Other Side

At the club, everything looked perfectly normal. Boris and Andrew were already holding down our usual VIP booth, a concerning amount of expensive vodka already dominating the table.

As was tradition, we toasted our first round. Nikolay immediately started hyping us up, loudly nurturing the chaotic energy of the table. But beneath his booming laughs, I noticed his posture was entirely stiff. His awkward, overly careful attitude toward Boris was glaringly obvious, and it didn't take long for the giant to notice.

"What’s wrong with you, Brotha?" Boris asked, setting his empty shot glass down and narrowing his eyes at Nikolay.

Nikolay quickly poured himself another shot and swallowed it before answering. "Nothing, Boris! We’re just having a good time!" He shot a wide-eyed, panicked glance at me, silently begging for help.

Boris slowly turned his heavy, intimidating gaze to me. "Ok, Derro. You need to tell me what is happening with this guy."

I didn’t say a single word. I just smirked and tilted my head slightly toward Nikolay, giving Boris a silent cue to observe his friend. Boris averted his gaze back to the nervous Russian. After watching Nikolay fidget with his glass for a few agonizing seconds, Boris's eyes squinted in realization.

"You’re in love, aren't you?"

Nikolay nearly jumped out of his skin. He grabbed a full bottle of vodka and began chugging it straight from the neck, desperately trying to hide his sheer terror.

"Brotha, if you are really in love with Lana, just ask her out," Boris said, his tone so incredibly casual it gave me whiplash.

Nikolay choked violently, coughing vodka into his napkin. "What?! You already know?!"

"Of course I know, you fool! I've known you liked her from the very start," Boris scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"And... you're okay with it?"

Boris frowned in genuine, profound disbelief. "What do you mean? My systra's love life is her own problem, Brotha. If you two actually love each other, then I’m happy too."

"Blyad!! Why didn't you just say that sooner?!" Nikolay yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

"You didn’t ask, fool!"

Nikolay threw his head back and roared with carefree laughter, a massive, invisible weight completely lifting off his chest. "Bozhe moi! This is great then!! Let’s party!!"

The wild, chaotic vibe of the table was instantly restored. As usual, our group's heavy drinking and loud jokes became the highlight of the surrounding section.

I sat back against the leather booth, swirling a beer in my hand as I watched them celebrate. It made me think. It was tragically funny how a simple, honest, five-minute conversation could completely evaporate someone’s crippling fear. I finally understood that brutal honesty and trust are the absolute most fundamental building blocks of any relationship. If Jessica and I had just talked to each other like this... maybe we wouldn't have destroyed each other.

But I also knew that sometimes, the truth isn't a fairy tale. Sometimes, honesty is incredibly harsh.

I learned that lesson the very next afternoon when I visited their apartment.

"Huh? What the hell happened to him?" I asked, stopping in the doorway. I pointed at Nikolay, who was slumped on the living room rug, surrounded by a graveyard of empty beer bottles.

Andrew and Boris turned their heads toward me from the kitchen. Boris just gave a slow, deeply sympathetic shake of his head.

"Oh, damn." I walked over and sat on the edge of the sofa near him. "You talked to her this morning?"

Nikolay just nodded miserably, lifting a fresh bottle to his lips and chugging the entire thing in one long, depressing pull.

"Does she already have a boyfriend?" I asked gently.

He shook his heavy head. "I think she's just not interested in me, Derro."

"Hey, at least you finally told her, Brotha. You didn't hide from it. Take it as a lesson: if you really like someone, you have to be brave enough to show it." I snatched his last unopened bottle off the coffee table, cracking it open. "But at the same time... if she really isn't interested, then accepting it and moving on is the absolute best thing you can do. Trust me. Dragging it out will only poison you."

Nikolay frowned, his drunk brain trying to process my advice. "I don’t fully understand what you're saying, Derro. Are you trying to say she’s not interested because I didn’t show it through my actions?"

"No, I think she's not interested because you’re a nasty motherfucker."

"Blyad!" He kicked my shin from the floor, a reluctant laugh finally breaking through his misery. "Bah! Forget about it! I just need to get completely wasted tonight!"

"Don’t worry, Boris and I already found a party we can crash to lift your spirits," Andrew spoke up, tossing a bag of chips onto the table.

"It’s a frat party hosted by those deadites. They rented out a club downtown instead of using their filthy mansion," Boris added, a confident, dangerous smirk spreading across his face.

