Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your lips are muttering numbers.

It is hard to count the cash in your hands while they are covered with worn-out gloves. Slowly but surely, you total up all the notes, smiling to yourself that you have surpassed a personal goal for tonight. You stuff the cash notes into your small baby blue pouch, zipping it up before you focus on your route again.

The pavement is covered with a sheer layer of snow, which is piling up as more snowflakes are pouring from the cold night sky. Your boots clack onto the cement. Tap, tap, tap —they go.

You just finished your shift for the night, which is considerably later than usual. You are an escort in a local bar that is quite infamous in the town. You entertain guests—usually lonely old men who seek faux comfort from a pair of gentle hands of a young woman. Sometimes you make a small performance in the local bar like tap-dancing or singing. Sometimes you are just sitting with a customer, listening to their problems, swallowing their drunken confessions.

But nothing sexual has ever happened to you. Sure, you do get invitations to sleep with your customers, but you always refuse it—it is just a personal choice, really. And you do not like to kiss and make out with a drunkard anyway. The furthest that has ever happened was when a middle-aged man slept on your lap after dunking three bottles of beer into his system and you had to let him suckle on your hand. Old people do have the wildest fetishes, sometimes.

Besides, the other senior escorts advised you to not get too sexual with the customers either—so you can keep selling the idea of how unapproachable you are. So, they can keep coming and coming, just to see you and to indulge in their fantasy of having a chance to dip into your pants.

You are not opposed to the idea of sex—the feeling of being desired has long been brewing in you. But you are already fine with the attention these customers give you, no matter how perverted and dark the true nature of their intentions.

Attention feels nice.

But too much attention makes one feel like killing themselves.

You walk at a slow pace. The snow is piling up, covering the pavement and the road with a thin blanket of white particles on the earth's surface. The wind feels drier as ever, colder. But it is not so strong that it blocks your sight. It is dark. The sky is covered with a veil of navy blue, with dots of faint sparkles scattered over it. The road lacks any sight of humans, though it is not even late. But the emptiness is purely because of how dull it is for a small town—well, what is to be expected from a suburban area?

You are too used to loneliness. It is the back of your hand. You are accustomed to such environments—where your personal space is never barged, never wanted. Which is why, you are too aware of the asynchronous slow footsteps behind you.

You glance at the reflection of the windows on each car you pass by. It is hard to see properly, but there is indeed a dark figure—taller, bigger—five feet away from your back.

Must be going in the same direction...

That's what you want to think.

You keep walking and keep your calm. Panic will only get you to nowhere. Best to not provoke anyone—especially in this suburban area. The bus stop is just fifty metres ahead. The road lights are flickering. You are almost there. Your blue heels clack on the pavement as you fasten your steps.

However,

Your body is swooped back harshly and you are about to scream before a strong arm wraps around your body and a big hand covers your mouth with a weird-smelling white cloth. Your scream is muffled beneath the napkin as you struggle against the man.

But his hold on you is obviously stronger.

“Shut your mouth.” He says as he drags you to the other side of the road, forcing your feet to follow his wide strides. You harden your legs, to make it harder for him to drag you but the substance you have been inhaling makes your vision worse. The orange lights are spiralling, the sky is falling, and the stars are crumbling.

“Mmmh!” You groan one last time as loud as you can as your head is dizzying away into a maze of incoherent thoughts. You grip your kidnapper's arm tightly as your eyes are threatening to close. And once your consciousness gives up on staying with you, you only feel your weak body being tossed onto a rough surface.

The last thing you see is a sight of tall pale man, with his hair as white as the snow falling from the night winter sky.

“What?! So soon?”

“Quit screaming in my ear, you dipshit.” Nikolai sighs as he leans back to his car seat. He taps the ashes of his cigarette out of the window before placing it between his lips again. He glances at the young woman who is unconscious right beside him— you .

"Dude, I gave that work last night and you got the girl... not even 24 hours later!”

Nikolai snorts. “Well, what can I say? I'm too good at this.” He says before he huffs the smoke from his cigarette. “Besides, this girl lives in a small town. It's not hard to figure out where she is and what she does.” Nikolai adds before he throws the cigarette out.

“Alright, no need for cockiness. But you hafta keep the girl with you for a while.”

Nikolai's jaw hangs. “What? Why? I got the girl. Why can't we just give her to those loan sharks and move on? I need money.” He protests. He hears his friend sigh loudly and Nikolai could practically see the rolling eyes of annoyance.

“I'm not saying that you'd keep her for a long fucking while. I need to consult with the loansharks again so we can arrange a meeting to give the girl to them and get our payment.”

“You’re so horrible at managing, I swear to God,” Nikolai grunts. His friend laughs and it irks Nikolai for some reason—he knows a mockery when he hears one. “Stop laughing, Viktor Pavlovsky. I'll kick your ass for forcing me to take care of a child.”

“Oh, heavens, my brother Kolyushka! She's not even a child! Just make sure she doesn't die!”

“I am not a babysitter, Viktor...”

“Alright, bye, lovely! I'm gonna do my part to satisfy our clients too, m'kay?”

Nikolai does not even get a chance to curse out Viktor before the man ends the call. Irritated, he tosses the phone to the cup holder in front of him. Nikolai glances at his side—you are still sleeping, or passed out, so quietly, so peacefully.

He seizes your jaw roughly, shaking your head—but you remain asleep, limp. Nikolai sighs. The substance must be too strong for you and he does admit that he did press the napkin too hard on your mouth and nose. Well, it's better to have you unconscious instead. Who knows if you dare enough to put up a fight? He does not mind killing you if you are being such a big problem, but you are the starshine of this whole ordeal.

Yesterday, Nikolai received word from Viktor about a new job. He had to kidnap a girl, needed as a hostage for a group of dangerous loan sharks. Apparently, your father is too deep in debt with those loansharks and he is having a very hard time paying back. The man keeps evading and running away, dragging you along with him.

Nikolai already knows some stuff about you. You are working in a bar as an escort, which explains your current clothes right now—a baby blue dress, white stockings, blue heels and a white cardigan. You do look adorable—Nikolai knows that many men in the bar you worked at would really love to have you on their bed.

Hells, if you are not a target, perhaps Nikolai would flirt with you as well.

But now you are asleep soundly in his car and he has to keep you with him because he is just too good at his job.

Nikolai sighs again before he leans towards you, taking the seatbelt to buckle you up. Then he yanks one of the ribbons on your hair, causing your head to tilt as well. He uses the ribbon to tie your wrists together, as tight as possible that the ribbon practically digs into your skin.

“Now, how do I 'take care' of this girl...” He murmurs as he holds the steering wheel, beginning to drive off the place. Nikolai is thinking hard. Should he get you to his humble apartment? Should he just drop you at Viktor's place? Should he ditch you somewhere he only knows and he will come and take you shall his clients finally need you?

But since this is a kidnapping, he should not let you be in the public's eyes. Especially your father. The whole point of kidnapping you is to keep you as a hostage, not a guest.

Nikolai is about to turn his car in the direction going to Viktor's place, but he remembers that Viktor lives with his girlfriend. He knows how possessive can Viktor's girlfriend be—Nikolai has heard enough stories from Viktor about how his girlfriend hit other people just because of her own jealousy.

And the last thing Nikolai wants is to have you tainted with bruises or dirt. You must remain flawless for the loansharks once they retrieve you in the future. He aims to get the most money out of this job—he is already desperate for them.

Reluctantly, Nikolai drives his way to his apartment complex—a worn-out building containing house units. It is an old building that constantly gets renovations and repairments just to keep it functioning for people to live. It is basically for the lower class to live.

He parks his car by the building and gets out. He gets to your side and unbuckles your seatbelt. Nikolai sighs, scratching his neck as he contemplates how to get you inside without raising suspicion. He knows that there are security cameras planted in the corridor for each floor. He doubts the owner of the building pays that much attention though since Nikolai had gone back home with a bloody shirt before and nothing was reported.

But at least he needs to be careful.

Nikolai takes off his jacket and drapes it over your body—or to be exact, your tied wrists. He then gently carries your body in his arms, kicking the car door close. He brings you inside the building and gets to his designated floor by the stairs—the elevator is barely functioning well anyway.

Nikolai gets to the sixth floor and walks to his unit quickly. He realizes he needs to get his keys from his pocket. Grunting in dissatisfaction, Nikolai lets down your legs, so you are leaning against his body instead. That way, he could hold your limp body while opening the door with one hand.

He wraps his arm around your body, pressing your body closer to him while he unlocks the door to his unit. Once he gets it, Nikolai practically drags you easily into the house, slamming the door close before unlocking it. He drags your limp body before tossing you onto the old couch.

“Fucking wake up already... Why do I need to babysit this girl?” He sighs loudly before he gets to you, taking off your heels and taking away his jacket from your body. He stares at your unconscious figure for a moment—leering his darkened gaze over your curves.

Nikolai swallows nervously—something stirs in his chest but he decides to ignore it. He proceeds to carry you again to his unkempt bed and once again tosses you onto the uncomfortable mattress. He takes a rope beneath the bed and ties your legs together before making a tight knot to the footboard railing, just so you cannot escape easily once you wake up.

“Alright, now what?” He asks himself as he looks at you again—tied and asleep, on his bed. He does not want to stay close to you, let alone sleep in the same space. Knowing he has little to no choice, Nikolai pathetically walks out—there is no door to his bedroom and he actually does not know where the fuck it is because it has always been that way since he lived here.

So he settles himself on the sagging couch. Nikolai places his arm over his eyes, shutting them close. The clock is ticking, approaching the deadest of the night. And after the trouble he went through today, Nikolai succumbs to his exhaustion—sleep.

But it is hard to fall asleep in this horrible condition he has to live with.

Nikolai stares at the ceiling—the dried paint is peeling off. The ceiling fan is creaking whenever it finishes a circle. Some unknown wires are hanging from the lamp. The fabric of the cushion beneath him is no longer soft and aromatic. He is basically lying on a piece of future garbage.

Despite the miserable fate that has fallen upon him, Nikolai feels quite nostalgic about it. Somehow, this poor condition reminds him of his childhood—or the oldest memories of his past. He was lucky to have a taste of luxury and comfort when he reached the age of twenty—but it was not for long.

After the incident in that prison, he decided to disappear—his mind wandered into a whole tangled mess of confusion and lost. His best friend was just killed . He was supposed to feel liberated, happy, relieved—but instead, he found himself cornered into the dark, again .

You wanted to kill him, didn't you?

Yes, I did.

Err... I didn't...

No... I did.

Remembering that piece of the past feels as if God mocks him.

When he was finally so far away from the scene of the crime—after two years, he almost threw up when the truth was dispensed right in front of his eyes. The sight of his friend being alive and well standing right in front of him after he lamented over that friend's horrible death and his horrible freedom.

You tried to kill me. I'd like to return the favour.

Lovely.

Nikolai should have expected that the Fyodor Dostoyevsky would not be direct when it comes to tormenting.

He did not expect that a whole squadron would besiege him, in an attempt to arrest him. Nikolai knew he could have run away but perhaps the shock of seeing Fyodor got into his head. He felt like he was not real—as if he was watching his body living by itself, without his own mind controlling himself.

For a long while he felt unreal—and he snapped out of it during his second day in prison.

And that was when he realized—he was too doomed.

For six years, he spent his days in prison with whack-ass jackasses. It was fun . Prisoners feared him somehow. But when he almost entered his seventh year in prison, he was released from prison—no parole, no bail. It was weird—as if something, someone , had interfered with the laws in order to get them to be on his side.

Nikolai still does not know who and how, but once again, he became a free man.

Except, he was bombarded with countless misfortunes.

His house, his documents, his treasures, money, relationships, people—everything.

He was arrested with his overcoat, and he got out with it. That is the only thing he still keeps—the only piece of himself that stays since years and years ago.

Nikolai was already on the verge of giving his life up, but he kept going anyway—another determination was brewing and is still going. He wants to find Dostoyevsky and return the favour to him—after all, that man caused Nikolai to get arrested and lose everything.

After all I did for your plans...

Bit by bit, Nikolai is attempting to climb again—he committed paid crimes. He admires those who are in the light of justice, but he is more intrigued with those who are lurking in the shadow of evil—so that is the path he decided to walk on. He knows his way to find people who want to commit injustice but do not have the balls to do so. The pay is always good—he manages to get a humble house for himself and a car within three months. But money is not always static. The money he gets from his crimes is always shared with Viktor, bills, rent and himself.

He needs to be strategic with finance. One wrong move, Fyodor could get him into the deepest hell of poverty. He is already saving money for his trip to St. Petersburg—the first place he wants to go as he believes Fyodor might be there. Nikolai's passport is also seized and Viktor has confirmed to him that he is blacklisted from even applying for one.

But Nikolai believes he can still go through with this vengeance. After this kidnapping is done and you are finally taken by the loansharks, he will get to other jobs and the cycle will repeat, until he can get to St. Petersburg comfortably.

And once he sees Fyodor again, no amount of guilt shall cage his heart—he hopes.

Nikolai squirms and groans hoarsely. The couch is hella uncomfortable and it feels like his back was stomped by a crowd of people. He gets up and stretches, yawning while he is at it. He looks at the clock—it is already ten in the morning. He takes out his phone, checking whether there is a new message from Viktor regarding the job. There is one—Viktor just said he will come to Nikolai's place and figure things out together. Somehow he also mentioned that he was excited to meet the kidnapped girl.

And it concerns Nikolai. He does not want Viktor to have his hands on you. Viktor is trustworthy... but only that much. He is not a nice guy to be around—but well, when Nikolai thinks again, he is not a good person to be around too.

Nikolai replies shortly to the message before he gets to his bedroom. He is nervous for some reason but he swallows it as he approaches the room. He enters.

“Oh, shit!”

Nikolai flinches when he sees you are already awake and sitting up straight on the bed, hugging your knees together. Your baby blue appearance made you look like a ghost in this dull house—like a white flower in the middle of an abandoned building.

“Hello...”

What?

Nikolai blinks confusedly. Why are you not thrashing around and struggling and spouting curses at him? He was pretty sure that you saw him when he kidnapped you last night. He frowns—is this a trick? Well, if that is the case, Nikolai is the wrong person you are trying to trick for sure.

“Do you realize the situation you are in right now?” Nikolai interrogates you as he approaches you, grabbing your tied wrists. You flinch at his roughness and yet you are not backing away. Your wrists already have a thin line of bruise due to the tight ribbon. One wrong twist and it makes you wince in pain.

“I asked you a question, girl.”

“M-My name is—”

“I already know your name.”

“Oh...”

Nikolai sighs. “Hey, if you're trying to play nice just to get on my good side, drop it. I know how to detect a liar, alright? Drop it.” He says harshly as he points his finger at you, nudging your head hard. You turn away, using your hands to shield yourself from his assaulting finger on your head.

“I-I didn't mean it...” You say slowly.

“Hey, hey, don't look away,” Nikolai says before he grabs your jaw, turning your head to face him roughly. “You're in my house now, so we have to establish some rules until you get out of here.”

“O-Oh, I'm not staying...?” You ask, almost like a whisper. Nikolai raises his eyebrow— this girl is weird . He shakes your head roughly again.

“Of course you're not staying. Who the fuck you think you are?”

“I-I thought—”

“Well, clearly you don't think smart enough.” He shoves your head away before he stands straight. You whine, rubbing your jaw with the back of your hands—it is hard to move when your ankles and wrists are being tied like this.

“Is it... because of my father?”

“Smart girl! So you can think after all!” Nikolai claps his hands with his mocking voice echoing in the room. “Why, yes, that's exactly why. I think you can catch what's up with your dad already, right? If you want to blame anyone, blame him. I'm just a courier.”

“I don't think this... will work to get to my father though...”

Nikolai shrugs his shoulder. “Okay? And I don't care. You'll be given to the loansharks very soon and that's it for me.” He says. He looks at you, noticing the strange stare you are giving him. Nikolai narrows his eyes, baffled by the calmness you are projecting—he wants to think that you are just trying to be brave, but this silence, this obedience, this calmness... They throw him off.

“Can I go to the toilet?” You suddenly ask.

“What a good girl, huh? Asking permission to go shit.”

“D-Don't say nasty things like that.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are to police my tone, huh?” Nikolai grunts before he unties the rope around your ankles. Then he grabs one of your ankles, gripping it hard. “Don't think of kicking or attacking me. You're not that strong, girlie.” He says. You nod slowly before your eyes waver to your legs, to him and then your tied wrists.

You bring your tied wrists towards him, quietly asking him to untie them. Nikolai looks at you and then your wrists. He internally sighs before he unties the ribbon that is binding you. You wince when you are finally free. Your hands have a ring of darker shade and it stings when you rub it—your hands feel numb and your joints are straining as you try to move your arms.

Before you could even make a stretch to warm up your body, Nikolai yanks your arm, pulling you out of the bed. His grip is strong and hard and he easily drags you out of the bedroom and to the small bathroom located just by the kitchen.

He pushes the door open and then shoves you into the bathroom—small and just enough for one person to occupy it comfortably. Nikolai knows you won't escape easily—his unit is on the sixth floor and even if you could make your body small enough to slip out from the window in the bathroom, you would not know your way out.

“Make it quick.” He says before he pulls the door to close it. However, your hand holds it right before the door connects to the frame. Nikolai turns to you, seeing your adorable eyes staring back at him between the gap.

“T-Thank you for... letting me sleep on your bed... It was the most comfortable sleep I've ever had.”

And you close the door yourself, locking it.

Nikolai is stunned.

Did you just thank him? For letting you sleep on his bed?

He leans right beside the bathroom door, gazing at the worn-out ceiling. Nikolai pinches the bridge of his nose, pursing his lips. He knows something is wrong with this girl he just kidnapped.

He feels like something is going to happen to him too. Nikolai huffs and gets his phone quickly, messaging Viktor so he will come and figure out what to do with you. Especially when you just said that 'this' would not work with your father—whatever that means.

Chapter Text

It was the most comfortable sleep you have ever got.

When you wake up, you find yourself on a stranger's bed, with your ankles bound to the footboard and your hands tied together. You squirm but it only gets you so far—the man who tied you up did it so tightly that you find it hurt to even move your arms.

You give up and you return to lie down on the bed. The mattress feels a bit rough—probably because it has been used for a very long time. The pillow feels nice though—the owner must have regularly puffed it so it will not sag or pressed down. You roll your head to the side and your nose catches a sweet musky scent on the pillow.

Masculine.

You look around the room. There is no door. The place is worn out but well-kept at the very least. Your house is better looking than this. But this place feels more secure and peaceful than what you call a home.

You wonder if your father is concerned about your whereabouts. You remember leaving the house in the evening to get to work and it has been over twelve hours since you are home. Does he care? Does he think about you as well?

Deep down, you know that thinking about your father caring about you is just a mere cheap fantasy. It has always been that way.

Your mother passed away when you were younger, and you were left with your deadbeat dad. Both of you were and are still struggling with money. You have been working low-paid jobs to support mainly yourself because your father is only selfish to himself.

You remember the moment he got some loan from weird people to build a business. Time is rough and luck is not on his side—his business was better dead than keeping it going. The debt he got himself into was for nothing—because he made more debt to himself when he left that business.

He spiralled down—becoming an avid alcoholic gambler. His worth as a father went down the drain the moment he stole your money from your old piggy bank. You never mention it to him though, pretending that you lost your money in the street.

You do not want to get hit. Bottling up enough makes you spiral down too—becoming less of a daughter, just a servant, another piece of money-bringer for him to leech off.

So you know he would be less concerned about you—especially when you are aware very much of the fact that you are one of his burdens.

You sit up on the bed. You wince, the rope and the ribbon are threatening to tear your skin. You adjust your sitting position as you are currently wearing a dress—it already rides up your thighs which are covered with white stockings. These clothes are rented from the bar—since you can barely afford such cute clothes for yourself.

“Oh, shit!”

You look to the entrance, not realizing a man is standing there, flinching at your sight. You narrow your eyes, remembering his figure and face.

The last thing you see is a sight of tall pale man, with his hair as white as the snow falling from the night winter sky.

Never have you seen such a beautiful man—he is wearing a white shirt beneath a black leather jacket. His pants fit his long legs. His dishevelled hair is braided with a small red pompom. His eyes are mismatched—one emerald and another pale lilac. His figure is tall and toned—he looks strong. You are not surprised since you remember how easily he dragged you to go with him last night.

“Hello...” you say awkwardly and you notice how baffled he is. It is almost endearing—you are sure that this man is much older than you but he looks like he is still in his prime. Perhaps this is his prime.

You know you are being kidnapped right now—but for some reason, the fear you had last night already dissipated when the sleep you got was just too comfortable. You have been living in this area for a few years already. It is a small community, so you thought you had met every possible man in this suburban town. But he is a rare face.

“Do you realize the situation you are in right now?” He asks as he grabs your seized wrists. You flinch at his roughness but you do not pull away. Your arms are already straining and your hands are going numb.

“I asked you a question, girl.” He says. You glance at him. Your name is not just 'girl'. You have a name. Does he not know?

“M-My name is—”

“I already know your name.”

“Oh...”

Well, what were you thinking? He kidnapped you. Of course he already knows about you. You feel a flutter in your heart—knowing that someone takes the effort to get to know you. You wonder what else does he know about you—it feels a bit exciting to play such riddles.

“Hey, if you're trying to play nice just to get on my good side, drop it. I know how to detect a liar, alright? Drop it.” The man says before he nudges your head harshly with his index finger. You almost let out a small whimper as you bring your hands to cover yourself from his finger.

“I-I didn't mean it...” You weakly say, closing your eyes as he keeps poking you.

“Hey, hey, don't look away,” He grabs your jaw and you hiss when he turns your face roughly towards him. Your eyes meet his. Breath hitches when you realize how close he is to you now. “You're in my house now, so we have to establish some rules until you get out of here.”

Get out of here?

You blink confusedly. Did he kidnap you... because of other people? Did he not kidnap you for himself? Did he not take you here because he wants you to stay with him?

“O-Oh, I'm not staying...?” Your lips mutter. You really do think that he kidnapped you because he wanted you—in that way. You feel the glass of hope slowly cracking apart when you learn that this is not the case. 

Suddenly he shakes your head, causing you to whimper at his rough handling. “Of course you're not staying. Who the fuck you think you are?”

“I-I thought—”

I thought you wanted to be with me.

“Well, clearly you don't think smart enough.”

When he shoves you away, you whine. You rub your face with the back of your hands, feeling how warm your skin feels. The trace of his touches on your face is still lingering—and it only feeds to your longing.

But it makes you think again. If he kidnapped you, not because he likes you or anything of the sort, what could it be? Does he have a dispute with you? Or people you know? Your senior in the bar? Your manager? Your customers?

“Is it... because of my father?”

“Smart girl! So you can think after all!” He claps his hand, and although there is clear mockery in his voice, you feel a heavy tug in your stomach when he calls you a smart girl. Is that a genuine praise? If so, you want to hear that again.

“Why, yes, that's exactly why. I think you can catch what's up with your dad already, right? If you want to blame anyone, blame him. I'm just a courier.”

You look at him—oh, poor dude. Seeing how he is confident that he will get what he wants from your father makes you pity him. Your father is far from being caring about you.

“I don't think this... will work to get to my father though...”

“Okay? And I don't care. You'll be given to the loansharks very soon and that's it for me.”

Your lips part open when you finally connect the dots. You stare at him—so he is working with the loan sharks your father is indebted to. They must have wanted to use you as a hostage to get your father to pay his mountain of debt. If they go as far as to kidnap you, then your father must have angered them—well, you do expect that he will get in trouble. After all, both of you moved to this suburban area so he would not get tracked easily. He wanted to run away from his problem, and now you have to pay the price for being a hostage.

Huh, that is sad.

You observe your kidnapper—his skin is porcelain smooth, despite the dark circle under his eyes and the scar slit through his left eye. His flaws make him look flawless. You do not really want to leave this place just yet and return to your father shall he ever get his sympathy back and pay his debt for your sake.

You shift uncomfortably, your thighs are clenching. It has been a while since you are in this condition. “Can I go to the toilet?” You ask softly.

“What a good girl, huh? Asking permission to go shit.”

“D-Don't say nasty things like that.” You pout—feeling a bit embarrassed at his vulgarity.

“And who the fuck do you think you are to police my tone, huh?” He grunts before he unties the rope around your ankles. You move your foot but then he grips your ankle, hard. “Don't think of kicking or attacking me. You're not that strong, girlie.” You swallow nervously and nod. You actually do not plan to fight him—you know you will lose either way. You look at your legs and then him and then your wrists.

You bring your wrists close to him, wanting him to untie it. You realize the familiar ribbon around your wrists—no wonder you feel like something is missing from your hair. The man silently untie your wrists and you let out a quiet breath of relief. Your hands are indeed numb and strained. You want to stretch your arms but before you have the chance to do so, he already yanks you to get up from the bed.

Your footings are unstable, especially when you were just freed. You keep stumbling upon your pace, constantly bumping against his chest as he drags you out of the room. He is too rough—too stern. Yet you wish to stay longer in his embrace. He looks messy but he feels nice and warm.

“Make it quick.” He says before he pushes you into the bathroom. You look around the bathroom. It is a small space. It is enough to accommodate a sink with a cabinet full of personal hygiene things, a toilet bowl with a bidet right beside it and a curtain separating the shower area.

You hear the door creaking close and you remember you need to say something to him. You quickly hold the door before he closes it. Your eyes meet his again—his eyes are just mesmerising to gaze at and you know you would never tire of looking at them.

Shyly, you say, “T-Thank you for... letting me sleep on your bed... It was the most comfortable sleep I've ever had.”

You close the door before your embarrassment makes itself more obvious. You lock the door and take off your cardigan. You face the mirror, eyes wandering over your figure. The neckline of your dress is getting lower, you realize. It shows half of your cleavage already. There is a small tear on the dress too.

“You're too rough, sir...” you whisper to yourself.

As soon as you got out of the bathroom, your kidnapper once again tied your wrists together with a rope—this time it was not too tight that it hurt you. He brought you to the living room and sat you on the couch before he tied the other end of the rope to the couch leg.

“Don't you dare turn around. Just stare ahead. Or else...” He threatened you, tugging down the skin right under your eye. After you nodded, he left you alone in the living room and you obediently stared straight ahead.

It has been fifteen minutes now and you can hear the sound of water rushing coming from the bathroom. You figure he is getting a shower now. You sit silently, just as you are told. There is a television but you see how old it is—it is most likely not functioning.

You look around the house—eyeing every spot possible. The couch is far from comfortable and you feel slightly bad that the man has to sleep here a whole night.

You still do not know his name...

The sound of the door creaking surprises you. You instinctively turn around and your eyes widen when you see your kidnapper stepping out of the bathroom with a piece of towel hanging around his waist. His body is toned and some parts are covered with tattoos of abstract wings and birds. His hair is wet and unexpectedly longer than you thought.

“I told you to not turn around, didn't I?” He says, monotonously. You immediately turn ahead, but you hear his footsteps approaching. Your heart is beating faster when you can smell his fresh-out-of-shower scent—so nice. His heat is looming right beside you and your head is still stubborn enough to twist slightly.

But not before he grabs your jaw again, holding your head straight.

“Naughty girl. What's so hard about listening to me? You are an escort. Have you never seen a half-naked man or something?” He says, once again his tone is clearly belittling you. You glance to your side, only manage to have a peek at his tattooed ribs. He snorts and lets go of your face. “Sit there nice. If someone's knocking on the door, ignore it.” He says before he turns around to leave.

However, you quickly grab his arm and you feel the fluster increasing, crawling up to your chest when you get a good look at his figure. He grunts, rolling his eyes but he does not say anything or mock you.

He nudges his head as if he is giving you permission to say what you want to him.

You purse your lips, nervous. “I... What's your name?”

“Stop being an idiot. I won't tell you.”

“Please?”

You see him taking a deep breath, rubbing his face with his palm. The droplets of water are dripping from his wet hair onto his body. He is silent for a moment, but his eyes are wandering at you—as if he is trying to find something behind your eyes.

“Please?” you repeat again, sweetly, softly.

He sighs loudly. “Nikolai.”

Nikolai.

Nikolai...

“Nikolai... Okay, okay.” You mutter his name—the way the syllables of his name roll out your tongue feels pleasant.

“Now let go of my arm.”

You blink profusely and look at your bound hands clutching his arm—he could very well yank his arm away from you, but he is asking nicely. You hold back a smile and let go of him. You turn around and your hands are rubbing against your warm face.

He is so nice...

You stay in your position for ten more minutes before Nikolai leaves the room. He sits next to you, fiddling with his phone, texting someone. You only sit there quietly, stealing glances at him. He is wearing a pair of navy blue jeans with a black shirt. A towel is draped over his shoulder, layering beneath his wet hair so it will not dampen his shirt.

You look down at yourself—you have not showered yet. There are no clothes for you and you certainly need a pair of new underwear. You want to bring it up to Nikolai, but seeing his serious face, you swallow your questions away.

The door is suddenly knocked, with an excited voice calling “Kolyushka, Kolyushka! Open the door! I have come, my friend!”

Nikolai does not say anything. He stands and gets to the door, opening it. You turn to look and you see a man with slightly long dark brown hair and a thin moustache and chin beard entering the house. He is wearing a worn-out puffer jacket and he waddles excitedly towards you.

“Oho, she's cute!” He says before he crouches right next to you. “Hi! I'm Viktor. What's your name?”

You anxiously answer him, finding your voice to be hoarse somewhat. Viktor coos in adoration and pinches your cheek, causing you to whine at his rough touch.

“Vik, Vik. Don't do that. She's valuable.” Nikolai says, tugging Viktor's shirt. Viktor grins and lets go of you before he plops himself onto the floor, sitting cross-legged. Nikolai sits back next to you.

“So?” He asks Viktor.

“So what?”

“This girl. What should we do?”

You are not sure if you should even listen to this conversation, but guess you are. Their laid-back attitude towards secrecy seems to indicate that they do not really have a bigger role in your abduction other than abducting you.

“Yeah, so... So I got in contact with the loan sharks and they actually did not expect that the job would be done so quickly. They thought you would take time to get the girl, so they also take time to find her father.” Viktor says before he looks at you. “Your father is a man of hiding, sweetheart.”

“You're saying they don't even prepare to find her dad before they commission us to kidnap her?” Nikolai sighs. “Why commit crimes when you are not that efficient? What the hell do they think when they want to threaten a man that they don't even bother to seek first?” He rolls his eyes, leaning back to the uncomfortable couch.

“Beats me, dude. That's what they said. I guess her father is one of their rarest victims who actually managed to get away from them for years, which is why they're struggling a bit. Besides, this country is fucking huge.” Viktor replies. “You are not originally from this place either, are you? You moved here.” He says to you and you nod slowly. Nikolai hums and suddenly sits straight. He holds your arm, grabbing your attention.

“Hey, tell us where's your dad.”

Both you and Viktor blink confusedly.

“If you tell us your father's whereabouts—his workplace or house, Viktor can tell that to the loan sharks so they can find him immediately. The faster they find him, the faster you'll be free. You wanna go home, yea?”

“Oh, yeah! You're right, dude! How did I not think of that?”

“Because you're equally stupid like those loan sharks.”

“Hey!”

Your throat feels dry. Tell them your father's whereabouts? You do not really care about the deal between your father and the loan sharks—it is all his fault for borrowing money from obviously bad people. Not only that, even after he borrowed the money, he stole yours.

Greed brings the worst out of anyone.

You are not sure if you want to go home. Is it even a home in the first place? A home should make you feel safer. Comfortable. However, when your mother passed away, she also took home with her to death.

You are left with two options now—if you tell them your father's whereabouts, you will leave this place sooner. The loan sharks will get your father and they will also take you away from Nikolai.

But if I don't tell them...

“Oi, tell us. Where's your dad?” Nikolai asks, shaking your arm. But you only stare at him, pressing your lips tightly shut.

“Not gonna tell, huh? You want us to force it out from you?” Viktor says with a grin. “Why? Do you not want to go home with your dear old dad? Are you afraid they're gonna hurt him? Well, if that isn't the consequences of his own actions.” He laughs, looking at you with amusement.

“I... I think kidnapping me is a mistake.”

“Haha! What the fuck?” Viktor's laugh is even louder, he even slaps his thigh. Nikolai, however, is only looking at you silently. You frown—disliking Viktor's loud attitude, so you turn to Nikolai, reaching for his hand. Why can't this Viktor guy be as calm as Nikolai?

“Can you listen to me, please? Alone?” You ask, voice sweet. Nikolai looks surprised when you touch him—evident by how his eyes are wavering from your face to his hand. He seems to be taken aback by your suggestion.

“You're begging at the wrong person, girl.”

“Please.”

Nikolai sighs and he pulls away his hand from you, causing your touch to drop onto his thigh instead. He swallows nervously before he gestures to Viktor to go away, to get to the kitchen or to wait outside. Viktor giggles before he gets up and taps Nikolai's back, leaving both of you alone. He gets to Nikolai's room and you hear a creak before a faint scent of tobacco tickles your nose.

“Hey, look here,” Nikolai says and you turn to him. “You've been weird for a while now. You know, you aren't the first person I kidnapped for money, but...” Nikolai rubs his lips, gazing at your face.

“Why are you so calm about this? Do you realize that you are in danger?”

His question somehow tugs a curiosity in you as well—Come to think of it, you have been calm for a long while now. You were scared and terrified for your life, sure, when you were dragged into his car last night. But now, you find it easier to breathe.

It is approaching noon, and usually, at this time, you are forced to cook something for your father—while he is lazying around the house, basking in alcohol and garbage. Your life is not yours during the day—only when you go to work, you can feel that you are at least living for yourself. Though, your work does require you to tend to others' needs—so is your life even yours during the night?

Have you ever lived for yourself?

“My father is a horrible man.”

“M'kay?”

“He... Uhm... How do I say this...” You fiddle with your fingers—your hands are still resting on his thigh. “We moved here, across the country, because he wanted to run away from the loan sharks... He keeps telling me that... I'm the sole reason he's in debt and it would be better if I'm gone, like my mother.”

“I-I mean, he's not wrong... I have needs and wants and... that's why I work. But he occasionally steals my money too...” You take a deep breath before looking up at him. “I have a feeling that once he knows he is being hunted again, he will just leave me here and run away again by himself.”

“You're saying that you being a hostage won't work because he won't demand you back?” Nikolai asks and you nod fast.

“I-If he cares that I'm gone... there would be a police report, right?”

Nikolai snorts, poking your head again. “Dummy, such reports about missing people can be done at least after twenty-four hours of disappearance. You still have more than twelve hours with us.”

“Does that mean I'm staying?” You are too quick to ask that. Nikolai suddenly brings his face close to you. His irises are wildly searching for yours and you almost yelp on how close he is. Your face is heating up and your heart is thumping so fast—you fear you cannot breathe properly.

“You don't want to go home, do ya?”

“Uhm...”

“Well, too bad I'm not that nice.” Nikolai snorts scornfully before he gets up, turning in the direction of his room as if he wants to see Viktor. Before he could walk away, you scramble towards him, clawing at his shirt.

“C-Can't you—”

“No, I can't. Unfortunately, little doll, I'm not a babysitter and you are only going to be my liability the longer you are in my fucking house.” Nikolai grabs your hands and pulls them away from his shirt. “I have a more important agenda than taking care of you. Now, sit there quietly and let adults talk.”

“I'm an adult.”

“Then be mature.”

He leaves you alone and your lips quiver—for once after a while, heaviness clouds your chest.

“That's what she said...”

Nikolai says to Viktor, with a slow voice as he does not want you to listen. He told Viktor about how your father would probably not demand you back, but he did omit the part where he asked you about you not wanting to go home. Viktor should only know the necessary.

“So, her daddy doesn't want her back, huh?” Viktor sighs as he takes a long inhale of his cigarette before huffing the smoke out. “I'm gonna tell that to the loan sharks. You keep her here—”

“Fuck no. I did my job. I only have to kidnap her, no? Let's just give her to them and we are done.” Nikolai protests, almost pouting as he waves away the smoke hazing his face.

“The loan sharks are not going to retrieve her in one day, Kolyushka. The girl told you that she moved here, didn't she? The place where the debt happened was not here, but rather somewhere she had lived before... And I figured it might be somewhere so far away—Since her daddy ran away to hide. You won't go to the nearby region if you really want to run away from your potential murderers, right?” Viktor says with a smirk before he presses the cigarette butt onto the railing and tosses it outside.

“Why me, though? Why not you and Nastasya?” Nikolai asks, referring to Viktor's girlfriend. Viktor cringes and shakes his head quickly.

“You know how jealous my dear Nastyushka is...” Viktor grumbles.

“Who told you to stick your dick in crazy?”

“Well, if I didn't stick my dick in crazy, I would've been the babysitter now, wouldn't I?” Viktor retorts back with a teasing laugh. He once again taps Nikolai's shoulder. “I don't want this work to prolong any longer, but what can we do? So for now, you take care of her while I'm dealing stuff with the loan sharks, alright? Here, here.”

Viktor takes out several crumpled cash notes before he forces them into Nikolai's hand. He grins. “Treat yourself. And I know you want to negotiate our ratio for the payment for this job... Err... I take thirty, you take seventy. Yeah? Good, good?”

“No. Eighty.”

“A'right, fair enough.” Viktor throws his hands in the air, defeated. He turns to leave but halts his steps and looks back at Nikolai with a smile.

“I think she likes you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nah, you know I'm not bullshitting. That gaze she has on you is the same one as Nastyushka's when she's between my legs.”

Nikolai huffs, shoving Viktor. “Get out.”

“Geez, you are getting colder and rougher after prison, huh? Kinda miss my old chaotic Kolyushka.” Viktor cackles before he walks out. Nikolai sees him waving at you and you kindly return his wave with your tied hands. He hears Viktor saying something to you but he cannot catch it. Nikolai huffs and stares out the window. He cannot believe he is stuck with his victim, just because of his clients' carelessness.

He closes his eyes, brushing his hair back. Well, at least Viktor promised to give him a bigger ratio for the payment later. That fact alone is enough to solace him.

A creak suddenly surprises him. Nikolai turns to the entrance of his room and immediately walks out, only to see that you are already standing with the rope connecting your wrists and the couch leg stretched apart—as if you are trying to move away.

Without a second thought, Nikolai rushes to you, wrapping his arm around your fragile body, and tightening his hold around you. One arm around your torso and his other hand grips your jaw. You gasp but do not struggle against him. In fact, you look surprised.

“What are you trying to do, huh? You're not going anywhere, ya hear me?” He says harshly. You try to move your head, to look at him as he completely engulfs you in his embrace, but he holds you so tightly that you are only squirming against his body.

“Hey.”

“N-Nikolai...”

Your sweet voice once again halts his tendency to cruelty. Nikolai purses his lips, breath hitching. He looks at you, gazing into your eyes. You open your mouth, trying to speak amidst his rough hold on you. His thumb accidentally slips downward, brushing lightly against your lower lip.

“I'm hungry.”

“Wha—?”

“I haven't eaten since yesterday.”

Nikolai is taken aback—this girl made such a fuss only to complain that she's hungry. He already dislikes that he has to take care of you and he knows he could not let you die and rot yet, as the payment is still not given to him. Your value is still there as long as the loan sharks are actively seeking your father.

“Fine.” Nikolai pushes you to sit back on the couch and leaves to the kitchen. He checks the cabinet and the fridge but he only has bottles and cans of alcohol and carbonated sodas, some biscuits and chips. It is certainly not going to be fulfilling for both of you, because he also has not eaten any breakfast yet.

He has not done grocery shopping in forever. Usually, that is not his concern—but now he has another guest in his house for however long Viktor wants. He wonders if he should even go out with you, as he does not want you to leave his sight, in fear that there is a hidden rebellion in you.

He cannot trust people anymore.

“Hey,” Nikolai calls you and he slips out a knife from his pocket. He cuts the rope to release you and you instinctively wiggle your wrists, attempting to get rid of the strain on your hands. You look at him, confused. And he already figures out what you want to ask. “We are going out. I have nothing to feed both of us. But you ain't leaving my side. I know where and how to find you.”

“I won't leave you.”

“Well... Thanks..? Idiot.”

He drags you to his room and opens his old wooden closet. He takes out a black puffer coat. It is his size, so it certainly looks bigger on you.

“Are we sharing clothes?” You ask, your lips are curving asmile. Nikolai taps your temple with his knuckle, silently calling you an 'idiot' again.

“You are borrowing my thing. The weather is colder today and I'm not letting you freeze to death until I get my money.” He says. “Take off your cardigan.” You obey quietly, taking off your white cardigan. The baby blue dress is already looking loose and Nikolai has been noticing how you keep pulling back your neckline so it would not droop too low.

His desire gets the best of him for a short moment when his eyes trail down on your skin, leering longer on your chest. He takes a deep breath and averts his gaze when you almost notice him staring. “For fuck's sake.” He says as he puts the puffer coat on you. He zips it up until the collar covers half of your lower face. It is indeed bigger on you, as the end of the coat reaches your knees.

“It's very warm and comfy...” You say softly, hugging yourself as you smile at him—though it is hidden behind the collar. “I like it.”

“Your cheapskate daddy never buys you a coat?” Nikolai asks, snarkily as he gets his own jacket to wear.

“Never.”

His hand stops and he glances at you. You seem to not mind about the fact nor do you realize his curiousity. You proceed to say, “When it's cold, I layer my mother's clothes and mine. And... And the bar has heaters, so I sometimes sleep there.”

“Your manager is nice,” Nikolai replies, nonchalantly.

“Mmm... Not really. He is sting with bills, so I work overtime unpaid if I want to sleep there for heat.” You reply as your body sways side to side and Nikolai would admit that you do look adorable being enveloped by a big coat—like a penguin.

“Why are you telling me this stuff? It's been less than twenty-four hours and I already know a lot of unnecessary info about you.” Nikolai grunts as he reaches for a hair tie and starts braiding his hair nimbly. There is only one mirror in the house and that is in the bathroom. But braiding hair has been his primordial skill—he can do it with his eyes closed.

“I thought you wanted to know more about me.” You reply “I like talking to you. I like talking about myself.” You beam.

“That happens when you have to listen to old people's fuckery every night.” He says before he grabs a gun from his folded white overcoat in the bottom drawer. He hears your small gasp of shock when you see the weapon. Nikolai smirks and presses the gun right on your chest.

“I hope you are aware that I'm just tolerating you. Once you're gone, you're nothing more to me.”

Chapter Text

“Get out, get out.”

Nikolai pulls you out of the car, still keeping his grip on your arm. He tugs you closer to him as he leads both of you to a diner located just not too far from his apartment building. The diner is lacking people, only a good handful of customers. He chooses the table at the corner, isolated from the rest.

