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The afternoon was still long when Stranger arrived at the flat rooftop they often used as a place to relax. The sky was a pale blue with thin white streaks, the sun not yet too low—warm enough for the concrete to hold its heat. A gentle breeze drifted in from the lake, carrying the scent of fresh water and a familiar quiet.
As soon as he could clearly see the giant figure, Stranger’s face immediately lit up. He stepped to the edge of the roof and waved his right hand high with bright enthusiasm, trying to catch Militsioner’s attention as the giant sat with his head lowered, focused on the small notebook in his hand.
One of Stranger’s hands moved cheerfully through the air, while the other was kept tightly hidden behind his back. A surprise was waiting there, and he could barely contain his excitement.
Militsioner’s gaze finally lifted from the small notes he had been writing. Relief instantly filled his chest when he saw Stranger standing there. It felt like a long time since they had last met—though in reality, not even a full day had passed. The giant leaned forward slightly, closer to the edge of the building. This place had always been their favorite, a quiet corner above the town where time seemed to move more slowly.
“Ah, where did you—”
“Tadaaa~”
Stranger cut him off, pulling out a large bouquet with an energetic flourish.
Militsioner froze. His eyes widened, his breath catching for a moment. Before him was an enormous bouquet of sunflowers—the most beautiful he had ever seen. Bright yellow petals were wrapped in plain brown paper layered with white, adorned with small some chamomile around the edges. It was so large it nearly covered Stranger’s face entirely.
“Well? so? what do you think? do you like it?” Stranger remained still, shifting his weight just a little “You’re not saying anything.”
“It’s…” Militsioner finally spoke softly. “It’s incredibly beautiful. I’m at a loss for words.”
He reached out carefully, as if afraid of the flowers themselves. When the bouquet settled into his hands, he studied each petal and its arrangement with quiet care.
“Thank you. Truly.”
“Hehehe, you have no idea how hard it was for me to get that.”
Stranger let out a small laugh, then dropped himself onto a white-painted wooden chair whose paint had begun to peel. The surface was cracked and weathered by age and the damp air drifting in from the lake.
He opened a bottle of soda, took a long drink, and sighed in satisfaction. Soon, Stranger began to talk—about his day, about small things he had experienced—his voice lively and cheerful, as if the monotonous routines of the small town never managed to bore him.
On the other side, Militsioner remained silent, his attention fixed on the gift in his hands. Perhaps this was the most beautiful bouquet he had ever received. Usually, Stranger only gave him small bundles of chamomile. That was never a disappointment—quite the opposite. Every gift from Stranger carried the same weight, because what mattered most was the care and intention behind it.
Warmth crept into Militsioner’s face. A faint smile formed on his lips. Still, this bouquet was different. It felt special. Stranger himself had said it was difficult to obtain. Militsioner had never seen sunflowers growing anywhere around this town. Where could he have found them? It was hard to imagine Captain selling something this extravagant in his shop.
“Militsioner?”
“Ah—yes?”
“Is something wrong?”Stranger asked, worried.
“No, no.” Militsioner shook his head lightly. “I was just admiring your gift. It’s very beautiful.”
Stranger’s smile came back. “I’m glad to hear that! I’d love to stay and talk longer, but I have to go now. I promised to help Captain this afternoon.”
He stood up, brushing dust from the back of his trousers, then waved cheerfully. In one smooth motion, Stranger jumped down the side of the building, agile like a cat accustomed to leaping from heights.
Militsioner’s smile widened once more as he watched Stranger disappear while the calm afternoon lingered gently over the town.
—— ❦ ★ ❦ ——
The days that followed passed at a slow, unhurried rhythm, as if the small town were deliberately holding time still. Yet for Militsioner, one thing seemed to move far too quickly—Stranger’s surprises, arriving one after another.
The sunflower bouquet, it turned out, was not the last suprise.
A few days earlier, Stranger had shown up with a box of milk chocolates unlike anything Militsioner had ever tasted. The sweetness was mild and smooth, never overwhelming. On another afternoon, Stranger appeared again with a tin of biscuits, which they shared over a cup of coffee, sitting together until the light faded and the air began to cool. And there was also one night when Stranger brought a softly scented candle, they lit it and talked until Militsioner fell asleep mid-conversation.
