1987, Russia, Ivanovo.
Misha was 4 years old when his mother left the country, leaving him in the care of Lidia Nikolaevna, her roommate in a dormitory. Lidia, an older, lonely woman, gladly took in the little blond, chubby-cheeked boy. Lidia had no children of her own, and Misha became a gift to her.
Misha was very quiet—he never asked for anything, barely ate, and spent all his days sitting on the windowsill, staring out. Outside the building, a new apartment block was being constructed, and Misha loved watching the tower crane at work. Every time the crane lifted a heavy load, Misha would first widen his lips into a surprised “O” shape, raising his eyebrows. Once the load was delivered to the desired floor, he would squint his big blue eyes, smile, and excitedly clench his fists. “Yes!” he’d exclaim, in awe of the crane operator’s work.
Lidia Nikolaevna wasn’t pleased with having such a “self-sufficient” boy. She craved attention and a mutual connection, but the little boy remained withdrawn. Misha had been deeply frightened in his early childhood, which is why he didn’t start speaking until closer to the age of 6. At 3 years old, he witnessed a drunken brawl that ended with his father’s death. Since that day, Misha kept his father’s golden cigarette case, which had fallen during the fight. Inside the case was a photo of his young parents. Later, Misha used a pen to draw himself in the space between them.
Years went by, and Lidia Nikolaevna got a job working as an escalator attendant in the metro. During her shifts, she came home late at night, leaving Misha to his own devices. Misha found a friend from the neighboring building—a boy named Sergey. Sergey had black hair, wore glasses, and had a speech impediment. Sergey quickly became Misha’s best friend because they shared the same interest—the new construction site.
“Mishaaa, come outside! Let’s go to the construction site!” Sergey would yell up at Misha’s window, and Misha would promptly rush down. The boys would secretly climb an apricot tree located near the construction site and sit at the top, watching the workers while feasting on the sweet, ripe fruit. Sergey’s father owned a construction supply store nearby, and every evening around 9 PM, he would call Sergey home to come inside with him. Misha, however, was left to roam the streets, as no one was waiting for him at home. Being alone frightened him, as it reminded him of the fight that killed his father.
Misha was especially scared when the roommates in the dorm got drunk and started yelling loudly. To avoid them, he stayed outside until Lidia came home. Misha wandered around the warm summer courtyard, kicked a ball on the sports field, hid from drunken vagrants, and avoided the police patrol cars.
Lying on a bench, he would gaze at the bright moon in the black, starry sky. A song would come to mind, its chorus seeming to reflect his loneliness:
“Earth, Earth, this is Jupiter!
Are you awake, still awake?
Look, look—
The Milky Way is fading away.
Earth, Earth, this is Jupiter!
Wait, don’t leave—
Fly, love,
And I’ll… I’ll manage somehow.”
One of the coldest planets was so bright that it blinded his big eyes. Misha took out his father’s cigarette case to block the light, and in that moment, he thought of Sergey. “If only my dad would take me home, and my mom were waiting there with dinner,” he thought. Feeling hungry, Misha headed to the schoolyard, where large apple trees grew. On his way back, he stopped by Sergey’s window. Sitting on a bench and biting into an apple, he watched as his friend had dinner in the kitchen with his parents.
Sometimes, Misha felt envious of Sergey for having everything he dreamed of. That envy would turn to anger, but Misha would quickly stop himself, afraid of his own thoughts. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship because Sergey was genuinely a good friend. He always shared his toys and even let Misha take his scooter home, something no other kids would do—not even leave a ball behind for him.
Misha became so absorbed in Sergey’s family atmosphere that he could almost hear his parents’ laughter through the plastic windows. It felt as though his soul itself was recreating their voices, resonating through his small body and empty stomach. Misha didn’t know what to do with those feelings. He was wrapped in the fear of hopelessness, but at the same time, he felt warmth knowing he had a friend. All he needed was to get home, sleep, and tomorrow, they’d play together again.
“Mishenkaaa!” Lidia Nikolaevna called out. “Where are you?”
“I’m coming,” Misha replied, tossing away the half-eaten apple and running to the entrance of the building. Lidia had just received her paycheck and returned home with all kinds of treats.
“How are you, my dear? Where were you, what did you do?” she asked, unpacking the bags.
“I’m fine. I played with Sergey. Today, we made friends with a boy who’s a soldier. He’s building a house,” Misha said, curling up on the couch and clutching his aching stomach.
“You probably haven’t eaten, have you? Why don’t you eat at home? I left your favorite meat pancakes,” Lidia said.
“I’m scared,” Misha whispered timidly.
Lidia took a deep breath, feeling a deep sadness within. A few months later, she became seriously ill. She was diagnosed with glomerulonephritis, and her legs began to ache terribly. Standing all day at her job had taken a toll, and she had to be hospitalized. Misha was left home alone.