The big, chaotic grin slowly returned to Nikolay's face. "Perfect! Let’s crash it tonight, Brothas!"

I smiled, genuinely impressed by Boris and Andrew's anticipation. It was like they instinctively knew exactly what Nikolay needed without him having to utter a single word. The brotherhood in our group was incredibly warm and fiercely loyal. They were like real brothers to me. When you looked at us from the inside, we were just a bunch of guys who genuinely cared about each other.

At least, that was the perspective from the inside.

I rarely paid attention to our reputation from the outside. I didn't care how the rest of the campus viewed the Draufgängers. Until we crashed that club later that night.

When the four of us walked shoulder-to-shoulder through the front doors, the atmosphere of the entire room physically shifted. The music seemed to dip. The frat crowd looked at us like we were walking legends. The expressions were wildly mixed: some of the bolder, popular students cheered and raised their glasses to Boris, while the rest of the room looked absolutely terrified that we had just walked into their space.

As I scanned the crowd, enjoying the parting sea of uneasy faces, my eyes locked onto someone standing near the back wall.

It was a very familiar face. It was Jones.

I didn't break eye contact as my brothers and I pushed through the crowd toward the back. Once we settled into the leather seats of our VIP booth, my eyes immediately began tracking Jones across the neon-lit dance floor.

A complicated, heavy knot of regret and lingering anger tightened in my chest. I didn't feel jealous anymore, but a burning question kept echoing in my mind: Where is Jessica? Why isn't she here with him? He's out partying without her?

"You okay, Brotha?" Andrew asked softly, cutting through the heavy bass of the club music. "Why do you keep staring over there?"

I turned to Andrew to brush it off, but his sharp, highly observant eyes had already traced my line of sight. "You noticed someone related to Jessica, didn't you? Or perhaps... is it that Jones guy?"

"Yeah. I saw Jones," I admitted calmly.

"Which one is he?" Boris asked. The casual warmth instantly vanished from his deep voice, replaced by a chilling, predatory baseline.

"No need to talk about it, boys. Let’s just enjoy the—"

"Which one is he, Derro?" Boris repeated, leaning forward. It wasn't a question anymore; it was an absolute command.

I let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Listen, he was one of my closest brothers in high school, just like you guys are to me now. I don't want to—"

"Derro, just point and tell us which one he is," Nikolay interrupted. All of his usual boisterous, golden-retriever energy had completely evaporated. His face was dead serious.

I leaned back into the sofa, defeated. I knew from experience that once the Russian Brotherhood decided to protect one of their own, resistance was entirely futile.

"I think I know which one it is," Andrew murmured, standing up from the booth and cracking his knuckles. "Let me drag him over here."

"Brothers! I said drop it!" I warned, my voice hardening.

But Andrew had already disappeared into the neon-lit crowd. Less than a minute later, the sea of college students parted. Andrew was walking back, effortlessly herding three guys toward our table. All three of them looked absolutely terrified, glancing around like trapped animals. One of them was Jones.

Seeing him up close, shivering under Andrew's cold stare, a bizarre sense of clarity washed over me. He looks so incredibly pathetic. Is this really the coward she sacrificed my love for?

"Which one of you is Jones?" Boris’s booming voice easily overpowered the club music, intimidating them instantly.

Jones clamped his mouth shut, trembling visibly.

"Do you guys want to play deaf?" Boris growled, shifting his massive weight.

The two other frat boys, terrified of becoming collateral damage, immediately pointed fingers at Jones and took a massive step back.

"Derro, do you want to say something to him?" Nikolay asked, looking down at Jones with utter disgust.

"Enough. Let him be. It’s not his fault," I said, ignoring Jones entirely and looking at my brothers. "She chose him. Don’t make yourselves look stupid over my past, Brothas."

"You hear him, Jones?" Nikolay sneered, leaning over the table. "He’s letting you walk away because he still considers you a brother. But let me make this perfectly clear. We consider Jessica to be our sister, too. So if you treat her poorly... we know exactly where to find you. Do you understand me, you spineless bastard?"

Jones nodded frantically, the blood completely drained from his face.

Boris suddenly squinted, his dark eyes locking onto Jones's face with a horrifying intensity. "Wait a minute. I remember you. You’re one of TJ’s little bitches, aren't you?"

Jones’s eyes blew wide open in sheer terror, his lips trembling violently.

Boris's jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped in his cheeks. He stood up slowly, towering ominously over the trembling frat boy. "If you ever treat Jessica the way you and your boys treated Hailey back then... trust me. I. Will. Not. Hold. Back."