Every item felt carefully chosen. Stranger always brought something Militsioner had once mentioned in passing—small, offhand remarks Militsioner himself barely remembered making. He appreciated all of it. He knew that behind every gift was effort, and a sincerity that could not be faked. And yet, slowly, a sense of unease began to take root—something he could no longer ignore.
The items were unfamiliar. Too refined, too luxurious for a town this small.
Militsioner had never seen that chocolate in Captain’s shop, nor in any vending machine around town—certainly not biscuits packaged in such an elegant tin.
And now, once again, Stranger stood before him with one hand hidden behind his back—a gesture that was starting to feel all too familiar.
“Can you guess what I brought this time?” Stranger asked brightly, a wide smile spreading across his face.
Militsioner returned a small smile. “Food?”
Stranger let out a soft laugh, amused that Militsioner couldn’t guess it. He shook his head, then revealed what he had been hiding.
“Tadaaa~”
Militsioner blinked a few times, then leaned in slightly for a better look. For a moment, he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
“A cat…” He murmured.
Stranger shook his head quickly. “Nope!”
“Is that… a doll?”
“Yes!” Stranger lifted the striped cat plush high into the air. “You’ve always wanted a pet, right? This one won’t scratch you or run away.”
Militsioner accepted the doll. The soft synthetic fur compressed easily beneath his large fingers, and something about the texture felt oddly calming.
“So do you like it?” Stranger asked, his voice tinged with hope.
“I do.” Militsioner studied the plush for a moment his thumb brushing lightly over the soft fabri before he slipped it carefully into his pocket. “I like all the things you bring me. But this one feels… especially dear to me. Thank you”
“Hehehe, you’re welcome!”
Stranger reached into his pocket again and pulled out a few candies and a small bar of chocolate. He set them down on the table.
“I bought these too. This brand is cheaper than the one from last time but if you think it tastes good, I’ll get it again next time.”
Militsioner stared at the sweets. Once more—items he had never seen sold anywhere in this town. The unease in his chest grew stronger, now tangled with a suspicion he could no longer push aside.
“I have to go now,” Stranger said as he turned away. “I work at Captain’s place, you know? All the money I earn is clean.” His tone carried a hint of pride, like a child boasting about a high test score. “We’ll have dinner together later, okay? See you—”
“Wait.”
Stranger stopped mid-step. One foot hovered in the air, just about to land on the metal plank laid across the pipes. Slowly, he turned back.
Militsioner was staring at him—sharp, unyielding, nothing like his usual gaze.
“Where did you get these things?” The question came out blunt, almost like an interrogation.
“Uh... from the nearby city," Stranger replied quickly, trying to sound casual, as if it were nothing worth mentioning.
Militsioner fell silent. For a brief moment, it was as though the words didn’t reach him right away. His eyes widened slightly, his jaw tightening.
“What…?” His voice came out low, barely audible.
“The nearby city,” Stranger repeated. “It’s a big place, so i—”
“You went outside the town??”
Sooner or later, Stranger had known this conversation would happen—and from the very beginning, he had decided not to lie. If Militsioner asked, he would tell the truth, no matter the risk.
He swallowed, then turned his face away. His hands moved restlessly, fingers intertwining and separating again, unable to stay still. Stranger avoided that gaze; he knew exactly what kind of reaction awaited him once Militsioner learned the truth.
Militsioner remained where he was. The giant body did not move, but his head slowly leaned forward. His face drew closer—close enough for Stranger to feel the pressure physically, as if the entire city were compressing in the space between them.
“Please tell me you’re joking.” Militsioner’s voice was calm, but every word was weighted, deliberate.
Stranger didn’t answer. His head stayed turned away.
Militsioner’s jaw tightened. His teeth ground against each other.
Since they had started dating, his vigilance had slipped. He had trusted Stranger—believed he was different, believed he wouldn’t betray him. That trust made him watch less, suspect less. He had even begun to sleep more soundly, no longer waking in the night with the fear that his small captive would vanish. In short, he had grown careless.