“Sit here.” He says, shoving you to sit at the inside part, so you are sandwiched between the wall and him because he decides to sit beside you instead of across you. Since the diner is toasty warm, thanks to their heater, Nikolai unzips his jacket, taking it off. He drapes it on the chair before he sits beside you. You are about to take off your coat as well, but you remember you just have your loose baby blue dress on. It feels a little inappropriate since a lot of your skin is exposed. So you keep your hands to yourself.

A waitress comes to your table, giving menus. She seems to be middle-aged, with her grey hair sticking out. She wears a bun and a red and white polka dot apron. The waitress smiles at Nikolai, waiting patiently. But he spares no time to choose as he immediately orders without even opening the menu books. “Uh, give us two iced tea and two sets of lamb—”

Your tight grip on his arm halts his word. Nikolai’s head turns quickly to you, and his eyes leer down to his arm—his tattoos are peeking out from his sleeve. Your fingers are wrapped around him, squeezing. You say nothing other than pointing at one dish on the menu. Nikolai looks at it and it is just an image of chicken and mushroom pie.

“You little...”

“Please, Nikolai?”

Nikolai stares at you in disbelief before he sighs and looks at the waitress. “Yeah, two iced teas, one lamb pelmeni, and... this.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope, thank you.” Nikolai gives back the menus to the server and she suddenly chuckles playfully. She collects the menus and looks at Nikolai with amusement.

“You finally got a girlfriend, Kolya? She looks young.” She asks. Nikolai just waves at her dismissively, shooing her away. You only watch their interaction, revelling the fact that Nikolai and the waitress know each other.

“Do you know her?” You ask out of curiosity. Nikolai is silent, seeming to ignore you for a moment as he reaches for his phone in his pocket. You wait for your answer as your eyes are carefully examining him. You tuck his arm again, shaking it lightly to get his attention. Nikolai sighs.

“Yes... I’m a regular here. Her name is Olga. She is a gossip collector.” Nikolai replies. “You are a touchy one, aren’t you? Or is this a habit from your workplace? Do you touch those old men like this too?” He asks with a small smirk, glancing at your fingers fidgeting on his arm. He just realises that your nails are polished with a baby blue shade. It must be one of your ‘uniform’ or ‘style’ for your job yesterday.

“You are old too.”

“The fuck? Hey, being in your thirties is not old.” Nikolai huffs. He takes out a box of cigarettes and bites one out, lighting it up with his lighter. He takes a long inhale of it before he blows it slowly to the opposite side, away from you.

How considerate. How sweet.

Nikolai notices your sudden quietness and he glances at you, seeing you are just staring at him—with the same gaze you have been giving since last night. You seem to be in your own thoughts as your irises are roaming over his figure—from his body, to his legs, to his arms, to his face, finally meeting his eyes.

“You know, it’s already weird that you are warming up to...” he lowers the volume of his voice. “... your kidnapper. But you are certainly looking at me so so bizarrely. There’s no fear in your eyes, even though I just forced you to be here. It is something... Hmm...” Nikolai suddenly holds your jaw, tilting your head to the left and right as he glares directly into your eyes. “I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Adoration?”

Oh, that’s the word. Yeah, yeah, that makes sense.

“Yes, yes. Adoration. Why do you look at me so adorably? Your cute fucking eyes... You are attempting the impossible if you want to riddle with someone like me. After all, tricks could only bring you so far if you want to play with me.” He says before he lets go of your face. You yelp a little, touching your face, especially on the spot he just grabbed.

“I’m not trying to trick you...”

“Uh-huh. And elephants can fly, tigers can bark—”

“Some tigers could bark....”

“So you did go to school!”

“I graduated high school a few years ago....”

Nikolai blows a wave of cigarette smoke right in front of your face, causing you to whimper, coughing as you try to fan your hand rapidly. He laughs, enjoying his torment and your reaction. “I don’t care whether or not you graduated. Clearly, you’re not intelligent enough to be all buddy-buddy with your kidnapper, idiot.”

“Hey, hey, Kolya! What are you bullying your girlfriend for?” Olga appears with a tray of food and drinks, serving them the ordered dish. Nikolai groans, irritated when she teases him.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Olga. Stop feeding your own delusions and get yourself a husband. Goodness, at your own age...” Olga gasps in disbelief and she hits Nikolai’s shoulder—not too hard, but not too light either.

“I’m just trying to be happy for you! Especially when you just disappear for years!” She exclaims loudly, receiving a curious look from another customer several feet away. Nikolai grumbles. Noticing his irritation, Olga chuckles. “Okay, okay, enjoy your meal.”

As she leaves, Nikolai gives you your meal, but your attention is still on her and then Nikolai. Olga does look much older, evident by her faint wrinkles. Nikolai presses the cigarette butt in the ashtray on the table before he starts eating. His expression is boring. It seems like he is already sick with the taste of this diner's lamb pelmeni.

“Stop looking around like a fool and eat your food. You said you're hungry.” Nikolai nudges your shoulder. You nod, giving him a smile that goes unseen. You pull the chicken and mushroom pie closer to you and reach a fork. It is a bit uncomfortable to eat because you are quite hot—you still have the puffer coat on and the diner is already warm and only getting warmer.

You are sweaty and you feel bad that you are basically dirtying his puffer coat—it must be difficult to wash too. You wonder if Nikolai even has a washing machine in his house. Furthermore, you did not even see one in the bathroom and you have yet to explore his kitchen.

It is fine—you have more time to spend with him.

You enjoy your meal, sometimes taking a peek at the man beside you. He is still fixated on his phone, browsing a site you could not manage to focus on. You lean closer—almost resting your head on his shoulder—trying to steal a view of the screen, and you see some images of trains.

“Oi,” Nikolai turns to you and you only smile at him cheekily.

“What's that on your screen?”

“Eat your food.” He taps your plate with his fork, dismissing your question. You do as he tells, taking another bite from the pie—it is probably one of the most delicious pies you have ever tasted. But you are still eager to talk to him.

“Why haven't you seen Ms. Olga for years? Aren't you from here?” You ask curiously. Nikolai blinks profusely at your question. He hesitates and you are patient. Nikolai wants to ignore you again, but your subtle shake on his arm halts him.

“I'm from Ukraine. It's just... I have lived here for years.” Nikolai says slowly. His adam's apple throbs and he looks away. “I got into prison, that's all. That's why she didn't see me for a while.”

“Oh! Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you in prison?”

Nikolai turns to you, glaring deeply into your eyes, seeking any sign of trickery. He sighs, drinking his iced tea awkwardly. He is constructing words in his head, filtering what should not be said to you. But he does not really want to tell you things about him—besides, you are practically a stranger.

“Got convicted because I murdered a girl in a baby blue dress who worked in a bar.” He attempts to tease with a threatening tone, to evade the whole topic at once. You squint confusedly before chuckling.

“Does that mean you will keep me alive? I mean, you don't want to go back to prison, right?”

Nikolai grunts—how the hell do you get to that conclusion, he does not even know. You seem to enjoy his reaction though, by the way you giggle. Annoyed, Nikolai seizes your jaw, pushing your cheeks together—puffing your lips. He turns your head so you would face your plate again.

“Please shut up.”

After lunch, Nikolai, obviously, paid for the meal and once again, he drags you to another location—a hypermarket as he really needs some groceries. Nikolai wants to limit his appearance in public, and he wants to stay inside the house as much as possible. Besides, dining outside is much more expensive and he needs to save some money for his ultimate goal.

“You stay close. And don't make a scene.” He commands, stern and strict. You nod obediently and Nikolai steps into the hypermarket, followed by you. He reaches for a basket, holding it with his left hand while his right hand is resting in the pocket of his jacket.

Nikolai looks around the market, striding casually as he is making mental notes on what to buy for his house. He also needs to buy extra things for you during this short period of time you are staying with him. He has not properly counted the cash notes Viktor gave to him yet but it probably has been spent on the lunch earlier.

“Hm?” Nikolai feels something slither into the crook of his right arm and he looks to his side, seeing your hand is clutching his arm and you are scooting closely against him. He frowns—he does not mind a woman being this close to him but he literally just kidnapped you last night, no more than a complete day. And yet the glint in your eyes shows little to no defiance, even when he has been rough to you all day.

“You told me to stay close.”

Witty. I don't know if I like it.

“If you're trying to get into my pants as your grand plan to escape, I'd say rethink again.” He says nonchalantly. You jerk your head at him, flustered.

“N-No! No, I won't do such things...”

Nikolai cackles. “Yeah, sure, you won't. Bet you wanna try the same tactics you did to your customers in the bar, huh?” He scoffs and you immediately shake your head, tugging his arm harder.

“I have never done that. I don't have... tactics...”

Nikolai glances at you, eyebrow raised. He looks at your body up and down—and his stare feels piercing. Despite the puffer coat still covering your body, it feels like he is seeing through you.

“Okay... Okay, I get it.” He mumbles before he looks straight ahead and keeps walking. You hold strong onto his arm as you try to match his pace, turning to him.

“You get what? What do you mean?”

He continues to say nothing as he walks to the dry food section. You follow him closely, avoiding people who sometimes bump into you. You pout—Why don't they bump into Nikolai instead? Does he look too intimidating? Is he too noticeable with that white fluffy hair?

Nikolai stops in front of a shelf of canned foods. He takes some of them, after checking the expiration date of course. You also look around and you see a row of chicken and mushroom soup. You gasp happily, taking two of them and putting them into the basket.

“What the... I don't say you could take anything. I am the one spending my own shit.” Nikolai protests, taking back the cans and putting them on the shelf. You scrunch your nose, dissatisfied. But you make no move of trying to take the soup again.

However, when Nikolai is about to leave the section, you quickly snatch a can of chicken and mushroom soups and put it into the basket. He certainly hears the clanking noise of the cans in the basket as he looks at you and sighs.

“Just this one.” He says. You nod and link your hand to his arm again, following his steps. Nikolai tries to focus back on his task while also keeping you close to him. He knows he needs some more hygiene products, so he decides to go to that section. And for some reason, the section is crowded with people.

“Geez, is it World Cleaning Day or something? Why is everyone here?” He grumbles to himself, frowning when his basket keeps bumping with people. He tilts his body left and right, avoiding people to reach for a bottle of dish soap on the shelf. He manages to grab one—which is the cheapest option. He does not bother to spend his time choosing between brands or anything.

“Okay, done. Let's...”

His word trails off when he finally realises the lack of a human touch on his arm. Nikolai's face turns pale. He turns around, hoping you are just behind him, but instead, he just sees some random people choosing products. He turns to the left, to the right—and he cannot see you. He wishes he could detect you by your baby blue dress, but he remembers he has lent his puffer coat to you—the similar coat that seventy percent of the customers in this hypermarket wear.

Well, fuck.

“Fucking hell, where the heck is she...” Nikolai is hasty. He has been scouring the food section and the hygiene section twice now. But he still has not found you. He is already tired of walking around this establishment like a fool. And he does not want to look obviously anxious. He is aware that he is already in the hypermarket's security camera footage by now.

Nikolai huffs, eyes scanning every person that comes into his view. But neither of them are you. He is about to give up and call Viktor to report his situation—but he then sees a staircase just beside a lift, hidden behind a big shelf of seasonings and spices. He approaches it, noticing a signboard that has an arrow pointing up with the phrase 'Clothes, House Appliances, Electronics'.

He does not think you could have ventured upstairs but he needs to take a chance—if you want to escape, wouldn't you just go straight to the exit? There is no exit on the second level, but you might have been hiding and waiting for him to leave or something before you make your move.

“This little...” Nikolai takes a deep breath, swallowing his anger and frustration before he steps onto the stairs, slowly making his way up. The second level is quieter. He could only see some customers and some workers, but all of them were far apart from each other.

That means he would either find you or confirm that you are not up here.

Nikolai gets tired of carrying his fuckass basket, so he puts it on one of the closed counters. The worker does not even bother giving him a glance or a warning—they are more busy calculating things from invoices.

He walks around, eyes sharp and precise as he scans the area. He checks the electronics and house appliances sections but his effort is futile. It lacks people and the shelves are quite far apart from each other. Nikolai thinks—he would not try to hide here at all since it is obvious.

He moves to the clothes sections. Sometimes the employees greet him, trying to promote their sales but he is not interested at all. Nikolai does however stop for a bit in the male outerwear section, skimming the jackets and coats on display.

“This one is on discount, sir.”

A staff member suddenly says to him, out of nowhere, flinching Nikolai. Nikolai finds his words stuck and he just smiles stiffly. “O-Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm just... looking around.” He says and he walks again in between the shelves of coats and jackets.

However, the staff could not stop following him, with her kind faux smile—Drop it, lady. I know you're tired of working in this shit.

He mentally curses the staff—he could not find you if the staff keeps following him. Nikolai walks away from the male clothes section and the staff finally leaves him—she perhaps works in that section only. He ventures his way to female clothes, eyeing the dresses and the blouses.

Nikolai is almost distracted—that is bad. He sighs at his carelessness, tapping his own head lightly as he looks around the female section. He feels awkward by the judging glances of some customers when he walks around the section—he does not blame them though.

He grumbles under his breath, still not seeing you.

But suddenly, his body is jerked forward slightly, by a strange weight bumping against his back. A pair of arms wrap around his body, hugging him close.

“Nikolai..! I thought I lost you!”

He freezes.

Nikolai turns around. His eyes are wide when he sees you. You look relieved but Nikolai is just too annoyed. He yanks your arms away from him and grips you by your neck—and fortunately, you two are covered by the racks of clothes.

“The fuck are you thinking? I told you to fucking stay close to me, didn't I? You stubborn brat.”

“I-I am sorry... I was trying to find you as well...”

“And you ended up stranded up here? Bullshit. You're trying to save your ass.”

“I swear..! I was trying to hold you but there were a lot of people and... and I accidentally let you go... and then you were gone!” You urgently explain yourself. Nikolai clicks his tongue and shakes his head. He lets go of your neck and looks around. Fortunately, no one is looking.

“Please, trust me... I never intend to leave you...” Your arms are itching to hug him again by how they crawl back on his body. Nikolai glances at you and exhales loudly. He takes your arm and pulls you along with him.

“We're leaving now. I'm so tired of dealing with you. Do something funny and I'll use my gun.” He threatens as he practically drags you to the closed counter to take back his basket. However, he sees that there are additional things added to his cart now.

Some dresses and underwear.

Nikolai scoffs in disbelief—more things to pay? Fuck no. He takes one of the panties—red—hanging it on his finger, smirking. “This yours?”

You shriek in embarrassment as you take the panties and put them back in the basket. “Don't...” You mumble. Nikolai snorts scornfully. “I-I... Uh... I saw the basket first before I saw you...” You say sheepishly.

“So you came up here to get new clothes? Oh, you spoiled little doll. You are smart enough to take advantage to get yourself new crap but not smart enough to escape when I'm not looking. Do you not even think about your freedom for once? People like you disgust me.” Nikolai scowls and he takes out the dresses and the underwear from the basket, putting them on the counter.

“W-Wait...! I need those—”

“You don't fucking need these overpriced dresses.”

“Please! Just... Just the underwear.” You grip his hand, stopping him. Nikolai looks at you and you cannot bear to face him as well. Your other hand clutches your coat as you look away, face flushed with embarrassment. “I really need them, please...”

But instead of sympathising, Nikolai bursts out a short laugh, mocking. “Oh yeah, you haven't showered since yesterday. What? Is your panties getting soaked or something now? Have I ever told you that that isn't my problem?”

“W-Why are you being mean?” You protest, lips pouty.

“Because you just pulled whatever stunt you did just now, shopping for shits you thought I'd gladly pay,” Nikolai replies harshly before he fully takes out your stuff. He takes the basket as if he is about to leave, but you are stubborn enough to block his path and firmly clutches his jacket.

“Just the underwear. Please, Nikolai... Please. I really need them. After that, I won't ask for anything else.” Your pretty lips are begging him as you lean closer to him while clutching his jacket. He stares at you—Nikolai could not deny it any longer and he is practically screaming into the void in his head right now. Your doe fucking eyes are his weakness—and he hates it. He hates you for being able to sway his heart, turning the heartbeat that is supposed to be synchronous into discordant.

He gets it now. He knows why you are working as an escort. If he was a manager, he would hire you right there and then.

Or perhaps you are just attracted. —His heart suggests.

“Nikolai?”

Your voice snaps him out of his short-term silence. That sweet voice, those pretty eyes, those adorable lips—Nikolai hates them.

“Fine.”

You giggle happily and Nikolai once again defeatedly sighs. He watches you putting back the underwear into the basket and when you are about to put in one of the dresses, he immediately grabs your wrist. “Not that.”

“Okay, okay.” You put away the dress and as you are done, Nikolai takes the basket and motions his head at you, silently telling you to stay close. You once again link your hand on his arm and both of you finally get downstairs to pay for the stuff.

As the cashier is scanning the items, Nikolai notices that there is another strange addition to his cart—a very small bottle of baby blue nail polish. He is about to lash out when he turns to you—only for you to quickly look away, pretend fool.

And so, Nikolai could only watch bitterly as the cashier put the nail polish into the plastic bag.

“Hello, baby boy! How are you doing now? Gah... it's been eight hours since I left you and I'm already worried!”

“Viktor... stop talking like that.” Nikolai cringes as he peeks at the clock—indeed it has been eight hours since Viktor left and Nikolai is already fatigued by what happened today. It has just been one night since you were kidnapped and you have created so many plights. Right now, you are showering and coincidentally, Viktor calls him.

“Ugh, as cold as usual, but not that usual! I know you are still salty that you got arrested but that's like a year ago! What has passed is past! Or something like that. Anyway! Don't be sad anymore, yeah? I have a job for you now.” Viktor says before he quickly proceeds to explain the job to Nikolai. Nikolai only listens intently as his other hand is jotting notes.

“And... yeah, that's all. I'll look into important stuff and send it to you before tomorrow morning, as usual.”

“Alright. Thanks.” Nikolai says but before he ends the call, Viktor asks another question again. However, his voice is a whisper.

“Is the girl good?”

You. He's asking about you.

“She's a bit troublesome in a way... Please, just get the loan sharks to act quickly before I lose my sanity.” Nikolai complains, biting the pen as he remembers what happened today in the hypermarket. He would not tell that to Viktor.

“I contacted them just a few hours ago. No response. Probably there will be tomorrow. Just be patient.” Viktor replies. Then his voice drops a few octaves. “By the way, I also got news from the hacker you told me to find.”

“What does he say?”

“He agreed to help with the security camera thing. I don't know... But he does want to discuss further about it and I just give him your number. He's kinda sad that we aren't in St. Petersburg though because he's based there.”

“It's fine. I'll talk to him... Thanks for your help. I'll treat you something someday.” Nikolai replies with a satisfied smile. His progress is going well now.

“No problem, dude. But why do you want access to the security camera program in St. Petersburg? I thought you just wanted to move there for... I don't know, better life I guess.” Viktor asks casually. Nikolai purses his lips. He never tells Viktor about Fyodor but Viktor does know about Nikolai wanting to go to St. Petersburg, which is the sole reason he is always eager to do more dirty jobs.

“Long story, Vik.” Nikolai just says that.

“Well, you better spill me the tea! I want— Whoops, Nastasya is calling for me. Alright, I'll go now. Bye-bye!”

“Bye...”

Nikolai tosses his phone on the bed—he is in his bedroom now, sitting on the edge of the bed. As his attention is no longer on the phone, he is finally aware of a foreign weight on his bed, as if something is behind him. He turns around and he jumps slightly in surprise when he sees you kneeling on the mattress, with nothing but a towel wrapped around your naked body.

“What the hell! Why are you sneaking up on me like that? And why are you like this?” Nikolai scolds you, clutching his chest—and his heart is fast. So fast. And it is not even because you are sneaking up on him. It is mostly because of something else.

“I need a sleepwear.”

He swallows hard, eyes wandering naughtily over your exposed soft skin. They look soft, and you look inviting. Nikolai swears something flips in his stomach, thousands of butterflies crawl out from their cocoons. You smell fresh and fragrant, almost similar to his own whenever he is out of the shower too. He glances down at your exposed thighs—and they are just as cute as they are in a pair of white stockings.

“Nikolai?”

Stop saying my name with that voice.

“Sleepwear, yeah. Right, you incompetent dolly brat. You just can't sleep in the same dress for a second night, can you?” His sarcasm does not sound quite right—his throat is breathy and his voice turns out a little shaky. He gets to his closet, pulling out a baggy old t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He throws them in your direction and once again, he just has to look away at the sight of you kneeling on the bed.

“There. Go change in the bathroom.”

You quietly get off the bed with the shirt and shorts in your hands. As you walk past him, Nikolai is still turned away, not wanting to look at you. He notices from the corner of his eyes that you pause at the entrance, silently observing him.

“Why won't you look at me?”

He swears you are now doing this on purpose—are you attempting to seduce him? To tease him? To anger him? To annoy him? He does not understand what are you trying to do—and it has not even been a complete day since he kidnapped you.

What's your plan? What are you trying to do? What game are you playing?

“Don't bother me. Go get change and then wait on the couch.”

“Yes, sir.” You blithely say before you disappear into the bathroom again, not aware of how havoc Nikolai is now internally.

He palms his face, fighting the urge to screech. He rests his head against the closet door as his hand slowly trails to his crotch.

Hard.

Harder.

Nikolai made a mistake.

He should have looked better at the garment he gave you. He knew he gave you a baggy old tee but he did not expect that the shirt would be the thin one. You are just sitting in front of him, eating the cheap meal he prepared but he does not know why you look so alluring right now.

Perhaps because he can see the visible outline of your breasts beneath that thin t-shirt.

Nikolai knows from his previous relationship that some—or perhaps most—people prefer to not wear bras especially when at night and at home, but now he wishes you are one of the minorities.

His lust is tickled. He tries his best to fixate his eyes on your face but somehow they keep trailing down to take a peek through the collar—he could already see your soft plump skin from this angel, and he desires to see more.

Unfortunately, Nikolai does have a thing for having someone else wearing his clothes.

“Nikolai,”

“Huh? What?” Nikolai coughs, rubbing his lips before he averts his gaze elsewhere. He does not want to look at you and he certainly does not notice the frown you are giving him.

“Hmm... Why won't you look at me? I wanna ask a question.”

“Just fuckin' ask.”

“But it's more respectful to have a conversation if we focus on one another.”

“What the hell are you trying to sound smart for? You're such an attention-seeking brat.” Nikolai grumbles, still not looking at you as he feeds himself another spoonful of his food.

“I do like attention, actually...” You grin. “I mean... I don't really have friends or someone to talk to at home... So I like it when people pay attention to me...” You say sweetly—your voice is just like a ray of eternal sunshine, sometimes annoying, sometimes soothing.

“Can you please pay attention to me, Nikolai? Please, please? Pretty please?”

Nikolai takes a deep breath. The way you are begging him—well, not really begging—has his heart doing a whole spin and twist. He reluctantly looks at you and you squeal in delight, giggling. Nikolai purses his lips quickly as he swears he almost smiles at your reaction, especially with the warm fuzzies in his stomach upon hearing your giggle.

“What?” Nikolai asks and you clasp your hands.

“Have you met the loan sharks my father is indebted to? Honestly, I have never seen or met them. I just know he got a lot of money at some point.” You ask. Nikolai rests his face on his hand, propped on the table.

“Actually I am not in direct contact with them. Naturally, I also never see them. Viktor probably has though.” He replies. “I only know some important details.”

“Ooh...” You nod before you lean forward. “Do you know how much money my father owes them?”

Nikolai smirks playfully. “Five.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Five... Five what? Five... hundreds?” Nikolai says nothing other than a shrug of his shoulder, gesturing to you to take a guess. “Five hundred dollars?”

“Rubles.”

“Five hundred rubles?”

Nikolai clicks his tongue. “Who the fuck owe five hundred rubles to loan sharks? Come on, be logical! We are talking about loan sharks here.” He says, nudging your temple. You whine at his hard nudge, rubbing the spot on your skin as you pout slightly.

“Well, how would I know? I never owe people money!”

“You think a group of people would hunt your dad if he owes them five hundred rubles?” Nikolai scorns, shaking his head in disappointment—though it does look more like a teasing gesture.

“Okay... five hundred thousand maybe..?”

“Five million.”

Your jaw hangs wide open, shocked. Your eyes waver all over his face, seeking any trace of trickiness. But Nikolai looks too serious when he says that and you wonder if he is just a good actor or he is telling you the truth. “Uhm, five million... rubles?”

“Yes, dolly. Five million rubles.”

“Really? You aren't lying to me?” You ask again—five million rubles are just a lot. One million could perhaps buy you a nice apartment in a busy city like Moscow, perhaps a car—a used car, much cheaper. You need to work for about five hundred months just to get that amount if you only depend on your base salary in the bar. That does not include the constant stealing from your father though. You would take much longer than five hundred months if your father steals five months' worth of your own money for his selfish self.

“Well, actually he just borrowed two million and five hundred thousand from them and then he ran away for about eight years, right?” Nikolai looks at you for confirmation, to which you nod hesitantly. “So, yeah, the amount increased over the years and currently ended up over five million.”

“But that doesn't make sense? Why would they increase it?” You ask. Nikolai stares at you, eyes squinted. For a short five seconds, his eyes leer down to your body before they travel up again.

“These particular loan sharks have their interest rate at fifteen percent per year. So, the money your father borrowed will increase by fifteen percent every year when he doesn't pay back.” He explains as he crosses his arms. “Fifteen percent out of two and a half million is like... err... three... uh, three hundred seventy five thousand..? You do the math, doll. Times that amount by eight years and well, you got five million. To be exact, five million and a half.”

You blink, no words leave your mouth. You are not speechless because of how much money your father owed and how high the stake actually is between him and the loan sharks. No, you are more amazed by this man, your kidnapper.

“Nikolai, you are so smart!” You say, amazed. You lean forward, eyes glimmering in awe, which makes Nikolai turn baffled. “How do you know all that stuff? Have you worked in a bank before? Did you go to college? Which college? I'm— Well... I couldn't afford to go to one, but I would really love to if—”

“Why is that the thing that you catch on? Did you even listen to what I just explained?” Nikolai asks, jarred. “And I know I am smart. I'm not dumb like you.”

“I don't think I'm dumb though. It's just... I'm educationally restricted.” You grin as Nikolai snorts at your response.

“Well, you basically said you're dumb. Though, I admit that is a smart phrase.” Nikolai smiles as he finishes his food completely before reaching for a bottle of vodka sitting on the table and pouring it into his cup. You try to reach for the vodka as well but he quickly drags it close to him, practically hugging the bottle for himself. He even smacks your hand mildly strong, enough for you to retract your hand.

“Stop calling me dumb... I went to school!” You say, sulky. Nikolai bursts a short cackle, kicking your leg beneath the table. You wince in pain, bringing your legs away from his small kicks.

“Yeah, no. You're dumb because you're not even thinking of your freedom and survival right now. A smart fucking person won't sit nicely with their kidnapper, dumb doll.” He says harshly before he chugs another shot of vodka. You look at him—eyes vacant.

“I... I am thinking of my freedom right now, no? I'm free from my father. That's why I p-prefer it here... Isn't that enough?”

Nikolai pauses. He says nothing other than gazing at you. Your lips part, as if you want to say something but you quickly close them tightly. The air of awkwardness is radiating through the deafening silence.

“Get up. Playtime is over.” He says strictly before he gets up and walks to you. He takes your arm and practically drags you away from the small dining table—it could just fit three people since one side is against the wall. You follow Nikolai quietly.

He pushes you to the bed and takes out a rope from beneath the bed. He kneels right in front of you and proceeds to tie your ankle before he ties the other end to the bed's leg.

“Nikolai, can I ask something? Please?”

“What?”

“How long am I going to stay here?” You ask as your hand gently touches his shoulder. Nikolai swallows nervously before he takes your hand off his shoulder, but he holds it firmly in his grip.

“Until the loan sharks find your dad and retrieve you for their agenda.”

“Do I have to do anything while I'm here with you?” Your voice sounds kind but it bothers Nikolai somehow. He expects his prey for this job to be hard to deal with and would rebel the fuck out of their heart, but no. No, you are just too nice and tender, even for your kidnapper.

He does find it interesting, but he does not want to indulge himself any further in trying to figure you out.

No time to waste for another person. He needs to satisfy his own anger that has been dormant for years, ever since he was thrown into prison.

“Nikolai?” Your voice shakes him out and shakes him thunder when he feels your hand on his hair. His breath hitches and he can physically feel his heart being gripped just the same way your fingers are entwined between the strands of his hair.

“D-Don't. Don't touch me.”

You pull your hand away before you hold your hands together. “Sorry... They just look... so soft and fluffy...”

Fuck, Nikolai wonders if his face is red now because unfortunately—again—he does have a thing for having his hair touched and played with.

“Nikolai, do I have anything—”

“I heard you. Don't repeat. Well, uh... You don't have anything to do. Sleep and wake up whenever you like. Preferably sleep until you skip breakfast and lunch so I don't have to feed you.” He says and the syllables are being thrown so fast that he wonders if you even understand him.

But you nod.

“One more selfish request... Do you have anything I can use to entertain myself with...? Maybe like... books or something? Or magazines?”

He clicks his tongue—oh, now you demand a lot. Nikolai stands up straight and pushes you to lie down on the mattress by your neck. His action, however, causes the collar of the baggy old shirt you are wearing to slip to the side, almost revealing a good amount of skin of your cleavage.

“Goodness, you are so...” Nikolai could not finish his words. He just rakes his hair back and sighs. “Fucking go to sleep. I'm not gonna deal with you anymore. Don't demand shit like I'm a sugar daddy you met in the bar.” He says before he turns to leave.

“O-Okay, my apologies...”, You say softly as he walks off. A sense of relief seeps into his heart when his babysitting job has come to an end—at least for today. But his steps stop when you say,

“Good night, Nikolai. Thank you s-so much... for today.”

Nikolai says nothing. He turns off the light and leaves the room. The clock is still ticking approaching late night. He needs to clean the dishes before going to the bathroom to prepare for bed. But he finds himself squatting by a big storage box right beside the television cabinet. He opens the box, rummaging through it.

Only to take out several books and magazines that have not seen the light since forever.

Chapter Text

“What are you doing?”

Nikolai looks at you and then at the laundry basket that is filled with dirty clothes he has worn over the past seven days. “Laundry day.” He says shortly. He turns away, although he certainly notices you staring at him, which gives him a flicker of anxiety somehow.

And the silence throughout your staring is just extremely uncomfortable.

He knows you have something in your mind. He can read that from your silence already. It has been three days you are staying with him and for some reason, he can already figure out your quirks—what a time to be just so observant.

“What?” He asks, finally looking at you once he has gathered his dirty clothes into the basket. You smile at him before you crawl on the bed, moving closer to his side. Your leg is still tied, limiting your movement, but it seems that you always find a way to be close to him.

“Are we going to the laundrette?”

Nikolai grunts, holding your chin. “We are not going to the laundrette. It is only me. And you're gonna stay here.” He says before he shoves your face away, lightly. “It's only on the ground floor. I'm not gonna leave to some other premise.” He adds before he carries up the basket.

“Please, can I come with you?” Your plea is sweet as honey. Your hand reaches to touch his arm, fingertips against his veins. Nikolai's breath is snatched away for a short second as he tries to avoid your gaze. He steps back, pulling away from your touch.

“Hey, don't pull away from me.” Your right cheek puffs. “I just wanna accompany you... And you know, see things around—”

“And then plan your escape? Hell no. I'm not too dumb to take risks.” Nikolai cuts you off, rolling his eyes. You tilt your head, eyeing him confused.

“I don't plan to escape. I mean... I mean, I did say I prefer to be here...” Your voice is slow, layered with sheer shyness. Nikolai grumbles—he knows you have certain issues with your father but he still does not want to accept the fact that your relationship with him is severe enough that you would rather stay with your kidnapper.

To be honest, Nikolai does prefer it if his victim is compliant—less trouble to deal with. But your compliance is throwing him off. Sure, he does not mind if his victim listens to his words but they for sure are not as... affectionate as you.

He has the strongest feeling that you really will never try to escape—Nikolai has tested the theory already. He lets you sleep on his bed, right beside where his closet would be. And in that closet, he has some weapons. Guns, especially. For about three days, three nights, his guns are untouched.

If you are eager to escape, eager to run, you would pay attention to the details. But no. The only thing you carefully observe is him—he knows that, he notices it.

“Nikolai,” You say his name again, grabbing his attention. Nikolai looks at you and sighs. He knows you are not giving up, and as much as he wants to be mean towards you, your pleading gaze has a strong grip on his heart, tugging and pulling him to attend to your whims.

“Fine.”

Weak. I am ashamed.

You squeal in delight which almost makes his lips curve into a small smile. Nikolai purses his lips and quickly undoes the rope around your ankle, allowing you to move. He wonders if he even needs the rope to secure you. He wonders if he can just leave the door wide open to the outside world and see you run out instead of having you cling to his side.

“Oh, since we are washing clothes today, may I bring my clothes as well?” You ask sweetly as soon as you get up from the bed. Nikolai shrugs his shoulders, eyes leering on your body. You are currently wearing another one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. Sometimes he wants to laugh at the way you try to keep the shorts on—since the size is certainly bigger than you.

“I don't know. Would you want to mix your pretty shits with my stuff? Heard the ladies don't like mixing their underwear with men's.” Nikolai remarks with a teasing smirk, receiving a gulp of embarrassment from you.

“Well... Well, I don't mind... I am sure you are... cleaner—”

“Wow, that sounds perverted.”

“W-What? No, no. No, I don't try to be a pervert! I am just trying to say that... uh... you take care of yourself better than a great percentage of men, you know? Like... Like that... I am sure you are... uhm, cleaner than my father.” You stumble upon your words, amusing Nikolai in the process. He laughs shortly, shaking his head.

“I'm sure if you compare your dad with a dog, the dog is cleaner as well.” He says nonchalantly. “Go on, get your shit and decide whether you want your cute panties to be mushed up together with my—”

“It's okay! I will wash them with my hands!” You stop him quickly from continuing his vulgarity that is already bringing heat to your face. You rush to the bathroom, collecting your used clothes as Nikolai only watches with a playful grin.

As you are away, Nikolai goes to his closet, taking a gun from the depths of the wardrobe. He checks the magazine, making sure it is loaded with deadly bullets. When he hears your footsteps, Nikolai quickly slips the gun into his leather jacket and turns around. You do not notice what he is doing certainly as you dump your baby blue dress, white cardigan, and socks into the same basket.

“Those?” He asks, pouting at the pile of underwear in your arms. You shyly tilt your body, as if to hide those from him. Nikolai snorts, in disbelief with your embarrassment. He was the one who paid for those—why are you shy about it?

“I'll wash these by hand.”

“A'right, suit yourself.” He says before he takes out a stick of cigarette and bites it between his lips. He lights it up as he walks out of the bedroom, leaving you with the laundry basket. You look at him and the basket back and forth, confused.

“Uh, what about the clothes?” You ask. Nikolai turns to you with a sly smile. He pulls out the cigarette for a bit, allowing himself to speak.

“You carry it.”

“H-Huh? But it's heavy!” You protest and Nikolai shrugs, uncaring.

“You want to come with me, you listen to me. Carry it.” He says, much to your bafflement. You look at him and then the basket. Dunking the underwear in your arms into the basket, you try to carry it with both arms. Nikolai coos, seeing you hugging the basket as tight as possible as you slowly make your way to him. Your waddles remind him of a duck somehow.

He snickers. “Oh, yeah. That's a good maid right there.”

“It's heavy, Nikolai...” You whine, pouting at him. Nikolai taps your pouty lips, enjoying the frown on your forehead as you try to keep your stability.

“Of course it's heavy, doll. I'm washing my coats today.” He says before he walks first to the door and opens it wide for you. “There, come out. How gentlemanly I am, don't you think?”

“Hmph.”

“Don't 'hmph' me, little doll. I can just—” He nudges the basket and your eyes widen when your stance staggers. You quickly stabilize yourself by leaning against the door and holding the basket tightly.

“H-Hey, don't do that..! You almost make me fall!” You say, much to Nikolai's enjoyment. He lets you leave the house before he closes the door and locks it. He walks off first before you slowly trail from behind. However, much to your discontent, he is leading you to the staircase.

“Wait, Nikolai..! Why not the lift? It's functioning, right?”

“Oh, the elevator is indeed functioning, my doll. Probably. I don't know, shit gets broken once in a while. I just wanna make you suffer for being annoying.” He grins sadistically before he grabs your arm and pulls you to the staircase. He shoves your back lightly, encouraging you to walk down the stairs.

You bite your lips as you look at him—eyes shimmering with pitifulness. Nikolai could not help but smirk when he saw it. He feels quite nostalgic for being able to bully someone like you. It is fulfilling—teasing and bullying you fulfill a certain jar of anima that he has put away, long before he went to prison.

You are so fun to mess with—if he subtracts that weirdness in your affection towards him.

Nikolai trails you from behind. His steps and pace match yours. His eyes are watching you like a hawk, making sure you are not stumbling upon your footing. He does not want you to make a mess in the staircase.

Or are you just making sure that she won't get hurt? —His heart incites.

“Haa! Finally.” You let out a breath of relief when both of you are finally on the ground floor. You drop the basket right in front of Nikolai's legs and he raises his eyebrow. You put your hands on your waist, pointing at the basket. “Your turn.”

“So bossy,” Nikolai murmurs, huffing out a thick puff of smoke from his lips as he carries the basket up with ease. You finally smile and follow him to the mini laundrette, located just right at the back of the building.

The laundrette is small, consisting of five washers, five dryers, a sink, a rack of hangers and clothes clips, and a cupboard of detergents and softeners. The premise smells warm, with a faint peachy scent. It probably comes from the air freshener on the cupboard.

“Hey, take this.” Nikolai gives you a small bucket. “You can wash your stuff there.” He says as he gestures his head to the sink. You nod and quickly gather your underwear into the bucket. However, you halt when you are just about to fill the bucket with water.

“I need detergent.”

“Just take one of those from the cupboard,” Nikolai replies nonchalantly as he stuffs the clothes from the basket into a washer. You frown—the laundry products on the cupboard look very used. You are sure that they are not his and most likely belong to some of the residents in this building who frequently visit the laundrette.

“They're not ours.” You say. Nikolai huffs, waving his hand dismissively.

“It's fine. Nobody's gonna know.”

“Mm... I don't like stealing though... Stealing is just... bad.”

“Hey, don't be too much of a goody-two-shoes. No one's gonna know if you just pour a good amount and put it right where you left it, alright? Just take it. Everyone steals something once in a while.” He says, trying to convince you. You look unsure but you finally take one small bottle of detergent, hesitating. As you walk back to the sink, you glance at him, to which he only replies with a shoo.

Seeing you are busy again with your stuff, Nikolai continues to load his clothes. Until his hand finally touches a strange fabric—your baby blue dress.

He holds the dress up, letting the straps hooked on his index fingers, dangling the fabric. He examines it and he does think the dress is cute by itself. Short, ribbons on some parts, laces on the hem and there is a slight torn on the neckline. Nikolai caresses the fabric, admiring how smooth it is against his fingertips. He traces the curves of the dress, as his wild mind wanders away—already forming a silhouette of your body when you have this pretty thing on your figure. He remembers the way your thighs look when they are being hugged by your white stockings—plump and soft, just so inviting. The short lower part of the dress makes him wonder if it could even cover more of your thighs—or does it stop when it reaches the bottom of your bum?

Does your skin feel this smooth? Are they sensitive as well? Will your lips spout sugar if he slides the strap off your shoulder?

“This is so tiring!”

Your whine interrupts his thoughts and he hastily shoves your clothes and the last remaining fabrics from the basket. He shuts the door of the washer and puts a good amount of detergent into its component before inserting the laundry coins. He grumbles to himself, palming his face as he swallows nervously.

Fuck, I can't believe I imagine things like that.

Nikolai is aware he is a pervert at times but somehow, his intrusive thoughts are becoming centred on you. And he dislikes how his mind is trying to go against his heart—not again. His throat feels dry and he is in desperate need to quench his thirst.

“Nikolai, are you okay?” You suddenly ask and he looks up, seeing you are facing him. He almost smiles at the sight of your—well, his—shirt that has some wet stains, most likely because of you washing things in the sink. But he bites his lips and looks away immediately, knowing his mind is still trying to lure him to breeze into debauchery.

I hate this girl so much. —he thinks. Well, at least that is what he wants to think.

“Nikolai, are you okay or not? Your face is red...” You ask again, with a layer of concern as you approach him. Nikolai puts a hand on your shoulder as he steps back, trying to not let you get any closer.

“I'm good.” He says before he slowly walks away from you and goes to the small row of chairs just beside the entrance. You follow suit, sitting beside him when he plops himself down. He lets out a tired groan as he leans back, closing his eyes.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“Stop asking.”

“I'm just worried.”

He ignores you, still closing his eyes, revelling in the nothingness he wishes to be in. But he knows he could not escape your blabbering when you once again address him to another conversation.

“I'm curious... Do you have my pouch? The pouch I brought with me to work?” You ask. Nikolai opens his eyes, blinking profusely—adjusting his vision and also trying to recall if he ever has your pouch.

“Probably in my car. Or on the street, I don't know.”

“Can you check your car and get it?”

Nikolai looks at you, perplexed. “Why? What do you want with it? Just forget about it. It's not even important anymore, considering this situation you're in.” He says. You shake your head and hold his arm, a gesture that Nikolai is well accustomed to when you are trying to ask him for something.

“I want it back.”

“I don't.”

“It's my pouch though...”

“And is that my problem?”

“Awh, come on. Please?” You shake his arm, tugging it closer to your body and he cannot help but glance at the way his skin is brushing against the shirt you are wearing—just a little bit close, and perhaps he would bump onto something.

“Fuck is wrong with me...” He grumbles lowly, scratching his scalp in frustration when he cannot block out some thoughts to invade. Nikolai does not want to admit it but he knows what is wrong with him. He knows what he actually craves at the moment but he does not want to entertain it.

After all, emotions will only constrain him.

He suddenly stands up, much to your surprise. “Fine, I'll go check. But you stay here. If the timer for the washer is up, you load those clothes into the dryer. Here.” He gives you a bunch of coins. You nod before playfully saluting him with a beam.

“Aye!”

Cute.

Nikolai snorts and leaves the laundrette. Since it is just on the ground floor, he walks straight to the building's exit. As soon as he is out, the cold air hits his face immediately, causing him to sniffle a bit. The sun is hidden behind a puddle of thick clouds and the pavement is covered with snow.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the cold air of Russia. A puff of white air leaves his lips when he exhales slowly, eyes roaming the place around him. Nikolai rubs his face with his palms, sighing.

