For the rest of the morning, Maks felt a little numb, but apart from that, he managed to get a grip. He made breakfast, trying very hard to erase the memory of the agitated kid rushing out of the woods as if someone was chasing him. He carefully considered all the scenarios of what could have happened—who Aleks had been talking to, who else had been there, who the phone had belonged to, and why it had been so important. So many unknowns and no answers. He tried to drive away the thought that last night he'd slept under the same roof with someone who might have committed murder. Someone who now knew exactly where he lived and what his name was, while Maks didn't know a thing about him. He was at a strong disadvantage here. He also tried to get past this whole incident, just deciding that it'd never happened and forgetting that his path had ever crossed the path of the mysterious Aleks. If it was even his name. Forgetting didn't work very well, so he turned off the TV, then turned it on and turned it back off. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to know more or not.

He wondered what was happening to Aleks. Would the investigation lead them to him? Maybe it'd lead them to Maks? Calm down, he scolded himself internally. You did nothing wrong. Well, he'd had some information and kept it to himself. Did that already make him an accomplice? Jesus, what had he gotten himself into?

He didn't notice when noon came and went. He almost had a heart attack when the mailman buzzed the interphone. He picked up his correspondence and went back to spacing out on the couch. Around two p.m., he got up reluctantly to check his phone. There was a text from Ewelina, asking if he was coming with her to her friend's birthday party. Her life had changed when he'd been in England, or rather, her life kept changing while his was still the same. They used to both be outcasts, preferring their own company to anyone else's. Now she was going clubbing with her girlfriends every weekend, and Maks resigned himself to being the third wheel.

The second text was from an unknown number.

3:41 pm. From: *********. You didn't do anything stupid, did you?

It wasn't signed. It didn't need to be. Maks frowned, wondering how he had gotten his number. He checked the history, and there was a call from his phone to the same number yesterday at 2:36 a.m. How had he done that without Maks noticing?

He sighed, saving the number with a tiny smile. He was involuntarily relieved that Aleks hadn't dropped off the face of the earth.

3:43 pm. To: Aleks. I thought I was supposed to forget about it.

3:44 pm. From: Aleks. Good, carry on then. Sorry, I was worried.

He read it several times. Now he was fucking worried? Worried about whom? Himself? Maks? The murderer? All of these were possible. Why was he even texting him if he was going to erase him from the picture and never mention it again? It didn't make any sense.

3:44 pm. To: Aleks. You were worried about me? I'm touched.

3:46 pm. From: Aleks. What can I say, I'm a very thoughtful guy.

Fuck, it didn't make any sense. Nothing would convince Maks that these words belonged to a person who would have been able to shoot someone in cold blood. It wasn't the face of a person who would have been able to shoot someone in cold blood. His instinct couldn't be so wrong. Aleks couldn't have done it. He was definitely involved somehow, but he wasn't the culprit. Who was that guy who was shot? Maybe that would shed some light on this whole mess. Maks wasn't going to help with the investigation; he wasn't suicidal, but gathering as much information as possible couldn't hurt, right?

After a short hesitation, he turned the TV back on.

•~💥~•

If there was anything that made Maks loosen up, even though he wasn't a very laid-back person, it was cooking. He was furiously mashing up avocado to a pulp, wondering what he was going to do with a huge bowl of guacamole, because there was no chance that he could eat it all on his own, but it kept his mind off certain things, so it didn't matter who would eat it.

He was still listening to the news with half an ear, only registering every third sentence. 'Do the police have any leads? Unfortunately, the police have no leads, but we are investigating this case conscientiously.' Maks didn't even realize that he'd held his breath until he exhaled heavily. Aleks seemed to be safe for now. 'The police identified the victim as twenty-eight-year-old Piotr R., a resident of Praga-North.' 'Is it possible that it was a mob hit? Considering the victim's identity, it is very likely.' Maks winced. What the fuck have you done, kiddo? he thought. What the fuck are you doing to me?

He kept listening, and he felt that the more he heard, the less he understood. And the less he understood, the more he started to panic. He was taking it all out on avocado, even if it wasn't its fault, and tried to force the voices in his head to shut up. Before, he had only known that he'd been scared, but now he also felt it; he actually felt this overpowering fear that it would not end on this one strange night. That because of one stupid decision, he would end up in jail or somewhere with a bullet in his head, long-forgotten. It wasn't impossible, right? It was even probable because these people—whoever they were—didn't leave loose ends. And they definitely didn't let guys like him be after they turned up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Had Aleks also been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or maybe it hadn't been an accident at all that he'd been there? Maks wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to this question.