And that carelessness meant one thing; the possibility of Stranger secretly jumping onto a train while he wasn’t looking was very high.
Militsioner straightened, pulling back. He let out a long breath and dragged a hand down his face in frustration. Until now, he had often let Stranger’s small acts of mischief pass without consequence. But this was different. Leaving the town was no small matter.
“You really—” he began, then cut himself off.
“Oh, come on, Militsioner.” Stranger finally spoke, his tone defensive. “It’s not like I ran away or anything.”
“You are forbidden from leaving the town!” Militsioner snapped. “Which part of my words did you not understand??”
“But I came back, didn’t I?” Stranger shot back quickly. “This isn’t something they’ll ever find out about.”
Militsioner scoffed sharply. “Do you realize I could lose my job because of this?” No. That wasn’t the real source of his anger—and he knew it.
“I just—”
“These gifts you’ve been giving me lately…” Militsioner paused, the words sounding wrong even to his own ears. “They sound like bribes.” No. That wasn’t what he meant to say.
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised you’d do something like this,” He continued, his voice sharpening. “Such a stupid move. Who else would be capable of that if not you?”
Stranger’s eyes widened. His breath caught painfully in his chest. The words cut far deeper than he had expected. He stared up at Militsioner in disbelief.
“What are you implying?”
“You know exactly what I mean.” Militsioner crossed his arms over his knee and resting his cheek in his wrist. “You’ll pay a fine. Three hundred rubles. And you can take all your 'gifts' back.”
Stranger locked eyes with the giant, waiting—hoping—for regret, for hesitation, for anything at all. But all he found was a cold stare that lingered far too long.
At last, Stranger let out a quiet huff. He reached into his pocket, pulled out what little money he had left, and tossed it onto the table without counting.
He wasn’t a criminal. And he refused to be treated like one.
Without another word, Stranger turned away. In a single swift leap, he dropped from the building, leaving Militsioner alone—left only with the echo of his own words.
—— ❦ ★ ❦ ——
Stranger had been gone long enough for the sound of his footsteps to completely fade.
The buildings looked the same as ever, barred windows still locked tight. The candies and chocolate still lay on the table along with a few crumpled ruble that would have nearly blown away if the coins hadn’t been weighing them down. Everything is still in place as if the conversation moments ago had never taken place at all.
Militsioner remained seated where he was.
The afternoon air began to change. The breeze that had once been gentle now carried an unfamiliar chill, heavy with moisture.
The sunlight began to fade—not sinking, not disappearing—just losing its strength.
His own words echoed back to him—again and again—each time sounding more wrong than before. He had known it even before Stranger leapt from the building: he had gone too far. It wasn’t about the fine. It wasn’t about the nearby city. It was the way he had spoken—the way he had allowed fear to twist into accusation.
From the pale sky, droplets began to fall—soft, almost imperceptible. A light drizzle. Thin and hesitant, like the sky itself had yet to decide what it wanted to become. The surface of the lake rippled gently, its scattered reflections breaking apart beneath the rain.
In the distance, the town's outline slowly blurred, wrapped in a thin veil of mist creeping between the buildings.
Militsioner lowered his gaze, his forehead nearly touching the knees drawn up against his chest. Raindrops dampened his shoulders, sliding down and dripping from the ends of his arms.
He didn’t know what had driven him to hurl such cruel words at the only person who truly cared for him. All of it—over something so small. And Stranger hadn’t been wrong. It wasn’t as if he had tried to escape. Stranger had only gone to bring him something—something meant for him.
Only then did Militsioner realize how selfish he had been. Wasn’t it natural for Stranger to grow weary of staying in this small town? To want, every now and then, a taste of the freedom that had been taken from him?
From their past conversations, hadn’t Militsioner known it all along—that Stranger had been trapped, framed for something he never did.
He was innocent.
He shouldn’t have been confined here. This place was never meant for him.
Militsioner should have been helping him reclaim his freedom, not letting his own fear bind Stranger in place.
Militsioner opened his eyes. His gaze fixed on the town below, on the narrow path between buildings where Stranger had disappeared earlier.
He remained seated, arms wrapped around his knees.