"Now begone," Nikolay commanded, waving his hand like he was dismissing a stray dog.

They didn't hesitate. The three frat boys scrambled away, disappearing into the safety of the crowd. But Boris remained standing, staring at the empty space, his massive fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were bone-white.

"What happened, Brotha?" I asked gently, sensing the immense pain radiating from the giant.

"Trust me, Derro. You’re not the only one in this booth who has survived a shit situation," Nikolay explained, his voice softening. "Hailey was Boris’s girlfriend. They broke up a year and a half ago, right before the summer break."

"You remember when we took that 'strategic retreat' to Brighton Beach?" Andrew asked, taking his seat again.

"Yeah."

"We went to visit her, right after Boris heard the news that she had abruptly dropped out of UChicago."

"Why did she drop out?" I asked, my stomach sinking.

Boris let out a massive, shaky exhale, forcefully pushing his rage down before sitting back heavily into the booth. "She called me one day out of the blue. She told me she was dropping out and moving back to her hometown. She wouldn't tell me why. That’s exactly why I had to visit her. I knew something was horribly wrong."

Boris stared blankly at his vodka glass. "After we found her in New York, we learned the ugly truth. She started dating TJ shortly after she broke up with me. At first, they were fine. But later, TJ started treating her poorly. It escalated until it became physically abusive. She didn’t leave him right away because TJ would manipulate her, playing the victim and pretending to regret it after he hit her."

Boris took a deep, ragged breath, his voice thick with suppressed grief. "And then... she learned she was pregnant. And that piece of shit coward immediately broke up with her."

"And you know what the absolute worst part is?" Nikolay spat, pure venom lacing his words. "A week before we visited Hailey and found all this out, we were partying at a mansion with TJ and his clowns—including that Jones guy. They were having a massive, degenerate orgy while Hailey was suffering alone in New York."

"I am only respecting Hailey’s strict wish for me not to touch TJ. Believe me, if she gave me the green light, I would end him right now," Boris said, closing his eyes in quiet agony. "But... it was her choice to begin with." He picked up his glass and downed the entire shot of vodka in one gulp.

A heavy, mournful silence blanketed our table. We had all been broken by the choices of the women we loved.

"Well. Let’s drop the heavy topic for tonight," Andrew finally spoke up, picking up his glass to break the tension. He raised it to the center of the table. "A toast. To Boris the loser."

Boris let out a short, reluctant laugh. "Bastard! Fine, let’s drink! To Nikolay the ugly!"

Nikolay laughed his booming, carefree laugh, raising his glass high. "To Derro the cuckold!"

My laughter exploded out of my chest. It was a brutal insult, but for the first time, it didn't hurt. "To Andrew the virgin!"

"Blyad! I’m not a virgin!" Andrew violently interrupted, his pale cheeks flushing bright red.

Both Nikolay and Boris pointed at him, roaring with laughter. "But you definitely act like a virgin sometimes, Brotha!"

We laughed so hard our ribs ached, clinking our glasses together in the center of the table. We were damaged, we were flawed, and we were stupid. But as the vodka burned down my throat, I knew we were finally marking our collective decision to leave the past where it belonged: behind us.

**

After the hangover faded the next morning, a sobering wave of clarity washed over me. I realized two things.

First, my tragedy wasn't entirely unique. I wasn't the only guy bleeding from a broken heart, and I needed to stop acting like I held the monopoly on suffering. Second, I finally noticed how heavily the Draufgänger reputation was impacting my daily life on campus.

Thanks to the dark rumors of my intense, volatile relationships with Jessica and Gaby, I had somehow acquired a ridiculous 'Sex Demon' label. Adrenaline-junkie girls were constantly circling me, desperate to get into my bed just to see if the dangerous rumors were true. The guys on campus were divided, staring at me with a messy mix of fear, admiration, or bitter jealousy.

Honestly? I hated it. It was exhausting.

I realized I never actually wanted popularity. I only ever stepped into the spotlight because Jessica shined so brightly, and I wanted to stand beside her. Now, the only reason I stayed in the underground scene was for the pure, unfiltered brotherhood I shared with the Russians.

But as I tried to piece my quiet, mundane life back together, a heavy question haunted me.

Can I really love another girl? Can I ever completely move on?

Because no matter how many steps I take forward, I know the brutal truth. Deep down, there is a space in my heart that is permanently locked away. A space that will forever remain only for her.

For Jessica.