For several days, he didn’t go outside or respond to Sergey’s calls. He was afraid that if he went out and stayed out late, there’d be no one to meet him when he came back. One day, Sergey banged on Misha’s door, loudly knocking and calling for him. Sergey felt something was wrong—Misha always responded, but now he’d disappeared. Despite his worry, Sergey was certain Misha was home but just wasn’t opening the door.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Meanwhile, Misha sat on the floor near the door, crying because he didn’t know how to explain his situation. Sergey’s loud knocking eventually drew the attention of a neighbor, who stepped out with a cigarette in his mouth.
“Why are you banging, kid?” the man said gruffly.
“I’m not a kid,” Sergey replied firmly, adjusting his glasses and staring at the tall man.
“Don’t get smart with me. Why are you knocking? What do you want?” the man asked, crouching down with curiosity.
“I’m calling for Misha, but he won’t come out.”
“Oh, they’ve gone. The ambulance took the woman, and I guess he went with her. Go home, you’re being too noisy.”
Hearing the conversation, Misha panicked at the thought that Sergey might stop coming for him. Without thinking, he opened the door.
“Oh, so they didn’t leave after all. Alright, sort it out, just keep it quiet—I’m watching TV!” the man said before slamming his door shut.
“Mishanya, what’s wrong?” Sergey asked, surprised. He added, “My dad gave me binoculars—let’s go see what Vanka is doing at the construction site.”
Standing in the doorway with his head down, Misha replied, “I’m not going. Grandma’s in the hospital.”
“When will she be back?” Sergey asked insistently.
“I don’t know. Want to come inside? We can watch from the window,” Misha said.
A few minutes later, they had completely forgotten about everything, absorbed in testing out Sergey’s new binoculars.
“Look, a new loader just arrived. They’re probably going to clear out the trash,” Sergey exclaimed, handing the binoculars to Misha.
“See, there’s Vanka. Do you see him? He’s standing there smoking,” Mishka asked.
“Yeah, I see him,” Sergey replied.
“Vanka says he’s going to be a foreman.”
“Well, he’s an adult. We still have to study. Dad says I might become an architect. I guess that sounds interesting.”
The boys didn’t notice how quickly time passed until the doorbell rang.
“That’s probably Grandma,” Mishka exclaimed excitedly, but when he opened the door, he lowered his eyes in embarrassment. Standing there was a tall man in a dark brown leather jacket, with streaks of gray in his hair, black pants, and dark brown leather shoes. It was Sergey’s father, Volodya.
Squatting down with a wide smile, Sergey’s dad asked, “Hey, Mishka, is Sergey here?” Volodya’s infectious grin brought dimples to Mishka’s cheeks, making him even more bashful.
“Yeah, he’s here. We were looking through binoculars,” Mishka answered shyly.
“Dad!” Sergey ran toward his father and was effortlessly lifted into the air by his strong arms.
“Ready to go home?” Volodya asked.
“Y-yeah,” Sergey answered hesitantly, glancing at Mishka.
Mishka looked up at Sergey, his heart pounding like it had during their fight. He felt the same fear of being left alone. His large blue eyes turned a shade of gray. Volodya, setting Sergey down, squatted again and gently patted Mishka’s head.
“Mishka, what’s wrong? Why are you sad?” he asked, but Mishka didn’t reply. He stared at the worn linoleum, unable to understand his feelings. A lump formed in his throat, impossible to swallow. His body felt as if it were burning up, torn between fear, pain, and joy. He remembered his mother’s last look when she closed the door, and it seemed she had felt the same way.
Volodya lifted Mishka into his arms, snapping him out of his thoughts. “What’s going on, Sergey?” Volodya asked his son.
“Grandma Lida was taken to the hospital, and Mishka’s been here alone,” Sergey explained.
“Ah, I see. Alright, let’s head to our place, and we’ll figure it out from there. Mom’s probably waiting for us.”
The walk to Sergey’s home was short, but Mishka felt every step, every stone beneath the worn soles of his shoes. Embarrassment consumed him, and he imagined running away from Uncle Volodya’s arms countless times.
When they reached the apartment, a black-haired woman in a navy blue dress with white polka dots greeted them.
“Wow, we have guests! Why didn’t anyone warn me?” she said, her eyes sparkling and a smile on her face.
“Meet the warriors, Valyush,” Volodya replied.
“Mom, Mishka’s staying with us today,” Sergey said happily.
“Really? That’s wonderful! Wash your hands, boys, and come to the table,” Valentina said warmly.
As they washed up, Volodya quietly asked Valentina not to question Mishka about anything that day, promising to sort things out tomorrow. The Molchanovs gently encouraged Mishka to eat, but he barely touched the food despite the delicious aroma filling the room. Only when the attention shifted to Volodya did Mishka begin to nibble at his meal.