What's wrong with me? Why am I acting like this?

Nikolai hits his head with his knuckles as he walks to the car, trying to get rid of the thoughts he had about you in his mind. It is not even a week and Nikolai is already stirred up inside.

He admits you are adorable and cute—totally someone he would playfully flirt with if only you were not his target. But no, the relationship that is supposed to happen between you two is not a fairytale.

And yet, somehow, you manage to make it a fairytale.

“I think she likes you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nah, you know I'm not bullshitting. That gaze she has on you is the same one as Nastyushka's when she's between my legs.”

Nikolai is never a fool when it comes to emotions and relationships. He is versed enough about them—too versed, too intimately aware that he almost killed himself. He does not think he has a lot of meaningful relationships, but he can predict and figure out what people think of him accurately enough.

He knows you are affectionate towards him.

Though, he does not understand how. He thinks he knows why—really, it is quite easy to figure out after conversations with you. The main root of it is the relationship between you and your father, that is obvious. But how did you take a liking to him almost immediately, he does not get it.

Probably my looks.

And he does not even understand how his supposed toughness disappears when it comes to you. Nikolai remembers the first moment you asked for his name, and he refused—secrecy is important. But once you say a certain magic word, he swore his knees were about to drop right in front of you.

Was it the voice? Was it your pretty lips? Was it your eyelashes batting at him? Was it the way you said 'Please, Nikolai'?

He does not know but he has the strongest feeling that the answer to all of those questions is yes.

“Agh... fucking hell. Don't tell me I'm craving sex from my own victim.” He whispers to himself. Perhaps he needs to go to a local brothel and release some stress once in a while.

But why bother going to the brothel when she's there? —His head argues and much to his discontent, Nikolai kind of agrees with that thought.

Still, his rationale gets the best of him. No, he will not touch you and he does not plan to. He just needs to keep on with this until the loan sharks come and retrieve you and free him from your grasp.

He walks to his car and slips his hand into his coat's pocket. A familiar click indicating unlocked is heard and Nikolai opens the car door. His eyes roam around the interior of his car and he catches the sight of your baby blue pouch right under the seat of the front passenger. He takes it and without a second of consideration for your privacy, he opens the pouch.

A small handphone, tissues, lip gloss, lipstick, a small palette of makeup, a mini round mirror, and a wad of cash.

Nikolai's eyes glimmer.

Cash. Money.

He looks around and takes out all the cash notes from your pouch. He tosses the pouch on the car seat before he counts the cash notes. As he totals them up, he whistles in amusement. “A thousand and four hundred something rubles. This girl is good at her job, huh?” He snickers. He is pretty sure the whole cash is a mix between a few days of working but still, quite impressive. If he takes them, he can spend some on delicious meals.

“I have needs and wants and... that's why I work. But he occasionally steals my money too...”

“Mm... I don't like stealing though... Stealing is just... bad.”

He halts when his brain suddenly recalls those bits of conversation. Nikolai frowns—he thought he had buried away his morality by now. He has committed a great number of atrocities—blood soaking his hands seeping in—and yet his own head is reminding him of how wrong would it be to take your money.

He knows you do not like stealing. Anyone with more than two brain cells could connect the dot—you most certainly dislike it because of your father. He gets it though. When he was in prison, some of his stuff got stolen as well—though, gladly he was not a target for long as Nikolai purposely hunted and haunted the thieves.

However, that was in prison. He is a free man now—sort of. He can steal whatever he wants, whoever it is from. His hands hastily fold the wad of cash, so it can be stuffed easily into his pocket. But,

“Shit.”

He has a bad feeling that an old dilemma is going to emerge the longer you are with him. Although, that does not mean he could not fight it now. He can ignore his morals and do whatever he wants—just like how he is supposed to live. He does not need anyone to fix his ideal. He does not need you to be an obstacle. All he needs to do is to resist.

To hell with your story—what he has found is his.

You hear heavy footsteps from behind as you are busy loading the freshly washed clothes into the dryer just above the washer. Turning around, you see Nikolai entering the laundrette again with your baby blue pouch and a plastic bag full of snacks.

“Ah, you found it!” You exclaim excitedly as you leave the dryer and rush to him. He gives you the pouch and the plastic without any word and takes your job of loading the clothes himself. You let him be as you sit down on the chair again and look through your pouch.

You gasp happily when you see your favourite lipgloss is still there. Taking it out, you walk to a washer beside Nikolai and use the reflection on the door to apply your lip gloss perfectly. You smile at your reflection as you fix your appearance as well.

“Nikolai, how do I look?” You look at the man, puckering your glossy lips cutely at him. His stare lingers on you before he snorts and tosses your washed white cardigan right on your face. “Ow! What's that for?” You whine as you take the white cardigan off your face with a huff.

“Really? Now is not the time to play makeup.” He replies before he slams the door closed and inserts some coins, doing the usual routine.

“Hmph, you're no fun.” You playfully kick his leg before marching to the waiting chair again, followed by Nikolai's confusion. You reach for the plastic bag full of snacks Nikolai gave you earlier. He must have stopped by a convenience store nearby—you wonder if he goes to take your pouch first or visit the store first. It is kind of funny to imagine Nikolai walking around carrying a very cute baby blue pouch.

You rummage through the plastic, seeing some drinks, two chocolate bars, and two small packs of some cream buns. You take one of the cream buns, choosing the strawberry-flavoured one. Just after you take your first bite, you hear Nikolai's voice.

“Huh? Hey, you're eating my food.” He protests as he sits next to you, snatching the plastic of snacks from your lap. You grin and offer the strawberry bun to him as if inviting him to take a bite of it. Nikolai shakes his head with a slight frown, gently pushing your hand away. “You're leeching off my stuff anyway.”

“That's called sharing.” You giggle.

“Uh-huh, sharing my house, my cleanser, my body soap and shampoo, my mug and plate, my fucking clothes. Hells, let's share the bed too!”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

Nikolai freezes. His mouth hangs when he realizes what he just said. And your flustered reaction is only adding to his need to slap himself in the face. You look away, pursing your lips in embarrassment as you awkwardly eat the bun. Nikolai also turns away as he opens a can of soda, drinking it quickly.

You two sit in silence. Until you are overcome with boredom after eating a strawberry bun and drinking a canned tea. You look at Nikolai and he seems to be playing a game on his phone, also bored.

“Thank you for taking my pouch.” You say and he just hums. Seeing no resistance from him, you continue, “You know, this pouch is actually given by one of my patrons. He said his daughter did not like the design and the colour, so he gave me.” You tell him and somehow, your story seems to peak his interest when Nikolai lowers his phone and looks at you.

“Surely it's not for free.”

“Well... I did stay with him for a couple of hours until he was drunk enough to leave.” You smile as you admire the pouch. It is not from a high-end brand or anything. You do not even know if the logo on the pouch is even a legit brand or if it is just a horrible copy paste from the existing one. You turn to Nikolai. “Did you think I sleep with my customers to get things?”

“It seems like it, considering your job... But, you did say you have never done tactics to get into someone's pants, so...” He shrugs as he speaks nonchalantly. You feel the heat rushing up your face, spreading all over your nerves as you fiddle with your pouch.

“I... I really don't. I have never slept with my customers, actually.”

“Really now?”

“Mm-hm. The other escorts say I'm still young and I gotta take advantage of that. So, they told me to sell... fantasies.” You say with a small smile. “I think it is better for me to work that way, but sometimes, some of those men offer ridiculous, luxurious things. I was even surprised that one of them offered me a vacation on a yacht if I agreed to give him a massage in his house.”

“Uh, I'm sure he's not entirely asking for a massage,” Nikolai replies, scratching the back of his neck. You look at him, baffled.

“He wasn't?”

“He wanted to have sex with you, that's what.”

“Ah. O-Oh... Well... Well, that actually makes more sense now.” You mumble. “I'm glad I did not take up that offer. Goodness. I admit I was tempted sometimes to accept them because... Because I really like to be gifted with things.” You say, but your words seem to be directed to yourself instead. Your hands once again rummage through your pouch, taking out a palette, lip gloss, and lipstick from it to show them to Nikolai.

You glance at Nikolai, noticing that he is actually paying attention to you and your theatrics. His phone is resting on his lap as he props his chin on his hand, watching your movement. You smile to yourself before you continue on with your little agenda to entertain yourself and Nikolai.

“These makeup... Well, only these two,” You show him the palette and the lipstick, and your smile grows broader when you see how his mismatched eyes follow you. “Two of my patrons gifted me them. I bought this lip gloss with my own money from a drugstore.” You say.

“And why show me this?” He asks.

“Why not? I only have you to talk with. My phone— Oh, wait, I forgot about my phone.” You say as you take out your handphone from the pouch. Click, click, click, and it is not even turning on. Not even the screen lit up. “Awh, it's dead already.”

“Good. Now no one can trace your location.”

“Does that mean I get to stay here longer? Well, don't give me the charger then!”

“I hope someone will trace your location.”

You laugh, keeping your phone back in the pouch. You do not plan to call anyone anyway. This place is much better than your house, even if there are a lot of liabilities. Besides, you do not have your father's number and he certainly does not have yours. He does not know you have a handphone on your own—you never tell him.

“Oh, look. I still have my money!” You cheer and turn to him with delight. “How about a trip to Olga's diner? I can treat you to some chicken and mushroom pie.” You say, receiving a short burst of sarcastic laugh from Nikolai.

“How about no? I ain't bringing you to Olga's. She will convince herself that you are my girlfriend, which—! I don't really like.” Nikolai says. You blink profusely at him.

“Did she not know about your... uhm, profession?”

He shrugs his shoulder before taking a long sip of his drink. “She knew me and Viktor way before I got into prison. She knows what we do for a living, and well, as long as she's not affected, she doesn't care, it seems. But she doesn't know that I was in prison and the truth about your status. Not yet, at least. You're not on the news of a missing person yet—which! Which takes a damn long time by now. Usually, people get reported right after a day.”

Then he grumbles something lowly—much to your 'luck', you hear him saying, “Does no one care about her? It's been days and nobody's reporting... This is weird and fucking sad...”

You face ahead, realizing that his question is valid now—it has been days and nights, and nobody has come to find you, not even an attempt. You know your father will not go through all the trouble just to get his worthless daughter back.

At that moment, you wonder, if your mother is still alive, would she go through hell just to find you?

“You're quiet now.” Nikolai suddenly remarks. You turn to him, lips parted as if you are about to ask something. But you immediately close them, retracting your question away. You face down again, avoiding his gaze. Nikolai sighs, however. Rolling his eyes, he asks, “What?” He is offering an opening to your curiosity. And you grab the chance almost too quickly.

“Do you know anything about my mom?”

Nikolai turns to you. But you are not looking back at him, instead, you are focused on fiddling with your pouch. He purses his lips and shrugs his shoulders. “A few things, yeah.”

You finally look at him with a glimmer of hope. “Really? Why?” You sit straight and turn your whole body towards him—eager, excited, hope, hope, too hopeful. “My mom has passed since... I don't even remember. She wouldn't be significant, yes?”

“Good question,” Nikolai crosses his arms as he rests his head back. “When Viktor told me to kidnap you, he also gave me a bunch of important files containing your information. Naturally, I also learnt about your parents.” He says.

“Oh... Well, that makes sense, I guess...” You mutter.

He sits straight. “I know a lot more about you, though. Because you're my main target. This—” He gestures a circle at you. “This whole freaking thing should end by... I don't know, three, four days ago? I should have taken another job by now but here we are!” He huffs, throwing his body against the chair again.

You grin. “I have another question.”

“Oh, no.”

“Do you have my mom's picture, somehow?”

Nikolai is stunned. He looks at you with genuine concern. Before he could even respond, you quickly say, “Hear me out, hear me. We move a lot. There was a time when I had to skip a year of school because my father spent most of our money to move from one place to another. And... obviously, we left my childhood home as well...”

“He doesn't even bother to keep some stuff?” Nikolai asks, referring to your father. You shake your head. “Not even her ashes or something?” And you respond with another shake.

“I remembered he told me to take my important stuff and some clothes. I was... nine. I thought he wanted to bring me on a vacation or... things like that. You know, father and daughter bonding moment or something.” You explain slowly before you smile—solemn. “I did not take my mom's stuff, because I thought we would come back. That's... Well, that's stupid on my part, I guess. I still feel bad that I left any remnants of my mother in our old house. Now, I have nothing of her...”

“Don't blame yourself. All kids are dumb.” Nikolai replies almost too quickly. But then he shuts his lips and looks away. “I'm not trying to be nice. I'm just saying it's normal for kids to be stupid. So there's no reason for you to be guilty about it. Like— Fuck,” He sighs. “You know what, why don't you shut up?”

You chuckle, tilting your head at him. A part of you finds his fluster adorable—his skin is always porcelain fair but whenever there is a trace of fluster, his cheeks would blush faintly. Your fingertips are itching to touch the redness, wishing you could share the warmth as well.

“I don't know why, I feel better when you say that.” You grin. Nikolai puffs his cheek and ignores you. He grabs his phone and starts scrolling through things you could not see. You scoot closer, trying to take a good look but he is already bothered by your clinginess.

“Hey, hey, personal space.”

“Are you looking for my mom's photos or something?” You ask, with a tint of excitement behind your voice. Nikolai clicks his tongue and shoves you back, tossing the plastic bag of snacks to you.

“No. You sit there and shut up.”

The happiness on your face is cast over with a shadow of blues. You go silent, retreating yourself into your shell. The smile on your face dissipates as you quietly peel off the nail polish on your nails—some of them are already peeled off when you take a shower and you plan to reapply the polish later on. You are starting to fixate on your little task before Nikolai throws his phone onto your lap.

“Ow!” You look at Nikolai in disbelief, rubbing a part of your lap that was hit by his phone. He does not say anything other than watching you. “W-What?” You ask nervously before his lips pout towards the phone, gesturing to you to take it.

You take the phone and look at the screen.

It is an image of a printed document. A lot of words on the document, with a photo of a beautiful woman at the top left corner. A name is beside the photo—a name you have never gotten the chance to utter fully.

A soft laughter cracks out of your lips. “She's so pretty, don't you think?” You ask as you stare at the picture.

“Yeah...”

You turn to Nikolai, finding his eyes are fixated on you. He seems to realize something and quickly avert his irises away. He crosses his arms, turning his head away from you. You smile, leaning closer to him. Nikolai looks visibly disturbed by your closeness but he makes no move to shove you away.

You show the screen to him. “Don't you think we have the same smile?” You say. Nikolai reluctantly looks at the picture of your mother and then you. His eyes go back and forth as you give him a sweet smile, mimicking the one your mother had in the picture.

He snorts. “Hers is elegant. Yours is stupid. Quit it.” He says before he lightly pushes your face with his whole hand, receiving a giggle from you. He then snatches his phone away from you, quitting to home screen. “Satisfied now that you've seen your mama?”

“Mm-hm.” You nod. “Thank you so much for that. I really... I really miss her. It feels like her face is starting to become a blob of blur in my eyes, you know?”

“How did she pass away?” Nikolai asks and your surprised glance makes him tighten up his lips again, realizing he is inviting you to a deeper conversation, which, as much as he wants to hate it—hate this interaction with you—his boredom and a scratch of curiosity are winning over him.

In your case, you are shivering with grace upon hearing his question. You have never talked about your mother to anyone and you certainly have always shut away any mention of her in the Pandora box even when your heart is yearning to speak about it to your father.

“I actually don't know... I don't really remember. She died when I was very young.” You say slowly. “But I do remember that she had been... bedridden a few weeks before her death and she always complained about headaches. My father thought it was just some weird hormonal symptoms or stress, so he did not bring her to the hospital until she was bedridden.”

“Why didn't he bring her to the hospital? No free healthcare or something?” Nikolai asks. You shrug your shoulders.

“If I remember correctly, the place I'm from does provide things like that. Like... people can go to the hospital and get treated freely. It's just... probably because my father doesn't want to go through troubles and stuff. I... I don't really know... He didn't tell me and I did not understand why.” You reply, looking at him. Nikolai is silent before he gazes away.

“You don't know a lot of shit.”

“I was... too young.”

“I know. I don't blame you.” He says, softly. His tone tickles your heart, somehow.

For most of your life, you have taken a lot of blame onto yourself, even when the event is clearly being puppeteering by fate. Sometimes you want to scream and rage so hard at how your life has been going over the years—but to whom are you mad at? To whom are you angry at? It is pointless anyway—you know that. Your mother's death has become a blurry picture, but the image of a ten-year-old you pouring a bucket of tears begging for help from someone or something is still vivid in your head.

Unanswered prayers, ignored cries, neglected wishes.

The only way to make sure your mother's death is not forgotten down the drain is to reminisce about her.

“Do you like makeup, Nikolai?” You ask again and without waiting for his response, you take out the palette that has been marinated in your pouch for now. You open the palette, proudly flexing at him. It has a few plates of different shades of blue eyeshadows with some other glitters and shimmers as well.

“Look, isn't it cute? Should I tell you which one is which? This—” You are about to point out the darkest shade of blue eyeshadow before Nikolai snorts.

“I know what it is. That and that and that are the eyeshadows. That's glitter and that's the shimmer thing. I know what makeup is, little doll.” He replies, almost sounding like he is looking down at you underestimating him. But instead, you look surprised.

“You do makeup?”

“Eh... some time ago. Before prison, that is. Which is like... seven years ago.” He replies nonchalantly. You giggle before you take his hand, placing it on your lap. Nikolai, however, audibly chokes on his own spit when his hand touches your thigh, despite it being covered by shorts.

Pull away, pull away, pull away, pull away! —his head shouts at him but as if there is a heavy rock on his hand, Nikolai just cannot pull away.

“W-What are you doing?” He asks carefully and he feels like ripping his throat out by how nervous he sounds. You look at him—those innocent eyes... He does not even know whether you are playing or genuine. He cannot trust you, that one is obvious. But even when he wants to point out a potential trick you are trying to do, you are always genuine.

“I wanna play makeup,” You grin adorably. “You know, I remember my mother used to do like a... patch test, on her hand, like this spot right here...” You say as you circle a spot on the back of his hand. “She would simulate a makeup routine, just to see if the products are blending perfectly or look good together.”

“And why me?”

“Because sometimes my mother used to do it on my hand as well! I kinda wanna do it to other people.” You say, uncaring. Nikolai feels a bit frustrated that you seem to not notice his agitation but it is somewhat his fault because he could have just slapped away your cheap makeup down to the floor and told you to shut up.

But he just can't.

“I just wanna swatch and do my eyeshadow routine on you. It would be weird if I do it only on one of your eyes. You don't mind right?”

I don't mind? Of course I do. I do mind right now.

“No, I don't.” He replies shortly, receiving your little squeal of happiness, which curves a soft smile that he does not even notice forming on his face. You start to blabber about the eyeshadow colour as you swipe one by one of the eyeshadows on his hand. He just watches, observing and listening to how you prefer to put shimmer on a certain spot and glitter on a certain angle.

Nikolai internally sighs, but it is not one of disappointment nor relief. He is just trying to calm down. You seem to be in your own world now, which is perfect—if only you are just in it yourself and not dragging him in as well. Prying his eyes away, he takes a short moment to peek at his phone, seeing a text message from Viktor.

Viktor: Kolyushka, I found the agent you wanted for your little St. Petersburg plan. Wanna have a call tonight?

Chapter Text

Unknown place, many years ago.

The bus was late.

You sat alone on the bench at the bus stop, eyes watching the people in the park just across the street—a group of friends which you recognised to be from your school as well. They were having their time together, joking around, being loud, uncaring of how the others perceived them—in this case, no one really was looking at them other than you.

How lucky.

You had forgotten what it felt like to have such a tight group bonded together. Sure, you knew a lot of people—but they were never reaching beyond your line, always staying where they would be considered as colleagues or schoolmates.

You wondered how fun it would be to experience such things. Do they have a group chat only with them? Do they go out every weekend to catch up with each other? Do they know each other's parents? How many secrets do they know about each other?

How do they even make friends?

You instinctively reached into your pocket, only to remember that you possessed no smartphone of your own. Your father did not allow it—as he did not want to pay for your internet services. Besides, there were more traditional ways that can you do to achieve so many great things—or at least that's what he told you to kill your small ounce of hope.

The bus arrived.

You got into it and tapped the metro card you hardly tried to get. But you still needed to top up the amount of the card and that just meant you had to work more hours tomorrow in the local convenience store.

You took a seat and once again, you observed your surroundings. You saw a pair of father and daughter sitting in the row next to you, just a few seats ahead. The daughter was chattering—something about a new bookshop she wanted to visit, and the father was nodding and listening intently, with a soft smile on his face.

Annoyance somehow was boiling in you.

You did not realise you had been clenching your skirt as you watched their interactions. And when you turned away, your eyes were fixed on the small television on the bus. It was broadcasting a mourning event for government officials in Yokohama, Japan who were mass-murdered brutally by a terrorist a few years ago. It seemed that the government officials were cut in half with some kind of circular saw.

Scary world we live in… But it must be nice to have people mourn for you.

The ride on the bus took about fifteen minutes and you walked for another five minutes to finally get to your house. You opened the door, entering the house after you took off your shoes.

“I'm back.”

You saw the sight of your father getting ready in the living room. He was wearing his watch, looking somewhat fancy.

“Are you going out?” You asked but he said nothing other than reaching for his keys and wallet. He was going out indeed. He looked like he was going to have a formal meeting with someone and perhaps it was far away because you saw him taking a backpack from the couch.

Why do you always leave me alone?

“Where are you going? Can I come?” Again, no answer. He only glared at you and you already flinched, shutting your mouth before something else got thrown in your direction. You silently made your way to your room, but you paused when you passed by the calendar.

You turned to your father who was wearing his boots. Gulping nervously, you opened your mouth, asking, “Today's mom's birthday,” He was already sighing and standing up. “Could we—”

Your words were halted when your father stomped towards you, grabbing you by your hair. He yanked your head, shouting things you could barely process due to the shock.

“SHUT UP! Can't you just shut the fuck up! Stop asking so fucking much, stupid bitch!”

You shriek, trying to get away from his hold. He shook your head by your hair roughly before shoving you back, causing your head to bump against the wall hard. You winced, holding your spinning head.

“I was just asking about mom! She was your wife! Don't you care?”

“I fucking don't! It's been fucking years and you're still being a fucking child!” He shouted before he angrily turned away to leave the house. “I'm not gonna be back for a few days. You make sure this house is clean or I'll fucking sell you, bitch. If only that's possible because nobody wants your worthless ass!”

The door slammed closed. Your lips quivered.

Tears did not come out. There were no more of them left.

You slowly nodded to your gone father—he would not see it but you just felt the need to respond to his command. You quietly got to your room.

It was great to be alone—you now were left with a bit of freedom. Solitude, after all, is your closest friend.

Today was your mother's birthday. Perhaps you could make a run to the convenience store you currently work at—usually they have those staff discounts—to buy some sweet foods.

Your mother loved sweet foods. Or so you thought. Your memories of her had become clouded and you did not know which one was real or unreal, for your brain might as well have created fake memories to fill in your desire to experience such joy again.

You did not even remember how and why she died.

But it did not stop you from celebrating her birthday and mourning for her. Wouldn't it be lonely to have no one mourning for you? You could not just imagine how scary it is to be so lonely after death—and to have no one to mourn you, it would be a crueller punishment.

You truly pray you will not be lonely—but it seems inevitable at this point in time.

You got to your room, ignoring the lingering pain on your scalp due to your father's pull on your hair. You put your school bag on the floor and open your closet to get your savings box. But your face ashened when you noticed the clothes were all messy and unorganised. You dug your arms into the closet, reaching for the savings box.

Light.

You opened it—empty.

“Yeah, I'll wait at the usual place. Okay, 4AM. As usual, yeah.” Nikolai says with a low voice, a phone is held close to his ear. He occasionally takes a peek at the living room, making sure you are not doing anything stupid.

“Is there any update about this girl, Vik? It's been like a week now.” He asks and he hears Viktor sighing from the other side.

“ Not at all, bro. I've sent messages to the loan sharks and they only say that they're still working on their part. My best guess is that they are actively trying to figure out where her dad is before using her as a hostage. ” Viktor replies with a grunt. “ Have you asked her about her daddy again? Maybe she tells ya? ”

Nikolai purses his lips. It has been a week after he abducted you and the only time he had asked about your father's whereabouts was in the first few hours you woke up from your soundful sleep. He actually has not asked you more about it, not even when the chance presented itself. Matter of fact, he does not even remember thinking about asking you whenever the chance presents itself.

Has he gotten soft over you? No… No, that's impossible. Nikolai would not let himself be vulnerable again. He would not let a small fracture for anyone to see through him. He has learnt that the hardest way already. And he will not repeat it again.

But it feels like your fingers are digging in that fracture, prying, clawing, creaking open his heart—those innocent gazes are the devil, he thinks.

“ Kolyushka ?”

“Huh? O-Oh. Right, yeah… about that… Uh, she doesn't tell me…” Nikolai quickly says. Viktor hums suspiciously and Nikolai already dislikes the tone in his voice. He tries to compose himself. A single thought about you has his mind wobble and the grip he has on his ideal is starting to loosen.

“ She doesn't tell you… or you didn't ask her? ”

“She doesn't tell me.” Too quick to lie.

“ Right… Uh-huh. Something tells me that you two— ”

“Wait.” Nikolai is about to respond to him but his word is stuck in his throat when he catches an array of smacking noises coming from the living room. “I'll talk to you later.” He says shortly to Viktor before ending the call abruptly. Nikolai rushes to the living room, stomping.

“What are you doing?”

He sees that you are smacking the broken television multiple times as you rapidly press the buttons on the remote control. Nikolai gets to you, purposely groaning loudly in annoyance. He wraps his hands around your body, pulling you back. His nose takes a short whiff of your scent—it is already getting similar to him due to you using his soap and shampoo.

If you are his lover, he would tackle you right there and then.

“Fuck.” He takes a short breath. Now really is not the time to think with his dick. “Get up. You crawl from that fucking couch just to smack this TV?” He says as he yanks you and practically drags you back to the couch. You whine at the force of his rough hold and the straining rope around your ankles.

Turning your head to him, you pout. Your hands are on his strong arms and your newly polished baby-blue nails are grazing lightly against his skin. Nikolai swallows nervously before he shuts away his thoughts and tosses you onto the couch.

It has always been like that for the past several days. You can sleep and wake up whenever you like, eat whatever Nikolai gives to you for lunch, clean yourself while he guards the door and for the rest of the day up until past dinner, you are just sitting in the living room with your ankles bound to the couch leg, accompanied with little entertainment Nikolai provided for you. Old books, old magazines and outdated newspapers. And oftentimes, you are just chattering with him and him only.

“I am bored! I have read most of these… old reading materials you gave me.” You complain, trying to raise your body for whatever agenda you have in mind. Nikolai frowns, lightly tapping your cheek as he pushes you to sit on the couch. He holds your shoulder, pinning you to lean back as he towers over you.

“Know your place, little doll. There's nothing here to satisfy all your demands.”

Your shoulders drop in disappointment, but your eyes are lingering on him for too long—and Nikolai notices that. He has been noticing the way you look at him and he hates it. He hates the way you observe and stare at him, especially the way you say his name.

No, he is not denying anything . He wants to convince himself that this is a trick. It must be. It must be, it must! His heart will not betray him anymore, will it?

“… Sit there.” He commands and you nod slowly. Nikolai purses his lips and sits on the floor instead. He takes out his phone and texts someone mysterious as you only watch him quietly.

“You are always on your phone… What are you up to?” You ask and he only glances at you. He knows that ignoring you would just spike up your curiosity. Every question you bring up will end up with a full-on conversation. Even if he looks away, a sweet call of his name is enough to make his irises slide towards you.

He does not really have anyone else to talk to other than Viktor. Even so, he does not trust Viktor one hundred percent. He does not trust others as well. Nikolai is an avid liar—a trait he still keeps as long as he remembers. He lies so much that he distrusts so much.

“I have a job, darling. How do you think I can still afford shit in this economy?” He replies. You open your mouth to say something but Nikolai raises his hand, stopping you. “I know what you want to ask. What exactly is my job, right? I do dirty work. Including… this.” He grabs your ankle, nudging it up before he drops it.

“Is it rewarding?”

“Depends.”

“What's the most expensive one you have ever gotten paid for?”

“Eating humans.”

You gasp and shake your head. “That's… not funny…”

Nikolai scoffs—a smirk curves on his lips as his thumb slides around his phone screen again. “You don't wanna know, dolly. If all of my crimes were actually presented during my trial, I would get a death sentence. But, luck was on my side. Sort of. The laws have been so weird.”

You are not saying anything back and Nikolai's eyes trail up to you. And he takes a moment to appreciate your appearance—you are wearing your baby blue dress again today after days of wearing his clothes to compensate for your lack of clothing. When you sit, the hem of the skirt is just short enough to reveal more of your thighs.

Cute.

No. No no no, I did not think that. Not again. Not again.

“I find it weird.” You suddenly say.

“What weird, darling?” He asks back and he swears he could hear your little flustered noise which you submerge desperately with a small cough. He holds himself back from smiling but quickly straightens his expression—God, how he dislikes how easily his lips curve.

“Uhm… Well, you have been doing dirty jobs for a while after you got out of prison… But you aren't caught again. And… when you said 'If all of my crimes were actually presented', does that mean you were convicted because of a few crimes?” You ask, leaning towards him. Closer, closer, closer that you might as well rest your head against his arm. Nikolai squints his eyes—aren't you supposed to be afraid of him? You are getting too comfortable to be so close to him right now.

“Obviously.”

“But, see, see! That doesn't make sense, no?” You are getting a little too enthusiastic about this topic, clasping your hands together. “You are roaming freely in this country, because you leave no trail of your crimes, right? I'm sure you are! I mean, you are very skilled.” You say with a strange admiration. “Surely, you are very careful to not leave shreds of evidence of your crimes so the police won't get you. But how did the police manage to arrest and convict you for a few of your crimes? It's hard to believe that you would be careless like that.”

Nikolai's throat is getting drier—his heart is tugging downwards as his mind is expecting a lot of bad things that you are about to say.

“Were you really careless?” You mutter, as if it is a question to yourself instead of him. “Or was it because of someone else? Did you work alone before prison? Or did you have a friend—”

Friend.

“SHUT UP!”

You physically flinch and your smile drops instantly, only to be thundered with a strike of fear in a matter of seconds. Your hands automatically raise to shield yourself—as if a manifestation of anger is about to hit you.

But Nikolai is pale.

His tongue is numb and his eyes are shaking—not because of anger, but the pang of a certain realisation that he was attuned too well is returning to eat his heart alive. The fangs of that old instinct are tearing it. It grows and grows, and once, it has managed to devour him whole.

I thought I had abandoned it.

Guilt.

“I'm sorry.”

Sorry? For what? Why? This isn't supposed to happen. This is NOT how I want to be. She is scared of me now, isn't that a good thing? That is what she is supposed to do. She is supposed to be scared of me, fear me, dread me. There is no need for an apology or a mea culpa.

“No, I'm not sorry— Wait, no. No, I am. I am. I… I don't… I mean, I'm…”

He takes a sharp inhale of breath. “Fuck me.”

In less than ten seconds, Nikolai grabs his keys on the coffee table and his coat that is hanging on a row of hooks by the door. He leaves the house, without even sparing a look at you, without even another word to you. He knows he is not a good actor by now—and you can definitely read his face if he turns to you. He shuts the door, hoping he can shut away his guilt and you altogether.

His heart will get devoured more if he sees your face.

“Kolya, are you not going home?”

Nikolai looks up from the folds of his arms, turning to Olga who serves him a cup of water. He has been in the diner since evening and now it has reached past 11PM, the time when the diner is officially closed. But Olga has not kicked him out yet.

“Uh… I am.” He says as he takes the water and drinks it. Olga shakes her head, resting her hands on her waist.

“Did you argue with your girlfriend?” Nikolai clicks his tongue in annoyance and gives back the cup to Olga.

“No, she's not… my girlfriend. Stop saying that.” He sighs. Olga tilts her head, and one eyebrow perks up.

“Do you swing that way?”

“I swing in multiple ways.”

“I see. Well, maybe you could swing out of my restaurant as well because I want to go home now.” She taps the table in dissatisfaction. “You have been sitting at the table in the corner, sleeping and asking for more vodka after your fourth cup. I hope you are not too drunk to drive.” She says.

“Nope, I got this. I got this.” He says as he stands up, stretching himself with a groan. Olga scrunches her face and just flat out her palm, asking for his payment. Nikolai grumbles under his breath as he takes out several crumpled notes he does not bother to count and places them on Olga's palm. “Geez, give me some slacks already.”

“I'm poor too, Kolya. I can't treat you all the time.” She says before she gestures her head towards the door. “Now, go home and reconcile with her.”

“I am not arguing with her.” Nikolai pouts but he leaves the diner regardless. The night is darker, approaching midnight. The snow is falling slowly, forming some icy clouds on his head. They are not heavy but it is still cold. Nikolai gets to his car quickly and checks his phone one last time before driving home.

Every step he takes to get to his unit is heavy. As he gets closer to the door, the desire to turn around and sleep in the car instead is getting stronger as well. Nikolai does not like how his chest feels right now—so tight, so caging . He is well aware of his own head and for the umpteenth time, he wishes he would never be gifted with this kind of mind.

“It's okay. Just ignore. Just ignore her.” He whispers to himself as he opens the door and enters his house. The whole interior is dark. The lights are not turned on at all.

He does not see you though.

Nikolai takes off his boots and he treads slowly further into the living room. Then he finally sees you, lying on the same couch, sleeping. He moves around the couch, noticing that your legs are still tied. He unsettles.

He realises he left you bound to the couch like this, for a lot of hours, in the dark alone.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am fucked.

“Hey, doll…” He kneels beside you by the couch and calls for you softly. His shivering hand traces your chilly arm and he can definitely feel the subtle trembling from you. He shakes your body slowly, attempting to wake you up.

“Mmh…” You mewl but you are not opening your eyes. He decides that it is not the best time to bother you anymore so Nikolai quickly unties your ankles and carefully places both of his hands under your knees and back. He swoops you up and walks into the bedroom. He puts you on the bed and covers you with his slightly torn blanket.

His hand rests on your waist as he stares deeply into your face. His fingers are itching to hold you—and they are clenching on your waist as his hand trails to your hip before it moves up slowly. Very slowly, as if he is trying to feel the way your side curves. His hand then rests on your head. Something is pulling the strings of his fingers, urging him to caress your head. But he pulls away quickly.

He leaves the room, back to his new sleeping place.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Nikolai's eyes jerk open when his ears catch the sound of his alarm going off. He groans at the pain in his back after laying on the uncomfortable hard couch for hours. He squirms—and even his movement is too limited. The couch is small and he is such a tall man—his legs are propped up on the armrest of the couch.

“Good morning.”

Nikolai turns his head to the side, jumping slightly when he sees you are kneeling by the couch, facing him. You are wearing one of his bomber jackets over your baby blue dress and he does not even want to question that anymore.

“M'rning.”

You give him a small smile and Nikolai wonders if you want to talk about his outburst yesterday. Or do you want to pretend that nothing happened? Because if that is the case, Nikolai would gladly take the chance. He does not want to talk about it at this moment.

He gets up, groaning while he is at it. His shirt is crumpled and he feels very uncomfortable. He leans to take his phone and looks at the time—8:06AM.

“You woke up early,” Nikolai says to you as you move to sit on the couch beside him.

“I was very hungry. So I helped myself.”

Guilt. Again.

“Right… Right, glad that you're… uhm… independent.” He says, rubbing his face and hiding it behind his palm. He sighs internally but not for long when he feels a tug on his arm. He turns to you.

“I made you breakfast too. As… As for my apology for being too invasive yesterday… I'm really sorry.”

Well, shit. Now I have to talk about it, huh?

Nikolai does not plan to apologise back to you. His outburst is justified. And he does not owe you anything—even a shimmer of kindness. Yes, yes, no need to be sorry about it —he is supposed to be mean and you are supposed to dread him. He is your captor and you are his temporary property to be traded to greater greatness. There is no need for sympathy.

“I'm sorry too.”

“Hm?”

He wishes he was dead.

Oh, dear me, why haven't you killed yourself when you had the chance in prison?

He wants to protest—he desires to tell you that he does not mean any of his words. This chord of apology does not come from him. He wants to make it clear to you about that, and yet, he knows he is convincing himself to another fruitlessness.

Nikolai does feel sorry.

Why do you lie to yourself? Again? —His head mocks. Mockery. Jittery. Pathetically judging his own heart he somehow is holding a sense of humanity he wishes to cast away.

“Apology accepted,” You say with a nice smile—the smile that comes from a naive heart that blinds themselves from perceiving gloom. Or perhaps you did see his gloom, which is why you accepted his awkward apology. “Now we are even, right?” You add as your hand carefully touches his.

“Yeah… I suppose so.” Nikolai swallows nervously. His chest tightens as if his heart is trying to make a flip out of his system. He pulls away his hand from you swiftly before he looks at you, scanning your figure from head to toe. And he now realises that you have been moving freely in the house when you are supposed to be in bed.

“How are you walking around? Did you—?” He bends and grips your ankle. No sign of a broken rope or anything.

“Uh… You didn't tie me last night…”

“I didn't?”

“Mm-hmm…” You nod adorably before you sheepishly say, “And… I wanna say thank you for carrying me to the bed—”

“Keep that away, I'm not gonna hear it.” Nikolai stops you immediately. If you sweetly appreciate him verbally again, he will have a harder time following his logic. “I'm gonna… take a bath before breakfast…” He says as he gets up. Your eyes follow him—like a curious cat and he only curses to himself when he finds himself staring into your irises longer than they should.

“I'll wait for you.” You say, smiling at him. You keep throwing sugars at him—Nikolai despises it.

He says nothing and leaves you alone on the couch.

“Is it good?”

“Decent. Can't beat Olga though.”

“Well, we don't have the same type of bread as hers.”

“We? You're in my house, doll. Know your place.”

“Mm-hm. You don't have the same type of bread as hers.”

Nikolai snickers as he sips his water. He reaches for his phone at his side and scrolls the screen again. You observe him carefully, curiosity perks up when you notice he gets more serious when he spends his time on his phone.

“Why are you always on your phone?” You ask.

“I do all my work on this phone. I invested a lot in this device and gladly it worked better for me than having a complete computer set. This house will crumble if I ever get a computer. The tenant is stingy with electricity.” Nikolai replies before he puts away his phone to eat peacefully. You tilt your head—this behaviour of being tightwad to one's self reminds you of someone.

“You said my father is a cheapskate but you're kinda like one…”

Nikolai clicks his tongue at your comment. “At least I spent my money on your ass without you having to work your ass off.” He grunts and you chuckle. Upon hearing your chuckle, Nikolai could not help but smile as well— what a symphony , he thinks. However, he does attempt to hide his smile by stuffing more bread into his mouth.

“That means you're better than my father, then.” Your grin but a shadow of disappointment is casting over your face. Your grin falters as you stare at the table. “Well, that is… ironic, isn't it? My father does not even want to lend his jacket to me when it's cold… What's his is his, and what's mine is his.”

You look at him but Nikolai is just fixated on the plate, as if he does not even want to look back at you. But your piercing gaze on him does not go unnoticed. In fact, you staying silent when staring at him makes him feel more uneasy.

“Honestly, I don't know what I did for my father to treat me like that. I thought he blamed me for my mom's death but he doesn't care about her birthday either. So I don't get why he did things to me…” You say, slowly. Even though Nikolai is not looking, you have the strongest feeling that he is listening intently to you.

“You know, yesterday… Yesterday, when you told me to shut up, I truly thought you were about to hit me and pull my hair and slam me to the wall… Like he often did. Those thoughts were instant. I had a hard time trying to get rid of it even after you left. And… And then I was stuck in the dark for hours because my ankles were tied to the couch. I couldn't move to reach the switches.” You take a deep breath. “It was so scary. I hated it. But the dark isn't the worst thing. It's the solitude. I hated being alone the most and somehow… Somehow I feel like I am always with the thing I hate the most.”

Your hand is mindlessly stirring your hot tea in a plastic cup. You press your lips together before continuing with a solemn smile, “My life is pretty boring. I am a bit envious that you have an interesting background for yourself. You have a tale to tell. And I… Well, I don't even have a story to tell about myself… It always somehow circles back to my father. I don't even think my life is about me at this point.”

Your lips quiver as you find your chest beginning to tremble—a sob is about to burst out of your throat. You quickly sip your tea, swallowing and burying your sobs away although your eyes are already brimming with tears—it is only a matter of time before the droplets stain your cheeks.

“Sorry— I'm just… getting emotional.”

“If you aren't interesting enough, you won't get kidnapped. This whole thing is gonna be your own tale.”

You sniffle and look up at Nikolai. He is gazing back at you with an unreadable expression. You try to form a smile, although you are thinking hard about what he meant by that. He looks troubled and his eyes rapidly avoid yours. But his mouth seems to have a mind on its own.

“Like… Not everyone can tell a story about how they got kidnapped and lived with their kidnapper for days. And, and, and you know, have you thought about how many people can say 'I share clothes with my kidnapper' or 'I eat dinner with my captor every night' like, like that's fuckin' ridiculous, right? Fuck, what the hell am I saying…” He grumbles lowly, palming his face. But his ramble does bring a faint smile to your face.

“Y-Yeah… Maybe you're right.” You say defeatedly but the fact that Nikolai does listen to your chatter solaces your heart—reciprocating a longing in you.

“Right… Yea, so… uh… don't cry… Yeah, don't cry. You sound like a squeaky duck.” He says as his lips form a thin line. “Or whatever. I don't care.” Nikolai is anxious, you can see. He awkwardly gathers his dish and cup before going to the sink.

You only watch him washing the dishes and the pan you used—you left them there, planning to wash them later yourself. But Nikolai does it instead without any complaints. You expect he would give you an earful about your mess.

You notice how he does not raise his voice at you at all today. Does he feel guilty about yesterday still? You do want to ask about his confusion and short rambles when he 'accidentally' says sorry to you right after he shouted at you.

Come to think of it, you have been observing him for a while now. You take notes of his subtle quirks and you do notice a certain similarity in some of his expressions with his confused apology yesterday.

Conflict.

Nikolai sometimes looks conflicted about things.

Annoyance is quite easy to detect—it is evident in his tone. But when he is conflicted, his eyes bear no anger or irritation. Rather, he looks lost. Too lost. As if he is thinking a lot of things at once. As if he has many voices in his head talking to him at once. As if a lot of invisible hands are trying to reach him at once.

