"N-not for me! Back home, Zhenya...it hasn't happened yet," he inhaled, holding back a sob.

"I wish...," he leant into the comfort of the other man, mumbling quietly his confessions. "That I could help you too, but I can't."

His fingers curled again and uncurled, grasping at trains of thought. Instead of that Ivan gave up on words and wrapped his arms around Volgin's torso in a weak embrace. (But in no way did it lack feeling.)

Tears streamed freely down his face.