends than anyone in here," breathed Dmitry, before he nod for the last time and left the corridor faster. Of course, Fyodor stunned. The apology went too well. The newspaper under his armpit slowly dropped to the bench. Then his eyes automatically scanned the spot where Dmitry used to stare at.
The portrait of curly haired man and the almost bald man still there. And Fyodor now more relieved, for his last apology finally landed.