“I know I tell a lot of things about myself…” You speak and he turns his head to you. “I just find it easy to talk to you. I like talking to you and I like hearing you talk as well… I would like to know more about you.” You smile cutely.

“Might as well, might as well. Maybe then you'll fear me properly like a captive would.” Nikolai snorts before he continues cleaning the dishes as fast as he can. He finishes the task after three minutes and he goes to dry his hands with a napkin.

The heaviness that loomed earlier is lifted—the air is no longer tense. You open your mouth to converse more about your curiosity about your kidnapper, only for him to suddenly pull your arm, forcing you to stand up. As soon as you stand, he wraps his arm around your torso, holding you close and tight. Nikolai says nothing other than dragging you out of the kitchen and to the bedroom.

“Hm?”

“I'm going out. Got a job to do. You're gonna stay here, tied. I'm not taking risk.”

His sudden roughness triggers your fight-or-flight. You harden your footing and Nikolai looks at you, shocked actually. He stops and you nervously ask, “W-Wait, Nikolai… C-Can I come with you? I-I don't wanna be alo—”

“No, you can't and you will stay here with food and warmth. I'm not tolerating your demands. This is an important job.” He cuts you off, yanking your body. You yelp at his force and you whine, struggling against him—whining, whimpering. But he is not even affected by your thrashing as he drags you to the bed. He pushes you to sit.

Nikolai sighs as he stands right in front of you, looking down at your pleading gaze. Your pouty lips are muttering his name as your hand is tugging on his shirt. He inhales deeply and has to look away—as your hand is just too close to his belt.

Mind is going wild. Your pleading eyes and the way you beg for his sympathy are tickling a side he has put away when he thought his lust was nothing but a hindrance. Lust is so unimportant, he thought, but now he has an intense desire to satisfy it.

“Hey, Kolya! Don't just leave me!” You whine, tugging on his shirt again and again, causing his body to sway forward and closer to you. Nikolai feels his heart beating faster when he leers at you. He can feel his face getting immersed with crimson when his eyes—like a magnet—trail down to gaze on your chest and then thighs. You are not even wearing your white stockings along with your dress today and the lower part of the dress is already short enough. Even if he closes his eyes, he already sees the lines of the dress. Even if he closes his eyes, he can already imagine you . And his hand is still blazing with the memory of when you placed it on your thigh at the laundrette a few days ago.

Days —and he still wants to touch it, feel it in his hands.

Touch it, hold it, kiss it.

“Nikolai..! Don't just ignore me!” You speak again, seizing him out of his mind, but not too far out since he is partially thinking with his dick now. Nikolai sighs and stares into your eyes, trying his best to not pervertedly look at your body any further.

“No, doll. I won't let you out in the public's eyes.”

“But you know that I don't like being alone…”

“And you don't know what I'm dealing with internally, doll.” He mumbles, holding both of your wrists with each of his hands.

“Then tell me. Aren't we—” You gulp, searching for his eyes. You bring your hands closer to your chest, unintentionally making Nikolai's hands closer as well. He bites his lips and mutters your name slowly in frustration.

“Aren't we friends already?”

“Stop. Please, just stop.” Nikolai groans and jerks his hands away from you. He sighs loudly, repeatedly saying 'Fuck, fuck, fuck' under his breath. He groans once again with his hands resting on his neck. He is clearly very agitated and unfortunately, he could not hurtle out that agitation other than letting it boil in his head—you can see that.

And he is also conflicted.

He takes a long inhale and throws his hands into the air. “Fine. Fine, you know what. Sure, you can come. I'll bring you with me.” He says and you gasp delightedly. Nikolai turns to his closet, rummaging to find something in it. He also takes the chance to wear a black coat over himself.

“R-Really? I'm coming as well? Then… Then I should get ready too, right?”

“Wait a second. I need to give you something. This job is dangerous and you really need this.” He says, though, his tone does not sound right. It is mischievous somehow, mixed with a good pour of sarcasm and deceit. But perhaps it is just your imagination—you do tend to overthink your observation as well.

“Okay… I'll wait.” You reply and sit nicely on the bed as you watch him. Nikolai then turns to you, with a white napkin in his hand.

Oh.

You certainly remember that very napkin. The one that he used to force you to inhale chemicals that knocked you out. Your face pales as you scoot back on the bed.

“Niko— Mmh!”

Without even having a second to react, Nikolai already presses the napkin onto your nose and mouth. One of his knees is on the bed, putting weight as he pushes you to lie down on the mattress. You are frantic but you feel his hand pressing down hard on your neck, blocking your airway to force you to breathe through the inhalation drug.

“Shh, shh, be nice, dolly. Be nice.”

Through your gradually blurry vision, you see Nikolai hovering over you and you are beneath him. Your hands are gripping his arms, nails clawing on his tattoos. Your body arches as you find it harder to breathe. You try to shake your head, but it is futile when Nikolai presses harder, receiving a painful whine out of your throat.

You find your body getting weaker and limp. Your legs jerk upwards and tremble between his thighs. Nikolai lowers his hand that is on your throat to your chest, brushing lightly against your mounds before it slips into the bomber jacket. He takes out something from inside it—from somewhere , as you remember that there is no hidden pocket inside the jacket.

But there it is—a syringe in his hand.

Where did he get that?

“It won't hurt, little doll. I'm an expert.”

You wince when you feel a sharp prick on your neck and your consciousness is slowly fading. Your body feels lighter as your mind is disconnected from reality. With your little last effort, your hands grip Nikolai's body before you surrender yourself to inhale the drug, in addition to another dose being injected in you.

Your eyes are just too heavy to even keep them open. Your breathing is slow. You see him getting off your body and you try to squirm to get up, but you are overcome with intense sleepiness and dizziness. In the midst of cloudy vision, you feel a pair of hands gently fix your dress, especially on your upper thighs.

The last thing you see is Nikolai pulling a long rope out of his overcoat.

Chapter Text

“Huh?”

That can't be.

I saw you died. I saw you bleed.

I held your arm. I kept it.

“Fedya?”

I can't believe my eyes. My hands reach up to my face, tracing the features I think are going to disappear from reality—showing me that this is a dream. And fuck, how it is not.

My mind is blank. A thought that is supposed to be easy for me to form is getting harder. Even a word has crystallised itself that I can't speak it, utter it, express it. Staring at this demon only brings questions. He is smiling at me—so victoriously, so arrogantly. As if God is always on his side. As if God listens to his whims. As if… God…

Ah. I should have not done it.

That Sunday, during that bloody twilight, I should have not escaped it.

I blink and blink. Part of me is trying to make sense of what is happening and what will happen. I try to convince myself that the world is not real right now. No… No, it is not real. Fyodor is dead. He was supposed to be. I have his rotting arm. His dried blood still stains. He was not standing in front of me. No, the world is not real right now. Nope, nope, there is no big event happening right now. Nothing will happen to me.

It is just a usual boring day. The sun is a yolk on the blue horizon. It is just a usual boring day. The sun is a yolk on the blue horizon. It is just a usual boring day. The sun is a yolk on the blue horizon. It is just a usual boring day. The sun is

It is just a usual boring day. The sun is a yolk on the horizon, hinting at the dawn that is approaching. Nikolai takes a long drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke out of the window. He is leaning against the frame, watching the lonely suburban town with unfortunate miserable people all over.

He is taking a break from the cleaning he did earlier. Last night he went to kill someone—for money. The scene was so bloody that he had to dispose of the cotton shirt he wore. A thirty-minute shower helped Nikolai to clean himself from the traces of blood.

He sighs to himself as he watches a flock of crows and pigeons flying from one roof to another. He whistles in their direction, wiggling his finger as if he is inviting a little bird to come and visit. But much to his disappointment, none of the birds take his invitation.

Nikolai pouts but he shrugs his shoulders anyway. He smokes again until the cigarette is almost the size of his pinky. Then he presses the butt onto the frame before he tosses it outside.

Life feels more peaceful when it is quiet.

“Ngh…”

Well, not anymore.

He sighs internally when he hears your groan. Almost twenty-four hours ago, Nikolai knocked you out with drugs. You were just being too childish, too whiny, too much for him that he had to do that. He did feel concerned because he does not want to harm you, especially considering how valuable you are right now.

And now you are waking up—which is, unfortunately, a good thing because he needs you alive and conscious.

Nikolai turns his head, watching you squirm on his bed, body tied up with ropes. You are groaning and whimpering, as if you are trying to soothe the pain in your system. He lets you adjust yourself to the world as he just watches.

Your fingers are stretching and your arms are tense. It seems like you are trying to free yourself but he would not do that yet. Your legs stretch out, moving left and right, hips following their rhythm as well. And much to Nikolai's surprise, the skirt of your dress rides up too high, it reveals your butt that is covered with the red panties he bought for you on the very first day he kidnapped you.

One second. Two seconds. Three. Four. Five.

“N-Ngh…”

“Fucking hell.” He whispers to himself before he turns his head away, watching the birds. Birds. Birds. Birds. Where are the birds? Why the fuck is there none on the roof right now? Why do his eyes still see the red and the soft, plump flesh?

“W-Who's that?” Your sweet voice echoes. Nikolai turns his head again and he tries his best to not peek at your crotch, although he already failed because his eyes immediately fixated there, like a magnet. But he diverted quickly, so it doesn't count, right?

“Me,” Nikolai replies shortly. He knows your head is still spinning right now, evident by how your eyes are blinking profusely at him. Silence between you two.

A minute later, you finally seem to have control of yourself. You stare at him before a frown and a pout form on your face. And then you sulkily turn your head away with a small “Hmph.”

Nikolai snorts. “The hell? You're angry at me now?”

“You hurt me, you big meanie! I couldn't breathe!” You say angrily. Nikolai stifles his laugh, only finding your rebel adorable. This stupid duck called him ‘meanie', how cute.

“That's what you get for being stubborn. You should be grateful that I helped you get a fulfilling sleep from morning to morning.” He says before he approaches you. Nikolai gazes at your lower half and hastily pulls your skirt to cover yourself. You shriek and upon realizing what he did, you bite your lips in embarrassment.

“I'm gonna undo this and if you do anything funny, I don't mind repeating the same thing yesterday.” He threatens, only to be met with your dissatisfied glance.

“Hmph.”

“Don't 'hmph' me.”

“Huh-hm!”

Nikolai says nothing other than staring at you with a face full of displeasure. His hands then continue to untie you before he discards the rope to the floor. You groan and stretch your body, massaging a few spots as if you are that strained. He spares you a glance before he rolls the rope and pushes it into the crook of his coat that is hanging on the wall, making it disappear into some kind of dimension.

“Huh?” You suddenly exclaim. Nikolai turns to you and sees that you are rubbing your eyes. “Am I seeing things?”

“Yes.” He lies but you do not look too convinced. Not wanting to explain unnecessary things that you will not understand, Nikolai nudges his chin in the direction of the bathroom. “Go wash yourself, stinky.”

“Hey!”

He turns away before you can see his smile and leaves the room.

“Eat.”

Nikolai puts a bowl of oatmeal in front of you. It is plain, appears very unappetizing and is so depressing. Nikolai knows that face you made when he served you that. He silently pushes the small tray that holds honey, peanut butter and jams towards you—condiments enough to give some taste to the food.

“Thank you…” You mutter, gazing at him adorably. Nikolai huffs before he turns, about to leave. But you quickly grab his arm, halting him. “Uhm… Can… Can you stay here? Accompany me?”

“You are so annoying,” Nikolai grumbles before he takes a sit across you, leaning back and sighing loudly. You only grin before you take the honey from the tray and pour a good amount onto your oatmeal. You stir it before you start eating it.

“You're not eating?” You ask before offering a spoonful of oatmeal to him. Nikolai shakes his head.

“No thanks. I already had breakfast.” He says.

“But this is not breakfast. This is… brunch.”

“Well, I'll get my lunch later with Viktor and Nastasya, so—”

“Oh!” If you have a pair of bunny ears, Nikolai can definitely see how they perk up straight in excitement. He already expects what you are about to say and as much as he wants to cut you off, perhaps he will let you get your hopes up.

“You're going out? Can I come?”

“Yep, called it.” He says to himself before rubbing his neck. “Uh… how about 'No, you can't'?”

“Hm…” Your shoulders drop, as well as your smile.

“Hey, listen.” He flicks his fingers right in front of your face. “In the end, our relationship won't go beyond… whatever this is. I am not going to be all buddy-buddy with you and for sure I won't be your friend. Never your friend. You are a major loner, I get it. But that won't be a reason enough for me to drag you fucking everywhere.”

“I-I am sorry…”

A tickle.

As if something is twitching the corner of his heart down, Nikolai tears his gaze away from your sad pathetic face. The solemnity of your expression is tugging an emotion he wishes to not experience anymore. He takes a slow deep breath, trying to soothe his heart, trying to keep it cold as long as he can.

He watches you eating your oatmeal silently. You occasionally stir the oatmeal and add some more honey, sometimes adding a drizzle of peanut butter on top of it. Do you like it sweet, he wonders. Or perhaps you prefer some extra taste in your food. Sometimes you make a little nod and a subtle smile to yourself when the sweet oatmeal finally hits your taste bud—that pleased expression is a good indicator that you are not that upset… right?

Nikolai cannot lie, your quietness is very eerie. Over the past week, you would be the chatterbox of the house. Always have something to say, always have something to point out, always so noisy that Nikolai has gotten used to your voice at the dining table.

Say something. —His heart whispers, a thought that is merely a cold breeze passing by.

Say something. —His throat thunders quietly, threatening to voice out that wish but he swallows it before a word can make it out of his mouth.

Say something. Anything.

“Hey.” He speaks, catching you off guard as your eyes widen when you look up at him. “You look like you have something to say.”

You blink confusedly. “I do?”

“Don't lie.” He attempts again, a little frustrated. That face you made just confirms that you do not really have anything to talk about and Nikolai actually does not want that. He wants you to have a topic. He wants you to ask something about him. He wants you to drag him out of this quietness that he thought he wanted forever.

“Well… Well, uh… firstly, you're not mad… right?” You ask cautiously and he snorts scornfully.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“How could I not be sure of myself?”

You shrug your shoulders. “You do look like you are unsure about a lot of things. Sometimes. Not all the time.” You say with a shadow of a smile. The tension on your shoulders seems to be lifted as you start to warm up again—Good, good. That is what Nikolai wants.

“I am an adult with responsibilities after all.” He replies with a proud smirk.

“Like… illegal responsibilities?” You say. He cackles, shrugging before tilting his head.

“Yeah.”

“Did you leave yesterday for… work?”

“Uh-huh. Had to kill someone. That's why I get home the next day.” He says before he takes out a stick of cigarette and lights it up. You nod at his words, eyes roaming around.

“You kill… right?” He nods. “Have you ever felt guilty for that? I mean… surely you don't kill just bad people, right?”

This girl… is getting on my nerves.

Nikolai stares at you for a moment, all while inhaling the toxin that is held between his fingers. He searches for your eyes—do you have some kind of ability that allows you to see things that shouldn't be seen? Sometimes he dislikes how you always manage to hit a certain nerve whenever he presents the chance.

Alas, he does not feel that repulsive. Sooner or later, you will disappear from his life forever. You will not know him and he will not know you. The path between you two is entwined only for a while. So, what is the harm, right?

“Used to,” Nikolai says after a couple minutes of silence. “Guilt is something you can't control anyway. Nuances and conundrums exist, yes, but you don't choose to feel guilty.”

You tilt your head as you swallow your oatmeal before talking, “But you can choose to not feel guilty though.”

His eyebrow jerks up, amused. He leans forward, resting his chin on the back of his hand, smiling. “I disagree. You can learn to be apathetic, just like what I'm doing, but there are a lot of times when guilt will always bite you in the ass, even when you do not want it. An uncontrollable disease, if you will.”

Your eyes widen and you blink at him, confused. You shake your head a little. “Doesn't that mean you agree that people can choose to feel or not to feel guilty if they can learn to be apathetic about it?”

“But that also means that guilt is not a choice because you have to 'escape' it by learning apathy, no?” Nikolai leans back. “It's either you let yourself be consumed by guilt or fight back by adapting something else. Go insane and convince yourself that you are a madman. The proof is—” He sighs before snorting scornfully, biting the inside of his cheek before he unravels more of himself than he should.

The proof is that I exist.

“Why do you believe that it's a choice? Sounds like you're not a nice girl at all.” Nikolai quickly asks, diverting the topic. You seem to be surprised at the sudden question, perhaps you were waiting for his mask to crumble.

“Oh. Oh, I just… Well… My father—”

“Gah, of course.”

“Y-Yeah…”

Fewer words are needed to get where you are coming from. Nikolai has the idea already of your abusive and incompetent father. Hells, he even knew some stuff about your mother. A conclusion he could make is that you most likely think that your father is acting like an asshole by choice.

“If… If guilt is not a choice, as you said, do you think my father feels guilty for not trying to find me?”

“Well, if I were you, I sure as hell would wish the guilt would consume him to the point of suicide,” Nikolai replies nonchalantly, receiving a surprise gasp from you. He cackles. “Too harsh? Why? Never thought of killing yourself before?”

“Some… Sometimes. But I never have the courage to… actually do it. I believe there are beautiful things I have yet to see, so it would be a shame to leave the world so soon… Although the journey to see those beauties would take a while.” A chuckle erupts from your lips. “My savings are often stolen after all.”

Nikolai snorts before he smacks his lap and gets up. “Well, if you want to stay positive before your inevitable misery, be my guest. Who knows what the loan sharks will do to you.” He says before he leaves the kitchen and enters his bedroom. He gets ready to go out, starting his routine with washing his face and changing his clothes. Fitting a black jacket over his body, Nikolai gets his personal belongings and takes one of his guns, slipping it into his jacket. He walks out of the room as he adjusts the belt around his waist.

“Are you leaving?”

He is met with the sight of you holding a clean empty bowl. His eyes wander around the kitchen. The table is now clean. Seems like you just finished eating and cleaning the dish. Nikolai looks at you again and nods. “Do whatever you want. Just don't do anything stupid.” He says before walking away to the door, wearing his boots.

“Nikolai,” You call again, in which he turns. “I really can't… go with you?” You attempt again and at this point, Nikolai does not even comprehend your thought process of attempting the fruitlessness over and over. Is this something that has to do with your desperation? For Devil's sake, he is not going to baby a pathetic girl like you, especially when you are his victim who is supposed to disappear within an hour after he kidnapped you that night.

“I said—”

“Sorry, sorry. I won't ask again…” You say quickly before retreating to the kitchen, doing God knows what. Nikolai sighs, shaking his head before he leaves the house and locks the door. He noticed the clear sadness and disappointment on your face, the timidity that formed to take over your beam. Now that he thinks about it, you were not really smiley today, especially after he denied you of your childish wish.

Something feels so incomplete. The more steps he takes, the heavier his heart is. Reluctancy is digging. Nikolai tries to recall what he has missed from his humble apartment unit that he has forgotten to take along. His hands trail over his body, from the pocket of his jacket to his jeans to his own arms, caressing his own skin in an attempt to recollect any incompleteness.

What was it that I missed? What was it that I wanted today?

Nikolai grunts, frustrated. He turns around and stomps through the corridor, back to his unit. His hands are quick to unlock the door and once he opens it, he sees you standing closely by the window just beside the door. Your palms are on the window pane. Your face is visibly surprised, eyes wide, lips slightly apart. He frowns—were you standing by this window, waiting for him? How are you this desperate?

Guilt is certainly not a choice. 

“Nikolai?”

He takes a deep breath, rubbing his own neck. “Five minutes. I'll give you five minutes to get ready.”

You blink profusely, mind gearing fast to process his words. You nod as quick as you can and your feet are already on their way to the bedroom before you can even respond to him. Excitement works faster than your mouth. 

“Five! Five, okay, okay. I-I won't take long!” You exclaim—more of babble, really—as you squeal loudly in delight. Your figure bounces in merriment as you jog into the room, getting ready to follow him. As for Nikolai, he purses his lips, fighting hard to push back the smile that threatens to form. But as soon as you get out of the room, wearing your baby-blue dress again with the white cardigan, he cannot help but smile, especially when you hold onto his body to support yourself while you are wearing your heels.

“What are you getting excited about? We are just going to see Viktor.” Nikolai sighs before taking a dark beige coat that is hanging behind the door. “Wear this over yourself.”

“What? No, it's gonna make me look ugly. Blue and beige don't suit together!”

“Hey, you're not calling my coats ugly.” Nikolai huffs, pouty. He shoves the beige coat onto you. “Take it, take it. Take it, you little duck. I don't wanna risk anyone recognizing you just by your dress.” He says. Now you are the one pouting as you half-heartedly wear the beige coat that covers you from shoulders to ankles. It is bigger on you since it is Nikolai's size after all. 

He yanks you out of the house before he once again closes the door and locks it. Nikolai walks off and you are more than happy to follow him, matching his pace while linking your hand to his arm. He eyes your hand that is holding him and says nothing. But you are gazing at him so cheerfully—the sadness that clouded you earlier has disappeared, traced to nowhere. Your smile is directed at him almost all the time until you two finally get to his car.

“Nostalgic, ain't it?” He teases before opening the door to the front passenger and practically shoving you in. But really, he does not even shove you hard because you are more than willing to enter the vehicle yourself. He closes the door before getting inside by the driver's side.

“What's with the change of heart?” You ask curiously as Nikolai starts the engine.

“Uh… Viktor wants to see you.”

“Aww, I thought you needed me to accompany you or something!”

Nikolai winces at the sound of your happy voice. “I don't need a girl to accompany me anywhere. Besides, his invitation works in my favour because I'm sure you're gonna be whining later because you were left alone like a cat with separation anxiety.” You giggle at his words, looking around the car. Nikolai occasionally glances at you as he drives, curious as to what you are up to. 

The car stops at the traffic light and you are already leaning over to his side, eyes wandering, seeking entertainment. You grin before you point at the fuel gauge. “You need to fill it.” 

Nikolai looks at you, lightly slapping your hand. “Smartass. Don't lecture me. You don't even have a licence, I bet. That's enough for us to go there and go back.” 

“No, no.” You wiggle your finger at him. “That's already below a quarter of fuel. Isn't it common sense to have at least a quarter if we're gonna start driving somewhere?” You argue, giving him a teasing grin that Nikolai already finds annoying. 

“You cheeky bird—” He pinches your nose, hard. 

“Aa— Ow!” You shriek, pulling away. You rub your nose, whimpering beneath your palm. He cackles before he starts driving again as the light has turned green. Between your uncomfortable wince, you look at him. 

“I really like your smile.” You say. “You are already handsome and I think your smile makes you look cuter.” 

“Wha— Agh, please stop talking to me,” Nikolai replies, flustered. He glares at you before he tries to focus on the road. But from the corner of his peripheral vision, he can still see you staring at him with a beam on your face, as if he is a centre of adoration. 

He tries to ignore it—but it is hard to do so. It feels like he is a mother of ducks and you are the duckling that follows and adores him in every second of his life. Nikolai already picked up this trait of yours. Whenever he makes you happy for any reason, you often watch him with that loving gaze. Not that he dislikes attention—Nikolai loves attention but not the bad ones, like from the cops or anything.

The kind of attention one would receive from someone who likes and adores them—the attention a jester would get in a circus, the attention a magician would get from his spectators, the attention a clown would get from his fools—yes, yes, that kind of attention. 

But he is neither a jester, a magician nor a clown. Well, he used to be one of those—or accurately, all of those. Now he is just a felon who still commits crimes for a living. A man like him should not even be looked at with amour. 

And yet, here you are.

“Ooh, are you admitting defeat now?” You suddenly say when he makes a turn into a gas station. “See! Who said girls are stupid when it comes to cars?” You giggle cheerfully, bringing a tint of a smile to Nikolai's face. 

“Whatever you say, darling. Whatever you say.” He sighs softly. You did bring up a good point. 

“Oh! Since we are here, can I go to the toilet?” You ask. Nikolai turns to you, eyes squinting. He scans your body and notices your purse that is resting on your lap. He snatches it, ignoring your little protest. He opens it, seeing that your phone, money and belongings are still in there. 

“I'm not taking chances, dolly. You're going in there without this.” 

“I-I wanna do makeup too…” 

“Do it after you pee. Or shit. Whatever you want to do. I know I have nothing in that coat, so you should be good.” He says before he tosses the purse under his seat. He leaves the car, followed by you and before you could even walk by yourself, Nikolai grabs you by your arm, wrapping his arm around your figure before he walks you to the toilet. 

He leaves you there to do your own thing. As much as he wants to be strict with you—since you are still his victim—there is a strong feeling in his heart that he believes you will not even try to escape. Hells, he could already see the image of you waiting for him like a fool in front of the gas station if he ever decides to abandon you right then and there. 

Nikolai proceeds to go to the station, to get some snacks for Viktor and Nastasya later, as well as paying for his fuel. He grabs a couple beers, sneaks some sodas into his coat, and gets a few bags of chips. He also slips a strawberry cream bun into his pocket. He walks to the counter and places his things on it. However, as the cashier scans his items, unknowing of the massive 'shopping' he just did, Nikolai's eyes accidentally halt by the television screen right behind the counter. 

The news. 

Missing Person. 

An image of a girl in a baby blue dress and white cardigan, smiling and posing cutely with a glass of orange alcoholic drink in her hand is pasted largely on the screen. A series of numbers blinking under the photo. Beside that precious photo is a small piece of information that he already knew over a week ago. 

Shit.

“Ah—” 

Your surprised scream is subdued quickly when Nikolai covers your mouth, shushing you. He pushes you back into the toilet that you just stepped out of. With one hand, he closes the door and locks it. He pulls his hand away before he hastily fixes the coat over your body. You are confused but you say nothing. Nikolai then slips his hand into the coat you are wearing, takes out a black cap and a beige scarf from it and places them on the sink counter. 

“Huh? What the— I don't— What?” 

“I'll explain later,” Nikolai says before he uses one of his hair ties that he keeps in his pocket and roughly makes a ponytail on you. You whine. 

“H-Hey, you're messing up my hair..!” 

“Shut up.”

“What is happening? W-Why? A-Are the loan sharks…” Your hands instinctively grip onto his shirt as he puts the cap on you. 

“I'll explain later.” 

“No! Say it. Are the loan sharks h-here?” You ask, voice cracking as your nails claw into his shirt. Nikolai's hands fall to your arms, staring at your face that is now full of fear. 

Fear—the very thing that you were supposed to feel when you first woke up on his bed. 

“Please— I don't want to—” 

“No… No, it's not loan sharks…” Nikolai says tenderly. “I'm gonna explain later but we need to get to Viktor and Nastasya quickly. When you walk out of here…” He wraps the scarf around your neck, making sure it covers half of your face. “…make sure to look down and don't lift your head.” 

You look unsure, eyes pacing back and forth between the door and him. He bites his lips, knowing a seed of distrust is growing inside you right now. He tightens his hold on your shoulders. 

“If you wanna stay with me, listen to me.” 

A nod so slow turns into an eager one. Nikolai internally sighs—if he ever meets you in different circumstances, you definitely could make a good harlequin, his second Zanni. 

“Now, come on. Just look down and don't lift your head. Don't let anyone see your face. I'm trying to be nice to you, sweetheart.” He says before taking your hand and finally leaving the toilet stall. Nobody is outside. Some people are filling their fuel near his car. Nikolai looks at you briefly, seeing that your head is down low. And without wasting any time, he walks as fast as he can to his car. 

The first thing he does is shove you into the car and toss the plastic bag full of snacks onto your lap. “Don't take these off.” He warns. He fills the fuel to his car, occasionally observing you. After he is done, he finally gets into the car, starts the engine and drives away. 

“God damn.” Nikolai huffs, raking his hair back. “Really should've left you in my house, doll. Really should've left ya. Damn. You're really gonna fuck me in the ass one day.” 

“What?!” You suddenly shriek loudly, looking at him wide-eyed and face full of embarrassment. You sheepishly look away. “That's… inappropriate. I don't think I'm into that…” 

“That's not what I fucking meant, you dumb duck!” Nikolai is the one shrieking now, gagged at the thought of… No no no. 

“That's not what I meant. What I meant is… you being out here like this almost messes me up. You are in the news, as a missing person.” Nikolai finally explains before he takes a deep breath, composing himself. “I saw the news about it on the TV in the gas station. I don't remember what channel but I have a feeling that your news will go nationwide soon.” He says. 

“O-Oh… I thought you—” 

“What? Say it, I dare you. Say it, say it.” He provokes, nudging your face roughly as you try to cover yourself.

“Geez, you're so… Agh, I really am going to drop you off at Viktor's place.” He sighs. You turn to him quickly, shaking your head as you grab his wrist, holding him tightly. 

“What? No, no! I thought you said I'm staying with you.” 

“Well, I changed my mind.” 

“No, no!” 

“Yes, yes! Yes, little duck!” He argues back. 

“Hmph.” You cross your arms and pout. Nikolai grunts before he tries to focus on the road again. He thinks your sulk will be long enough until you two arrive at the destination, but not long after your little 'Hmph', you are already asking him questions. 

“Did the news say who reported me missing?” You ask. 

Nikolai glances at you, not wanting to comment on how unsteady your temper is. “Not your daddy, surely. The news has a photo of you and the photo has you in this kind of dress and holding an orange drink.” He tells you. “You were smiling in that photo too, like someone took it. You would not drink, smile and dress cutely like that when your dad is around, would you?” 

“Oh…” You mumble before you look down at your lap. “Perhaps my coworkers or manager reported it. I have been absent from work for a while now…” 

“Honestly, that is the most logical reason. Considering that your dad is a man of hiding, especially from big, scary bratva. They want his ass the most. You are kinda the second afterthought. But that doesn't mean you are completely free. You will pay for your dad's debt one way or another.” Nikolai says. You frown, fiddling with your fingers nervously. 

“W-Why? Why me? I'm not the one who owed them money… I don't even know them.” You protest, voice slightly hoarse and shaky. 

“It's a basic principle for lending, unfortunately. You are the collateral of your dad, like it or not. When a borrower, your daddy in this case, does not have any means to do his repayment, lenders can use any collateral asset he has to get their money back. I guess your dad didn't have any security on his loans when he started it, which is why the loan sharks turned their heads towards you.” He explains. “His loan was basically a default the moment he went bankrupt.” 

“What is default?” 

“When you fail to pay your shit, that is default.” 

“How do you know these things?” 

“Eh… Worked for a very important guy in some other country for six months, let's leave it at that.” Nikolai smirks, winking at you. You blink profusely. The tales that he told about loans and complex things are already a haze in the back of your mind. 

You suddenly gasp in amazement. “You worked internationally before? Where?” 

“I said let's leave it at that, didn't I?” Nikolai sighs but you grasp his arm, shaking it as if you are urging him to tell you. He purses his lips. “Japan.” He says shortly. 

“Ooh! What do you work as? His… accountant assistant? Money manager, perhaps, if that is even a thing? Secretary?” You bombard him with questions, and the big smile on your face gets brighter upon you having the chance to learn more about Nikolai. 

However, a word from your question gags him for a short second. He contemplates whether to tell you or not—it is dangerous. The more Nikolai talks to you, the deeper you are trying to dig into his Pandora's box. And he has to question his fate—why do you seem to always succeed in doing it? 

“What did you do before for that very important guy?” You repeat. 

“I work as his court jester, the one who fooled him into his quintessential buffoonery.” 

“Huh?” 

He grins. “If you get what I'm saying, you get it. I'm not repeating. Only smart people would understand me and certainly not you.” He says as one of his hands reaches up on top of your head and messes your hair. 

“Hey! Don't do that!” You whine, pushing his hand away. Nikolai laughs briefly, enjoying the sulky face you have now. You huff, leaning back in the seat before your head turns to him again. 

“Speaking of the… bratvas… The loan sharks… Are you not afraid of them? They must have… pressured you so badly that you kidnapped me as quickly as possible.” You say and you physically flinch when Nikolai bursts out laughing.

“Nah, they're not scary. A much scarier villain is one who doesn't conform to anyone or work in a big ass group, you know?” He replies. “The fact that they're taking this long to seek your father—it is an indicator that they're incompetent fucks beneath it all. Committing crimes half-assed, for the sake of what? Mere profit?” 

“Are you implying that… you get into this criminal life, not because of monetary purposes?” You ask carefully. Nikolai turns quiet as he glances at you. “I mean… they're committing crimes for money, obviously. But what about you? Why are you working this job? Is it for money too? If that is the case, you wouldn't mention that last bit…” You say before he snorts scornfully.

“You—”

“Why choose this life when your guilt is uncontrollable?” 

Nikolai is silent. Why?—It's the way for me to relieve myself from it. From guilt. From the confinement of my own conscious and subconscious.

“Maybe God decided to fuck around and find out when he decided to give me this mind. And, it's the sign of my own freedom to do whatever I want despite my brain telling otherwise.” Nikolai replies to you with a grin.

A silent stare. He expects you to be confused but when he spares a glance at you, he notices how your expression… It is neither a smile nor a frown—rather, an epiphany. The way your eyes are beholding him is a sign of danger of a threat that he has always been concerned about—the threat of someone rooting out the nest of his enigmata. 

Say something—a small voice in him pleads for mercy. For once, he finds it very hard to figure out what you are thinking, albeit that ability is already ingrained in him for the past several days. And he does not like it. It feels like you are hiding something from him when he cannot figure you out. 

You suddenly smile before turning away. 

Say something!—the voice is a shout so deafening. Unfortunately, it is spoken at the back of his heart and only towards himself. 

Nikolai shifts uncomfortably in his seat before he focuses again on the road. Conversations are done for the moment you stop talking and replying. 

It only takes about two minutes before Nikolai and you finally arrive at a small town. He parks his car in front of a shop before turning off the engine. He grabs the plastic bag full of snacks that is on your lap and stuffs the stolen goods from his coat into the bag. You are not noticing his doing, however. You are more busy looking around at this foreign part of the city. 

“Where are we going?” You ask excitedly, a contradiction of your eerie silence and smile earlier. 

“There.” Nikolai points his finger at a shop just right beside the car. The neon lights, spelling VIY Studio, on the signboard are bright red. Some of the LEDs at the edge of the board, however, are barely cooperating. 

“VIY Studio… Tattoo and piercing?” 

“Yeah. Now, come on. Wear my coat and scarf. Once we finally see Nastasya and Viktor, you can take them off.” He says. You nod and adjust the big coat, big scarf and big cap on you. Nikolai watches for a second, muffling a chuckle upon seeing how adorable you look with his coat engulfing almost all of your height. 

Nikolai leaves the car first before he opens the door for you. You still look around in curiosity but knowing how your face is literally on the news right now, Nikolai shoves your head down to hang low, receiving a small whine. 

“Come on.” He says before he grips your wrist and practically pulls you along into the tattoo studio.

“Is this Viktor's place or something?” 

“Nastasya, Viktor's girlfriend, is a tattoo and piercing artist. She owns this studio and at the same time, it is also a place for informants to drop their info. Informants who act in the underworld prefer to have their true identity hidden, you see. They're not like the informants for big organisations who have the resources and protection to keep their safety.” Nikolai explains. 

“So, you hired an informant?” 

“Quite so.” 

“For what?” 

“For you to shut the fuck up.” 

“Hmph. Meanie.” 

The door opens. Nikolai notices how you are eyeing the interior in amazement. The walls are solid black and red, with various gothic accessories on the wall. There are three black sofas and a table in the middle, with stacks of sketchbooks and papers on it—it is the waiting area. Within the area, there is also a long glass counter, showcasing a lot of piercing jewellery.  A woman from behind the counter looks up and her eyes widen upon seeing Nikolai. 

“Kolya, baby! How are ya?” The woman stands up and gets to him. She is just as tall as Nikolai. She kisses his cheek before briefly hugging him. She is wearing a black strapless tube top and black tight shorts, layered with some kind of mesh fabric over. Her cleavage is decorated with an abstract snake and roses tattoo. Her left arm is covered with tattoos with skull motifs and the pattern has crawled over to her shoulder, barely reaching the tattoo on her chest. 

“I'm good, Zoya. Uh, where's Nastya? And that bastard Viktor, if he's already here?” Nikolai asks, smiling when the woman, Zoya, scratches his chin like he is some kind of feline. Your eyes widen upon seeing their interaction as you try to take off the scarf, cap and coat from your body. 

“Nastya and Vitya are both in her room there. And who is this young lady— Oh. Oh…” 

“Yeah…” Nikolai scratches his neck awkwardly. Zoya stares at him before she cackles. Her hand reaches to your cheek, slender fingers caressing your skin. 

“You're a famous young lady, aren't you?” She teases before she bends down a bit to look at you straight. “My name is Zoya. I'm Nastasya's coworker.” She says as she offers her hand to you. She looks at you again, staring. “My… You're very very cute, baby. Very cute. Say, do you like girls?” 

You slowly reach to take her hand, shaking it. Your eyes roam all over her face, her tattooed arm and then her tattooed breasts. 

“I think I do.” 

“A'right, enough introduction!” Nikolai pulls apart your hand from Zoya, who is pouting at the man. She huffs. He turns to her, blowing raspberries. “This girl is not a candidate to be your girlfriend, Zoya. Anyway, I really need to see Nastya now. Talk to you later, okay?” He says before pulling you deeper into the studio. Zoya grins as you pass her, waving at you. 

And you happily wave back, before Nikolai smacks your hand to drop down. 

“She's very pretty.” You say as Nikolai leads both of you to an office. There are three offices, special for each tattoo artist working there, including Zoya and Nastasya. Nikolai gets to the door with her name on it and twists the knob, pushing it. 

“Mmh… That's a good boy… Fuck…!” 

“Oh.” You gasp. 

“Mm-hm, right there, baby, a-ahh~!” 

“Oh— Oh, my. Oh, wow.” You gasp again. 

“God.” Nikolai closes the door, shutting his eyes. “Agh, I think I saw her… Agh… I definitely saw his dick…” He grunts before he grabs your hand and drags you to the waiting area again, only to be met with a grinning Zoya. 

Nikolai is about to open his mouth but Zoya shushes him. “Ah! Don't give me shit for it. I did not know they would be eating the fuck out of each other.” She says, shrugging her shoulders. Nikolai huffs and plops down on the sofa, crossing his arms. 

You look around and place Nikolai's clothes that you wore on the sofa. Then, you awkwardly sit beside Nikolai, even scooting closer. 

“Erm…” 

“You don't look that freaked out seeing that.” Nikolai suddenly says, glancing at you. You smile, liking the way he starts a conversation first. 

“The motel above the bar doesn't really provide the best privacy, oftentimes.” You say and he nods. That basically means you probably have seen and heard people fuck from the motel. Zoya then walks up to both of you, offering two cups of water. 

“Water, ladies?” She grins, winking at you. Nikolai snorts, taking one before you do the same too. 

“Thank you…” You say to her and she seems to squeal before happily jogging away into her own office. Nikolai's eyes only follow her trail with slight judgment. 

“She likes you, alright.” 

“Are you close with her?” 

“Define closeness. We knew each other because of Viktor and Nastya… and we did sleep with each other a couple times before.” He says nonchalantly. “Just casual sex, nothing serious.” He adds. However, your head is turning at him and then Zoya's office back and forth. 

“Were you two together?” 

“Like I said, it's nothing serious. We are not into each other in a romantic way… She wants a wife, actually.” He replies before putting the bag of snacks on your lap. Your hands are quick to rummage through the bag and instantly take out the strawberry cream bun that he stole. 

“So, what about you? Do you want a spouse as well? Get married and have kids?” You ask as you munch on the bun, humming cheerfully at the taste. 

“No. I don't.” 

“Really? Why?” 

“Not interested. Not worth it. Not idealistic. Not unshackling.” 

You giggle, nudging his shoulder. “The way you talk about it sounds like you just got divorced.” You say. Nikolai snorts, shoving your face to the side lightly. But his gesture only brings a short laugh from your lips. “I think you are definitely a husband material though.”

“Is that so?” He smirks as he drinks the rest of the cold water.

“I like you.” You say and his eyes immediately jerk towards you, staring. 

And you gaze back at him, with a soft smile on your face. His jaw hangs open slightly and his breath hitches, dumbstruck, dumbfounded. He looks at you, mismatched irises are shaken—but you are looking at him with a certain hope, as if you are trying to pull him to play along with a dormant fantasy that you are not even aware that you yourself are wallowing in.

Nikolai shakes his head slightly—disbelief. “Nice try.” He replies shortly before turning away. 

“Kolyushka!” 

A familiar voice erupts in the studio. Both you and Nikolai turn around, seeing Viktor approaching with Nastasya trailing behind him. Nastasya is also a tall woman, albeit a little shorter than Zoya herself. Her hair is wavy, dark burgundy. She has multiple piercings visible on her body—on her eyebrow, septum, lips and collarbone. Unlike Zoya, she is sporting a plain black crop top and tight black jeans. And her body is much more covered with tattoos—evident by both of her arms are mostly covered with ink. 

Sometimes Nikolai wonders how Viktor could pull such a lady, even being in a relationship with her for almost nine years now.

“Here they are, the horny fuckers who keep their guests waiting!” Nikolai says before he stands up. Viktor only grins and waves at you happily before he wraps his arm around Nastasya and nudges her to face you. 

“This is the girl I told you about, Nastyushka!” He says. You are stunned by his energy but you do smile, regardless, at Nastasya. There is a small fear inside you since you have heard stories from Nikolai about her. Her eyes scan you from head to toe as she crosses her arms, turning to Nikolai. 

“I thought I told you to not bring your victims, dead or alive, to my studio?” Nastasya says. 

“Huh? Nikolai said Viktor wanted to see me.” You ask, tilting your head. 

“What? For what? It's dangerous to let you out to the public! I'm not stupid when it comes to kidnapping!” Viktor protests. 

Nikolai feels your eyes, Viktor's and Nastasya's at him—all of them are in confusion. And he slowly turns away, staring at the wall, counting the paint streaks that are barely visible from his distance. The silence is deafening until Viktor suddenly snorts. 

“Softie.” 

“Shut up.”

“Aw, you big softie! You likin' the babysitting job now huh, do ya!” 

“This is your fault!” 

“What fault?! How is it my fault?!” 

Nastasya sighs, palming her face. “Hey, quit it! This is not a debate forum!” She says before she checks her phone. She looks at Viktor. “The delivery is almost here. You wait outside.” She orders and Viktor salutes her before marching out. “You two, come.” She says to Nikolai and you. Clinging to Nikolai's arm, both of you follow Nastasya into her office. 

Her office is quite spacious, with a table full of sketchbooks and a section that is covered with black curtains. There are shelves full of equipment for tattooing and piercing just beside the covered section.

“What's behind the curtain?” You ask curiously, receiving a surprised look from Nastasya. Nikolai turns to where you are pointing at. 