The doorbell rang. Maks jumped, and the peeler cut his skin instead of a jalapeño pepper. He hissed and put his thumb in his mouth, turning around and staring at the door with a loudly thumping heart. Who was that? Police? No, they wouldn't have found him so quickly. Could they know? Could anyone know that Aleks had been here this morning? He checked the clock; it was close to six p.m. Okay, just get a grip. He went to the door.

"Hi, honey," Ewelina said, entering without an invitation and craning her neck, waiting for a kiss. "You remember Aneta, right?" She pointed to the short blonde smiling shyly behind her.

Maks blinked. "Sure," he lied. "Come on in."

Aneta was taking off her shoes when Ewelina grabbed his elbow and kissed him again. She was grinning a lot and seemed happy; maybe she was still dazed by the engagement. He suspected it was a woman thing. Or maybe it was because of a Saturday. She was always more joyful on a weekend, and Maks wanted to tell her that there was nothing wrong with Mondays; people like her just blamed everything that was wrong in their lives on this poor day because they hated their jobs. But he would never say it out loud.

"What happened?" she frowned.

Nothing, babe, it's just that there was a murder yesterday and I was practically there; I stopped the car and chatted for a moment with a guy who saw it or maybe even did it, and then took him back here and gave him a blanket, so he wouldn't be cold. Nothing at all.

Fuck, he needed to pull himself together. If there was anything he was good at, it was pretending that everything was okay. That he was okay.

"Nothing. Everything's fine."

She went to the living room. He wasn't sure if she was even listening to him. "Come on, I can see you're tense." Damn, apparently she did. "You were cooking and didn't have anyone to cook for. It always means you're tense," she declared, eyeing the guacamole. Why did she have to know him so well? "You're worried about the interview?" Right, his job interview. He'd already completely forgotten. Would he have even remembered if she hadn't mentioned it? Shit, he would have to write it down somewhere.

"Yeah, kind of," he admitted, embarrassed and lying through his teeth. "You want some?" He tried to change the subject, taking out the plates. Aneta smiled kind of tenderly and gave a significant look to Ewelina, who raised her eyebrows like she was saying, 'I told you so'. Maks didn't even want to guess because women always thought men who cooked were endearing. It was almost as endearing as insecure men who openly admitted their insecurity. Maks was both, so he wouldn't be surprised if they considered him cute as a puppy. He didn't understand girls at all.

"What're you watching...? Ugh," Ewelina grimaced at the news. They'd finally let the mysterious Warsaw murder go, and now they were talking about the tree logging. "'Kitchen revolutions' are on." She changed the channel. "So are you coming to the club or not?"

It was obvious to Maks that the negative answer wasn't even an option. "Sure," he mumbled, not even curious where they were going. He didn't remember the last time he'd been in a club. Bars, sure, back in college, but if he had to interact with people, he preferred house parties. It's not that he never had any fun. He did. He just didn't like the crowds, the noise, and little punks spilling drinks on him because he was unlucky enough that they always did.

But now Ewelina was the kind of girl that went clubbing, and she was also his future wife, so it probably meant that he had to go clubbing. Shit.

He started to prepare the food, unlocking his phone in the meantime.

6:03 pm. To: Aleks. Yeah, right, like a little angel. Maybe yesterday I'd have believed that.

After all, it wouldn't hurt to text him a little bit, right? He hadn't even started it; Aleks had. So it was fine. It was all fine.

•~💥~•

He'd already known that he hated clubs, but apparently he hadn't been aware of just how much he hated them. He was pursing his lips so hard they almost hurt, and he ridiculously thought he should apologize to his own eardrums for the harm he caused them. On the bright side, he was particularly talented at going with the flow; that's how he had survived at Cambridge for as long as he had, and the same talent allowed him to navigate through this strange, ethereal place. He was wandering around with a bored expression, holding on to his glass of Jack Daniels, even though all the ice cubes had already melted. He smiled at someone from time to time, but mostly his eyes were following Ewelina and her friends, shaking their hips, pretending not to have a care in the world. The truth was that they were flattered by all these guys, first approaching them and then leaving disappointed after realizing that they wouldn't score here, looking a whole lot less sultry than before but just as vapid. Maks observed these theatrics with pity. Ewelina just sneaked out to take a quick drag, giggling like a teenager. Maks was hoping that they were smoking cigarettes and not something else.

