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The first thing Ivan encountered when he emerged from the coma was warmth.
Because he had lain sick in bed for so long, even opening his eyes was difficult; he was in no state to open them and clearly perceive anything. Not just his sight—everything. His brain had been asleep too long to properly receive information. With his judgment so clouded that he even doubted whether he was truly alive, it was no easy task to suddenly grasp what was going on around him.
Following instinct alone, Ivan reached out and groped at the air, and someone took his hand. In that instant his mind began to sharpen. That was when he realized his own hand was cold as ice—because the hand holding his was so very warm. As if handling something precious, that person cupped his hand between both of theirs and gently caressed it. Something that felt like soft lips briefly came to rest on the back of his hand, then lifted away. And then a murmur: “Ah, my God.”
Even though simply opening his eyes had been hard enough, the warmth that roused his mind allowed Ivan, from the few pieces of information reaching him, to gradually figure out who was at his side. Alyosha. He must have spoken the name aloud without realizing it, because his own hoarse voice echoed faintly in his ears. Ah, my Alyosha. You’ve been here by my side, haven’t you. A smile rose to his lips of its own accord. Feeling a sudden, needless sense of relief, Ivan let the tension drain from his body. And once again, his consciousness went dark.
Alyosha had been watching his brother like that the whole time. Even when Ivan didn’t move at all. Even when the doctor who came to examine him said there was little hope he would ever wake, Alyosha never left his side. He simply waited, endlessly. In fact, rather than merely waiting, he trusted in his brother’s will and was convinced Ivan would rise again. Strictly speaking, it was closer to denying and refusing to face the possibility that Ivan might never wake, but even so, Alyosha never erased his faith.
When he prayed to God each day as usual, he spent less time speaking of himself and instead added words about his brother. He wished that his brother would open his eyes again and regain his health, that he might once more see Ivan call his name and smile at him so gently. And at last, that day had come. Of course, it was still far too early for Ivan to leave his sickbed completely. All the same, the fact that he had regained consciousness meant that the day Alyosha longed for was no longer an impossibility. Alyosha made a habit of seeking out the most hopeful possibility he could find.
Holding Ivan’s hand tightly as he slipped back into sleep, Alyosha stared vacantly at his brother’s face. More than simply staring, he began to observe Ivan with slow, blinking eyes. Thanks to Alyosha’s care, Ivan’s face was clean, but he had grown quite gaunt. His lashes trembled faintly. Alyosha set his index finger gently on Ivan’s forehead and traced carefully down the bridge of his nose. The way his hand traveled across Ivan’s face was lush, lingering. Before long, his fingertip reached Ivan’s lips. He pressed lightly against the parched lips with his finger. It pained him to see them like that—but for some reason, his heart pounded in his chest in stark contrast to that sadness.
Warm breath escaped through the slight parting of Ivan’s lips. Twisting his wrist, Alyosha cupped his brother’s cheek, which was cooler than usual. Then he bent down and laid his lips over Ivan’s. Smooch. When his lips came down, a small, soft sound echoed in the quiet room.
At some point, Alyosha’s nodding, dozing figure came into Ivan’s field of vision. When he looked down at his own hand, he saw that Alyosha was still holding it tightly. Has he been like this the whole time? Leaving their joined hands just as they were, Ivan lifted his other hand and stroked Alyosha’s head.
“Mmm…”
Alyosha let out a little sound, almost like a fretful whine, and nuzzled his head into Ivan’s hand.
“Alyosha, time to wake up.”
Ivan called to him gently, and at the sound of that voice Alyosha squeezed his eyes shut, then forced his eyelids open.
“Vanya?”
Blinking rapidly, Alyosha focused on the person in front of him—and then jerked upright.
“Brother. Oh my God, Vanya!”
Hearing his beloved younger brother call him by his familiar nickname in a voice so well-known he could have conjured it even in a dream, Ivan gave him a quiet smile.
“Did you wait for me?”
“Only… a little. A lot.”
Alyosha answered playfully, but there was a faint sorrow in his tone. It seemed he was deliberately trying to keep the atmosphere from becoming too heavy by answering lightly. Picking up on this, Ivan gently stroked the hand he still held so tightly.
“It’s all right now, Alyosha. I’m here.”