“The workstation for tattooing or piercing.” He replies. You coo, nodding before your head turns to the table. Curiosity is still clear, beaming on your face. Expecting your impending questions, Nikolai tells you, “Customers would have a consultation here. That's why there are sketchbooks of tattoo designs and piercings.”

“Did you get your tattoo here?” 

“Just a few small ones.” He says. “The one who tattooed me was Zoya though.” 

A pout. “You seem to be closer with her than I thought…” You murmur before you sit beside him on one of the chairs across from Nastasya at her working table. Nikolai frowns upon hearing your comment, turning to you. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

No answer from you. Nikolai blinks in confusion before he sighs internally and decides to not say anything more. You are already acting so mysterious since that weird look you gave back in the car. And now here. He does not have the energy to decipher each of your quirks—especially when you two are reaching the end of your encounter. 

“Food is here, people!” Viktor enters the office with two bags of takeaway food. He places them on the table as Nastasya also gets up to take out the food from the plastic bags. Viktor turns to you. “Sorry, sweetheart. No food for you because we just bought four, enough for us and Zoya! I did not know I wanted you to come here!” 

Nikolai clicks his tongue, seeing the shit-eating grin that Viktor gives him. However, you only smile at him. “It's fine… I already ate back in the house. And Nikolai bought some snacks. They are enough for me.” You say. Nastasya snorts and pats your head before giving Nikolai his portion of food. 

“You're a good girl.” She says. Your eyes gleam upon feeling her sweet touch on your head. She pulls away and you turn to Nikolai with a joyful smile. 

“She is nicer than I thought.”

“Is that so…”

Viktor proceeds to take a seat on Nastasya's chair while his girlfriend leaves to grab something. He is already munching on his food, as well as Nikolai while you are just pathetically choosing another snack from the plastic bag that you have been carrying. 

“So, why are you here?” Viktor asks. “Ah-ah! Before you, Mr. Jester, want to lie and protest me… it won't work, alright? You brought her out, on the very day she's on the news as a missing person!” 

Nikolai sighs, stirring the pasta in his food bowl. “I know, I know. My bad.” 

“Of course it's your bad, asshole! But that's not what I'm asking and you are evading it. Why bring her out?” Viktor says, leaning towards Nikolai and tapping the table as if he demands the truth from him. Nikolai bites his lips. 

He is not even sure why he drags you along. He fully intends to leave you in the house, despite your pitiful pleas to be with him. He is well aware of the heaviness that was swallowing him when he took more and more steps further away from his apartment unit alone. Reluctancy was digging. Something about the lack of your presence brings him to an uneasiness—incompleteness. 

Nikolai glances at you who is just silently eating oreshki beside him. You have been nothing but an annoyance. Always demanding things from him. Always clinging to him. Always teasing him. Always speaking about random crap you found curiosity in. Always smiling. 

And he hates that. 

He hates that he is always giving in.

“I—”

“I just want to follow along.” You say before he can manage to form an excuse. “I… I don't really like being alone in the house and… it feels horrible. So, I, uh… bothered him to follow along.” You add quickly, giving Viktor a wavering smile. 

Viktor, however, does not seem to be eating up your attempt. He slurps his noodles before looking at you and Nikolai back and forth. “Right, so, why were you shocked as well when I said that I did not expect you to be here?” He asks. 

“That's… uh…”

You could not manage to reply. Instead, you act busy by eating more of the oreshki. Viktor scoffs and looks at Nikolai. Nikolai frowns and turns away. “Don't say anything stupid.” 

“I'm not!” 

“You look like you are about to spout bullshit.”

“Yeah, of course you would recognize one. You used to be a professional crap yapper back in the day, right?”

“Are you boys arguing again? Geez…” Nastasya returns with a black metal suitcase. Nikolai's eyes glimmer immediately upon seeing the suitcase. She puts it on the table and seeing that there is no chair left for her to sit, she plops down on Viktor's lap, receiving a grunt from him. 

“Oof, ma'am. This feels so sexy.” Viktor grins before he kisses her tattooed neck briefly. 

“Is this the thing?” Nikolai asks, sitting straight. 

“Yes. The knock-off of—” 

“Hey, wait!” Viktor raises his hands. “Are we sure we want her to listen to this confidential information?” He asks as he points at you. Nikolai turns to you, observing. You are looking at the suitcase, full of wonder. You are not eating anymore but your hand is on your stomach, in which he notices your fingers seem to be rubbing it. Your head turns towards him and he quickly looks away.

The thought of leaving you out, shooing you away—even though it is really none of your business sends a bitter taste on Nikolai's tongue. And the fact that he can somehow feel your pleading eyes on him, despite not directly looking at you—he is already disheartened. 

“She will bombard me with questions on our way back anyway. She can hear what she wants,” Nikolai replies shortly before he places his half-eaten pasta on the table. He slides the bowl towards you before pulling the suitcase closer to him. 

“What's the password?” 

“TJ4532.” 

He puts the password into the padlock and a click is heard. 

“What's this?” You ask and Nikolai rolls his eyes—See, she will ask and try to have some fun as well no matter what.

“Well, let me tell you!” Viktor pats his own chest proudly before hugging Nastasya's waist tightly. “This is an identification system developed by T.J. Eckleburg, the Eyes of God!” He announces excitedly.  

“But… it's just a laptop.” You add as you lean towards Nikolai. The suitcase has a laptop in it and Nikolai takes it out, placing it on the table. 

“It is just a laptop. But this laptop has the system installed in it. Since the system is heavily advanced, this laptop has been modified to only work the Eyes of God's system.” Nikolai explains. “Must I add... this is not the real one. It's a knock-off of the original Eyes of God.”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Viktor says. “It's not easy to get access to the original one. It's owned by a madlad known as Francis Scott Fitzgerald and you would die before you could even get a hand illegally on this system.” He adds and you gasp.

“Francis Fitzgerald? That billionaire? Then, how could you even build a knock-off from that system?” 

“A whistleblower sold the blueprint to create the foundation of the system to the underworld. The guy Kolyushka looked for developed his knock-off version of Eyes of God and sold it to the people who were willing to buy it. So, he bought it from him.” Viktor explains before shrugging his shoulders. “It would not work as perfectly and efficiently as the original, but it will work. I have tried it, actually.” He adds. 

“Huh… Something tells me that the whistleblower who revealed the blueprint does not receive a good fate.” You murmur. Nikolai cackles as he is typing things on the laptop.

“Pretty sure that whistleblower got a taste of fifty dollars punch.”

“Or a thousand,” Nastasya blurts in. “Fitzgerald can be a maniac.” 

“Yo, Kolyushka. You think you can take that madlad on? 1v1 him?” Viktor says, laughing shortly. Nikolai only snorts, glancing up at the couple with a cackle. 

“How much money do you think he would spend to avoid getting bombarded with literal explosions?” 

“Woah, baby! You sound like a terrorist there.” Nastasya says. Don't tell me… You do have explosions in there?” 

“Wanna see?” 

“Stop it, you're creeping my girlfriend out!” 

“I'm not scared. I'm amused.” Nastasya huffs. 

“Uh, what are we talking about?” You suddenly speak up after a moment of silence—or more accurately, eating. Nikolai turns to you, seeing a small smear of pasta sauce on the corner of your lips. His hand instinctively reaches up to your face, thumb touching your lips. 

And at the same time, your tongue sticks out to lick the sauce on your lips—it accidentally bumps against his thumb. 

“Sorry.” Nikolai pulls away quickly, tearing away his eyes from you and faces straight on. His heart is beating fast—a slight wetness can be felt on his thumb and his fingers clench, hard. Nikolai purses his lips, trying to compose himself. He looks straight, towards Viktor and Nastasya—but again, he is haunted by the couple looking at him and you, astonished. 

Trying to bury away the awkwardness, Nikolai slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a couple of tissues before shoving it onto your face. “C-Clean yourself, you messy duck.” 

You whimper slightly but nevertheless, you still take them and wipe your mouth. 

“Are we sure that tissue is totally clean and not being used in one of your mastur—” 

“I'm going to mutilate you, you know that?” Nikolai cuts Viktor off and the latter makes a gesture of zipping his own mouth before blowing raspberries at him. He huffs and whines childishly at Nastasya, telling her to kick Nikolai in the balls and ass with her heels—which Nastasya just blatantly ignores and continues to eat her own food. 

“So, how do you three know each other?” You suddenly pose a question. Nikolai grunts, palming his face. He begins to think he is digging his own grave when he brings you to meet Viktor. Because he knows. He knows Viktor is starting to sense something weird about his encounter with you. He already made his own conclusion on the first day of your kidnap. 

You have always been trying to get to know Nikolai better. Nikolai is well aware of that. He does not know how he manages to keep you wondering despite the many conversations he has shared with you, despite the many nights and dinners he has gone through with you. Diverting your curiosity away from his secret is a skill he has developed the moment you asked for his name in a sweet sugary manner. 

But Viktor does not know that. Hells, Viktor is seeking entertainment on his demise. Seeing how Viktor acts is like seeing his own reflection.

Fuck this guy. 

“Well, aren't we glad that you are asking, sweetheart? Kolyushka and I have known each other since we were twenty. We met at a nightclub.” Viktor begins his tale. “I tried to pickpocket three people. Almost busted my ass when the bouncer interrogated me but Kolyushka covered me up. We clicked and I gave one of the wallets I stole.” He says before taking a chug of his drink. 

Viktor continues, “We used to work in a shady circus. He really loves those kinds of things, you know? Clowns, games, tricks, horror. Couldn't really remember any details but he left to go to Japan.”

“To work as a bank manager!” You suddenly chime in, clasping your hands. Nikolai could not help but blurt out a laugh before he buries his face into the sleeve of his leather jacket. Even Nastasya snorts a chortle. Viktor is only beaming in amusement. “What?” You ask, displeased by how you are being laughed at. 

Nikolai takes a sharp inhale of breath before looking at you, raking his hair back. “Fuck! I was about to get mad at this bitch babbling his mouth but hell… How did that even come out?” 

“Well, you explained about debt to me earlier! What other people would know that stuff?” 

“I don't know. Fucking anyone who wants to get loans like your good-for-nothing of a father?” 

You stare at him with an infuriated pout. You cross your arms before turning to Viktor. “Why was he in Japan?” You ask and Nikolai is speechless—his words are coming out incoherent when you attempt to get answers about him but not from him. Viktor is sneering—at this point, his name is really defining his smile. 

“You know, sweetheart? I actually have no clue either. But what I did know is that this bitch disappeared for more than a year and then I finally got to him. Then he got arrested for identity theft, murder and assault! How the hell did you not get thrown into Meursault?” Viktor babbles. 

“Meursault…?” 

“Yeah. It's a special prison in France to keep criminals who have abilities away. Kolyushka, you are a top-class ability user with limitless potential! You are supposed to rot in Meursault!” Viktor says as he points at Nikolai in an accusing manner. Nikolai smirks proudly before he averts his eyes. Praise does boost his ego to the peak.

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to break in and out of Meursault with a couple of explosions.”

Nastasya shrieks, looking at him frustratingly. “Why explosions, again? Are you a global terrorist or something? You have a stock of fuckin' grenades in there?”

“Uh…” You raise your hand politely. “What abilities? Don't all criminals have 'abilities' though?”

Viktor frowns. “… Do you know what kind of ability we are talking about? Actually, do you know what we were referring to when we talked about Fitzgerald earlier?” 

A shake of your head. 

“Ouh. Well, fuck. Uh…” 

Nastasya chuckles. “Special abilities, we meant. Ability is a special supernatural skill possessed by some people all across the globe.” She answers, her voice calm and sultry, unlike Viktor. Nikolai looks at Nastasya and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Like… what? Powers? People can create fire and turn into monsters?” You ask with a giggle shaded with disbelief. 

“Well, yes.” 

The answer from Nastasya sounds so serious that your giggle falters into a jumble of confusion and bafflement. “R-Really? People can do that?” Your voice is a murmur as your eyes trail from her to Viktor. “Do you have an ability?” 

Viktor shakes his head. 

“You?” To Nastasya. And similarly, she shakes her head. 

Your head turns to Nikolai who is propping his chin with his hand, his elbow resting on the table as he is facing you. Your lips part, as if you want to say something but it seems that your heart is pulling your voice back, deciding that words probably meant nothing when the truth has already been figured out by both of you.

You know he knows you know. 

Crooked lips manifesting honey and sugar, excited twinkle. Your gaze is as tender as ever—the very same ones you have never tired of giving to him.

“That's very… wonderful. I think you are a very wonderful person, Nikolai.” 

Discomfort. 

Not from the softness of your voice, nor the saccharinity of your words—his heart is starting to rattle, and the grip on his ideal is getting loose again. He almost forgot this sentiment he thought he had cast away. A familiar taste is beginning to form—the very taste he felt when that man told him, 

Splendid. 

“Kolyushka.” 

“I'm going to the toilet.”

Nikolai spares not a glance at any of the people in the room as he steps out. 

“Did I say something wrong?” You voice out, guilty. 

“Nah, he just needs good ol' therapy,” Viktor says before he pats Nastasya's thigh. She gets up and begins to clean up the empty food bowls on her working table. Viktor leans back, finishing his drink before Nastasya takes it to throw away. 

“I think I did something wrong…” You say, looking down. “Sometimes when I say something to him, he would be silent and… I don't know, it looks like his mind is not within reality.” You mumble, rubbing your own arm as if to seek comfort in the growing rue. 

Viktor is silent, as well as Nastasya. Though, the lady then excuses herself to leave to throw the garbage, leaving just you and Viktor in the room. Nikolai's absence makes you feel somewhat alone—as if he has taken the fragments of your fulfilment along with him. 

“Hey, girl.” Viktor calls. You look up. He solemnly smiles at you. “He was not like this, you know?” 

“He wasn't like this..?”

Viktor nods before he takes out a cigarette and lights it up. He takes an inhale of it before blowing it out. “Oh, he really wasn't. Matter of fact, he was a bubbly and cheerful guy. He was freaking loud and obnoxious too. Like… Like a jester. Evil jester. But unfortunately, after he got out of prison, it was like a switch flipped. I don't even recognize my friend anymore. Does he even think I'm still his friend? Huh… Well, that's an interesting thing to think about.”

“Like a jester… huh…” You mumble. “He must be a very fun person to be around then.”

“Mm... I guess.” Viktor cackles. “Why and how are you attracted to him anyway? Just curious.” He asks lightheartedly as he smokes briefly. You feel the familiar heat creeping up to your face and you hastily bury half your face into your clenched fists.

“I don't know… I think… I think he is just nice.”

“Nice?”

“Mm-hm. I know he was rough the first few times... but he actually treated me very very well. Much better than anyone else. And…And whenever he's around, I feel fulfilled, sort of… You know?” You say shyly. “I feel like my life is complete when we spend time together. Like… Like I actually enjoy my life and I am actually alive.”

“You’re sure you’re not mentally unwell?”

You freeze. Your eyes warily trail to Viktor, seeking any hint coming from his expression, but he looks genuinely curious.

“I-I don't think I am mentally unwell… My father is most likely unwell though.”

“You got jokes, a'right. Kolyushka would love that.”

“R-Really?”

“Oh? Of course when I say his name you get all excited and shit. Lovey-dovey, goodness, I hope you two explode.” Viktor says sarcastically as he rolls his eyes. You pout, huffing. “I wonder if things would go differently if I’m the one who kidnapped you.”

“No, I don't think so.” You answer that too quickly and Viktor snorts. “Besides, you have Nastasya… And Nikolai told me stories…” You say the last bit in a whisper. 

Viktor bursts out a short laugh, clapping his hands. “Well, ain't he right? I mean, I'm already content with what I have now. Kolyushka clearly has something else he wants in mind.” He says. “And you? What do you actually want?”

You avert your eyes away from Viktor, staring down at your hands. “I… I wanna make him smile and happy… When I look at him sometimes, he just… looks so lost. Like just now. Maybe it's because he got into prison, but somehow it seems that there's a lot more than just a mere loss.” You utter as your head is walking around the haze of memories of your time spent with him.

“I think he has a very cute smile… I want to see more of that… I don't have friends and my life is… quite lonely. I don’t want to be left out. I don’t want to be unloved. I want to love someone, if that is even possible, considering… my situation right now…”

Viktor turns silent, however. But his eyes are wandering over your dreamy ones. His lips quirk up slightly. “Well, you better do that quick since you’re gonna get retrieved by the loan sharks, sooner or later.”

His words hit you like a strike of lightning. Your sincere smile that was lifted because of the thought of making Nikolai happy slipped away—replaced with a grimace on your face. “Do I really have to go..?”

You gulp. “I don't… I don't want to leave… I don't want to leave K-Kolya…”

“That would be his decision.”

“Thanks for this.” 

You watch as Nikolai bids farewell to Nastasya and Viktor. As soon as he returned from the toilet, he already wanted to go home. He gathered his belongings as well as the black suitcase and you were left with little choice to defy him.

You wait for Nikolai to finish talking with Viktor and Nastasya. But, you are approached by Zoya. “Are you leaving already, baby?” She asks with a hopeful smile. Her smile is quite the contrary to her appearance. You thought she would be more fierce and stern, like Nastasya. But instead, she is gushing over you very cheerfully. 

“How about we exchange numbers? You work in a bar, right?” 

Well, I am technically not working anymore… And I have a group of bratvas hunting my dad. 

“My phone is dead… Nikolai doesn’t let me charge them.” You say, altering a small fact that it is you who does not want to charge your own phone. Though, Nikolai never forbids or allows you to charge your phone. He only has ever mentioned it once and that was at the laundrette. 

“Awh, that sucks… But! We could—” 

I need to make it clear, now. 

You clasp your hands together, bringing them close to your chest—a gesture of begging for forgiveness and repentance. “Uhm… I apologise, Ms. Zoya. But… I’m sorry! I cannot pursue a relationship with you! My heart is beating for someone else.” 

She is dumbstruck.

“B-But I do think you are very beautiful! A-And you were very welcoming and kind to me and—”

“Getting rejected before you could even confess, my lady?” Nikolai suddenly appears by your side, covering his mouth from erupting a degrading and taunting snicker. “Someone got rejected~ Someone got rejected~ Little Zoya got rejected before a confess~ Boo-hoo!” He chimes mockingly. Zoya grunts, raising her fist as if to threaten to punch him but a cough from Nastasya is enough to halt her. Nikolai chortles before his hand wraps around your back before he pushes you to walk out of the studio. He waves at Zoya who is still frozen before following you. 

Both of you get into the car, with you still looking at the studio. Your eyes can still illustrate the vision of Zoya's dumbstruck face. “I feel bad.” You say, lips puckering in remorse.

“She is thirty-one years old. She’ll recover,” Nikolai replies before turning on the engine and sighs. “Gosh, today is so tiring. And all I did was try to get the laptop and for some reason, a really bothersome baby-blue speaking doll is bringing me a lot of jeopardy today.”  

Grinning, you say, “I had fun today.” 

“You should freaking be.” 

“I really am. It was fun meeting people who are acquainted with you.” You say. “I feel a little guilty that perhaps how I acted forced you to bring me along…” You mutter before your hand lifts up and slowly trails to touch his that is resting on his thigh. 

“I’m sorry if I burden you a lot today. But I just want you to know that you really make me... erm... fulfilled, today.”

Nikolai swallows nervously. His eyes wander down to where your hand is. Pull away, pull away, pull away—he repeats to himself. His fingers are shivering slightly, as if a heavy stone is placed on each of his joints, not allowing him to fucking pull away, shove you away and scold you to stay still. 

After thirty seconds of heartbeats—after allowing your warmth to seep into the pores of his skin, after allowing your fingerprints to etch themselves onto his paleness—Nikolai’s hand finally moves, turning a little, enough for his fingers to wrap around your hand, holding it. 

No words are exchanged. 

Thirty seconds of heartbeat, thirty seconds of allowing his warmth to be shared with you—he finally speaks. “I have to drive.” He says. You nod, understand, and pull away from him. You lean back to the seat, with your hands on your lap. One of them is caressing the other, the one that just holds his. 

Nikolai fights his desire to continue peering at you. He sits straight, preparing to drive. For one last time, he checks his phone.

Viktor: You can find her dad. With Eyes of God. 
Viktor: And then we can be done with this job. 
Viktor: You want her gone, find her daddy.

Chapter Text

“Hey, new guy.”

Nikolai looks over his shoulder. His eyes meet with a group of inmates sitting by the table, enjoying breakfast. Half of the inmates are already out to roam and get breakfast while he is on his way to the shower room. 

“Pretty hair you got there. Fake?” One of them teases, nudging his chin up. 

Nikolai only blinks—his face wears no emotion while the group of inmates are laughing as if the guy just said something funnier than a pierrot’s mime. It is his second day in prison and almost everyone is already curious about him. He wonders why—was it his naturally white hair? His eyes? His scar? His tattoos? 

He turns away, deciding to ignore them and keeping his attention to his current goal—to get a shower. He knows it is considerably late to take a shower since many inmates are already on their routine and day. But he does not really want to fight with people to get a turn in the shower, like yesterday. 

“Don’t drop the soap, pretty boy! You look like you are hung down there.” The group teases again, loudly. Several others around them are also cackling at the lewd comments. Usually, Nikolai would respond with a similar remark but he really does not have any energy to talk to anyone. 

Everything happened so fast. He feels like he is coordinating someone else’s life right now. As if he is holding a controller to a body—so disconnected, so far away. Ever since he was arrested, time has lost its meaning. In a blink, he realised he had gone through custody, trial and imprisonment. All in one week, at the fresh age of twenty-eight. 

He did not even have a lawyer to represent him. He was already given up by the time Fyodor manipulated the system to get him arrested for murder, assault and identity theft. He thought he would be thrown into Meursault, considering his reputation—but instead, he was kept here, in this prison somewhere in Eastern Europe. 

Meursault is just several countries away…

Nikolai walks into the shower room. It is lacking people. The floor is a little flooded, perhaps due to the drain hole being clogged. There are three sections separated by walls on his right side. Each section has four showerheads. On his left side, there are five sinks with cracked mirrors. The only door in the room is the main door. 

The first time Nikolai used this shower room was yesterday. It was not a pleasant experience—gross. He does not mind being naked in front of others—his mind is still elsewhere. But the comments he received about his body were very annoying—something in him stirred, concocting a potion of violent and murderous thoughts towards everyone in that shower room. 

He gets to the section at the end, where the condition is a little better than the others. But he sees four buckets are already on the floor, which can only mean one thing—four inmates are reserving this shower section. Nikolai looks around, in case there are those people around, but really, he is the only one in the room.

Well, he is planning to take a quick shower anyway.

Nikolai steps in and starts stripping himself naked. He hangs his white prison uniform on the hanging bar before turning on the shower and letting the water stream down his body. The water is as cold as ice—his back tenses when the frost hits his skin, trailing down to his waist, hips and legs. He sighs before he faces up, making the rain of cold water hammering his face.

What is happening? —His heart mumbles. He does not feel like himself. It is not his first time getting arrested—that first moment was eight years ago when he and Viktor, alongside two of Viktor's friends, were detained at the police station because they were caught stealing a car. It is not his first time being away alone in a foreign place either—he remembers only knowing basic Japanese while navigating the city of Yokohama by himself just to find Fyodor.

Fyodor…

That bastard.

As soon as the helicopter crashed, he disappeared with the arm of his friend—or so he thought. He tried to find Sigma but the commotion that he and the Double Black had done was attracting unwanted enemies. Wishing nothing but the best for Sigma, he left Meursault.

He is dead. I wanted to kill after all. It’s fine.

Somehow he felt like he was lying to himself when he muttered those words. The smile he painted on his face was not enough to conceal the uneasiness in his lungs. He is a great liar—and yet his head is convincing him that he is no longer an actor the moment he took that arm, embraced it, talked with it.

Where is the freedom I was promised with?

He was expecting that sense of liberation when he saw Fyodor die. That was his whole goal and the reason he went through all that trouble to fake his death, bring Sigma to Meursault and conduct a stupid fucking game to save and kill his best friend. Instead of liberation, instead of an ounce of relief—he felt doomed. It was a harsh wave of black sea devouring him deeper into solemnity—a sense of regret, a tinge of burden, a feeling of ‘No, no, that can’t be right. I do it all. I am feeling it. Yes, yes, this doom is my freedom. It must be.’

Nikolai bumps his head against the wall, the shower rains down onto his back.

What is freedom anyway?

His eyes quiver as he stares at the floor. His fist clenches. How frustrating. How frustrating it was to live for two years without a friend . He was convinced that his loneliness is the price he has to pay for his freedom, without anyone to understand him, to resonate with him, to challenge him. And it took two fucking years to learn that his fight and effort—perhaps it was neither—to reach his freedom, to tease his fingertips with it is doomed when he saw Fyodor again, alive and well.

“Those who defy Dostoyevsky shall all meet an untimely end,”

Look where it got you.

“Fuck.” Nikolai grunts. “I’m just a fucking animal.” 

Nikolai shakes his head, palming his face and groans into his hands. No use in lamenting the past. He is in prison now, somewhere. How strange that he is not arrested for global terrorism. But then again, a genocidal maniac of an organisation can still thrive, so Nikolai is not even surprised if there are strings that are being manoeuvred in his arrest.

He grumbles again before he finishes his shower. He is about to take his towel from the hanging bar before he realises four men are already standing at the entrance of the section.

“Hey, did you cut the fucking queue?”

Shit.

A blink and Nikolai sees a fist flying towards him.

“Your face is okay, new guy?”

Nikolai looks up, seeing his two roommates watching him palming his face with a cold juice box. “Huh? Yeah…” He replies slowly. He already knows these two dudes—Borys and Elvir. Borys is thirty-four years old while Elvir is thirty-nine. Borys is the friendly one though—somehow Nikolai learnt that he was arrested for drunk driving that caused the death of a family of three and he had the audacity to plead not guilty. Elvir is a mafioso. He was a debt collector and he had killed a couple that borrowed money from his mafia group. He harvested their organs, intending to sell them to the black market so the profit could pay back the borrowed money.

Scary. Nikolai also had chopped off organs before. Well, bodies, actually.

“Messy second day, huh?” Elvir asks. “You fucked around with Alexei’s group?” 

“Alexei?”

“Those four dudes that jumped you in the bathroom? One of them is Alexei and he is kinda… well, I don’t wanna say respected… But they’re not to be messed with.” Borys says. Nikolai huffs as he picks out the straw from the juice box and pierces it. He sips the juice—it is apple-flavoured.

“So people are scared of them? Y’all scared of those bastards?” Nikolai replies harshly, leaning back to the wall as he crosses his arms. Borys stares at him, dumbfounded.

“You just got punched by one of them.”

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t change the fact that they are bastards.” Nikolai says with an unsatisfied groan. Elvir cracks a chuckle as he shakes his head and walks toward Nikolai, sitting beside him on the bed.

“We’re all bastards here, boy. Besides, it is what it is when you have that reputation in this building.” Elvir says, patting Nikolai’s back. “And you’re new. Everyone is curious about you. And hell, they even asked me and Borys about you. We don’t even freaking know!”

“Yeah, you want to survive easy, you gotta make friends and be nice. Look at you, being ignorant and arrogant on your first day and everybody is already assuming things about you.” Borys wiggles his finger up and down at Nikolai. Nikolai frowns, clicking his tongue before he looks elsewhere. “So, what are you in jail for? What’s your story?”

Nikolai stares at the cell door. He does not even remember. What happened this month is blurry for him. He knows he has been arrested for murder, identity theft and assault… He is aware that he is sentenced to fifteen years in jail. But the details are hazy and continue to be at the top of his head. He tries to think again, to get his head in the correct space—to be fully conscious of himself.

“I murdered people, I stole an identity… Maybe… Maybe it’s not stealing, but rather a fraud. Anyway, apparently I also assaulted people.” Nikolai replies, his voice reigning in doubt and apprehension. Borys and Elvir look at each other, perhaps they are also confused by Nikolai’s vague answer.

“Yeah? But what’s the story?” Elvir asks.

Nikolai shrugs his shoulders. He tries to connect the dots himself. Okay, okay, I fraud my identity to be a secretary… So maybe my crimes that were tried happened during that time. I technically murdered a bunch of government officials. Huh, do we count the guys I bound with chainsaws? Nope, that’s not me who killed them. It’s that ginger-haired detective boy who pressed the trigger. I assaulted… I assaulted someone, I guess. The tiger-boy? That boy was the one who lunged at me first! I just pointed a gun and stabbed his thigh… for self-defence, yeah, yeah. That’s not assault. I was assaulted instead! By a teenager, no less!

“Uh… I killed four government workers.”

“Why?”

“Avenging my wife.” He lies. He does not even know why he said that but he did. And he will let his story marinate the way it is.

“Oh, you have a wife too? I have one. Her name is…” Nikolai does not even listen to what Borys has to say. He just sips his juice until it is empty. He wonders how they could sneak a juice box into the cell because he knows it is not allowed to bring food in. Pockets, maybe? Does the guard not check?

“Pockets…” Nikolai mutters under his breath, so slow only for his ears. He slips his hand on his pants, feeling his hips and indeed, there are pockets on his uniform. His eyes glimmer before he puts his hand in the pocket, deeper, deeper, deeper into the unknown that only he can feel and sense.

He grips something. His fingers wrap around something hard, shaped like an ‘L’. Nikolai glances at Borys and Elvir who are now talking between themselves. Keeping his eyes on them, he retracts his hand slowly until he can peek at what he is holding. Upon seeing his revolver in his hand, Nikolai smiles.

“Oi, Nikolai. Did you hear us?” Borys asks and Nikolai’s head snaps towards them.

“What?” He responds with an annoyed tone. 

“You gotta work after this, right?” Nikolai nods. “Textile factory? Elvir also is stationed there. He can bring you along.” Borys nudges his chin at Elvir who is grinning at Nikolai. It is a bit unsettling but Nikolai does not mind. He knows how to protect himself after all. Besides, if he wishes so much, he could just take out a grenade right now and blow this place up. But wagering his choices and paths, Nikolai thinks it is safer to abide by the rules now.

Abiding the rules. Ha, so funny.

“Do I really have to work?” Nikolai sighs. Working in a factory could be fun but considering that this is a prison, he imagines it would be much stricter and harsher. 

“You can get a salary from working. With that small money, you can buy stuff from the shop. Make your fifteen years here easier.” Elvir says. Nikolai grumbles under his breath as he finishes his juice. “But make sure to keep your money safe. Sometimes it can get stolen.”

“Did you get stolen before?” Nikolai asks and Borys silently raises his hand instead. “You?”

Borys nods. “Yeah. Someone sneaked into this room and stole my money and important stuff. Glad that the guards caught the thief and I got my things back. Except, I couldn’t get half of my money because the thief used them.” Borys says before cackling. “My wife sends money every month. Maybe if you could talk nicely with yours, she’ll send some too.”

“... Maybe.”

I don’t have a wife, though.

The thought of marriage is enough to make Nikolai shudder. He just cannot envision himself being a husband to someone. Sure he has gotten into irrelevant relationships before—hook-ups particularly gave him some kind of impulses and thrills, aside from satisfying his own sexual needs. But a serious relationship? Huh—he had to take about weeks to swallow the bitter pills that his best friend ‘betrayed’ and ‘manipulated’ him, he does not think he can be in a relationship now, considering his state.

Besides, that concept as a whole is absurd. Pouring your heart for someone and letting yourself be puppeteered with intense emotions? No. That is too confining.

Nikolai physically cringes at the harsh fantasy that his brain is imposing on his mind without his control. He is already imagining himself to be a young husband for an old dude with a dirty beard on the verge of his death— ugh , imagine the sex? The dick? Can he even get it up? What a not-pleasant thought. What if he is a boyfriend for a younger girl who is very clingy and keeps nagging him about stuff? He does not think he wants to take care of someone else that much. 

He shakes his head and sighs, ignoring the curious look from Elvir and Borys on his reaction to his own mind. A thought is just a mere thought. After all, Nikolai knows that none of those will become his reality.

The night arrives just as quickly. Nikolai feels like his time is moving quite fast while he is working. The textile factory is actually a very decent place. Each inmate will work on their respective table, complete with piles of fabrics and sewing machines. The inmates and guards who are stationed there are also significantly nicer. Someone even lent him a pair of glasses because he was having a small difficulty while working on the needle and thread.

Nikolai is walking alone. Elvir is gone, despite working at the same place earlier. He passes by a room full of telephones on the wall. There are a few people inside the room. Driven by a sudden unknown urge, Nikolai enters the room and he sees a board right by the entrance. The guard seems to notice him, eyeing him cautiously. Nikolai only grins at her before he reads the board.

“You can’t call if you have no card.” The prison guard says.

“Eh, I just wanna talk to my wife, can’t I?” Nikolai replies before he nonchalantly grabs a phone from a booth, repeating ‘Hello, hello? Hello, wife?’. The guard looks baffled at his theatrics and stomps to him, yanking the phone out of his hand.

“If you have no phonecard, you should register first if you want to use this system. We are not allowing you to freely call whoever you want.” She says sternly. Nikolai hums and looks around the room. He has heard about this system before, when he was once a free man. He was thinking about calling Viktor—the only person he knows can help him out. He ponders whether he should try calling Sigma but Sky Casino is heavily monitored by law enforcement. Viktor has not worked legally for years now and Nikolai knows that he keeps changing his number once a month in order to avoid getting tracked.

“If you are not using any phone, leave.” The guard says. Nikolai only glances at her before an idea sparks in his head. He gives her a smile before leaving the place. Nikolai walks to his room, hoping that Borys is not in the room. His luck is blessed when he sees that he is the only person in the jail cell. He looks around, making sure that Borys and Elvir are not nearby.

He gets to Borys’s bed and checks under the furniture. No shower bucket—which means Borys is most likely in the shower room. He sees a pile of letters too. He takes the pile and feels every envelope. He realises that all of the letters have the same female name on them, written in Slavic script. Must be Borys’s wife. Nikolai checks each envelope before his hand finally grabs a thicker envelope. He opens it and sure enough, there is a stash of money and other cards in them.

“I’ll just take this.” He smiles to himself when he takes Borys’s phonecard and stuffs it in his pocket. Taking a couple cash too, Nikolai finally keeps back the envelopes nicely under the bed, arranging them in their original position so there would be less suspicion. He leaves the room quickly, returning back to the telephone room.

“You again—” The guard is about to snap at Nikolai but is silenced when he shows her the stolen phonecard.

“I can make a call, yes, missy?” He says, voice flirtatious.

“Who’re you calling missy?”

“Alright, madam. May I make a quick phone call now to my beloved wife?” Nikolai huffs, waving the card in front of her face. If she is annoyed, he is already annoyed that his small mission is hard to accomplish. He already gets a phonecard, what else does she want? “Hello? Can I? Can I? I’m not gonna be long. I need to talk to my wife. She’s pregnant, you see. I gotta let her know his very responsible husband is fine and dandy.” He says again, sprinkling some more fakery in his life story.

“Fine, make your business quick.” The guard sighs and Nikolai grins victoriously. He gets to the farthest booth and inserts the card in its slot. He holds the phone and dials the only number he remembers and knows that can connect him to Viktor.

One beep. Two beeps. Three beeps. 

“Hello?”

“Olga? It’s me, Nikolai.”

The cushion on the couch has lost its comfort. For weeks, his bed has been dominated and used by a young girl who is very clingy and keeps nagging him about a lot of stuff. The couch in his living room has become his bed and his weight is slowly sinking the cushion, making a clear dent. These days, Nikolai opts to sleep on the floor instead, with a quilt as his bedding and the couch’s cushion as his pillow.

Winter is somehow worse. Just several hours ago, there was a snow blizzard lasting for about two hours. It is his luck that the heater in this cheap and degradingly humble apartment is working efficiently. But still, the lingering coldness is distressing, especially for you. You are already asleep in his bedroom—it is three in the morning anyway. You fall asleep fast and Nikolai sees how you keep yourself warm with his blanket while wearing your cardigan beneath two layers of his outerwear. He wonders if you are even comfortable sleeping while wearing his fleece jacket. 

Nikolai takes his mug of hot chocolate—you made it for him before you went asleep, unasked. He sips it. The drink is already cold but the taste is still decent. You said to him that it is your favourite drink, especially during winter and you hoped that Nikolai would find warmth with it. Well, Nikolai hopes that his stomach is not going to mess around at this dread hour.

He has been working on Eyes of God for a while now. He does not expect that it is extremely complex but it was designed to identify anyone from any security camera, so he was not that surprised. He managed to track Olga as a test run, and now he is trying to work the system on places beyond this region and if possible, beyond Russia too.

“Kolya?”

Nikolai jerks his head up, seeing you yawning as you stand at the bedroom door. You look ridiculously puffed with two of his jackets. “Yeah, what d’you want, dolly?” He asks but you just silently trail to the bathroom. Your eyes are barely open and you look dazed. Seems like you woke up abruptly because you need to go to the bathroom. Nikolai snorts and returns his attention to the laptop again.

The screen is filled with various information and coordinates. In order for the system to recognise and seek the person he wants with its artificial intelligence, Nikolai at least has to have basic information about the individual, especially their photo as a reference. As Viktor is an exceptionally talented information broker, he also provided Nikolai with basic information about any name Nikolai requested.

But one name is not given to him.

Your father.

Viktor: You can find her dad. With Eyes of God. 

Viktor: And then we can be done with this job. 

Viktor: You want her gone, find her daddy.

Nikolai takes his phone, scrolling through his file application. A folder with a serial number is picked and all the documents relating to you and your father are loaded one-by-one onto his screen. He does not need to request anything from Viktor. He already has that information.

He clicks a document and his screen loads again before it shows all the personal documents of your father—his birth certificate, marriage certificate, list of his expired driver’s licences and many more. NIkolai’s breath hitches before he forwards a print of your father’s identification card into the laptop. A few more clicks and drags later, the Eyes of God is already scanning and verifying the print. Nikolai’s heartbeat is strangely fast as his fingers start to feel a little colder. This is not the excitement that he is feeling. He cannot figure out what exactly his heart is beating for—he is just tracking someone, just some deadbeat guy. That man holds no significance in his life. Once he figures out where the hell is your dad, he can get rid of this problem he had to deal with for weeks now.

When the screen changes, his lips part.

Found you.

“Where are we going today?”

You cheerfully ask as you pour another serving of cornflakes into your cereal bowl. Your eyes notice quickly the sight of Nikolai getting ready to go out—big coat and a red scarf around his neck. Nikolai sighs before he sits at the table, across from you. You are about to take the milk carton on the table but Nikolai’s hand is much faster as he grabs it and drinks straight from the spout instead of pouring it first into a glass. Your cheerful smile drops.

“Why would you do that?” You shake your head in disappointment. Nikolai grumbles—annoyed by your reaction to how he does things in his own house. Have you forgotten that all of these things are not yours to begin with? How ungrateful. 

“This is my house, dolly. Carve that in your pretty head, can you?” He sighs. You only grin before you take back the milk carton and pour it into your cereal bowl. “I’m going out today. And I know, I know. You’re gonna cling and flash your pretty eyes to beg me to take you along—Well, no! No, you can’t come with me.” Nikolai says, sternly. Your smile drops into a sulky pout.

“Why not?”

“I’m just going to see Viktor, alright? Job stuff. Scary things a little doll like you can’t handle.” He replies. “But before you’re gonna whine at me for being bored all day, I asked Nastasya to come and look after you while I’m gone. Besides…” Nikolai’s words trail off. He thinks of mentioning again and again how you might try to escape him but it has been weeks and you have been obedient and eager enough to stay in his humble apartment—too eager, matter of fact.

“Never mind,” He lets out a sharp exhale before he leans back. “I’ll leave when Nastasya arrives.” 

You smile. “I think that’s better than just being alone. Why don’t you just send me to her shop though?” You ask as you feed yourself a spoonful of cereal.

“Well, when I asked her to accompany you, she said she’d rather come to my house instead. I agree too since Viktor said the police have begun their search for you. And… she doesn’t like it when I bring my victims to her place.” He replies before he tries to reach for the milk carton again. But this time, you are fast enough to smack his hand with your spoon before you wordlessly give him your glass—gesturing to him to pour the milk into the glass instead of drinking it straight from the carton. Nikolai frowns, giving you an annoyed glance.

But regardless, he obeys. He pours the milk into the glass.

“You know… that implies that you have brought your victims to her place before, no?” You say. Nikolai shrugs his shoulders.

“Uh, yeah. A few times. Once, Viktor and I had brought a dead body to store in her shop for a while because Viktor was being a dumbass. He forgot a shovel. Nastasya was angry about it but not at her stupid boyfriend. At me.” He grunts before he suddenly taps the table. “You know what? Fuck that. They are both dumbasses. They really should marry each other and produce a dumbass squared.”

You only cackle at his rant. Something about seeing Nikolai being sensitive and expressing himself like this makes you happy. “I thought they were married. Why don’t they marry each other? I remember you said that they have been together for years.”

Nikolai lifts his shoulders. “I don’t know. But I understand why both of them do not want to be officially and legally tied… Especially since neither of them is acting legally. Going to a government building while you’re actively being unlawful is never a good thing.” He says. “You would not want a husband who works among criminals and a criminal himself, right?”

He looks at you upon asking the question and he sees you staring at him—innocent gaze luring him into a dormant dream. Though you have not spoken it, he can already hear and know what your answer might be. Your lips part open and he holds up his hand at you.

“I don’t want to know.”

“But you asked.”

“Nope.”

“But you asked!” You protest, hitting his hand with your cereal spoon again. Nikolai jolts slightly at the sudden coldness smacking his skin. He is about to respond back but the knock on the door halts him. Giving you a knowing look, Nikolai stands up before he goes to the door.

He opens it and as expected, it is Nastasya. She is wrapped in a black winter coat as she sniffles. “God damn, the weather is so cold today. You got a heater, right?” She says and deliberately steps inside without any greeting to the homeowner. Nikolai watches silently as she takes off her boots and coat before tossing the coat that is slightly covered with snow onto the couch. And then she plops herself onto the couch. His nose scrunches— My sleep place…

“Hello!” You appear from the kitchen, beaming at the older lady sweetly. Nastasya seems to be taken aback by your spirit but nods at you regardless. You observe her outfit today—she is wearing a black long-sleeve top and a knee-length leather skirt. She lets her hair down and you can see some puffs of snow on it.

“Right. Since you’re here, I’ll take my leave now.” Nikolai says before he wears his boots and grabs his belongings from a drawer cabinet by the door. You look at him.

“When are you going to be home?” You ask, approaching him.

“I’ll be late.” He replies shortly and takes a step outside, but you quickly grab his arm. Thumb rubbing him subtly as you scoot a little closer. Nikolai sighs. “What else do you want?”