It looked like his twenty-four-year-old fiancée was just going through her rebellious phase. So there was that. It wasn't all that surprising; she had always been a sickeningly good girl, so it had been bound to happen. But did it have to be right now, when she had also agreed to marry him? She could have said 'no' after all; it's not like he would have resented her for it or dumped her if she had provided him with a plausible explanation. He had done it because of his mom anyway. Well, she wasn't the only reason, but he'd told her that he'd thought of proposing, and she'd gone absolutely crazy. Before he'd gotten a chance to protest, she'd turned this casual idea into a detailed plan. So what should he have said? That he wasn't sure? How could he not be sure after all this time? Besides, he was sure. Sure that it had to be done sooner or later, so why not now?

He took out his phone and smiled.

9:39 pm. From: Aleks. I can see a bright future ahead of you.

Right, Maks had told him that he'd completely forgotten about his job interview. Suddenly, he frowned when he remembered what Aleks had said about revealing too much. And then he realized that it was the same Aleks who had practically threatened him this morning and thought that he really played with fire. Apparently he was so sheltered that now he was living in a bubble, convinced that there was no such thing as danger and that all people were nice and good like him. Well, every flaw could be blamed on the parents.

He raised his head to find Ewelina, who just laughed and then shouted something in Aneta's ear. Maks shook off unpleasant thoughts and decided internally that if people could do exciting shit, so could he. Exciting and dangerous. Yeah, it sounded good. Maks had never, in his whole life, done anything dangerous.

10:24 pm. To: Aleks. Judging by where I am right now, I don't see a bright future ahead of me.

He didn't wait more than a few seconds for Aleks to take the bait.

10:24 pm. From: Aleks. Where are you?

10:24 pm. To: Aleks. In some stupid club.

10:25 pm. From: Aleks. But where?

This time, Maks hesitated. Why did he want to know? Was he going to find him and put a knife to his throat in some dark alley?

Okay, that was absurd. If Aleks wanted to get rid of him, he would have found a much more subtle way. And he wouldn't have waited until now, seeing as he'd had plenty of opportunities already. His own calmness, despite his morbid thoughts, was unnerving. Well, you only live once.

10:27 pm. To: Aleks. Some place on Mazowiecka St. I don't remember what it's called.

10:27 pm. From: Aleks. Enclave?

Maks frowned. He wasn't sure, but... probably.

10:27 pm. To: Aleks. I guess.

For a long moment, he was holding his breath and waiting for an answer, but it never came, so he rolled his eyes and went to the bar to get a refill. He felt like he got a year older waiting in that line, and he exhaled with relief when he emerged victorious. Of course, only for some idiot to run right into him when he was turning. Jack Daniels splashed on his hand and the front of his shirt. He was pretty sure that his offender got hit too, but fortunately, he didn't seem to be too pissed. That's what Maks would have expected from most of the regulars here, but this one only started to chuckle.

"Watch your whisky!" He leaned to be heard, and Maks jerked at the sound of the familiar voice. Of course.

"What are you doing here?" he shouted back, because sure, it had felt like he had been standing in line for a year, but in reality, it hadn't been more than ten minutes.

"I was just next door," Aleks explained, shrugging and pulling him by the elbow. Maks followed him pliantly. "The best shotbar around. I give it five stars." He was grinning widely. Maks didn't understand that grin. Someone who had the police after them shouldn't be grinning.

"That's not what I meant," he refuted, even though that'd actually been his first thought—how Aleks had managed to get here so quickly. "Do you have any specific business here, or did you just miss me?"

"I thought I would buy you a drink. You know, as a 'thank you'" Aleks offered presumptuously, still wearing that cheeky smirk. Maks wasn't sure if he was supposed to be flattered or weirded out. He seemed different than last night and this morning, like this was a club-approved version of him. A little more douchey and brash, and a little less nostalgic and frank. He also looked different; he'd traded the hoodie for a black coat. He was almost elegant with this disarrayed hair of his and a smug look on his face. He seemed the more smug the longer Maks was eyeing him up and down.

"Hey," Ewelina panted, appearing out of nowhere with three of her friends in tow. Maks only knew Aneta by name. They were all staring at Aleks with burning curiosity. "Will you introduce me to your friend?" she demanded sweetly.

"Right, sure, this is Ewelina," Maks said obediently, immediately pretending that introducing his fiancée to Aleks was something he'd been planning on doing all along, even though until now it hadn't even crossed his mind. In fact, now that it was forced on him, he realized that it probably wasn't the best idea.