—— ❦ ★ ❦ ——
it's almost midnight, steady drizzle was still falling as Militsioner finally closed his eyes. He stayed where he was, knees drawn close, motionless as ever. He closed his eyes tightly, forcing himself to sleep.
Raindrops landed one by one, forming a soft, steady rhythm that blended into the night. The cold, the thin fog, the damp air—none of it bothered him. All of it was too small to truly matter.
The rain didn’t disturb him. The mist didn’t cloud his vision.
He tried to sleep.
He truly did.
But every time his eyes closed, the image returned—Stranger turning away without a word. Militsioner’s chest felt heavy. His breathing grew slightly deeper than usual, though his face remained calm.
He had long since learned how to contain his emotions—pressing them inward, letting them settle until they dulled into numbness. It had always worked when dealing with citizens. When dealing with criminals.
But Stranger had never truly been either.
He exhaled slowly. In his mind, he tried to justify himself: he was only doing his job, only maintaining order, only making sure the rules weren’t broken. Every reason sounded reasonable—until he remembered Stranger’s expression when those final words were spoken.
Shocked. Hurt. And… disappointed.
Militsioner closed his eyes for a moment. An unfamiliar tightness settled in his chest, as if something were pressing inward from within. He wasn’t used to this feeling. Worry, yes. Fear of loss, perhaps. But regret arriving this late—he didn’t know where to place it.
Stranger always came back, he told himself. Always. With that wide smile, with trivial little stories, with a warmth that felt far too alive for a town this empty.
And for the first time, Militsioner wasn’t sure.
If Stranger doesn’t come back this time…
The thought stopped there. He didn’t dare to finish it.
Then—
A Footsteps.
Not rain. Not wind.
Those light footsteps struck the tin roof and metal boards, their metallic clatter breaking the night’s stillness beneath the steady drizzle.
Militsioner opened his eyes.
At the same moment, the rain eased.
As if the sky itself were holding its breath.
The fog still hung low, but the rain had fully eased, leaving only the last droplets sliding down from the edges of the buildings.
Militsioner lifted his head and saw Stranger standing at the edge of the rooftop, his silhouette half-swallowed by the lingering mist.
Stranger was soaked. His thin jacket was darkened by rain, the hood pulled up, though Militsioner could still see damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. The wind began to blow—slow but cold—enough to make Stranger shiver and pull his jacket tighter around himself. Militsioner noticed dark clouds quietly gathering once more above the city.
Not rain.
Not yet.
A small, restless turmoil stirred in his chest.
“Are you… are you still angry?” Militsioner whispered, his voice nearly swallowed by the wind.
“No,” Stranger replied simply.
He sat down at the edge of the rooftop, then placed abox of cigarettes and a bottle of champagne beside him.
The foil at the bottle’s neck caught a dim glint from the town lights below. Militsioner glanced at it briefly—another gift. Even after everything.
Stranger followed his gaze. “Um, don’t worry. I bought it from Captain.”
Silence settled between them. The wind returned, stronger than before. The fog shifted, clouds thickened. The night air grew colder, sharp enough to bite at Stranger’s skin until he rubbed his arms for warmth.
Militsioner remained still, as if the weather had nothing to do with him. Militsioner shifted slightly, just enough to face Stranger more directly.
“Thank you.”
“Oh, it’s no big deal. Captain gave me an employee discount, so—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Militsioner interrupted softly. “I mean… for coming back.”
Stranger fell quiet, confused. Back? He didn’t feel like he had gone anywhere. Was Militsioner talking about returning from his hiding place?
Militsioner slowly reached out, as if to touch Stranger, then stopped midway and pulled his hand back. His eyes looked glassy, the town lights trembling in their reflection. Above them, the clouds darkened further, the wind twisting restlessly.
“Militsioner?”
“I’m sorry…" He whispered. "Im so sorry... I shouldn’t have said those things to you.” His voice shook. “I don’t know what came over me. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I know you wouldn’t run away—I trust you. It’s just—just that I was afraid. But I’m not afraid of losing my job. I just—I was only worried that you might—might—”
“Militsioner.” Stranger called his name, concern clear in his voice. He could see it clearly now—the way Militsioner’s breaths came too deep, too fast, the slight tension in his shoulders. Signs he had learned to recognize.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Stranger said gently. “Are you alright? Breathe. Slowly.”