“N-Nothing… Just, uhm, just wanna say be safe.”

Your small voice is sprinkling sugar. His annoyance dissipates almost immediately and Nikolai is struggling to keep his irritation up as his lips are shaking upwards. He snorts. “Yeah, whatever.” He says, tone flat but sarcastic. He shakes his arm lightly, causing you to reluctantly let go. As your hand drops to your side, Nikolai gives you one last glance before he steps out, pulling the door close right at your face.

“He’s not going to war, you know that, right?”

Nastasya’s voice flinches you. You turn around, seeing the lady is already relaxing on the couch with a cigarette between her fingers. You smile sheepishly. “Well, I don’t want him to get hurt by the police or anything…” You reply as you step back into the house, walking to the living room. Nastasya’s eyebrow jerks up before she takes a long drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke into the air.

“You know, that should be the other way around. You should want the police to not get hurt by him.” Nastasya says. You tilt your head. You know Nikolai is a dangerous man… but to what extent? By the way Viktor and Nastasya speak about him made him look like he is some kind of a deadly serial killer. You are aware that Nikolai is very skilled in what he has been doing, but really, the only time you truly fear what he could do was when he had to knock you out with some kind of chemical for being whiny and stubborn.

It was quite scary.

His roughness, his weight on you, his strength, his hand on your face, his gentle touch, his thoughtfulness to fix your skirt—

Terrifying. Terrifying indeed.

“Hey, girl,” Nastasya calls and you are snapped out of your mind. “Do you have any drink? Water? Warm, preferably.” She asks.

“We do… Do you want hot chocolate? I can make some.” You reply. Nastasya looks at you, confused and baffled.

“Hot chocolate… Since when…” Nastasya murmurs in disbelief before she turns to you sharply. “He bought it? For himself?”

You shake your head fast. “No, no. Well, yes, he bought it. I requested it… because it’s my favourite drink during winter…” You say before you clasp your hands gleefully. “I’ll make one for you! I know the exact measurement to make the yummiest hot chocolate.” Without waiting for Nastasya’s answer, you already jog your way to the kitchen.

“H-Hey! I don’t really drink… Huh… This girl is a little too cheery for someone who’s kidnapped.” She whispers to herself, leaning back on the couch as she waits for you to come back with her drink. About five minutes later, you return with two mugs of hot chocolate. Nastasya sits straight and presses the butt of the cigarette into the ashtray on the floor, right beside the couch leg.

You give her one of the hot chocolate drinks, which she takes with a soft gratitude muttered. She sips the drink, eyes slightly widening as the sweet and creamy cocoa taste hits her tongue. It does have a tinge of bitterness but it is just enough to balance out the sweetness. Nastasya must admit, it is probably one of the best hot chocolates she has ever tasted—well, not like she drinks it often… she can count on one hand how many times she has drunk hot chocolate.

“How is it? Good, right?” You grin. Nastasya looks at you and chuckles, nodding. Your face heats up slightly upon seeing her rare smile.

Nastasya leans back, holding the mug with both hands to warm up her palms. Her eyes wander around the apartment. “So, what do you usually do in this house? No TV, no phone, no games.” She asks curiously.

“I do chores. Nikolai is either working on the… God’s Eye thingy or just his job usually. Sometimes we will go to do laundry downstairs. I clean the house… Although sometimes there really is nothing to clean.” You say as you gesture your hand to the living room as if showing her the stuff you have cleaned. “Kolya never asks me to do chores though. It’s just something I do as a hobby… Because, uhm, I was always the one cleaning the house and sometimes the bar needed more labour.” You say, slightly abashed.

“Sounds like a trauma response to me,” Nastasya replies. You look up before you shake your head slowly.

“No… Not trauma… Nikolai has never inflicted such things onto me.” You quickly deny what was not being accused. Nastasya scoffs, taking a few sips of her hot chocolate before eyeing you, irises moving up and down.

“I never say that. And honestly, really? He has never done such things? That motherfucker hasn’t traumatised you?” She laughs. “Kinda hard to believe.”

You frown. “Why?”

“He’s very unhinged, back in the day. Literal menace. Absolute jackass. He calmed down now… after prison. I don’t know what they did to him in prison but they sure fuck that menace out of him.” Nastasya says before she heaves a sigh. “You wanna know what he had done? There was a time when he used his ability to separate all of Vitya’s fingers and threaten to mutilate them if Vitya didn’t comply with what he wanted. Wanna take a guess of what kind of wish he wanted?” You are about to take a guess but Nastasya cuts you off. “A role as a jester for the shady circus they worked at.”

“Huh? Really? Just for… a role?” You ask in bafflement. Nastasya nods.

“Mm-hm. That’s the kind of crazy that guy is. But I guess he still has his own charms… aside from being a freak.” She replies before murmuring. “Though, I’m still angry at him for doing such things to Vitya… I get that they’re friends but that’s not nice of him.”

“Are you one of the circus members? Like Viktor and Nikolai?” You ask, scooting closer to her, and Nastasya looks at you a little perplexed by your curiosity. She frowns slightly and nods to herself as if she has found an answer to her own questions. 

“Uh, no. I wasn’t.”

“Oh, so you’ve been a tattoo artist?”

She stares at you. “I've been a tattoo artist since eight years ago… Before that, I was a prostitute.” She says before she looks down at her mug of hot chocolate. “The place I worked at was very shady. Disgusting men in black coats, ogling at young girls. It was like… being submerged in garbage when they touch you. They always said they're just making love with us, offering their dicks like that's something we should appreciate but they're nothing other than pigs—a bunch of rapists.” She grumbles slowly under her breath. She then turns to you, eyes vacant. 

“Somehow I totally see myself in you when you’re clinging to Nikolai like that.” Her voice is a soft whisper. “Vitya is not a good person, I know. None of us are. But one night, when he paid me to be in a room with him, he didn't even do anything. He just wanted me to accompany him.” She cackles. “Can you believe it? On that bed where naked bodies usually have sex, Vitya took out his laptop and started to explain things to me about security cameras. No, more like… teaching.”

“I think that’s the first time someone has ever treated me like I am someone, instead of something.” She sighs. “One night, he said he's going to run away from the region because of things. He asked me to come with him. I did. I don’t even think much. I grabbed my purse and followed him. I even left my phone. I think that's the best decision I have made for myself.”

You gaze at her. “Have you… ever thought that he might have manipulated you?” You ask carefully. Nastasya shrugs her shoulders. 

“Yes, but it's been years now and… he has never proved me wrong. He helped me in ways I never imagined someone would do to me.” She says as her finger mindlessly twirls with the necklace she is wearing—a leather cord necklace, with a small cross as its charm. She drinks her hot chocolate, smacking her lips before looking at you. “So, uhh, I’m not judging you for being affectionate towards him for being so kind. When you are so deprived of love, you would crave it.”

“Huh…” Your eyes travel down to your lap. Your mind is wandering through foggy memories—reminiscing every encounter you had. From your customers to the very first person you knew you loved. But even so, that person has long gone—even her face is nothing but fragments blotted with void. You frown to yourself, thinking back on the earliest memories you could recall of your mother—but it has been so long that you wonder, were any of those even real or were they attempts from your brain to offer your heart succour? Were the lingering touches you felt in your dream from her or the wind? 

“My mom was probably the first person who truly loved me.”

“You don’t sound confident.” Nastasya is quick to reply, shutting your sun down. You bite your inside cheek, coughing awkwardly.

“Nope, she was.”

“Really?” She looks at you for a moment in silence. “That’s great, then. Not everyone experiences that.”

“What about you?”

Now she is the one who is biting her own inside cheek, drinking her warm hot chocolate as her fingers are twirling the necklace. Her eyes are staring ahead, seeming to be gazing at the wall with flaky dry paint. But her mind seems to be elsewhere—somewhere so far that she does not want to indulge herself back into. Realising her silence, you look away, out to the window—some things are better buried than reaped out.

The snow.

The snow has been harsher these days. The whiteness of the winter is clouding the dullness that haunts this town. Though, compared to previous winters, this one is particularly not dull—at least to you. Hot water is there for bath, the heater is always available, dozens of jackets for you to steal and wear. Complete—complete, complete, this is how a normal person should spend their winter. Not submerging oneself with a thick blanket and calling it a day. Not even walking alone to the club to spend a night just to borrow heat. 

“My mom is a horrible bitch.”

Your head snaps back to Nastasya—still staring somewhere, she is. 

“She did not treat me well. Blamed me for making her man leave her—as if a four-year-old kid had any control of that.” She says slowly. “She died, though, when I was fourteen. Saw her body in the bathroom and the only thing she held at that time was her rosary.” She lifts her necklace, eyes stagger to the cross. “The beads are all scattered, but she gripped this like her life depended on it. It’s the only thing I kept from her.”

“You hated her…” You mutter. “Why keep it?”

“No idea. No matter how much I hate her, despise her—she was… my mother. I guess it’s just a remembrance for me to not fuck up—just as what she always yelled at me.” Nastasya grimaces. “She was never religious. I mean, a religious, righteous person is not supposed to hit their child just because of eating slowly, right? But holding this while you’re dying—I don’t know. My heart told me she was praying for something if she was holding this at the brink of her death. What does a dying man pray for? To get to heaven? To be forgiven? Why beg for heaven when you never act heavenly? Why beg for forgiveness to a figure instead of her own child?”

“Well… People do cling to what they can and want to believe…” You reply.

“Perhaps.” Nastasya drops the necklace, letting the cross dangle on her cleavage. “I don’t think God exists. Never been to a church, never touched anything holy. But there are times when I beg anyone to come and save me—and I hold this. If you are so desperate to be saved, you will ask anyone, anything.” She sighs, closing her eyes. “Sometimes I begged the ghost of my mother to come—scare the men away or possess the whole club or something.”

“Maybe I wasn’t praying to God. Maybe I just need my mom.”

Nastasya sighs loudly before shaking her head. “What are you, huh? What’s with those eyes and voice? Something about your curiosity and presence made me want to pour everything out. You must be so good at your job.”

You swallow nervously, giving her a thin-line of smile. “I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a compliment… But if talking to me can ease you, I’m happy to be here.” Your eyes glimmer at her as your hand reaches out to hold her arm. Nastasya startles, tensing up when you touch her. A simple surprise that takes a second or two to process as she relaxes immediately after. She snickers.

“No wonder Nikolai likes you.”

“God damn.”

Water rushes to the sink, bubbles from the soap land on the edge of the beige porcelain. Nikolai curses under his breath when he rubs his hands together, harsher this time—just to make sure the blood is completely washed away. After five minutes of scrubbing, he finally takes out his handkerchief from his pocket and leaves the bathroom.

He walks through the crowd in the club—your workplace, well, former. He expected the club would be less crowded when the news about you missing broke to the public. But it seems that the manager does not care much about your absence—he seems to have his way of earning profits in other ways. But he also learned that some of the customers have stopped coming to the club ever since you disappeared—you must be their favourite if they do not even want to give other escorts a chance.

Nikolai approaches his table—where Viktor is waiting. The man is already on his third glass of vodka when Nikolai sits across from him. Viktor grins at him before pouring vodka into Nikolai’s glass.

“Hey, this place is not so bad, huh? Their vodka is cheaper than Olya’s.” Viktor says. Nikolai shrugs before he takes a drink. “Though I do expect this place to not have a lot of people. I mean, didn’t their princess disappear?”

“Yeah, good question. Guess she’s only popular with certain people… Or, you know, she’s just replaceable.” Nikolai replies as he observes his companion. Viktor is definitely trying to stay as sober as he can because he is going to drive later to Nikolai’s apartment to fetch Nastasya too. But seeing that Viktor is not even tipsy after three glasses of vodka made Nikolai chug his portion in the glass.

Watered-down vodka. Tch, no wonder.

“This thing is barely alcohol.” He complains before he calls for the waitress, ordering whiskey.

“Yo, you want to get drunk or something? Don’t forget you have a girl in your house.” Viktor says as the waitress returns to their table with a bottle of scotch whiskey and two smaller glasses. Nikolai glares at Viktor.

“By the time we get home, she’s most likely asleep. And I’m gonna pass out on the couch anyway. I’m fucking tired, alright?” He says. Viktor scoffs, crossing his arms as he just enjoys his scammed, watered-down vodka. Nikolai downs a glass of whiskey at once before tapping the glass on the table in front of Viktor. “Your jacket is a little bloody. Can’t you change it? You’re gonna make us look suspicious.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s just a smear. And this thing is dark brown. What do dark brown and red make? Black, exactly.” Viktor nods to himself, proud of his own riddle.

“I was about to say hemorrhoids, but okay,” Nikolai replies, shrugging.

Viktor huffs, kicking Nikolai’s leg under the table. The latter grunts and swats at Viktor’s direction. “Don’t fucking play footsie with me.”

“Oh, when you did it to me, it’s fine. But when I do it—”

“I’m a changed man, Pavlovsky. I’m not a pervert. Anymore.”

“Yeah? Yeah, not a pervert, yeah? Tell me what was up when you physically froze when your baby blue girl accidentally licked your thumb, hmm? Something was definitely up and it was your di— alright, alright, my bad.” Viktor is quick to stumble his words into quietness when he suddenly feels a blunt object against the back of his head—and he knows what it is. A muzzle of a gun.

Nikolai grunts before he takes his hand out of his pocket before he drinks another glass of whiskey. He turns away, propping his chin on his hand as he watches the club. He sees the other customers around the club are accompanied by beautiful women by their sides. His observant gaze attaches to a certain customer—a middle-aged man who is having the time of his life when the escort sits on his lap, wrapping her arms around him. 

Nikolai scrunches his nose. Unpleasant sight. But his mind pulls a trick on him when it decides to replace the image of the escort to you. He—without his own wish—begins to imagine you being the one sitting on some random man’s lap. The simple thought of it pricks his heart, twisting it into a puddle of disgust. 

He dislikes the sight.

He sighs internally, his hand reaches to pour more whiskey, consume more, and push himself to intoxication. It has been thirteen hours since he left home—left you. While he is not worried that your well-being will be taken care of by Nastasya, he feels uneasy at the mere fact that you are not within his sight right now.

“Hey, Kolyushka.” Viktor calls and Nikolai finally turns back. Viktor is now typing and clicking things on his phone. He looks slightly troubled. “Geez, man. Nastya told me that some police were searching the area around your apartment.” Upon hearing his words, Nikolai finds his fingertips beginning to sting and tense—nervous. The police were so close, so close to finding you. 

So close to taking you away.

“They don’t come inside, right?” 

Viktor shakes his head. And he lets out a quiet shaky exhale of relief.

“I’ve been deleting suspicious camera footage I could find that has both of your traces. Easy work but phew, I still need to be cautious in case the police department decides to care enough about a random poor civilian and conduct a deeper search. We just need to stall for some time until the police give up or when the loansharks can fucking finally find her daddy.” Viktor continues to ramble but his words are entering and leaving Nikolai’s ears at the same time. What he catches on though is the mention of your father.

Your father…

The cold whiskey flowing down his throat consorted to his memory of the last few nights. He found your father’s whereabouts, yes. He knows where that bastard is. His logic is telling him to tell Viktor, reveal and unveil. But his emotions— god damn it all —are telling him to keep it behind the curtain, hide it, veil it.

He cannot pinpoint which emotion exactly is trying to win over his logic. Logically, logically—! Logically, if he were to tell Viktor about your father, his conundrum would fade away. His job is done, you are gone, his bed will be his, his jackets will not be worn by anyone other than him and he will not have to hear ‘Nikolai, Nikolai, where are you going today?’ every fucking morning.

But if he just keeps quiet about it, whatever happened to him for the past several weeks will stay. 

His job will never finish, his bed will never be his, his jackets will always be shared, he will have to answer annoying questions—you will not be gone.

You will not be gone.

For some reason, those five words are tugging every string within his heart. They are pulling, luring and tempting him to euphoria that he knows he will regret it—the last thing he wants to do is to betray himself.

“Kolyushka?”

“Her dad—”

No, stop it.

No, say it.

Say it, say it. You remember what happened to you when you let your heart take over, right? If you follow it again, then free will is just a mere instinct—an animal affection.

“Hey, Kolyushka. What do you wanna say? What about her dad?” Viktor says loudly this time as if he has been trying to ask the same thing over and over.

“I know where he is.”

His voice leaves his mouth, tone slightly forced and choked—but only Nikolai himself feels it. He takes a deep breath. “That man is near the Belarus’ border.”

“He is what? He is near fucking what? Fucking Belarus?” Viktor’s eyes widen, completely shocked. His jaw hangs low as he taps his own ears a few times, making sure he is not hearing things. “Fucking what? What the fuck? Going to Petersburg is easier than travelling hours to another country!”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Sorry. But what the fuck, dude. He is going to leave his daughter alone in this big country just to escape some loan sharks.” Viktor groans and shakes his head. “I knew he was running away but I did not expect him to go that far. I actually did visit her house on the third day she went missing. And you know what? Her house was empty like it was abandoned. I tried to check again a week after that and it really was abandoned.” Viktor says before he clasps his hands excitedly. “Right! This is great, right? We can end this shit right now. Hold on, I’ll tell the loan sharks.”

Nikolai frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“What? You want her gone, right?” Viktor grins and Nikolai purses his lips, watching his friend messaging the spokesman for the loan sharks about your father. His hand clenches, his foot shakes faster—anxious.

Stop him! Stop him! Stop him! —His heart is screaming and Nikolai is physically gritting his teeth as he just watches Viktor. His chest heaves heavily and his body is shifting subtly on his spot. It tickles, it bothers him, ruffling his feathers. The wooden seat does not feel comfortable to sit on, the air in the room feels warmer despite the heavy snow outside and the voices around him are bugs. Words are not fathomed and the soundwaves are irritating—noisy, noisy, noisy.

Before he realises it, he is already gulping whiskey straight from the bottle.

You would hate this sight of him.

Nikolai sighs again—why does every single thought he thinks of always rotate and find its way back to you?

You.

You caused this to him— this is her fault. She should’ve been gone!

“Nikolai.” Hearing his name, Nikolai glances at Viktor again. His voice is no longer excited. Smile falters and the frown and the squint of his eyes are just indicators of worry. “What about your stuff for St. Petersburg? Did you find the guy you’ve been looking for?”

“Oh. No, not yet. Working on it.” Nikolai replies shortly.

Viktor stares at his friend for a good minute before he sighs and rubs his face. He crosses his arms. “What happened to you, man?”

“What?”

“The fuck you mean ‘what’? You know well what I mean. You’re not the guy I know anymore, especially after you got out of prison. You had shit ass behaviour but now you’re too rough and serious and… Man… I’m—” Viktor sighs again. “I’m worried about you, as a friend. After you return from Japan, you’re different. Yes, you were fucking obnoxious but as soon as you got arrested and thrown into prison, it’s like your switch is flipped.”

Nikolai clicks his tongue. “What I did in that country was important for me to reach my freedom—”

“ That again? Nikolai, that’s some kind of absurdity you’re trying to get. It’s impossible to have complete freedom and free will. You can’t just fully escape your emotions. That shit is engraved forever. You’re going to end up killing yourself if you are too fixated on it.”

“I know that already!” Nikolai replies back, his tone harsher, slightly slurry as if the alcohol begins to seep into his mind. “And I don’t fucking care. If killing myself is the only way for me to be free, so be it. Knowing that you are trapped in your own body and mind will never bring peace to yourself. I will choose my freedom over my happiness. God, I fucking envy you. You don’t even realise it!”

“What the— What the hell are you talking about, you freak? You are you. Your body and mind and brain and fucking head are you . What’s wrong with just being normal, just being you?” Viktor winces.

“Are you truly living? Think again. Is your life truly yours if you are confined by some kind of outside force? Is your brain truly yours when it’s adhering to the rules of morality set by somebody somewhere?” 

“I’m not even a good Samaritan—”

“But you are still afraid. Your life is driven by fear of getting caught. You may have thought for yourself but see, see, Viktor. You said you are an outsider to society, but no, not really. You are still within it. You have never tried being outside it for real once.” Nikolai says, his tone is coated with frustration. His head is spinning, his think-pieces are not pieces, but rather a mud of antipathy.

“Hell yeah, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of you man.” Viktor shakes his head, drained by the sudden arguments that erupted. “You’re freaking drunk, Kolyushka. You should go back home.”

Nastasya just left the house thirty minutes ago.

You are swamped by the heat of the blanket and Nikolai’s jacket that you wear. It is already the dead of the night and you are supposed to sleep as soon as Nastasya leaves the house but you cannot find yourself knocking on the door to the dreamland—your mind is insisting on staying conscious, occupying itself with contemplations.

You cannot stop thinking about a certain sentence muttered by Nastasya. Even aware of the abuse her mother inflicted on her, Nastasya still desires her mother.

What you are concerned about is that would you feel the same way about your father? You cannot remember the point in your life where you truly feel comfortable with your father’s presence. But you forced yourself to get used to the uneasiness—after all, you only have him to depend on, until you learn how to depend on yourself, bit by bit.

You huff before burying your face into the fabric of the blanket, seeking comfort. The house is too eerie—tears swell when you are reminded of the fact that you are alone again . Alone and cold.

Cold. Too cold.

Until you hear a noise coming from the living room. The sound of the door opening and closing. The whole house is dark but you can see the silhouette of the man you have been subconsciously waiting for. You are about to get up to greet him, but seeing him stumble and walk very unstably sends an alert in your head.

He is drunk.

Drunk men. Drunk men are never good. Drunk men loved you, praised you, adored you, hurt you.

Clutching the blanket, you watch him apprehensively. Nikolai enters the room and his gloomy eyes widen slightly at your sight. “You,” He says as he steps in, approaching you. “It’s all your fuckin’ fault. You did this to me. You caused this—” His voice is seething with anger as he stomps towards you.

You scoot back but then, his body flops onto the bed, right beside you. His arm is slouching around your waist as he weakly tugs you to properly wrap his arm around your body. As if you are bewitched, your body tilts closer to him and he whines—he whines against your skin as he pulls you into a tight embrace, his face buried against your chest.

“Kolya..?” You mumble, heat fading into your cheeks.

“I wanna kill Viktor…” He mumbles back, lips brushing on your skin.

“You can’t do that.”

“I can’t?”

“Mm-hm. He’s your friend.”

“I am not a friend for an asshole,” Nikolai grumbles. “He doesn’t understand me. Nobody ever does. Except… Except… Except for Fedya. Fedya understood me. We only shared short chats but he saw right through me, little dove. That’s what a friend is. Friend understands you.” He babbles. You only listen to him, enjoying the feeling of his hand kneading your back.

“So, this… Fedya guy is your friend?”

“No, not at all, no no no… He… put me in prison…” His voice hardens, as well as his grip on your back. You shift a bit, as his fingers are digging into your skin. “He put me in the literal cage. He understood my freedom and he stripped it away from me. Prison is no fun—I hate that place. Everyone sucks. Got punched on my second night there and I’m supposed to respect bastards who're balder and shorter than me. I hate it. I don’t like it.” He complains again, this time his embrace is tighter as he continues to just spill what’s on his drunken mind.

“Gonna find him and kill that bastard for good. Peters… I must go to Peters… I need money… Peters is fucking expensive…” He whispers. “You can't imagine how I hate my life now, dove. I should’ve died that evening. I should’ve gone through with it. Why, why did I change my mind at the last minute? Fuckin’ dumb…” 

You carefully place your hands on him—one on his head and one wrapping his body, your arm hanging against his broad back. You gently caress his hair, massaging his scalp which makes him mewl slowly. 

“You’ve been drinking…” You say softly, your hand holds him as close as you can, hugging him back. “The day has been rough for you?”

Nikolai is silent for a second. “Mmm…” He hums with a tiny nod. “Why are you so comfy? I don’t like this…” He murmurs before he relaxes—his embrace is no longer tight but still close. He sighs against your chest. “I don’t like that… you’re… making me feel things…” He lifts his face, lips puckering to give a chaste kiss on your collarbone. “A lot of things… It’s like— like I wanna kiss you sometimes— just sometimes… cuz’ I can’t do that… Or Viktor’s gonna laugh at me.”

You freeze, staring at the wall. “Do you mean that?”

No answer. But his slow breathing tells you that he is already drifting off. You smile to yourself, holding back a giggle at this situation. It is not funny, but having such a big guy you have adored for a while hugging you like this is certainly nice. His arm feels heavy on you and it feels too nice. You slowly close your eyes, breath matching pace with his as you too doze off on the warm bed. 

Warm. Too warm.

Chapter Text

Soft.

Something feels so soft, so comfy—warmth.

Nikolai frowns as his consciousness is slowly fading in. His body is strained and heavy but he fixes his arm, hugging the pillow a little closer as he leans his head back against the warm cushion. The quilt is strangely velvety this time, as if he is not lying on the floor, but rather a mattress.

Hold on.

He does not remember laying on a mattress. He does not remember having another pillow to hug and cuddle with. His sleep for the past several weeks has been uncomfortable—he is practically training himself to be mummified and prepared for a coffin sleep.

His eyes snap open. What he sees is the fabric of one of his sleeveless shirts covering a body—a female body. His face is directly in front of a mound. Faint pink bleeds onto his face when he starts to realise what is happening. Panicked, Nikolai gets up from his position.

A gasp. Maybe two—coming from both of you.

“A-Ah—!” You wince slightly, flinching at his abrupt movement. You rub your eyes, lifting your body a little bit from the mattress. “Kolya… good morning…” Your voice is dreamy and Nikolai finally has a good look on you. You are wearing his sleeveless shirt, with a pair of shorts—that he had to buy two weeks ago for you since you cannot fit his pants—and your body is draped with his sweater jacket.

Nikolai swallows hard as he feels scorching hotness crawling all over his insides, coating his heart with flusters.

“Are you okay? You’re…” You scoot closer and although his heart is shouting at him to lean back, to avoid you, Nikolai stays. Your hand reaches up to his cheek. “You’re red… Are you still tipsy?”

Tipsy, yes! Foggy memories come rushing in and Nikolai can vividly remember drinking with Viktor last night. He can see the vision of him chugging whiskey straight from the bottle. This is embarrassing—very shameful on his part! He thought his blood basically runs on vodka as its gasoline and yet he got too drunk to even control himself from laying down next to you for the night.

“No, I’m…” Nikolai holds your wrist, eyes gazing at your figure fast. He feels his saliva choking his throat when he sees the shape of your breasts—and he finds his breath to be hitched away when he catches a glimpse of your nipples through the fabric of his shirt.

God… Your body sweat is practically seeping into his clothes.

Nikolai swallows hard as he tries to look away. He averts his gaze but somehow the image is still lingering as a fading vision in his eyes. He scrambles to grab the blanket close to his crotch, hiding his stiffening boner. 

This is so not a good time at all. But his body is betraying him—as always. 

He takes a deep breath. “Did I do anything to you last night? Inappropriate things?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t lie to me. Did I do bad things to you?” His voice hardens. 

“You… You, uhm, just laid down and then you started to talk about killing Viktor—”

“I’ll really do that.”

“No, no. Let’s not kill him. He’s your friend.” You reply quickly. “And then you talked about this… Fedya guy. Said he’s the one putting you in prison.”

Nikolai shuts his lips. He brings his hand to his face, regretfully gripping his head. His Pandora’s box has shattered, ironically from his own conflicted mind. He holds his riddles close to himself, they were not meant to be figured out and yet he hands them to you when his sober mind is barely steering himself.

“You said you wanna go to St. Petersburg too…” Your hand slowly trails to hold his, thumb rubbing his fingers, seeping little ounces of comfort. “… to kill him.”

Nikolai’s irises shiver, as if they are also seeking the right path to focus on—everywhere but your body, that is. He returns your grip—the coldness of your hand is not enough to harmonise his tense fire. Fire in his heart, the fire of his loins. He needs to hold more , like last night. Nikolai attempts to speak but all that leaves his mouth is just a mangled string of ‘I’ and ‘uh’. His tongue is pushing back against his heart’s desire to tell you, to spill everything that has happened to him for the past eight years.

He continues to stare at your face—your presence is strangely illuminating, or perhaps that is his tipsy thought. Perhaps his eyes are still seeing things, as you are contrasting this dull and sombre bedroom. It is not your skin or your clothes that mimic a flower in the middle of a graveyard. It is just your tender touch on his skin and sugary whispers of ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay.’ while your gaze is beaming sympathy towards him.

Sympathy— Dear devil, he hates that.

“I…” Nikolai grasps your wrist. He rambles quickly, words uttered without his brain scrutinising them. “I need to talk to you. Viktor won’t understand it. Maybe you would. I don’t even trust it. You don’t look like you would understand me. But… I don’t know, I just… really, really need your… opinion, sort of. Listen. Hear me well. Freedom—No, that’s not right. My life— life— I’ve been trying to— to free— Fuck, shit—” A sharp inhale. “I-I wanna be—”

“Nikolai, Nikolai, calm down.” You are holding his arms now. Nikolai bites his tongue, halting. His eyes roll up in frustration as his hand scratches his hair. He can feel his braid is already loosening and tangled through his fingers. He laments this—he is a mess, physically, mentally and sexually. His face is starting to redden as shame is omitted away, replaced by a sense of humiliation.

God, I’m pathetic.

He is over thirty years old. Anyone who is over thirty is already figuring out their life but not Nikolai, it seems. He groans lowly— utterly pathetic.

“Kolya, how about you take a shower first?” You say, tilting your head as you offer him a smile. “Go refresh your head and clean up. I’ll make breakfast for you. Hot chocolate?”

His lips open slightly before he nods slowly. “Right… You’re right… Hot chocolate is good too… I should… um, take a shower…” He mumbles. Your hand travels to his back, sending tiny shudders onto him, and you pat him lightly. Then, you get up from the bed, tugging on his arm as if you are trying to drag him to the bathroom. The turmoil on his face dissipates as he starts to chuckle.

“Come on, go shower!”

“I’m offended, doll. Am I that smelly?”

“You smell like an alcoholic.” Nikolai snorts a chortle at your response before he gets up, sighing defeatedly. “I’m gonna make breakfast, okay?” You say before you walk out of the bedroom happily. He just watches you until you disappear into the kitchen, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He looks around—the room is indeed dull and sombre. It is as if you also drag away the sparkle that makes this place bearable for him. He purses his lips—disliking this feeling that is bubbling inside. 

He shakes his head, making his way to the bathroom after grabbing his towel. He takes off his shirt, tossing it on the floor—he will wash it later anyway. Nikolai stands in front of the somewhat cracked. His nimble fingers fiddle with his braid, untying the strands before he reaches for the hairbrush on the cabinet. He brushes his hair, untangling some of it as his eyes wander around the sink and the mirror mindlessly.

He stares at his reflection.

Misery.

You are humming in the bathroom.

After he had dressed up, Nikolai made his way to the kitchen but halted when he passed by the bathroom. You got in while he was in the bedroom after his long shower. He stops and stands in front of the bathroom door upon hearing your faint melody accompanying the rushing water from the shower.

He does not know why he stops. The rest of the house is awfully quiet, except for this small spot in the bathroom, where you are in. There is no radio or television in the house that could bring some sort of noise to uplift the gloom clouding this space. Before he kidnapped you, this place was nothing better than the prison—except, the prison was stricter and noisier. It has been weeks since you are practically living with him and he does not think he could get used to the same silence.

He pouts, scratching his damp hair in frustration. “What am I doing? This is so perverted.” He thinks. He is about to step back and leave but the door is pulled open abruptly from the inside.

“Woah! H-Hey—”

Nikolai wonders if he is subconsciously digging his own grave. Maybe the grave has already been dug and it is just he who refuses to submit to the earth. His eyes blink profusely, irises travel anywhere but your figure that is only covered by a towel. The fresh scent of his body wash is emitting from you dangerously. His tongue sticks out slightly, licking his own lips when he takes a good look at you.

Droplets sprinkling your skin, the small hairs at your nape are dripping with water, naked and soft thighs are close to each other, upper chest is exposed, a tiny drop of water is dripping to your cleavage.

That’s the breast you slept on last night— What the fuck.

He would be very glad to grab the shaver on the cabinet by the sink to shave every layer of his own brain right now. It really does not help at all when he starts to recall the mementos of his sleep. He still laments at the fact that he was drunk and could not control his own mouth to blabber his past to you while clinging to your body.

“Are you policing my path?” You suddenly speak with an adorable pout. “Get out of my way, please. It’s cold, it’s cold.” You say as you playfully bump your fist on his chest as if he is a wall—well, he is, frankly, a tall man.

It’s cold? I think it’s very hot right now. 

“I-I gotta use the toilet. Go away.” He attempts to make his voice harsh but it just sounds shaky. He holds your bare shoulders, pulling you out of the bathroom before he steps in and slams the door closed.

“Hey! Rude!” He hears your whine but he just stays frozen behind the door, with his hands rubbing against each other.

The feeling of your cold skin is still lingering. He brings his hands to his face, palming his cheeks.

Nikolai does not need to use the toilet at all. He just needs an outlet to sulk about his own mind. He glances at his reflection, finding the skin on his face is already reddish. He shakes his head— No, no. I am not blushing. This is because of the cold air. The breeze! The prickling cold is making me red! Darn the winter, not the girl!

He forms a fist and hits his head, grumbling. Why is he acting like a teenager who just saw boobs for the first time? Nikolai is much better than this. He has slept around multiple times—he is almost reaching his mid-30s for fuck’s sake. Once he feels his libido is peaking, he would have just gone to any red light district and had his fun there—he can just do that right now if he is this sexually frustrated.

But it does not feel right. He does not want to sleep with any other people. He surely does not want to sleep with you, for a multitude of reasons. You are supposed to be his victim, darn it. You are supposed to cower in fear, begging for your life to be spared. You are supposed to feed into his sadism, not turn him into a mush of flustered flesh. If he were to have a basement, you should’ve rotted in there. But no, you are not. You are roaming around his house freely now, sleeping on his bed, wearing his clothes, using his things, touching him, holding him, hugging him.

What kind of victim does all that? To a horrible man, no less. Are you the one who is being imprisoned or is he?

A few knocks shock Nikolai out of his thoughts. Your voice is calling him out from the outside. 

“Kolya? Kolya, are you alright in there? Do you want laxatives?”

“N-No. No, what the hell?” Nikolai replies back, swallowing a chuckle from erupting. “G-Go away. Sit at the table and eat your breakfast.” He says, shooing you.

“Okay, okay. But don't be embarrassed with me if you need anything—”

Nikolai opens the door, jolting you upon seeing him. You grin at him heartily. He snorts scornfully. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” He says.

“Are you implying that you do need laxatives?”

“No! I don’t need shit pills.” He groans, making you spew a short laugh. He shakes his head before walking to the kitchen as you trail him closely.

On the dining table, there is already a stack of pancakes being served. Nikolai nudges the stack with a fork that you have prepared, amazed by how fast you could make them. Or perhaps it was him who took too long in the shower. Nikolai sits at the table, across from you. He watches you take two pancakes and drizzle them with honey. He thinks it is quite a waste of time to put sauces and toppings on the pancake, so he just eats his own portion plain.

“Is it good?” You ask and he nods. You smile before you continue eating. Your head is tilting left and right, a clear image of your joy.

“Why are you so happy?” Nikolai asks grumpily.

“A lot of things.”

“Such as?”

“You.” Nikolai’s eyes glance at you for that answer. Your hand shyly slither on the table, reaching his own. And his fingers wrap around you instinctively.

“What do you mean by that, doll?” He murmurs and you lean forward a bit.

“Well, for instance, you finally sleep on the bed.” You say and those words once again bring crimson to his face. “I know how uncomfortable you are sleeping on the couch. I mean, you did change your place to sleep on the floor. It does not make it better and I feel a little guilty to see you go through nights like that. So…” You exhale, finding the correct words as your thumb is rubbing against his hand. “So, even if you were drunk last night, having you slept on the bed comfortably made me happy.”

“About that.” Nikolai quickly replies. “I-I won’t do that again. Even if I’m drunk, I’ll try not to sleep with you—”

“No, I don’t mind.”

Please don’t do this to me.

You tilt your head, gaze glimmering. “I don’t mind having you on the bed with me. You’re not liking the couch and you're a very… tall and big guy. The bed is the best place for you to sleep on. Besides, it is yours.”

Nikolai sighs, throwing his head back. “No, you’re not understanding. It’s not the bed I worry about. It’s you.”

“Me?” You blink confusedly. “You did not do anything weird to me last night.”

“Yeah, but I…” Nikolai purses his lips. Damn it all—why is it so hard for him to talk about it? His other hand reaches to his lips, caressing his lower face. The one that is holding yours is still refusing to let go. He takes a deep breath.

“Fuck. Listen here, doll. I know you think that I didn’t do weird things but I hugged you and touched you. And you’re okay with that because—” A pause. “Because you like me.” He stares at you. “But I don’t like you back. Not in that way, not in any way.”

“But… you said otherwise last night.”

The whole world can crumble onto him and Nikolai would be thankful for his death. His heart is beating so fast that it will leap out at any second. The realisation comes to doom him even deeper.

“No, that wasn’t me speaking. I wasn’t sober. I wasn’t thinking.” He defends himself quickly. He could not even remember what things he had confessed to you and he only hoped that his mouth did not jabber too much for his own sake. He catches a glimpse of your sorrow across your face. His molars clash with each other, biting his own tongue.

Guilty.

“I don’t mean that,” Nikolai says, gripping your hand tighter. You frown slightly.

“You keep hopping from one opposing sentence to another… Which one is it?”

“I don’t know.” He mutters. “Everything has been a fuckin’ mess since forever.” He sighs before he palms his face, lamenting. As he is staring into the nothingness of his hand, he suddenly feels your hand retracting from his grip. A desperation tingles within his fingertips when each of his fingers is clenching the air, hoping to feel your skin again. He lifts his face, seeing you sipping your drink.

His lips utter a silent word, pleading to you to hold him again. But you could not hear his silent plea, so he swallows his wish—just like how he always does.

Nikolai stares at the table.

Silence.

Silence.

He takes a deep breath.

“Several years ago, I joined a global terrorism organisation.”

You halt, eyes widen.

“I didn’t know the true extent of the plan. I knew all of us in the organisation were manipulated by the founder itself. I knew that reaching the main goal of the whole plan would bring death to a lot of people and nations. It was pure evil and I thought that it was worth supporting.” He purses his lips. “Such evil will separate a man from normality and morality. It will push him to his freedom. That’s what I thought.”

“I killed so many people. I caused so many deaths. And I understand how wrong they were. I am very well aware of the evil I commit, and I feel just as guilty as any sane human would. You are probably wondering why would I kill if I know very well I will feel guilty about it, despite morality telling me how wrong I have lived. Morality, my love, is a mere conditioning. We are bound to it, the moment we are born. It is only a matter of time before the bird realises itself to have lived in a cage. It is up to the creature itself to stay living in it or pry and break free.”

“What are you talking about..?” You mutter.

He grabs your hand, gripping it. His mismatched eyes bore straight at yours.

“Freedom, little dove. I’m talking about free will. The power to make a choice for yourself from yourself, without influences from all over. I am not going to live like a poor secretary who is merely a tool for the system that is utterly meaningless, nothing good to live for. Morals, empathy and feelings are nothing but hindrances.” His grip gets tighter. “Viktor said that I’m gonna end up killing myself but that’s—” He takes a sharp inhale of breath. “That’s exactly what it is. The free will to make a choice to live is also to die. And you know what? I seek the freedom of my soul more than any kind of joy—and death, little dove, is the only option for me to be truly free.”

“You’re harming yourself—”

“I fucking do! Don’t you listen to what I said?” He suddenly says loudly, surprising you.

“I listen, I listen!” You reply with the same tone, higher. “Don’t get angry with me, please.” Nikolai presses his lips together, murmuring an apology. “If happiness isn’t something you want, wouldn’t that be more painful for you? You are already trying to reach something so… high.” You say carefully.

“What’s the difference? My pursuit is true.”

“I know. But you do say that free will is the power to make a choice without any influence… So while you are trying to seek it, why not… Why not be happy as well? Why torture yourself? You can freely make a choice about it, yes?” You say. “Sometimes joy can make people forget about their misery. It’s true for me.”

“I am not indulging myself in such shackling feelings like happiness.”

“But you are miserable, no?”

Your words are quick to shut him down. You offer him a solemn smile. “Have you ever felt happy, Nikolai?”

Nikolai looks at you and then his eyes travel elsewhere. He tries to dig through his memories. Yes, he does feel happy sometimes—when he broke into Meursault with ease, when Olga gave him free food for his birthday, when he received extra payment from Viktor, when his target did exactly what he expected, when he made you carry his heavy laundry basket, when you wear his clothes, when you made him hot drinks as he was about to work late at night, when you were visibly surprised at the amount of debt your father owed, when you squeal cheerfully after he bought you Olga’s chicken pie for dinner, when you—

Yes. He does feel happy about small, unimportant things.

Nikolai frowns, trying to think again. No, there is no way he just convinced himself to feel pleased about such events. He is better than that.

“Maybe… when my, um, friend… understood what I meant when I talked to him about this.” He says.

“Fedya guy?” You quickly figure out the ‘friend’ and Nikolai cringes before he hesitantly nods.

“His name is Fyodor Dostoyevsky. He was… the founder of the organisation I joined. Basically a terrorist like me but worse.” He pauses. “Ironically, he also understands me. He understands what I seek. But… I knew that the short conversation we shared was merely manipulation. What I did during… the last phase of my part of the plan was controlled by something else. It is complicated but I wasn’t exactly… doing things fully of my own free will.” Nikolai sighs loudly. “Recalling back feels pretty dumb to me. I was supposed to die during the plan. But I used my ability to escape death. And now I’m looking at the tragedy from different views. I wasn’t ‘dying’ with the scream of my free will. I ‘died’… being controlled by something else somewhere. It’s pathetic. A little part of my heart knows that I was not free when I supposedly ‘died’ that time.”

“And you want to go to St. Petersburg to kill him…” You mutter. “You said he put you in prison. And now you just said he had manipulated you… Is it revenge that you seek?”

Nikolai suddenly bursts out a laugh. “Revenge? No fucking way.” He pants slightly before sighing. “No, no. It’s not something as cheap as revenge. No. I’ve always wanted to kill him. I think that this… attachment I have on him will be a doom on my part. My feelings are hindering me. It's brainwashing. Killing him will prove myself to be truly free. I just want to set it right. I am setting it right. It’s not revenge I seek. I’m freeing myself—is a better description.”

You shake your head. “Are you sure?”

“Sure of what?”

“Are you sure you’re not seeking revenge?”

“No.”