"Yes, of course, I've recognized. I'm Aleks."

Ewelina glanced at Maks suspiciously, but Aleks let him off the hook, still smiling charmingly. "What's your poison, ladies?" Most of Ewelina's girlfriends blushed and giggled shyly. Jesus, they didn't even play hard to get if one of those dazzling smiles was enough for them. Aleks went to the bar, and Ewelina leaned towards Maks.

"Who is this guy?"

"We've met... a few weeks ago," he made up without missing a beat. "Right after I got back. You know, just... briefly."

"Briefly?" she repeated, sounding intrigued. "But he recognized me. Was he at your place or...?"

"No, come on," he huffed. This lie wasn't exactly necessary, but Maks didn't invite people to his apartment very often and was worried that she would have considered it highly irregular. He decided to stick to the compliment; it was always a safe bet. "I was just telling him about you, so I had to brag about how beautiful my fiancée is."

She seemed appeased, and let him kiss her.

"So, have you already thought about the date?" a short brunette asked, leaning on the table next to them. Ewelina immediately cheered up.

"Yeah, I've checked everything, and if we don't want to get married in some shithole, there's not much chance of booking something earlier than next August, but it doesn't sound bad, does it?" she addressed Maks, who nodded furiously. "Like, a year and a half-long engagement is reasonable, right?"

"Sure, August sounds perfect," he agreed dutifully.

"What's in August?" Aleks asked out of polite interest, putting a tray full of multicolored shots in front of them. There were at least thirty of them, and Maks' eyes got cloudy. Aleks smiled with an air of superiority. "See, that's how you do it. Sipping Jack Daniels is for geriatrics."

"Oooh, we like Aleks. Can we keep him?" Ewelina begged, turning her puppy eyes on Maks. He just scowled because, in his opinion, keeping Aleks seemed like a terrible idea. "And we're getting married in August," she added complacently, answering his first question. To Maks, it looked like she couldn't help herself from informing everybody about it, no matter if they wanted to know or not.

Aleks raised his eyebrows. "Oh, right! Maks mentioned something about planning to propose." He pretended he was trying to remember.

Ewelina brightened up. "He did?"

"Yeah, yeah, he couldn't wait to tell everyone," Aleks assured her, glancing at Maks significantly and looking like he was having the time of his life. Maks wasn't. When the girls started talking about the wedding, Aleks drew closer to him.

"How long have we known each other?" he whispered into his ear.

"Three weeks?" Maks figured.

"And where did we meet?"

"In Pavilions," he decided firmly. "We have mutual friends."

Aleks snorted, looking doubtful, like he was saying that there was no way in hell that the two of them had even a single friend in common. Maks concurred, but after all, not arousing Ewelina's suspicion was as much in Aleks' best interest as it was in his, even if for extremely different reasons.

The party went on. The girls drank more than it seemed physically possible for their petite bodies and didn't seem all that interested in going back to the dancefloor. Maks felt disappointed because he hoped that he would have a chance to talk with Aleks alone, though he wasn't sure why, apart from him being a stranger who decided to text him and join his party instead of cutting him off. It didn't make any sense, and he just wanted to know why. Especially now that they were eternally labeled as best friends only because Maks was a compulsive liar and Aleks happily embraced the scam, making up more and more details about their short but apparently intense fake acquaintance.

It was obvious that Ewelina loved him. He also understood why, since she'd started to socialize, she'd felt bad that Maks didn't have that many friends and was doing nothing to change that. He was an introvert; there were a few people whose company he didn't find awful, and that was enough for him. It'd never been an issue before, but now she seemed to feel guilty that she had her girlfriends and Maks was still pretty much alone. So no wonder that she was ecstatic now that she'd met a real-life buddy, and such a cool and sharp one on top of that, who was going clubbing, was stylish and smooth-tongued, and seemed to be the kind of guy who was in high demand wherever he went. Maks wouldn't have been surprised if Aleks was her dream come true, and he really wanted to tell her that he wasn't a friend; he was just some random guy he'd stupidly invited to a sleepover after he had witnessed a murder, only so he could see her face.

Aleks, on the other hand, who had clearly been enjoying their shenanigans at the beginning, eventually started to look bored. He wasn't rude or anything, but Maks couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't like Ewelina very much and was mostly irritated by her. That made Maks equally irritated, because he could already tell that the two of them in the same room didn't make for a good combination. That's why he was glad when Ewelina announced that she was going to stay over at Karolina's—finally, after all this time, he learned the brunette's name—because she lived in the area and that they were all going home. Maks assured her that he was fine with that and that he was planning on staying with Aleks for a little bit longer and then taking an Uber home. He wasn't sure when exactly he'd decided that. It just came out.

