Oleg, before he leaves for the military, gives Sergey a bunch of frozen meals he made, all Sergey’s favourite dishes.
“To hold you over until you get better at cooking,” he says, half a joke.
Sergey rolls his eyes, says thank you, but it’s clear he doesn’t want Oleg to go.
Much later, Oleg returns after the news report, seeing what’s left after the police raided and took anything that could be construed as evidence. Everything’s a mess, so much is broken. The fridges – well, it seems Sergey never did get better at cooking, given what’s inside
There’s not much to find, hardly even any personal items, but Oleg grabs what he can, knowing what he’s going to do next and that Sergey will appreciate it. Before he goes, he looks in the freezer, just in case, perhaps only out of curiosity.
More junk food largely, but at the back, a familiar container – he pulls it out, disbelieving. On top is the label Oleg wrote himself, the contents probably long freezer burnt and inedible. It was Sergey’s favourite. Oleg blinks, confused until the realization dawns on him.
Meanwhile, Sergey had kept it all this time. He knew hunger like an old friend - he wasn’t one to waste food, no matter how much money he had now. But was it really wasting it if, on the nights his thoughts were darkest, Sergey could have one thing, this one thing that reminded him of the care Oleg had put in, preparing all this for him? Was it really a waste to keep this symbol, this sign, this proof of that to bolster him when he needed it most? And was it really a waste, that if (god forbid) Oleg never came back, Sergey would always have this piece of him, a piece that represented his passion, his jokes, his care (love), all of which would otherwise be lost forever with the man himself?
No, despite never letting food go bad no matter what, in this case, Sergey didn’t consider it a waste at all.
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