“Nikolai…”

“Fine! I’m angry, okay?” He huffs. “He literally shoved me into prison and when I left, everything I owned was stripped away and I only have my overcoat. I don’t have a house, a car or even a fake ID card. Can you imagine being free for once from a literal prison and then getting shackled again by this fucking system?” He groans and throws his body back to the chair.

“Now that is a little confusing, no? You said emotions are a hindrance and yet you are driven by anger…” You reply with a strange smile on your face.

“Some little sacrifices have to be done to achieve greater things…”

“Then, why not make an exception for joy as well?” You finally say as you hold his hand, your fingers link between his and his eyes wander towards them.

“Why are you so fixated on making me happy, huh? You don’t even know me.” He grumbles, voice shaky and uncertain.

“I think I know you better now. Maybe I cannot understand you as much as that Fyodor person understands you. But I think your pursuit of freedom is unique. And yet, it’s very… tragic. Perhaps you can call me brainwashed for thinking like this but I feel pity for you. I feel pity that you have to suffer internally like this. I don’t think I like seeing you being miserable either.” You pause before you lift your hand that is holding his. “But Nikolai, if you think that the answer to total free will is death, why not… die with a smile? Must you cry? Were those little unimportant joys you felt no better than agony?”

“You are basically suggesting that I pursue happiness. The thing I don’t wish to dwell in.”

“No. I am suggesting you to be kinder to yourself. You can try to reach freedom with… however method you are trying to do. But you can definitely do it in a less painful way, no? I care for you. I like you.” You say softly. “And… And I understand why certain things are decided by you. You don’t have to… um… return my feelings. All I want is for you to be well, even if your end goal is inevitable.”

Nikolai stays silent and both of you are left with no words exchanged. But the hands are still linked and Nikolai is starting to feel uneasy. He wants to pull away and push you out of his sight, but his body is not cooperating with his thoughts as his fingers are reluctant to let go of you and his mouth prefers to stay quiet than to yell at you to leave him alone.

He despises your response—really, he just said he will seek the freedom of his soul more than happiness. And yet you want him to pick the less painful path—enjoying the little joys. He wants to scream at that kindness, at that positiveness. But he cannot. He will not.

Screaming at you will only push you away. Anger will make you fear and you might retreat yourself into a cocoon. He has done that. He has gotten angry and yelled at you before. And he feels horrible about it.

Horrible, guilty—death is much better than seeing you sleeping in complete darkness on the couch.

His heart and head are rarely on the same page. Conflict has become a norm in his own existence. He knows what you said is right, in some ways. Happiness does decrease his pain but indulging in it will only make him betray his own codes. However, not indulging in merry is only encouraging him to submerge in his gloom. He will escape a feeling to jump into another, and what will be the end of it? How many emotions and empathy does he have to flee and dive in until he reaches liberty?

“Kolya,” Your voice breaks the silence and he looks at you. “Have your heart and head ever pointed in the same direction?”

His eyes immediately pace towards your lips.

“Maybe.”

You beam. “That’s great. Why don’t you follow them then? You know, scientifically, your body will always try to help you.” You wiggle a finger and Nikolai cackles bitterly. The heavy atmosphere is slowly fading away with that sweetness from your voice.

“They’re dangerous thoughts, that’s all…” He replies before he finishes his lukewarm chocolate drink. The poundage of discordance in him is shrinking—perhaps all the things he always wanted to say to someone have already been poured earlier, to you. Your words are much better than Viktor’s, that is for sure. Perhaps he does not really hate your response. He just hates how it adds to his own quizzes.

“You’re pretty good at listening to rambles, aren’t you?” He remarks. You giggle and it automatically tugs a tiny smile on his face.

“That’s probably because a lot of my customers rant to me, especially when they are drunk.” You reply. Nikolai scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Huh, so you’ve been treating me like old men in the bar this whole time?” He says coyly.

You gasp. “You’re not that old.”

“Uh-huh, I’m pretty sure we have about a little more than a decade of differences. It’s honestly amazing how you can keep up with whatever conversations we had earlier. I’m pretty sure you’ve been listening to worse things at the club.” He says.

“Well, I’m mature enough to know what’s right and wrong!”

Nikolai refutes back. “Now that’s exactly what a manipulated and naive young girl would say. You shouldn’t follow and interact with old dudes who are indecent and filthy in nature. Stick to the youngsters and good guys, yeah?”

“Mm-hm! Got it. I’ll stick with you.” You salute at him, jovial.

“That’s really not what I meant…” Nikolai sighs before he props his chin on his hand. “Hey, I just wanna say again, I’m sorry about last night. Whatever I talked with Viktor messed me up.”

You smile. “I told you, it’s fine. I really don’t mind if you want to sleep on the bed. I just want you to feel comfy.” You say before you grin teasingly and get up from your seat. You place your arms on the table as you bend over, leaning towards him. “And you were really comfortable last night. Especially when I play with your hair like this.”

Nikolai’s words are stuck in his throat when he feels your hand tenderly caressing his head. His hair feels soft against your fingers, albeit a little dry as he just blow-dried them earlier. The warmth is slowly coursing up to his face, down to his groin when his nose picks up your scent again. His eyes trail up, catching the sight of your lips just close to him. A small nudge upwards and he can taste them.

His head slowly tilts up. His trembling pucker ever so slightly.

“You know,” Your face turns serious as you pull away from him and walk to stand behind him, hands still on his hair. Nikolai lets out a very shaky exhale. He wants to turn, confused by your sudden move. He tries not to think of what he almost did just now.

“What are you doing, doll?”

“No, I’m really curious about your hair. Like, it seems unnaturally white but your roots… Your roots are not showing any other colour.” You say, amused and awestruck by his hair. “And it’s so soft too… Though it seems that you have some unique cut over here,” You pat his neck. “And then the hair behind it is long. You get what I mean?”

“I guess so, sweetheart.” He says.

“Is your white hair a part of your superpower?” You ask curiously.

“Not at all. They’re natural.”

“Can I ask something a little sensitive?”

“… Keep your curiosity to the hair on my head and not anywhere else, little doll.”

“I don’t mean that!” You protest, hitting his shoulder. “I just wanna ask if they’re a result of stress…! Not— Not… your other hairs…”

Nikolai muffles his laugh but ultimately fails when he cackles, entertained by your panicked voice. He coughs a bit, trying to stop his chortle. “No, I don’t think they’re from stress… I’ve had them since I was a kid.” NIkolai replies as he looks up at your flustered face. “There are weird, unnatural things happening all over the world, doll. My hair is nothing compared to them.”

“Right… Right, that’s… um… good to know.” You say as your hands drop to his shoulders. Nikolai smiles warmly at you, bringing heat to your inside as you look away. “Can I clean the table?” You ask meekly.

“Yeah, go on. I have to do some work anyway—”

“Hey,” You hold each of his arms with your hands. “What about… taking a rest today? You’ve been working on God Eye—”

“Eyes of God.”

“Same thing. Anyway, you’ve been working on it for nights and days. And I don’t think you should stress yourself with those things today. Just for a day, relax yourself.” You say. “Maybe you can do the dishes? Or read some books? Oh, I know! What about a trip to the laundrette?” You ask with a broad smile.

“Laundrette, huh? You’re draining my pocket.” He pouts. “But alright…”

“Great! Give me ten minutes to wash the dishes. You can go gather your dirty clothes, especially last night’s clothes.” You order and Nikolai just nods, watching you gather the dirty plates and mugs and walk to the sink. He just observes you doing the dishes while he is sitting like a statue at the table, leering at your figure and face.

Savour each moment, he is going to lose this anytime soon.

Chapter Text

Three days without talking to Viktor feels like a crime.

No news, no updates. 

Nikolai is slumped on the couch with the Eyes of God laptop at his side. The notebook on his lap is filled with scribbles of words and numbers. The hot mocha you made an hour ago has gone cold and the ashtray at his feet is filled with cigarettes. 

“Is he angry at me?” Nikolai mumbles to himself, lips pouting. His thumb has been hovering over the call button on Viktor’s contact page on the screen of his phone for five minutes now. He wants to talk to Viktor about your father but he does not have the courage to start the conversation. 

That night, he told Viktor that your father was near the border between Russia and Belarus. A clear attempt to flee the country alone, obviously. Viktor also told the middleman to the loan sharks about it and Nikolai wondered if anything had happened to your father yet. 

What if they caught the man? Will you still be used as a hostage, despite the many times you have said that you are useless to be used against your father? What if he does pay his debt? What will happen to you? Will you return to your home? Will you leave him? 

Nikolai is already uneasy. He has been uneasy for a while. He needs answers. He needs the events to happen right now. He does not think he has the patience to play the waiting game any longer. 

“Kolya…” 

Nikolai turns to the side and sees you holding a broom and leaning against the wall with a solemn expression. He frowns. He sees the broom you are holding. You are practically the unpaid maid of this house. Nikolai does not even know what the hell are you cleaning because he does not think his apartment is a big mess. But he just lets you do your own thing. Maybe sweeping bacteria is one of your favourite hobbies. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. “What’s with that face, hm?” He says, surprisingly, a tint of gentleness is apparent in his voice that it even shocks him. 

You grumble something and put the broomstick against the wall before you approach him. Right at the other spot beside him, you plop down onto the couch. You tilt your head, resting it on his shoulder. 

“I’m bored…”

Nikolai blinks confusedly. For one reason, he is quite baffled by the sudden closeness but this is the girl who happily hugged his arm on the first day of her kidnapping. His bafflement does not last long. He is used to this. He is so used to this. 

“Well, what do you want me to do then?” Nikolai sighs. He watches your naughty hand trying to take the notebook off his lap in curiosity. Quickly, he slaps your hand away. “Hands off, dolly.”

“What are you scribbling? Mantra?”

“Mm-hm.” He just approves your wonder. You glance at him and then huff. Nikolai snorts, teasingly tugging your hair. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” 

“I’m just curious.” You sulk before pointing your finger at the page of the notebook. “Besides, I can’t even understand any of these! Anyone from afar will think you were trying to draw spaghetti.” You whine, poking your finger on the page. 

“Thanks for calling my handwriting ugly as fuck, darling. Appreciate that.” Nikolai grumbles before he seizes your hand and tosses it aside. “Even if I explain it to you, you won’t understand.”

“Does it have something to do with your Peters plan?” You ask and Nikolai silently nods. He closes the notebook before putting it aside. 

“How will you go there? By car?” You ask again as you lift your head from his shoulder. Nikolai sighs before he finishes the cold mocha he has abandoned for a while now. 

“Train. I’ll sell the car before leaving this city.” He replies. 

“And what about this house?”

“Sell it.”

“Your clothes?”

“Bring it along.”

“Viktor?”

“Mm, he doesn’t wanna go anywhere.”

“Me?”

Nikolai halts. He turns his head at you, staring with an unreadable gaze. And your eyes are returning that gaze with glimmering hope. His heart tickles and Nikolai quickly breaks contact with you, even placing his palm right on your eyes. “Hm?” You mumble adorably. 

“I’m thinking about it.” He replies shortly. Taking his hand off, he takes a glance at you. You are smiling now, soft lips curving up special just for him. He is silent for a moment. “You’re bored, dolly?”

You nod.

“Wanna go out to Olga’s?”

Your eyes beam sunshine immediately. Like bunny ears perked up in excitement, you jump slightly. “Out? We go out? Is that okay?”

Nikolai shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. Police are doing police things. Aren’t you supposed to be excited that efforts are being made to save your ass?” He says.

“I like it here. I told you.”

“I know. You’ve been saying that for over a month now.” He mumbles. “I don’t even fathom what is actually happening. After I get you in here, everything goes to—” He swallows his word. No, that is not right. He does not think that way. It is just that his lips are quicker than his brain, sometimes. 

“You… You don’t actually hate me, right…?” You ask carefully. Hands clasped together, Nikolai notices that you are fiddling with your fingers—nervous, insecure, perhaps unsure. “I don’t think I can live with ease knowing that  you hate me.”

He purses his lips. “I don’t have a reason to hate you.” He says softly. His own fingers are now itching to be fiddled too as he can feel the nerves are touring every inch of his system. “I don’t…”

I don’t hate you. 

Nikolai takes a deep breath. “I don’t have a reason to.” He repeats again, despite knowing you surely heard his answer. Nothing to worry about, little bird. He is just trying to convince himself of something unknown. Something hidden. 

“Really?” You say before you chuckle lightly. “I appreciate that… You make me happy. You always do.”

“Mm-hm, I do, huh?” Nikolai replies, returning your smile as well. “Go get ready. I was planning to go to Olga’s diner anyway to get some dinner. We are already out of canned soup this noon.” He says. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? ‘Sir’?”

“Yeah. I don’t like it.”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

He clicks his tongue, pushing you by the shoulder lightly. “Reasons, okay? Go. And don’t wear that blue dress and get your makeup and stuff. I don’t want attention.” He orders. You huff—seeming to have planned to wear your beloved dress. But you know you have to obey anyway, so you dress yourself up in casual attire. 

Snatching one of his jackets, you leave the room, already seeing Nikolai waiting by the door. His outfit is simple. A black fitted turtleneck is perfectly copying the shape of his body. The high-waisted pants he wears only make him look like he is eighty-percent legs. Over his top, he wears a white leather jacket. 

You notice the extra sparkles on the jacket. Silver zippers, silver decorative chains, silver buttons. As he bends to wear his boots, you tug one of the chains curiously. 

“This looks very expensive for a jacket.” You remark. Nikolai stands straight and your hand slides down his back before it drops to your side. He looks at you with a smug smile.

“Stole it.”

“Huh?”

“I can do magic, remember?” He grins proudly before he steps out of the house, followed by you. After he locks the door, he slips his hand into his jacket and—magically—takes out a quite big ushanka hat. Wordlessly, he puts it on your head. 

“Just enough to hide your face.” He says, ignoring the confusion on your face as you see what he just did. Perhaps you are too puzzled by it that you start feeling the insides of the jacket you wore. 

“Don’t bother, dolly. It is only I who can do that.” He brags with a smirk before he grabs your arm and pulls you along. Your feet just follow his steps, despite you having to match his pace a little faster. Sometimes Nikolai likes to make big steps when walking and although you do not mind following him everywhere, you do prefer a relaxed walk. 

The journey to Olga’s diner only takes about ten minutes. As it is already dinnertime and the sun has drowned in the twilight horizon, night owls also come out. It is not rare for you to see the liveliness of the nightlife. Men and women mingle with each other as the television above the bar is broadcasting some sports event. Trailing Nikolai closely from behind, you two step inside, taking the table at the corner. The dark ambience of the diner manages to let your face slip—those who may recognize a missing girl might recognize someone else.

“Oh, hello, darling. Been a while.” Olga approaches your table, tickling your chin with an affectionate smile before she glances at Nikolai. “Hey, Kolya.”

Nikolai grunts. “What’s with that tone…” He murmurs. Olga huffs, placing her hand on her waist before tapping Nikolai’s head with the notepad she is holding. The thick part of the notepad hits Nikolai’s head hard, causing the man to even flinch. 

“You know what you did.”

“W-What I do?” He says, pouty. 

“Tell me why Viktor came here the other day, all sad and depressed because you’re angry at him.” Olga crosses her arms, glaring sternly at Nikolai. You look at each of them, enjoying the unprompted entertainment. 

“I’m not angry at him,” Nikolai mumbles. “He was just being stupid.”

“He was trying to be helpful, as your friend,” Olga replies. “You shouldn’t just shove people away like that. You two have been friends since forever. You don’t even have a lot of friends and colleagues and you are getting angry and grumpy over some drunk conversations.” She nags, shaking her head exasperatedly. 

Nikolai sighs. “Fine. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Don’t apologize to me. Go make up with Vitya himself.” She says. “Now, order.”

“As usual…” He mumbles, still sulky. 

“Uhm, I’ll take the mushroom and chicken pie. Ooh, and iced chocolate.” You grin at her. Olga nods before she stares at you.

“This boy doesn’t do anything weird to you, right?” Olga asks. “Vitya told me about your… situation. No wonder the police have been around the town lately.” She says as she peeks to the window. 

“Hm? Police are still searching in this town?” Nikolai’s head jerks up. Olga shrugs her shoulders. 

“Yesterday, none of them appeared. Probably have moved to other spots. Or they gave up. I mean, the police are corrupt anyway…” She explains. “Regardless, I don’t think this little lady right here wants to leave you, right, Kolya?” She cackles, glancing at you teasingly. You smile sheepishly, feeling heat travelling all over your face. 

“I really like it here…” You say. 

“This is a very strange turn of events for someone like him and someone like you.” Olga nods to herself. “But if you are really going to stick around, my restaurant happened to be in need of one more staff, you see. Not to mention, tonight is pretty busy and I don’t have enough hands!” She grins as she bends a little to be near your eye level. 

“Huh? O-Oh! Oh, are you…” You look at Nikolai who is just staring before you turn to Olga. “Are you offering me a job? Now?”

“No,” Nikolai sighs. “No, Olga… Olga, you crazy woman. I have important things to do with her! She’s not going to help you for this diner.” He protests as he glares at the lady with a sulky face. Olga only chuckles before she playfully messes with Nikolai’s hair. 

“I know, I know. But, if there is another strange turn of events, I don’t mind having an addition for my restaurant.” Olga says before she walks away to go to the kitchen. Your eyes trail her before you turn quickly to Nikolai. As soon as you open your lips, he covers your mouth with his hand. 

“No.”

Your nose scrunches before you grip his wrist and pull his hand away from your lips. “Why? It’s not like I do anything in the house? I don’t even know what I’m cleaning anymore.” You say, hand still gripping his. “Even the bacteria are getting cleaner. They don’t even need to shower but I showered them regardless…”

“You think I’ll allow you to walk around in this premise with chances of other bad people seeing your face? No way. You need to know, my love. This diner is not as innocent as it seems.” He says before he pulls his hand away from you and rests his elbow on the table. He props his chin on his palm. You cross your arms on the table, leaning forward. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“People exchange information here. Illegal information. By ‘people’, I really mean criminals. Olga often gets bribes or ‘hush money’ to keep her mouth shut. How do you think this diner is still maintained even with few customers?” Nikolai explains before he shuts his lips as a waiter comes to the table with your ordered drinks.

He waits for the waiter to leave before he looks at you again. “Look around you, little bird. There are too many people here. So… no, you’re not going to work here. Lowly criminals may get caught but a lot of experienced ones have broad networks, you see. Your face is most likely known for those who tune in to the news. What’s easier than kidnapping an already missing person and using them for other benefits, right?” He tells you. You purse your lips as you sadly stir your iced chocolate. It is just a simple drink with whipped cream and cherry on top. 

“Besides, I don’t want anyone to take you away. You still have a debt to pay, figuratively speaking.” Nikolai says before he steals the cherry from your drink. You whine, trying to stop his naughty hand but he already eats the whole fruit and puts back the small stem on your drink. 

You wince. “Nikolai! Why are you being mean?” You quickly pick out the stem, dropping it on the table. Nikolai only cackles playfully as he chews the cherry. His smile is smug, scoffing at your sulky face. 

“Relax, dolly. I’m the one paying so technically what’s yours is mine.” Nikolai grins as he picks up his hot tea, sipping it. He frowns slightly at the bitterness. His hand reaches out to the small bowl of sugar packets at the edge of the table but you quickly grab the bowl, pulling it away from him. 

“Hey, give that back.”

“Nope!”

You laugh, almost so proud at your little revenge. You put the bowl at the spot right next to you. Pointing at his hot tea, you say, “Why don’t you drink it, hm? Hmm?” You giggle. 

“Oh, I’m about to, sweetheart. Hold on.”

“What the—”

At that moment, Nikolai slips his hand inside his jacket and he takes out the exact same bowl of sugar packets from it. Deliberately and calmly, he tears open a few packets of sugar for his tea, as you watch, stunned. 

“What did I say to you, sweetheart? Tricks don’t work with me.” He snorts before he pushes the bowl of sugar packets towards you. “Now you can put it away as far as you want. I’ll just enjoy my sweet tea right here.” He chuckles before he sips the drink. 

“Hmph.”

You rest your chin on your palm, gazing at him. Irises trail all over his figure—scanning from his hair, white as snow, to his hands, big and rough. Your other hand creeps over to his hand, tracing your fingertips on his skin. As if it has a mind on its own, you glide your finger over the little pattern of tattoos that peeked out from his sleeve. 

“What, are you interested in getting a tattoo?” Nikolai suddenly asks. You halt, right when your finger is over his wrist. You look up at him before you shrug. 

“Seems scary.”

“The needles?”

You nod. “It pokes pokes pokes your skin, no? It bleeds you. But, I think it won’t hurt so much if it’s like… on certain parts of the body.”

Nikolai smirks. “Definitely. I guess if you are used to getting hurt on certain parts of your body, it doesn’t hurt much when tattooing the skin. For me, my arms only feel ticklish.” He says before he tilts his face, slyly grinning. “Maybe you should try one. On your face. It doesn’t hurt.”

“I guess it won’t hurt because my dad always hit me on it.”

“Fucking hell.”

Mismatched eyes reflect the light from the screen of the television. People are in high spirits as the team they are cheering for is attempting another goal. Football is not something Nikolai tunes in. But there are times when his spirit also flows together with the people around him. People cheer and he will cheer too—even if he does not know who wins or loses. 

However, that is perhaps only applicable to the twenty-four-year-old him.

“Do you play sports?” 

He turns his head towards you. But your eyes are also fixated on the television, like everybody else. He wonders if you will even hear his answer because your question does sound like it is just a thought passing through like a breeze from the night air. “I supposed I don’t.” He says, his tone is just as careless as yours.

“Really? Then, how are you so strong?”

“Many reasons…” Nikolai mumbles, twirling his glass of vodka. His hot tea was already finished an hour ago. He finished eating way before you. “My tendency to get into fights in prison is probably one of the reasons too.”

“You fought in prison?” You finally pry your eyes away from the television, fixing your attention on him.

“I got bullied for the first few days…” Nikolai mumbles before he lets out a broken cackle. “But any man would tremble at the sight of a gun in front of their face. Unless they have the fangs of a tiger, then that is a different story. Well… a tiger can still be fought against with a falling telephone pole, so that’s that.” He says.

You tilt your head, confused. “You fought a tiger?”

“Not a literal tiger,” Nikolai snickers. “I think pure strength is not enough even for the strongest being in mankind. Creativity and versatility are important too. Strategies, plans, schemes… What’s scarier and stronger than a man who manipulates humanity to do his bidding while he sits back and enjoys the show from the crook of his library?” His eyes trail back to the television. “Even a sport requires strategies and manipulation, not pure stamina. Do you think the managers and those behind the players are not pulling the strings too?”

That’s why I must kill him.

“I mean, sport does have a long history of having bribe issues.” You murmur.

“That’s what I don’t understand either,” Nikolai nods to himself. “What’s fun with watching something that is most likely predetermined?”

“Not all sports are predetermined.”

“And not all are fair.”

You look away, staring at the table. Nikolai is also silent. He returns to watch the sport. Two players have fallen, and now one of them is going to protest at the yellow card. Next, arms open, provocation erupts to the stoic referee. The camera will pan to the spectators in the stadium. Some with hands on their head, some shout words and words that will only drown along with the cheers from the opposing team. Expectable, this show is too expectable—Nikolai sighs.

“Hey…”

Olga approaches your table again. This time, she looks visibly tired and worried. “I’m sorry for bringing this up again, but we really need a hand for tonight. One of my staff needs to go home because he has exams tomorrow. There are only three people in the kitchen, one at the bar and me.”

Nikolai frowns. Seriously? He does understand the circumstances but he could not find it in his heart to allow you to go and assist Olga for the restaurant, mainly because he does not want you to go roam around as a waitress, flaunting your pulchritude to the customers as you suggest them the most expensive food and drinks to order.

But your pleading eyes at him are certainly gleaming with hope right now.

Pinching his temple, Nikolai nods hesitantly. “Keep her in the kitchen only.”

Olga gasps and nods quickly. “Thanks a lot, Kolya.” She pecks his cheek appreciatively. “Her work is gonna be washing the dishes. You don’t mind that at all, right?” She asks you.

“No, I don’t! I’m a professional dishwasher.” You reply with a cheeky grin. As you stand up to follow Olga to the kitchen, you give Nikolai’s hand a squeeze and mouth ‘Thanks,’ to him. He just nudges his chin, shooing you. You giggle before you happily jog your way to the kitchen.

“Dummy.” Nikolai snickers, shaking his head as he checks his phone. It is past 10:30 PM and the diner will not close until twelve, he thinks. Or perhaps it will close when the sport has concluded. Because of the busy and crowded nights, your dinner time took two hours because you two also just lounging around in the diner watching the sport as well as he keeps ordering more vodka. He learns something new too—you eat later than usual when you are watching something, compared to when you only have him to stare and look at.

Bzzz!

As if the sender knows that  Nikolai is holding his phone right now, he receives a message—from someone he expects will not talk to him for another five business days.

Viktor: Hey, man. You busy?

Me: no. why

Viktor: Our marriage argument can wait. But I want you to come to Nastya’s studio now.

Me: now?

Viktor: Bitch, fucking read.

Me: can i go to the mart first? i need to get groceries

Viktor: Fine. But just come, alright? You must come. Tonight. Now. 

Viktor: But go get your grocery first, fucker.

Nikolai gets up from his seat and gathers his belongings. He walks to the kitchen and wordlessly barges inside without caring for the strange look given by the bartender who is busy making drinks. He slips between the chefs and gets to you who is already washing cups and beer mugs.

He gently calls your name, poking your shoulder. You turn your head. “Oh! Hey, Kolya. Are you going to join me in this adventure of washing dishes?”

“Keep your talent in words, dolly. I need to leave for a moment. Viktor wants me to go to see him. But I might be late because I’ll stop by the mart to buy some groceries. You want anything?” He asks. You hum, thinking, as your hand is brushing the cup with a soapy sponge.

“Coco pops cereal, please.” You grin. Nikolai snickers as his hand cannot help staying still. He reaches to your cheek, playfully pinching it and shaking your face as he grits his teeth.

“Alright, you cheeky gold-digging girl.”

You whine and he lets go with a chuckle. “If the diner is closed, wait inside. I’m sure Olga won’t go home until I fetch you. And don’t run away— Gah, you know what, nevermind. You won’t leave me alone anyway.” He rambles as he turns around and leaves. You watch him disappear out of the kitchen and finally turn your focus to the dishes.

The lingering touch on your cheek still burns. You smile to yourself.

Your work increases tenfold when the clock strikes midnight. The sport that was broadcasted has concluded and the customers are leaving. You and two other staff are left along with Olga to clean the restaurant for closing. It seems that there are never-ending dirty dishes to wash.

“You okay?” Olga asks after you have not seen her for a while. “Come, you can stop washing the dishes. We have no need to rush to close the restaurant.” She says as she gestures to you to come to her. You leave the sink and wince at the sight of your strained arms. Your fingers are extremely wrinkled after being in the water for so long.

Once you are by Olga’s side, she takes out a clean napkin from her apron pocket and starts to gently wipe your wet arms. “You know, compared to Vasya and Alyosha, you don’t even complain about the amount of dishes you have to clean.” She says.

“I’m kinda used to it…” You smile before peeking out from the small window that allows the chefs and the staff outside to interact. You do not know which is which but one guy is sweeping the floor while the other is wiping the table. They do not even talk to you when you enter the kitchen other than changing a quick greeting upon seeing an addition to the team.

Olga smiles. “That one, who’s sweeping the floor is Vasily. His friend—or boyfriend, considering that they always spend time in Vasya’s bedroom like boyfriends would—is Aleksy.” She says as she continues to dry your fingertips and massage your arms gently.

“How do you know that?” You ask.

“Vasya rented a room in my house. He’s a university student near here. Worked here too for extra allowances and rent discount.”

Your eyes sparkle at the new information. Interested, you ask, “Oh, you are also a tenant?”

Olga chuckles and shakes her head. “No, not at all. I just have a vacant bedroom in my house. It belonged to my son.” She replies, Strangely, her tone lowers and her eyes droop darker at the last bits of her words. You notice the tone, certainly and you do not think talking about it is right at the moment. Vacant bedroom, belonged, son. There are only a few conclusions that can be drawn as long as the answer is not definitive.

“They are not trying to be cold towards you, you know? Both of them are introverts, compared to your… man. The younger version of him, that is.” Olga smiles before she reaches to your cheek, nudging your skin with her knuckle. “You’re flustered.”

“Uhm… He’s not my man.”

“Not yet.”

“Olga…!” You pout before she laughs. 

“I’m just joking,” She smiles, patting your head. “I love the guy, you know? He was a cheerful one and to be honest? Don’t tell this to Vitya, but Kolya is definitely more fun to tolerate.” She says. “But I love them both equally. Though, my life was much safer before I knew them.”

“Oh?” You look at her. “I am aware that your restaurant also does… not-so-good things… But did both of them cause you to involve yourself in such matters?” You ask carefully. Olga huffs and nods.

“They used to smuggle stuff. And my storage room was proven to be the best place to hide stuff, according to Kolya anyway. I don’t even get his logic. But, I guess words travel faster than light itself because one by one, suspicious people start to come here and pay me to keep quiet about their bad behaviour.” She explains. “I accept the money, of course. I cannot afford to let this diner be sold or discontinued.” 

You take a look around and you can see the traces of the past on the flakes, the rusts and the dirt. Old. Historic.

“This is my family’s restaurant. I’ve been working here since I was eleven. I cannot just simply leave this place. It holds nostalgia.” Olga says. Her eyes are vacant, staring ahead and yet towards nowhere. “If this restaurant is gone, I’m gone. And if I’m gone, nobody could take care of Vasya. That boy is not from this country and he travelled this far just to pursue his studies.”

She whispers, “My boy would do the same too, if he had the chance…”

“You’ve worked here for a long while…” You remark before looking down at your hands, fingertips grazing against each other, feeling the wrinkles from your yet-to-be-paid hard work. “I started working around your age too.” You tell her. “When I was… twelve? Thirteen? My first job was in a very small store in the neighbourhood. I was not really good at being a cashier, so my boss lady assigned me to arrange stock.”

“Oh? Was the job worth it?” Olga asks back, still smiling warmly at you.

“I wouldn’t say that but it was fun. I got to do things and meet many people from the neighbourhood and I… got to live my life out of my house…” You mumble. “I learnt a lot of things too.”

“I heard about what happened with your father. I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through.” Olga says, taking your hand and holding it tightly. “No kids should ever live a life like that. You deserve so much more, darling. You really do. Never stop being kind, alright? Kindness is so needed in this kind of place.”

“Thank you, Olga…” You smile at her.

Olga grins before she taps your shoulder. “Kolya does not seem to be coming back any sooner but I’ll wait until you’re safe and home with him. Vasya and Alyosha do not mind waiting too. I know they don’t have any schedule tomorrow.” She says before she bends a little to look at the two boys. You also take a peek. They are laughing at each other, seeming to have delight in the small world they created.

“They’re going to come back to the kitchen for other chores. Can you go and mop the floor?” Olga asks. You nod and ask for the mop and the bucket, which Olga shows you before she calls for the boys to come into the kitchen to help her. 

As you bring the mop and the bucket of soapy water to the dining area, you pass by both Vasily and Aleksy. They give you a smile and a nod before getting into the kitchen. Once again, you are left alone. You dip the mop in the water and start mopping. The channel on the television has changed to a midnight news channel, presumably by the bartender who left as soon as the cleaning started. You do not understand why the bartender and one of the kitchen staff left early but you want to try to assume the best—they probably have important work tomorrow.

Accompanied by the sound of the compiled news from the previous day coming from the television, you keep mopping under the table and the chairs. You keep stealing occasional glances at the outside world, trying to see if Nikolai is coming to get you or not. The snow is falling lightly, coating the earth with a layer of solitude.

You have been mopping for five minutes now and you finally stand straight, stretching yourself. You take a seat at one of the tables to rest. Your knees feel a little strained, probably because you have been standing for a while. Your eyes roam around the diner before they stop at the television screen. 

And then the world stops.

“A dead body was discovered in Mckinlay Motel at the Russian-Belarusian border…”

“A dead body was discovered in Mckinlay Motel at the Russian-Belarusian border…”

“A dead body was discovered in Mckinlay Motel at the Russian-Belarusian border…”

“A dead body was discovered in Mckinlay Motel at the Russian-Belarusian border…”

“A dead body was discovered in Mckinlay Motel at the Russian-Belarusian border…”

“Fuck.”

Hand on his face, Nikolai’s eyes are fixated on the news shown on Viktor’s laptop. His heart is beating fast as he digests every word uttered by the newsreader. Dead body, motel, a gun, Russian-Belarusian border, your last name, his blurred identity card, his blurred face, the zoomed-in footage on his hand showing his wedding ring—

“Suicide,” Viktor finally speaks and Nikolai deliberately turns to him. Viktor looks grim and agitated. His right leg cannot stop shaking as he stares at his lap. “He shot himself.”

“Are we entirely sure this is not pseudo-suicide? The loan sharks did not orchestrate this?” Nikolai asks before he swallows nervously. He does not realize how heavy his tongue feels when he tries to talk more about this. 

“No. No, I don’t think the loan sharks were aware of his… suicide. When this was first reported, the middleman even called me to confirm it. Which means… They did not participate in his suicide either. They want money, not a dead body.” Viktor explains before he sighs. “Fuck, fuck, everything is going to shit. It's all complicated now. Bloody hell…”

Nikolai purses his lips before he leans back. He is at a loss for words. Your father is dead. He shot himself. He was already at the border and he could leave anytime. He wonders why your father killed himself when the chance for freedom is right in front of him. 

An issue with the passport? Official document? Money? Was he blacklisted? Was he denied by the authorities? 

Hell, does any reason even matter now? Your father is dead and there is no way he is coming back to live to tell the tale of his suicide unless he can magically metamorphose himself into another body. He left you alone in this city and he left you alone in this world, forsaking you with his abundance of debt and problems. 

“Kolya… I’ve… I’ve been thinking for a while about this.” Viktor suddenly speaks. He buries his face into his palms, groaning foully into them. “How do I say this… You know, you’re not the only one who’s drunk that night. That night, after I fetched Nastya from your place, I felt jealous because she basically just got out of your place and it’s like—how dare you have my girl in your place but I know it was because of our agreement to have her look after your girl too.”

Nikolai frowns at his ramble. His eyes travel around the table and finally catch the sight of half-emptied vodka on it. Viktor—or Nastasya, considering they are in her office—has been drinking, perhaps. He is probably tipsy. 

“Anyway, anyway. When I saw Nastya, I noticed she had three nails polished with a light blue colour. Yeah, that’s your girl’s nail polish, maybe. Most likely. Defi-fucking-nitely. I told her to get rid of the colour because I know Nastya doesn’t like pastels. But she didn’t want to because that girl was too sweet to her. Nastya also said she would like to make hot chocolate just as how the girl taught her for me. And and and— fuck, Kolya… I know you’re smart and all, so can you tell me why I feel like this?” Viktor finally lifts his head, turning to Nikolai with his lips curled as if he is trying to pout—or was it even an attempt? 

Nikolai sighs. “Vik, we are talking about… her dad right now. Can we not talk about Nastasya or her?” He says. “Right now, her dad just killed himself and I’m pretty sure the loan sharks were on their way to pursue that man before the suicide too.”

“No, that’s exactly what I wanna say, Kolyushka!” Viktor exclaims. “I wasn’t thinking straight when I immediately reported her daddy’s coordinates to the middleman. As soon as you told me his whereabouts, my mind went zoom — Ah, I should tell them loan whales .”

“The fuck are you talking about—”

“I feel guilty, Kolya.”

Nikolai halts. 

Viktor inhales a sharp breath. “I feel guilty because I felt like I took away Nastya’s new friend. Zoya met her once and already wanted to fuck the girl. I think she’s cute too but not as cute as Nastya. And I took your happiness— Ahh! Why do I feel like this? I feel so… so fucking bad. She is just like any other victim we kidnapped and traded and sometimes killed. The only difference is that we did not spend over a month with them!”

Nikolai stares at his tipsy friend for a moment before he turns away. His eyes are fixed on the news again. This time, it is showing some interviews with witnesses from Mckinlay Motel. 

“We detected a very strange smell from the room.”

“We tried to knock but no one’s answering. Even the calls from the reception are not answered.”

“Yeah, no one around here has seen him. But he occasionally visited the convenience store. No, he did not buy a lot of things. Only a lot of cigarettes.”

“Viktor… What do you think of the loan sharks’ next move since their debtor is dead now?” Nikolai asks, voice slow and sullen, thundering deeply from his throat. Viktor sniffles before he sits straight. 

“He had a lot of debt with them. Ain’t no way they will simply let the money burn, especially with how much they have spent on trying to catch that bastard.” Viktor says. “They can probably sell his assets to make a profit but can it be enough to cover all the debt? All the expenses? Nobody even wants to rent that ugly house.”

“Certainly not,” Nikolai grumbles. “The debt may default but I don’t doubt the loan sharks will—for the lack of a better word—get revenge for all the expenditures he caused them.”

“Yeah. And one of his assets is his daughter. The girl. You know the mind of horrible criminals, Kolyushka. Money lenders or not, by law or not, this group is ultimately a crime syndicate. They’re going to get her for sure.” Viktor adds, sighing loudly as he throws his head back.

“Are you two going to let the loan sharks take her?”

Both Viktor and Nikolai look up to the door, seeing Nastasya leaning against the frame. Her eyes darken as she steps further into the room. 

“Hm?” She addresses the men again. “Let her be taken? Let her take responsibility for something she did not do? What do you think will happen to a young girl with no one left and nothing left?”

Nikolai’s eyes scan her, finding her knuckles turning white as she grips the edge of the table. 

“That’s why I feel guilty… At first, I wouldn’t be much, knowing she was going to be just a hostage or a bait. But now… It’s like something shifts.” Viktor mumbles. His brown irises trail up to his lover before the latter also share the same look—a sentiment that is unspoken but understood. 

“No…”

Nikolai finally gets up. He takes a quick look at his watch. 12:27 AM. The diner must be closed by now. You are probably waiting for him. 

“No, what?” Nastasya asks. 

“You guys want to keep her, then keep her. I’m going to Peters. I have more important things to do than babysit a child.” Nikolai says, firmly. His tone is hard and rough as he fixes his jacket. Viktor bolts up from his seat, grabbing his friend’s arm. 

“Are you serious? You’re gonna give her if the loan sharks ask for her? She’s gonna get trafficked!” 

“Let me go.”

“Answer me, fucking coward.”

Nikolai yanks his arm away from Viktor’s grip. “I’m not gonna dwell in guilt like you, Pavlovsky.”

With that, Nikolai walks out of the studio, making haste of his steps towards his car. He enters it and starts the engine. The radio is not even on, he does not bother to do it as he drives to Olga’s diner—fast. The car runs through the falling snow that illuminates the night sky and the street lights. The world has gone quiet and will only go quieter as the hours pass. 

But his mind is never quiet. Each thought produces a monster, standing by to devour his head. Words from the news are buzzing in his ears like flies, and Nikolai worries that all of those monstrous thoughts and buzzing words are leading to one person. 

Oh, you… 

Nikolai is not sure whether you saw the news or not. He hopes you did not. The television in Olga’s place was dominated by a sports channel, no? It was on with sports and shall be off with sports. If you are aware of what happened to your father, he will be quiet. If you are not, he will be quiet too. He will keep his mouth shut about it, silence just like the winter night. 

Any mention of this will rigorously affect his plan to leave this town. 

Although, deep down, Nikolai knows, his plan to leave is already plagued with doubts and worries. 

He arrives at the diner in less than the expected time. Usually, it takes about fifteen minutes from VIY Studio to Olga’s place but due to the lack of people and cars on the street, especially at the hour, he manages to arrive in just ten. 

The diner is already dark. The light on the signboard is off, as well as the inviting ‘OPEN’ neon at the window. From the outside, the dining area is totally sombre. There is only the white light from the kitchen area, which is visible through the small window connecting the bar and the kitchen. 

Nikolai steps to the door—unlocked. He pushes it open and it rings. Two boys who are slumped at a table woke up from their sleep upon hearing the ring. Nikolai recognises them, but he doubts that they recognise him. 

“Where’s Olga?” He asks one of them. One of the boys, shy and timid, points at the door leading to the kitchen. Nikolai nods, mumbling half-hearted thanks as he steps towards the kitchen. He enters it, finding Olga is cleaning the stove. 

“Olga,” Nikolai calls and she turns. Her eyes widen and a tint of panic waves over her face. 

“Kolya, oh my God, you’re here.” She says as she rushes to him. Nikolai frowns, ignoring the old lady as he scans the whole kitchen area, trying to find you. The panic in her voice raises concern over his heart—once again, reacting to bad thoughts flooding his mind by hastening its beating. 

“She’s been in the toilet for a moment now. Told me she got a stomach ache and she needed time. Can you go and check her?”

His sixth sense tells him that there is no stomach ache. 

Reluctant yet feeling compelled to go, Nikolai nods. He makes his way to the toilet area. Two wooden doors—one for female and one for male. He approaches the one with the female symbol, knocking it a few times. 

He calls your name. 

No answer. 

Sniffles, yes. He does hear sniffles. 

He calls for you again, this time a little firmer. Knocks again. 

“S-Sorry, I need time…” Your muffled voice responds back. “Kolya…? C-Can you wait outside? I-I’ll see y-you outside…”

Nikolai stays still in front of the door, staring at the fake carving on the wood. He hangs his head low as his eyes stare blankly at his knuckles. “… I am outside. Not going anywhere.” He says. 

“… I’m not going anywhere.” He says again. 

Silence. Just as he wishes. Yes, you know about your father, that is crystal clear and obvious. And he prays that this silence will be forever—your father’s death shall never be mentioned, never be thought about. 

The fiddling noise of the lock breaks Nikolai’s focus on his hand. The door is pulled from the inside, open. 

“N-Nikolai…” Your glassy eyes gape at him, surprised. Your lips tremble as they try to crook for a smile. One attempt, two attempts and you finally manage to force one—unnatural and uncanny. “You’re b-back from Viktor.”

The air is tightening, choking his words from leaving his mouth. Hesitation—he can feel the heaviness in his heart to even reply to you. But for the sake of clearing the awkwardness, he nods. “Y-Yeah, I did. Come on.”

He turns around and walks off. He does not even know whether you are following him or not, for his gaze is only on his car in front of the premise. He leaves the diner first and once his boots step on the pavement, he realizes he is alone. He does not hear yours behind him. 

Nikolai takes a deep breath and faces up. He huffs slowly and the cold air trails out of his orifices. Heaviness is still lingering in his heart, despite he is alone out in the world. When he hears slow footsteps approaching him, the heaviness grows more, taking over his insides. With such a burden, he turns his head around, only to see you walking towards him with a gloomy gaze on the ground. 