It took a moment before Militsioner’s breathing finally steadied. He shook his head weakly.
“I… I regret what I said this afternoon,” he murmured. “I should have chosen my words more carefully. I spoke out of fear… not anger.” His gaze lowered. “There was a time when my work was everything to me,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t imagine losing it.”
Silence settled between them.
Stranger felt as though he could hear Militsioner’s heartbeat—heavy, fast. Militsioner leaned forward slightly, his voice barely above a whisper as he continued,
“Now the only thing I’m afraid of losing is you.”
Stranger froze. His cheeks felt warm, his own heart beginning to race at the confession. He hadn’t expected their small argument to end in something so raw, so vulnerable.
The quiet returned once more.
Not an awkward silence, but a gentle one—like the air after rain, heavy yet clean.
The wind still drifted softly, carrying the lingering chill of night. Dark clouds slowly moved on, no longer hanging directly above them, as if easing along with Militsioner’s breathing, now finally steady.
Stranger watched him for a moment, thensmiled faintly.
“Militsioner…” He said gently. “I’m not leaving.” He shifted his seat slightly to get more comfortable, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the building. “I know I’m careless. I know I act without thinking sometimes.” He let out a small, brief chuckle. “But this time… yeah. I really went too far. I should be the one apologizing.”
Militsioner didn’t respond right away. He simply looked at Stranger, his expression hard to read—a mix of relief, exhaustion, and something close to embarrassment. In the distance, the wind rippled across the water, making the town lights shimmer.
“I never meant to scare you,” Stranger continued. “I just… I feel like I’ve already given you everything I could find in this town, and I was afraid you might get bored—so I wanted to bring you something new. Something that would make you smile.”
Militsioner lowered his head slightly, his fingers loosening from their grip around his knees. “I know,” he said quietly. “I just think too much.”
Stranger’s smile widened at that. He stood up, letting the night wind brush against his hood and tousle his hair. “That’s what you do,” he said lightly. “You think too much, and say too little about what you actually feel.”
Militsioner let out a small breath. “I’m trying to learn.”
“That’s enough for me,” Stranger replied at once.
Moonlight slipped through the clearing sky, falling softly over the city, the lake, and Militsioner’s massive form. The silver glow brushed across his face, making his eyes look calmer than they had been all night. Stranger lifted both hands slightly—a simple, wordless gesture. Militsioner hesitated for a moment before slowly extending a finger.
When Stranger took it with both hands, the touch felt like a reduced version of an embrace—warm, grounding, as if the distance between them suddenly no longer mattered. Stranger rested his forehead against the finger, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
The wind softened. The fog began to thin. The rain stopped completely—mirroring Militsioner’s feelings as they finally settled.
Then, a mischievous idea suddenly crossed Stranger’s mind. He let out a small chuckle, his eyes glinting with playful intent.
“You know,” He said, “Maybe in the nearby city i could find someone who can make a ring that actually fits you.”
Militsioner froze. Heat rushed to his face, and without realizing it, he turned his head away, hiding the faint blush against his own shoulder. Seeing his reaction only made Stranger laugh brighter. He leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to the tip of Militsioner’s finger.
Instinctively, Militsioner pulled his hand back too fast—the sudden movement nearly sent Stranger tumbling off the edge of the building.
“What are you doing?” Militsioner asked, his voice rising, eyes wide in shock.
“Ah—s-sorry!” Stranger blurted out, panicked. “I thought— I thought the moment felt right. Did I misread the situation?”
“Uh—n-no,” Militsioner inhaled, then slowly extended his finger again, allowing them to touch once more. “I was just… a little surprised.” He looked down briefly before adding, shyly and softly, “I liked it.”
“Oh.” Stranger’s face lit up at once. “That’s a relief.”
He took the finger again, holding it with both hands just as before. Then Stranger lifted his face, looking up at Militsioner with open hope—pure, honest, without hesitation.
“In that case,” he asked carefully, “May I kiss you on the lips too?”
Militsioner was left speechless, struck by the sheer, straightforward of Stranger.