Volodya loved telling stories, and though his life had been far from easy, he was a wise man. Mishka found himself dissociating, imagining he was back on the park bench where he often watched Sergey eat dinner with his parents.
“Does anyone want seconds? Mishenka? Maybe some more soup?” Valentina asked kindly.
“No, thank you. I’m full,” Mishka replied softly.
“Alright, warriors, time for bed. Tomorrow’s our day off,” Volodya announced.
“Can Mishka sleep with me?” Sergey asked his mom.
After a brief exchange of glances, Volodya and Valentina decided Mishka should stay in the recently renovated room they had prepared for the baby girl they were hoping to have.
“Come on, Mishka, I’ll show you your room,” Volodya said, patting the boy’s head.
“You’re the first to sleep here. I love this room. Around 3 a.m., the moonlight will shine right on this bed—it’s like something out of a fairy tale. Get some sleep, and tomorrow we’ll talk about your grandma, alright?” Volodya said.
Mishka nodded, and Volodya left, leaving the door slightly ajar. Mishka walked to the window, gazing at his own home and wondering what he’d be doing if he were there. “I wonder how Grandma’s doing,” he thought. He touched the wallpaper, inhaled the fresh smell of glue and paint, and lay down on the bed, falling asleep quickly.
That night, Mishka dreamt he lost his father’s cigarette case in a forest. He encountered animals showing him various paths, but soon, something started chasing him. Running as fast as he could, he tripped over a branch and lost the case. Searching for it, he heard the menacing voice of a crow. Looking up for the source of danger, he was blinded by the bright moon.
At 3 a.m., Mishka woke up to a beam of moonlight shining through the window. Startled at first, he soon calmed down. “It’s beautiful,” he thought, watching the light reflect off the glass chandelier, casting star-like dots across the room. Counting each point of light, he drifted back to sleep.
The next morning, Sergey woke him up at 11 a.m. for breakfast. Valentina had made pancakes and opened a can of condensed milk. After quickly washing up and dressing, Mishka joined them in the kitchen, greeted by a feast.
“Take a seat, Mishenka. Do you like pancakes?” Valentina asked.
“Yes, very much,” Mishka replied with a smile.
“Oh, you’re finally smiling! You have such lovely dimples,” Valentina noted, making Mishka squint shyly.
“Eat whatever you see on the table. I’ll go clean up. Sergey, take care of Mishka,” Valentina said as she left.
“Okay,” Sergey said, passing the condensed milk to Mishka.
“Where’s Uncle Volodya?”
“He’s still sleeping. We’re going to the village later to feed our dog. Want to come?” Sergey asked.
“I don’t know,” Mishka replied, feeling the morning magic fade like Cinderella’s midnight.
“You’ll like it! We’ll play with Filia, our German Shepherd.”
Mishka stayed quiet, biting into a pancake while gazing out the window at his house.
A few minutes later, Volodya entered the kitchen. “Good job, boys! Real men, up early and already having breakfast—not like me, huh?” he joked, ruffling Sergey’s hair.
“Dad,” Sergey started.
“Yes, son?”
“Mishka’s coming to the village with us, right?”
“Does Mishka want to come?” Volodya asked, pouring tea.
“Will you come with us, Mishenka?” Volodya asked. Mishka hesitated, shrugging his shoulders.
“I called a doctor I know and spoke to your grandma. She’s okay with you staying with us until she gets out of the hospital. If you want, you can stay here for now. We could really use your help—Filia’s doghouse needs fixing, and we’re building a shed for tools.”
Mishka’s eyes lit up. He didn’t want to go home. At his age, he couldn’t manage on his own, and child services would intervene. He nodded, finally agreeing.
“Great! We’re leaving in an hour,” Volodya said, finishing breakfast with the boys. For the first time, Mishka felt part of a family. It was what he had always dreamed of, though he sometimes feared it could all change. But over time, that fear began to fade. Volodya’s strength and Valentina’s warmth made Mishka feel safe and valued.
After two and a half months, tragedy struck—Grandma Lida passed away from kidney failure. Mishka was devastated, and his old fears resurfaced. The Molchanovs tried their best to support him, but one day Mishka ran away and didn’t return for a full day. They found him perched in a tree at his school. The look of fear in Volodya’s eyes filled Mishka with guilt, but he realized how much they cared for him.
A year later, Volodya officially adopted Mishka. Two years after that, the Molchanovs had a baby girl named Liza. Mishka was overjoyed, promising to always protect her. He helped repaint his old room pink for Liza and often sat with Valentina at night, counting stars to help Liza fall asleep. Mishka had found his home and his family.