There was one problem he failed to consider: that sitting and drinking for a few hours straight would probably result in ending up drunk. Some things were just too obvious to take them into account. So that happened, and Maks started talking, and after he started, he couldn't stop, which was pretty bad under the circumstances. Aleks agreed.

"We can't just... let it go," Maks mumbled, leaning heavily on the table and boring into him. "We need to figure out some kind of... some kind of plan, cause you... you were there, and I—"

"Could you please stop fucking announcing it?" Aleks hissed, staring at him coldly.

"No, I cannot," Maks declared, then hesitated, gulping loudly. "I just can't... stop thinking about it—"

"You can't stop thinking about it right now, because you're hammered." Aleks didn't sound much more sober himself, but he was easily standing his ground. "There's nothing to consider. Whatever crazy scenarios are running through your head right now, they've got nothing to do with what actually happened. It is not your business, and it is not your problem," he emphasized, lowering his voice, because the club was slowly becoming deserted and they didn't have to shout to hear each other anymore. In this case, they actually shouldn't.

"But it is my... because." Maks lost his train of thought but recovered quickly. "Because we're in this together and I am kind of... involved, right?"

"Christ, you don't even know what you are talking about." Aleks rubbed his face, looking like he was slowly losing his patience. "You know nothing, Maks, so just stay the fuck out of it and stick with the version where we met in Pavilions three weeks ago through mutual friends."

Maks spent a long moment staring at him drunkenly. "But we didn't meet three weeks ago," he corrected in all seriousness, like it was some grand discovery. "We met yesterday. It was fucking yesterday, Aleks, and I don't understand how you can possibly be so fucking calm when I feel like I'm losing my mind here—"

"Jesus Christ," Aleks muttered, starting to look almost worried about the mess of a man in front of him. "Okay, that's enough for you—"

"No, no, I have to—" Maks protested, trying to save the last drop of his drink that Aleks had just stolen from under his nose.

"No fucking way. Get up and get an Uber," he ordered so firmly that Maks did as he was told without much fuss.

"Where are we?" he asked obliviously.

"Six slash eight Mazowiecka St." Aleks grabbed his coat and Maks' arm and pulled him towards the exit. "Come on."

"But it won't be here for another—"

"Doesn't matter. You could use some fresh air." Maks actually felt better when they left the stifling club. Aleks didn't let him go when they got outside, but guided him on to the back alley. "Okay, now listen up," he started menacingly. "I don't know what kind of fucking fantasy world you enter when you're wasted, but we're not together in anything. What, you don't have enough excitement in life, and you think we're fucking Bonnie and Clyde now because you let me sleep on your couch? Well, go find your excitement somewhere else, because we're not fucking friends, no matter what bullshit we fed your girlfriend. I don't even know you, so I really can't comprehend where you got the idea that I'm going to fucking discuss with you what I'm planning to do next. Who the fuck do you think you are?" he hissed, gripping his shirt and pressing him up against the wall. Maks didn't think it was very nice of him, but he was way too drunk to feel hurt.

"I am someone who could have gone to the police and doesn't understand why he didn't yet." His voice was much more controlled than how he felt inside.

Aleks laughed derisively. "That would squander all of my efforts to keep you away from it, so I would appreciate it if you cooperated." Maks flinched. "So now I'm going to tell you what we're going to do. You're going to keep your fucking mouth shut, and what I'm going to do is solely my concern."

"Then why did you text me?" Maks dared him, suddenly thinking much more clearly. "And why the fuck did you come here?"

The look on Aleks' face was hard to read.

"The car is here," he grunted finally. Maks yanked away from him and took off towards the car with the confidence of someone drunk out of their mind, staggering a little. He didn't look back at Aleks until the backseat door was open.

"You're coming with me, right?" He didn't know where his hazy brain got that idea from. Aleks looked surprised, but just shrugged in reply.

"If you insist." He stopped next to the other door. "It's because I would rather keep an eye on you."

Maks rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right," he snorted, not believing this excuse for a second. He didn't want to keep an eye on him, and he also didn't consider befriending Maks or going home with him again to be particularly smart. He was just doing it because he liked him. Maks didn't know what made him so sure of it or why it made him feel so elated. It was probably the booze.