One of your arms is hugging the ushanka you have taken off earlier. Without any word, Nikolai offers his hand and you—sensibly—put the ushanka on his hand. He then opens his jacket, slipping the big hat into the unknown. 

The baby blue girl who would often cheer at the tiniest sight of his ability is only carrying a deeper shade of blue right now. 

You are just standing there, so lost in thoughts that the glimmers in your eyes are lost too. The smile you once forced back at the toilet is not even trying to attempt anymore. Delight has flipped itself over, overcasting you with misery. 

“Hey.”

“Nikolai…” You finally speak. Your fingers clutch at your sides, fiddling with the fabric of your clothes. Then, accompanied by a quivering breath and hoarse voice, you ask;

“Can I have a hug?” 

Nikolai is silent. Oh, he really does wish to be silent. But wishes rarely ever come true. 

“Uhm…” He knows it—you want to be touched, to be held. You wish for solace and comfort. But Nikolai does not want it. If his wish to be silent cannot come true, yours cannot either. 

His eyes are everywhere but you. However, his body does turn towards you. His hand does reach out to you and with the most awkward voice he can muster, he offers, “How about we just shake hands?”

You stare at his hand. You nod. “Okay.”

You grab a hold of his hand before you slowly pull him and push yourself to the centre—closer. Nikolai’s body too moves on its own, subjecting itself to your whims. Your arms around his body as you bury yourself deeper into his warmth. 

And he embraces. 

His arms around yours, warmer and tighter. Your face against his chest and his face against your head, lips touch your skin briefly. One of his hands trails up, cupping the back of your neck as he caresses gently. And you let go. The cries and the sobs—you pour out to him and as he wishes, he stays silent and accepts it. 

“My dad’s dead, Kolya…”

Sniffles.

“I don’t know what to do…”

Hiccups. 

“I don’t have anyone left…”

You hug him tighter, and you press your cries harder against his chest. 

“Please don’t leave me too…”

Chapter Text

“Dad… I’m scared…”

Your small hand is desperately clinging to his jacket as you try to follow him through the bigger crowd. People around you are much taller, much bigger and much scarier. A speck of an ant—you feel like that is your point of view right now, for a tiny young girl who stands average at an adult’s waist height. 

“Dad— Daddy! Don’t walk too fast—!” Your breath hitches when your hair is gripped hard and you are yanked to his side. You whimper, tears brimming again as he roughly grabs your hand and practically drags you to the bridge. 

Boats with people in poor and depressing conditions are a sight here at the shore. 

“W-Where are we going?” You ask again, scared. Big men holding guns, masked people counting money, packages traded and exchanged. Frustrated groans leave your father’s mouth before he crouches in front of you. His calloused hand grips your jaw, hard. 

“You little… I need you to shut the hell up and do not ask any fucking thing. You know too much, you’re gonna die. You ask too much, you’re gonna die. Nobody cares about your goddamn questions.”

He shakes your puffed face, eyes swollen with tears, nose stifled with snot. 

“Nobody. Cares.”

“Hey, you okay?”

You lift your head and glance at the door. Your kidnapper is standing there and his lips twitch to force himself to smile—only for that attempt to be buried away. What is the point of smiling anyway? 

“You didn’t even eat your coco pops yet… It’s past lunchtime.” He says softly as he steps towards you, sitting down right next to you. Despite sitting at the edge of the bed, your body is slumped horribly—posture goes to hell—and your head is hanging low. 

“I don’t feel like eating…” You reply to him. Your voice cracks a little, most likely due to the lack of water. You have not eaten well for the past two days. When your stomach grumbles, you only nibble on some plain bread you found on the dining table. 

“You said that but you know your body is starving, right?” Nikolai says. 

“I am hungry… I just don’t feel like eating.” 

“… It happened to the best of us.” He replies before he also goes silent, just sitting right next to you without any word lingering in the air. 

One minute. 

Two minutes. 

“Was it the loan shark who killed him?” You finally turn your head towards him. Nikolai does not smile as his mismatched eyes pierce straight into yours. He bites his inner cheek before he averts his gaze away. 

“No. He really did shoot himself.”

“Who told you that?”

“Viktor. Even the loan sharks did not know he killed himself.” Nikolai says. “Forensic said they found a bowl of charcoal in the motel room he resided in. They suspected that he was trying to poison himself with carbon monoxide, but maybe he thought otherwise and used a gun on himself instead.” He tells you, tone as solemn as your own. 

“Do you know why he killed himself?”

“… No idea, love. They also suspected that he could not enter Belarus, which is why he did what he did. Besides, the bad guys your father was indebted to were coming for him before he committed. It was only a matter of hours.” 

You tear away your eyes from him before staring at your lap. The blue nail polish on your nails are peeled off—half of them, anyway. And your thumb continues to scratch your index fingernail, getting rid of the colour. 

“Were you the one who told them about his whereabouts?”

Silence. You do not even look at the man beside you. But his answer is not something unexpected. 

“I’m sorry.” 

—is all he says. 

You do not realise you have been biting your lips until they tremble, begging to be released from the intensity of your sentiment. It is only until you feel your eyes are burning again—burn more and more as you blink fast.

You hastily rub your eyes but you cannot hold back a sniffle. Facing away from him, you murmur, “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I wasn’t thinking right… I’m the dumb one. I thought you were different.”

He says your name, but his voice is tugged with strings of dolour itself. Syllables are not clear—just a crumpled word. You cover your ears, retreating to your shell as you shrink and shrink—feeling smaller and more humiliated than before. You shake your head.

Hiding. 

His hand reaches out to you but before the slightest touch can ever land, the door is knocked. You cannot see but from the corner of your eyes, you notice the shaky uncertainty in his quiver as he curls his fingers into a fist and retracts his hand away from you. Far far away. 

He does not say anything. He leaves the room and soon after, you hear the unlock.

The grocery bags from different stores are still unopened. A bowl of Coco Pops cereal is still untouched and there is already a plate of warm quick lunch beside it. The chair that is supposed to be filled with a person is empty. 

Nikolai stares at that emptiness. 

Even his meal does not feel fulfilling. He already gives up eating his lunch after two spoonfuls of it. He knows the meal he prepared will not be touched again and yet he still prepared it—in hopes that you might come out when he is there in the kitchen, sit in front of him and take your spoon as you tell him your thoughts of the universe. 

But his house has gone empty. 

Just like what it was one month ago before he brought in a stray flower he plucked from the street. 

He learned more from the news and his friend about your father’s suicide. There was a receipt of him buying a bag of charcoal and another receipt of him buying cigarettes and a lighter. Forensic suspected that he intended to die by poisoning his system by creating a hazard in the motel room. 

But ultimately, the quickest and most painless method became his choice. 

He saw the state of your father’s dead body—given by Viktor who managed to access uncensored photographs from a database. Bullet wound through the head, specifically on his mouth and throat. He was lying face down in his pool of blood. 

Gruesome pictures are not something foreign to him. Hell, he kills people for a living too. He has done worse. He skinned a man alive, he poured corrosive poison directly on someone’s head, he made an entire body, save for the head, burst into a mess of flesh and blood—Nikolai has seen and done it all. 

But there is a bitterness when seeing your father’s picture. 

If he were his younger self—crazier, mayhaps—he would have printed that photo and flaunted it in front of your eyes while you were crying for your daddy. 

“See, see! Yes, I made your dad kill himself! Aren’t you happy now, baby? No one’s gonna hurt you anymore, right? You should be thankful to me. Look at it, look at it! See these horrors with your own eyes!”

Perhaps he would say that, taunting you. 

But he is not. He does not have the desire to. He does not even think about mentioning his death if you never hug and cry on him for minutes on a street, rained with light snow. 

Nikolai finally stands up from the chair. He leaves his unfinished food and walks towards the bedroom. He peeks inside, seeing you sit silently on the edge of the bed, consumed with your own thoughts. A shadow is clearly looming over you. His lips part open but close too soon when he thinks back on his decision. 

Two days. Two days you have been like this. Quiet, with only less than fifty words a day to him. 

“Yes.” “No, thank you.” “Okay.” “I’m not hungry.” “I will eat later.” “I’m going to sleep.”

Nikolai despises this small talk—they were barely a talk. His world has gone quiet again, just like the snowy street outside. The evening sky is grey and gloomy, just like his apartment right now. The little bird has stopped chirping, leaving him with no melody to harmonise him. The stray flower he picked has withered, petals falling one by one.

He approaches you and finally sits down beside you after a long while of giving you your needed space. He notices how you slightly flinch at his presence and his eyes harden— What? What are you thinking right now? What are you thinking of me right now? 

“Was it the loan shark who killed him?” You ask. He does not realise he has been holding his breath until he can finally exhale in relief after hearing more of your voice—this time it is not just repeating the same phrases but you actually talked . 

You talk and he indulges in it. 

Nikolai answers your questions and tells you what he knows from the information he has gathered himself. He does not wish to keep them from your knowledge but he does not intend to straightaway tell you either. If you wish to know more, you can always count on him—that is what he wanted. 

Until, 

“Were you the one who told them about his whereabouts?”

He tenses, words are boiling in the brim of his throat and yet nothing comes out. They are not even trying to form a comprehensible sentence—just an abundance of things he thinks he could and can say. He should pick one, decide on one and yet nothing sounds right. His finger points on one and his brain diverts it away and his heart pushes it down. Yes, no, not me, him, her, she did it, he did, I know who, I don’t know, sorry, sorry, sorry—

“I’m sorry.”

It feels right. It is right.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I wasn’t thinking right… I’m the dumb one. I thought you were different.”

No. I am not the same as them. You’re not dumb—I fucking am. I am not like them. I am different. I am not the same. I am not.

Nikolai does not realise it when he starts to clench his fist. He despises being compared to normality—hells, that is one of the very reasons he defied the norm by dressing up as a loud clownish jester. He is not the same as any other people—he is aware of his cage, unlike all of them. He wonders who you are comparing him with. The other rancid killers? The other ugly kidnappers? The other heartless murderers? 

He is not like them.

Your sniffles are rusty needles, pricking his heart deeper and deeper especially when that is the only response you give after he calls your name. It jabs, it spikes, it hurts. The rust only spreads more dread.

When your body shrinks to its cocoon, his lips open again, wanting to tell you to stop. When your hands cover your own ears, his own pair twitches, wanting to grab your wrists and pull them away so you can hear his voice. You are hiding from him. And Nikolai does not like it. He hates it.

His hand reaches up to you.

Knock, knock, knock!

His hand halts in the air. He does not remember calling or expecting any visit. He wishes it is not one of the loan sharks, trying to take you away from him. Not now. Not yet. Not ever.

“I am going to check it.” —He does not say that. He could not. You are not even looking at him, not even wanting to talk anymore. This is not right. This is not how both of you work. Gaze should be shared and yet you are facing away, staring at the dirt in the corner instead of him.

He gets up and walks to the door. He unlocks it and opens it slightly, to see who is behind it. Two faces he does not expect, especially when his relationship with one of them is as sour as a pair of divorced parents. 

“We brought food,” Viktor says.

“Viktor…”

“You and I need to talk, darling. Now. I won’t accept any answer or I’ll literally commit arson in this building tonight.” He scowls. Once Nikolai finally opens the door wider, Nastasya pushes him aside and steps into his house uninvited. She does not even spare him a look. But the way her hand shoves him, he can only guess how high her anger is towards him.

“Geez, you are more frustrating to deal with than before. All grumpy and shit. Told you to go to therapy but you’re too prideful for that. Therapy is cheaper than coming to you, you know that, asshat?” Viktor huffs, crossing his arms. He glares at Nikolai up and down, snorting scornfully. “Not gonna dwell in guilt, huh? What’s with that face?”

Nikolai does not say anything as he stares at the floor for a moment. “Give me a minute. We’re gonna talk downstairs.”

“Why are you not eating lunch?”

You jump slightly at the familiar voice. You turn to the door, seeing Nastasya holding a bowl of stale coco pops. “You’re not hungry? Viktor and I even bought more food for you. Not for… that clown, though. He’s pissing me off.” She grumbles as she walks towards you with the cereal. She sits beside you, offering you your ‘breakfast’.

You shake your head. “Not hungry.”

And your stomach grumbles. Loudly.

“I hope that’s not fart,” She says before she grabs your hand and places the bowl on it. You look at her, taking in her appearance today—plain grey tank top and jeans, black fur jacket and her cross necklace. Her lipstick is a little smudgy but you are not going to point that out. Your eyes look away and travel to the bowl of coco pops.

“I don’t think this is edible anymore.”

“You’re right. That’s why we have other food. Come on, we’re not going to let you be malnourished.” She says before she takes your arm and gets up. Her hold on you is quite firm and you have no choice other than to follow her. Both of you step out and you instinctively look around the house.

“He’s with Viktor. Outside.” Nastasya says. “It’s just you and me in the house.”

“Are you watching over me?”

She shakes her head before she sits down at the dining table. “No. Vitya wanted to talk to Nikolai alone.”

“Why did you follow along?”

Nastasya stares at you and she says nothing. She just taps the spot on the table in front of her, gesturing to you to sit down. You obey, sitting down on your usual chair. In front of you is a plate of untouched meals. It is supposed to be your lunch.

“You wanna eat that or the food we bought for you?” Nastasya asks before she pushes the plastic bag containing food takeaways towards you. “Pick whichever you want.”

“I don’t feel like eating…”

“I know, but you must eat.” You are about to protest but Nastasya hisses once and you immediately take one of the food takeaways from the bag. You reach the provided cutlery from the bag as well and begin to half-heartedly stir the noodles. You eat the noodles, but your pace is extremely weak and slow as you pick one strand by one strand.

The smell of tobacco hits your nose and you glance up, seeing Nastasya huff the smoke to the side, away from you. Her eyes are blank as they are fixated on the lit cigarette, watching the fire devouring the white paper bit by bit. Her other hand is twirling her necklace.

“How do you feel?” She suddenly asks. You lift your head, one hand fiddles with the hem of your—well, Nikolai’s—shirt. You eye her, confused. She sighs softly. “How do you feel these days?” She repeats again.

Your gaze falls on the noodles. God, you really do not have the spirit to even chew a strand of it. Mindlessly nudging the noodles with the fork, you let out a heavy breath.

“Weird, somehow.” You say. “My father… um… well, I think you already knew. He died.” A pause. “I feel a little sad about it. I mean, he is— was… not a good person. Very not good. I knew he wouldn't come to my aid from the beginning. He never even cared when I did not come home for a night because I had to sleep in the bar for warmth. He stole my money, he dragged me here and there to run away… Said if people got me, he’ll be in trouble.”

“He’s a bad person… And I think I am not supposed to feel sad about it. I shouldn’t even feel surprised that he left me all the way almost out of the country. And yet…” Your vision is blurry as you feel warm tears start to drip over your eyes. Your lips are hanging open, seeking the words that you could put to complete the puzzles in your mind. “Yet… Yet, I… I feel disappointed.”

“It’s like I still have some hope, somewhere, that my father may still care just a bit about me. That my father is a father. But… he died now… He did it to himself… Left me here across the country… With… bad people…” You look down at your hands, not realizing how much you have scratched your skin as if to direct your pain elsewhere. 

“I just…” Irises tremble. “… feel fucking horrible.”

Your head jolts up towards Nastasya. “Does that make sense? I-I feel disappointed that he ran away so far instead of coming to help me but… but it’s not really something I did not expect. I know he won’t come but somehow… I still hoped.” Your voice is too shaky and it is only a matter of seconds that your whimper will slip. “And now I lost… a lot. My childhood, my mother, my job, my hope, my life…”

Nastasya stares blankly at the table before she presses the cigarette onto the ashtray. “I felt the same way too,” She says. “When my mother died, I felt exactly what you feel. She killed herself too, remember?” Her voice is quiet and solemn. “I felt horrible and sad and disappointed too when I lost her. Although I should’ve been the happiest girl in town because she was a massive bitch. You’re making sense, girl. Your head is making sense of your heart.” She leans forward a bit, reaching just enough to wipe away your tears. “No shame in that. I’ve cried over a horrible person too.”

You are already crying again, sniffing and weeping. “Then… why am I grieving? Why did you grieve?”

“I didn't grieve for my mother. You don't grieve for your father. You grieve for the little daughter who lost it all.”

“Alright, so where do you want to begin?”

Nikolai glares at Viktor as the man chugs on his soda. Both of them are just sitting on the staircase at the back door of the apartment building. Nobody really walks through here and there are two vending machines nearby.

“What do you mean?” Nikolai replies, grumpy.

“Our talk! Do you think I’m here to hoo-haa with you?” Viktor huffs. Nikolai sighs before he flicks open his can of soda and drinks it.

“I apologise,” Nikolai says. “I said bad things to you and caused you to complain to two different women.” 

“Mm-hm, apology accepted. That sarcasm at the end is not accepted though.” Viktor replies before he puts down his soda and bites a cigarette before lighting it up. “You know what will happen now, right?”

“Yeah…” Nikolai mumbles. “I’m pretty sure the loan sharks are on their way here now. They know where we are based.” He says before his eyes watch a flock of ravens in the sky, some landing on the electrical pole, some on the snowy ground.

“I haven’t replied to them, you know? The middleman already asked for her but I said nothing… yet.” Viktor says as he smokes. “Just feel bad for the girl. She just lost her only family and now she’s gonna get taken away. Just wanna give her some time to mourn for her daddy.” He continues. 

“I think she hates me already,” Nikolai sighs as he brings his knees closer to his body, hands frustratingly clasping his own head. “Fuck.” 

“Well, why does it matter to you?” Viktor snorts. “You don’t care about her, right? I thought you wanted her to leave you.” 

Nikolai glances at his friend. “Shut up.”

“No, let’s talk about this, Kolyushka.” Viktor scowls as he turns his head to Nikolai. He frowns, displeased. “Frankly, I don’t understand whatever you say about free will and stuff. But I sure think I am free as fucking pigeon right now. I have a stable job, I have a place to live, I can get discounted food, I went to therapy, I have my girl Nastyushka—I think my life is so content right now. And I have never felt freer.” 

“You know why? Because I am happy , Nikolai. I do not deny happiness and joy because of an absurd idea. Sure, I can appreciate your ideal philosophically but you are dwelling in depression and misery. Dare I say, you are purposely caging yourself.” 

Nikolai bites his lips. “Happiness is still—”

“I’m talking, sir.” Viktor flicks his fingers, cutting him off. “Yeah, yeah, happiness is brainwashing or control or whatever. But so is sadness, is it not? So is guilt. So is despair. So is vengeance. So is hope.” He pauses. “Just let yourself be human once. Your pursuit is nothing but unjust and tragic. That road leads you to either death or a loop.”

“I may not understand how exactly you want to be truly free, if we push out suicide from the equation. I may not even understand you fully as a friend. But I still care, you know? I’ve known you for more than ten years.”  Viktor stops, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “So, spill it. Don’t hide things from me. I am smart too. In a way. I guess.”

Nikolai stares blankly at the ground. He rubs his face, groaning into his palm. “I know she likes me. In… that way.” He halts before he looks away as he feels heat creeping all over his nerves. “It was weird. It’s not like I haven’t been with anyone in that way. But…” 

He bites his tongue, holding back. “You’re probably right…” His head nods mindlessly. “Maybe I do have feelings for… Uhm…” Nikolai purses his lips tightly. He does not want to say it. He still hopes that this lingering feeling is just a harsh breeze passing by—but that breeze will only send chills all over his body. 

“At first she was so goddamn annoying and clingy. But I don’t know… Maybe her naivete and the way she looks at me are making me feel weird, sorta. She’s kind, I give her that. Too kind, maybe. And sometimes… uhm, she does things that I like…” Nikolai cringes, scratching his head in restlessness. “Damn it, it’s just one month and a little bit more. And… Fuck. I have known you for more than one whole decade and I never get the feeling to sleep with you or anything but when it’s her, I’m like—”

“Hold on now!” Viktor sits straight but his body is bouncing in excitement. He tries to speak but his mouth only spurts incoherences, akin to a football fan who experienced victory. He grabs Nikolai’s arm, shaking it. “Bro, that sounds like… You want to… hehehe… ”

Nikolai blushes again—the shades on his cheeks turn deeper red—before he buries his face into his arm. He groans but says nothing. Viktor only cackles, patting his back. “You know what, I don’t even blame you. Humans have desires. It just happened that your desires point in the same direction.” 

“Right… But listen, I don’t intend to do anything about this… feeling I have. I still want to go to Peters… and do what’s important…” Nikolai says. “My feelings are just temporary. And… it is not like me to embrace it. If I do, I’ll just betray myself.”

Viktor only scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

They sit in silence for a couple moments again, until both of their sodas are finished.

“Hey, what do the loan sharks want to do with her?” Nikolai asks. Viktor shrugs his shoulders.

“So, like we said before, she’s most likely going to get trafficked. Loan sharks won’t kill their debtors but they’re criminals just like we are. They’re going to do worse.” He replies. “My best guess is she’s most likely going to be forced to become a prostitute, or at least something like that. They probably will get her to work until she can fully repay the debt.”

“Is that why Nastasya doesn’t like it?”

Viktor’s shadow of a smile drops instantly. He is overcasted with dull ashes. “Yeah. I know she hates it.”

“I know I’ve told you how we met but it was never in detail, right?” Viktor takes a long drag of his cigarette. “When I went to the club, she was literally the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. It felt like I just saw an angel who got displaced in Hell. I didn’t even want to sleep with her, you know? I wanted to get close to her but I didn’t know how so I paid for her ‘services’.” He chuckles briefly. “She just sat there on the bed and I wanted to kinda introduce myself. I wanted to show what I am, so I taught her how to do Python.”

“Cringe,” Nikolai says.

“I just wanted her to see that I’m a smart boy, alright?! And shush, I’m being nostalgic.” Viktor pushes his index finger on Nikolai’s lips, only for the latter to move his head away. “Well, I kept doing that for nights. Just went there to spend time with her. I was kinda broke at the time so I can only spend an hour or two.” He sighs.

“Then, she told me about herself. I was like ‘Yes, fucking finally!’ because it took a while for her to open up to me.” Viktor once again cackles to himself. “Won’t really tell you much but she was basically forced to live that way. I felt so fucking angry. Every time she told me about what she had to deal with in that club, I thought to myself, ‘What should I do? What should I do with her?’”

“So I took the risk. I made a lot of ‘dangerous’ arrangements. A car, some fake but valid-looking documents, a safe place for her to live, a therapist to heal… Just things that will keep her away from harm, you know? Then I asked her if she wanted to leave. She did come with me and the rest is history.” Viktor ends his narration with a pleased smile. “And I think I am the luckiest man alive.”

Nikolai does not say anything. On one hand, he wonders why exactly Viktor told him that. On the other hand, he finds himself resonating with a tiny part of his tale. That same question Viktor asked himself also has been popping up in Nikolai’s mind again and again— What should I do? What should I do with you?

He has been thinking of any possibly perfect solution for this conundrum since three days ago. You really do not have any reason to stay with him any longer. Your father died and the responsibility has unfairly dawned on you now. He does not know if the police are still searching for you but most likely they still are. You are a target of many.

Staying with you is just going to be damaging for him. He already left prison. He does not want to be under surveillance again because of his defiance to conform to the law and society standards. And though he is fairly certain he can defend himself against a crime syndicate group, he prefers to be lowkey and not be hunted. Anyone who is closely related to you will be in danger. It is the same cycle as how you are now in one because you are your father’s little girl.

“I think I need more time to think about this… about her …” He says to Viktor.

“You really just have two choices, Kolyushka. You want her gone, you let the loan sharks come. You want her to stay, well… maybe I can help a bit. Free of charge. Not like I haven’t done it.” Viktor smiles but Nikolai finds that his last remark is a little too suspicious—while also, undeniably quite appealing on a minuscule scale.

He decides to ignore that for now.

“Ah, right. I’m not here to just school you like a daddy would to his son. Come to send you special things, personally.” Viktor says before he finally reaches a suitcase he has been carrying all this time. Nikolai’s eyes perk up, interested.

Viktor places the suitcase on his lap before unlocking it. Inside, there is a stack of papers, some laminated, some not. “What are those?”

“What are those? What is your brain doing? Thinking about the girl? Look closer!” Viktor shoves the suitcase towards him. Nikolai grumbles at his rude remark but accepts the suitcase anyway, placing it on his lap. He takes one of the papers. 

“This is… legal documents,” Nikolai murmurs.

“Yeah, for your fake identity in Peters. Oh, and there is also a fake passport and an ID card, right at the bottom of these papers.” Viktor says. “I don’t know if you wanted a fake driver’s license too because you will sell your current car, right? But I made one anyway.”

After a while of not smiling, Nikolai finally cracks one, looking at the documents, pleased. “Good… I can proceed now.” He says, mostly to himself. He looks up at Viktor. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem. But I’ll charge you extra.”

Nikolai frowns. “Now, now… I don’t remember our deal about this stuff requires that.”

“Yeah, me too. But I will charge you extra.” Viktor smirks ever so slightly. “For another deal in advance.”

“They’re taking a while…” You murmur as you have been staring at the door, waiting for Viktor and Nikolai to return from their secret meeting. Nastasya turns her head to the door and only hums.

“I think it’s a good thing. Sometimes Nikolai needs a scolding.” She says before she leans to the couch, sighing. She grumbles slowly under her breath as she combs her hair with her fingers. “Ugh… the cold air is really messing up my hair.” She huffs.

“Is that possible?” You ask.

“Well, it is possible, since my hair feels weird. I usually let it dry naturally but it’s getting long, so I have to use a hair dryer.” She replies. “Ugh! Do you have a hairbrush I can borrow? And do not give me Nikolai’s brush. I don’t even understand how a dude has better hair than me. I bet he uses 3-in-1 head-to-toe body wash.” She whines.

“I do have a hairbrush. I got Nikolai to buy it for me several weeks ago… Wait a minute,” You get up from the couch and walk into the bedroom. You reach the drawer beside the bed, where you keep your personal belongings—most were bought by your kidnapper. The only thing that is truly yours is your baby blue purse and its contents.

You take a hairbrush from the drawer and a few more things before leaving the bedroom. You stand beside the couch, looking at distressed Nastasya. She opens her palm, waiting for you to place the hairbrush on it, but you just stare.

“Hm?” She looks at you, confused. 

“Can I braid your hair?”

“W-What?”

“Um, you look a little bothered about your hair… I think it would be nice to tie it… or braid it… It’s totally okay if you don’t want to, though…” You give her a soft smile. “I think you’d look cute with a braid.”

“Cute? You little…” Nastasya’s eyes are gawking at you, perplexed. And you are just waiting for her answer, patiently standing there with a hair brush and a small pouch of hair ties. Your eyes are gazing at her, sparkling chaste.

“F-Fine… Make it quick.”

You gasp cheerily, moving to sit beside her on the couch before she adjusts her position so her back is facing you. Your nimble fingers start to trace and feel each of her black strands. “I’ll brush your hair, okay? If I accidentally tug your hair… sorry!” You say cheekily. Nastasya just nods as her shoulder tenses.

With careful motion, you start to brush her hair gently. You can smell the scent of rose coming from her. Her hair is silky but quite dry, which is probably why she felt bothered earlier. There are also remnants of snowflakes on her hair, which you try your best to remove.

“You know, when I was a child, my mom used to do my hair before school.” You say. “I used to get a little jealous of other girls who have cute hair, so I want one too. Usually, she either does braids or some cute ponytails.” You tell her as you brush the other section of her hair.

Nastasya is silent for a moment before she replies to you. “You learnt to braid from her?” 

You shake your head, though she will not see it anyway. “Mm-mm. I tried to do it on her hair but her hair at the time wasn’t really suitable for a braid. And my attempts were always messy!” You giggle as you are reminiscing. “I always cross the wrong strands over and under the other. I want to try braiding my mom’s hair to perfection one day but… well… you know.”

“Mm-hm.”

“So as I grow up, I practice on myself. It is very tiring, right? Braiding your own hair.” You say and Nastasya hums in agreement once again.

“As you grow older, you’ll just settle with a ponytail.” She remarks. You laugh softly in response, nodding.

“Mayhaps,” You say. “So after I master the art of braiding myself, I wanna try it on other people too. But I don’t have a lot of friends, so I used to get ribbons—oh, I used to work in a stationary shop, by the way—and practice it that way.”

Nastasya scoffs. “Must be hard. Ribbons are different from hair. They're flat and thin, unlike a strand of hair.” She replies. You nod again.

“Yeah… that’s kinda the main problem… But I can try my best on you!” You grin as you part her hair into sections, enough to do double French braids. You lift your body a little, kneeling on the couch now.

“What colour of hair tie do you want?” You ask her.

“I don’t care.”

“Mmm, that’s a hard answer. I am not good at choosing things for people.” You hum as your fingers fiddle in the pouch. “Okay, got them. I’ll start braiding your hair now. If it hurts… Uhm, don’t get angry with me, please.”

“Fine, fine, whatever.”

You chuckle before you start braiding her hair carefully. Your forehead frowns sometimes as you are focused on finishing a braid on one side. The hardest part is the beginning as you have to carefully get a strand little by little and tug her scalp a bit. You can hear Nastasya’s deep exhale when you accidentally do it hard, but she does not complain or anything. To amend it, you will quickly pat her head as if it might soothe her.

You are halfway done after several minutes.

“Would you like to take a guess on what colour your hair ties are?” You strike a question. Nastasya seems to be snapped out of her thoughts as she tries to recall your abrupt query.

“What?”

“Your hair tie’s colour. Guess it.” You smile before you stick a mini butterfly clip on her braid.

“I feel like there is something else on me…”

“Yeah, some butterfly clips! It’s actually one of my favourite clips because my mom used to put them a lot on my hair and sometimes on herself too. She even bought a huge pack that has a hundred pieces! You’d look cute, I pinky promise.” You giggle. “Are you still guessing?”

“Huh? The hair tie? Uh… I don’t know. I… Hm… Black, I guess.”

“Bzz! Wrong. I chose white.” You say as your head tilts left and right in joy. Your fingers continue to tenderly and delicately crisscross her strands of hair, determined to finish the braids. You ramble on, “I chose white because I think it will give a little colour to your appearance. There is a logic here, listen, listen. You are always wearing black or dark-coloured stuff, so I think a little white here and there would give you more contrast, more gleam, as they say. You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were intimidating. I mean, your whole colour is bold and fierce. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong though! I… uh… well, speaking from a girl to another girl, I think white also suits you. I may be biased because I love achromatic colour but I think you’d look pretty in white too. Maybe you’ll like it if I stick it on you here and here and—”

You stop talking when you notice something. The braid is already done, mini butterflies are clipped on some parts and the white hair tie is securing the braid nicely. But Nastasya is quiet—no, she is burying her face in her palms, her shoulders shaking.

“N-Nastasya…?”

Oh God, was I too annoying?

You shrink in your spot, feeling small once again. You hear Nastasya’s long sigh and you swallow nervously. “Um, I can take them off if you don't like them…”

“No,” She says firmly. “No, I was just… thinking about something. I wasn’t mad at you or anything.” She adds before she takes a deep breath and turns her body towards you.

“Really?” You ask with a small timid voice. Before Nastasya could reply to you, the door opens from the outside. Both of you turn towards it as Viktor and Nikolai step in—one is jovial and another is sombre. 

“Nastyushka, my lady! Ah—”

Viktor’s jaw hangs low as he sees Nastasya. He then gasps dramatically, rushing towards her. “Oh my, look at you! You’re so… Ugh! You’re so fucking cute!” He squeals as he carefully touches her braided hair. 

Your timidity dissipates, changing to a smile towards Nastasya, as if you are saying ‘See?’

“Did you do this?” Viktor asks you and you nod shyly. He grins, reaching out to pat your hair. “Aw, you cheeky girl. You did so great. I love it.” He says. You only keep smiling sheepishly. As Viktor keeps pampering his lover with never-ending praises, your eyes trail to the quiet man in the room. 

Nikolai is just staring at you. Once your eyes are fixated on him, he pulls away his gaze. He even pulls himself out of the living room as he retreats to the bedroom, closing the door. 

“Well, I guess it’s your turn to talk to him now,” Viktor says. You look at him, slightly confused. 

“What do I talk to him about?”

“Oh, those questions will come up later. But I’ve done my best to discipline the fuck out of him.” Viktor grins at you. “Don’t be too angry with him, okay? That dude has a multitude of issues. You just have to be patient, sometimes. Oftentimes. Every time.”

Your eyes lower down to the floor. “I’m not angry… Not anymore , really…” You murmur. Truthfully, you were hurt at the fact that Nikolai did reveal your father’s location. You wanted to blame him—but you could not, really. The morning after his drunk night is still fresh in your mind. 

“Freedom, little dove. I’m talking about free will. The power to make a choice for yourself, without influences from all over.”

“Must you cry? Were those little unimportant joys you felt no better than agony?”

In a way, you can understand his desperation to be relieved of emotions and burdens—you want to create a justification for his action, but unless he says it himself, you cannot even fully convince yourself. 

Viktor and Nastasya leave the house shortly after. You are left with your thoughts and the man in the room. You know you cannot just stay silent and wish the universe to fix everything for you—talking to Nikolai and figuring things out is better than being quiet. You have been quiet for long enough. 

Your talk with Nastasya did go well—if you said so yourself. It was relieving to have someone who could mirror your conflicted feelings over your father’s death. You may not know the full extent of horrific things Nastasya had gone through, but her words alone were enough for you to pick up your puzzles and piece them together. 

You get up. Your fingers are cold and you feel your nervousness rise once you approach the bedroom. Taking a few deep breaths to support yourself, you knock. 

At this point, knocking has become Nikolai’s worst nightmare. 

He is lying on the bed, as still as a corpse, crafting possible answers he could muster if you ever drop a hard question. He thinks he does not get enough time and he feels his heartbeat rate is increasing to the max—it is as if his heart is struggling to leap out his chest. 

Ah, I’m not ready. She’ll ask me. She won’t ask me about her daddy. She’ll ask me things. Other things. 

He wants to shout— Go away! Leave me and torment me no more! —But even the thought of raising his voice towards you is already dimming the courageous fire that is barely lit. Instead, his fire shivers, smaller and smaller into cowardice as he watches the door creak open. 

You peek inside, looking at him curiously. Nikolai only returns your gaze, still unmoving from the bed. “Can I come in?” You ask and he hums in an approving tone. A tiny smile tints on your face as you step in. You walk to the bed and Nikolai does not know what he expects you to do but definitely, he does not expect you to get on the bed as well, lounging beside him. 

He thought his bravery would last long but your curious and blinking eyes— adorable —are too distracting. Irises emitting pristine, just enough to push his bravado back to the corner of his inner self. At that point, he just wants to kneel and say sorry again, for whatever he has done to you wrong. 

“Kolya, are you okay?”

“You should ask yourself that…”

“I am okay now…” You give him a small smile. “I already ate too.” 

Nikolai nods awkwardly. “Mm… that’s good…” He says. His eyes are trying their best to look elsewhere—just anywhere, except you. But when his vision is fixed on the crippled ceiling, he finds himself diverting his sight towards you instinctively, seeking something nice to see, something nice to probably hold. 

You two are basking in silence—though, Nikolai does not find it uncomfortable. Perhaps the slightest as he is pondering over the questions you will ask him. But the more he glances at you, the more he sees that you are actually waiting for him to speak.

“What were you talking about with Nastasya?” He asks. You turn to him with a smile on your face.

“She was… kinda helping me to process my feelings.” You say. “It was confusing and I felt lost. Maybe God sent her to me to get my head straight again.”

“Or maybe it’s the other way around.” He replies nonchalantly, his eyes are still fixated on the ceiling.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

Sensing that you may not get a clear answer from him, you look away. But Nikolai finally breaks away his stare from the crippling ceiling, mismatched irises attending to your features. “You could’ve just spoken to me, you know?”

“I wanted to… it’s just I didn’t know where to start.” You reply before you sigh and adjust your body. Slowly, you lower yourself to the spot next to him, lying right beside him as your hand cradles his arm.

Nikolai tenses. The familiar heat travels all over his nerves. His sensitivity peaks and he thinks he can perceive anything—everything. His nose is catching the hinting scent of your hair, his ears are begging more of your sweet plea and his eyes cannot break away. 

“I felt all sorts of things and they’re like roaming everywhere in my mind. I admit that… I kinda felt angry at you for a moment when you told me you’re the one who revealed my father’s location…” He feels the grip of your hand on his arm tightens. “Felt angry and disappointed for a moment. But then, I remembered what we had talked about before… About your freedom, your emotions and—” You sigh, leaning your forehead on his shoulder. “I want to trust you… I think your action was driven by a desperation to be free. So…”

“Enough,” Nikolai says. “Maybe you’re right, maybe not. I don’t even know anymore. But I am…” He pauses, biting his tongue before looking away. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you. Don’t blame yourself, please.”

“Your kindness will not get you far, sweetheart.” He murmurs under his breath, but it slips past your ears.

“What did you talk to Viktor about?”

“Huh?”

You grin at him and Nikolai almost scrunches his nose by how you look.

Cute… —he thinks.

“Alright, I get it. It’s only fair. You told me about your stuff with Nastasya and I shall tell you about Viktor.” Nikolai says. “We were just talking about… um, my stuff. He came here to send me fake documents for my new identity… It’s just some of my Petersburg stuff.”

“Oh…” You shift your head up at him. The proximity between you and him is extremely close right now—really, it is just the two of you lying down on the bed, he is as still as a log and you are as clingy as ivy. “Can’t you just go as you are now?”

“No, sweetheart. I was a convict and my name is still tied to a certain record that listed dangerous ability users. If I want to move around the globe freely, I have to assume the coat of another man.” He explains as he sighs. “Tedious, but it is what it is.”

“There’s a record of that?” You ask and he just nods. “Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”

Nikolai scoffs. “I’d say it’s a good thing for me. It’s a boost of ego, I take it.” He smiles at you and you also beam, enjoying the rare sight of his little ‘insignificant’ joy. “But some people think it’s a bad thing. If the government knows you have the potential to be a threat to the nation, you’ll be treated less than a stray dog. There’s a reason why a lot of people like me went into hiding after The Great War.”

“The Great War… I feel like I’ve heard about it in school…” You mumble, forehead creases as you try to recall bits of memories of your school days. “Were you… uh, participated in it? Involved? Affected?”

“I was twelve when the war ended.” 

“Where was the war again?”

“Not here.”

“Why are you being secretive?” You pout. Nikolai only gives you a sly smile but says nothing further. Unsatisfied that you may not be able to have answers, you let out a loud huff. “You and your secrets…”

“I’ll tell you when the time is right,” Nikolai says. 

“So, when?”

“Not now,” He replies shortly. “I will keep secrets about that side of things, but I won’t if you ask me the questions you have been wondering all this time. I will speak truthfully, starting from this second.” 

“Promise?”

“Yes, promise. I’ll be honest with stuff.” Nikolai says. He will be honest, but that does not mean he cannot omit important parts. It is not a lie if it is not told. 

He could not see your face from this position, as you are almost tucked comfortably at his side. But you soon lift your body a little and roll to lay on your stomach, facing him. His hand instinctively raises, hovering over your face, longingly, for a second before his fingers twitch—sending back his common sense into him. 

“What will happen to me?” You finally ask the big question. “The loan sharks are coming for me now, right…? There’s no way they will let my father’s debt dissipate like that…”

“… They’re indeed coming for you. They did ask Viktor about you. But he hasn’t replied to them yet.” Nikolai replies, his voice soft, just like his gaze on you. 

“Why?”

“Sympathy, guilt,” Nikolai says. “He has moral codes, you know? Not entirely heartless, that guy.” 

Your eyes waver to his hand that is hanging in the air, lost. “And then? It’s not like they will just… let me go, right?” You murmur. “I’m gonna be taken by force…” Nikolai purses his lips, biting his lower one when he sees you become tense and shiver—your eyes are getting slightly redder as seconds pass. 

Nikolai surrenders. 

His hanging hand caresses your cheek, his thumb rubbing the skin of your face. He can hear his heartbeat thump louder and louder when you nuzzle into his palm—like a cat seeking warmth. Nikolai can feel the blush creeping in all over his body again when you hold his hand to keep it on you—silently begging him to stay. 

For a second, Nikolai wonders who really is the captive and the captor here—because he sure knows that your glimmering irises, despite the tears, are capturing his attention right now. 

“I’m scared… I’m so scared…” You whimper weakly. “I don’t have anyone else, Nikolai… I only have you.”

“I know.”

You look at him, with a certain hope. Your fingers slide down carefully, tightening around his wrist. “Can I—”

“No,” He cuts you off immediately. “You won’t come with me to Petersburg. No one. Not even you.”

“But it’s not safe for me here—”

“I said no,” His tone hardens. “Listen. I don’t even plan to bring anyone to Petersburg. Every preparation I have done is only for me alone. So, no… I won’t bring you. I cannot .” He says. “But I’m not dumb enough to not be able to see that both Viktor and Nastasya really do not want the loan sharks to get to you. They will go to a great degree to get their money back and satisfy their hatred towards your dad. Horrible things will happen to a young girl like you, that is for sure. And neither of us will be safe for each other.”

“That’s not true,” You retort back. “I feel the safest with you…”

“Right now, maybe yes. But not in St. Petersburg. Not when Fyodor is around.” 

“Why, is he that dangerous?”

“Very much, yes.”

Nikolai can see your mood drop instantly. His thumb slides down to the corner of your lips and lifts it up. His gesture is enough for your solemn to turn into an adorable pout at his half-assed attempt to break a smile out of you. 

“Then… what will you do with me? Where will I go? To whom I should turn to?”

Nikolai stares at you for a few seconds. He knows asking himself to choose between letting you go or actually helping you only leads him to the second choice. He tried to delight himself with the possibility of you being gone, but his mind ended up to the worst-case scenario that might happen to you—and then delight is no more, only dismay. 

“Have your heart and head ever pointed in the same direction?”

He tries to remember what direction they were pointing at when you asked that question that day. His eyes glance at you, seeking his answer back then. Both of his mismatched eyes land precisely on your lips. 

Ah right… I wanted to kiss you. 

Nikolai sighs internally. He feels dumb. 

“Nikolai?” You call him as your hand caresses his hand as if it is a source of comfort for you. 

“Yeah, wait. I’m thinking.”

“Okay… You’re quite a thinker.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

You only chuckle briefly but your smile does not last long—your sun is too shaded. He understands why—you were and are dealing with a lot of things at once. Girls your age should be in college, arguing in a group project and studying for a surprise mock exam—not lounging on the same bed as their kidnapper, holding his hand and pouring naive affection. 

Nikolai sighs again—internally, of course. He does not want you to think badly about him—well, not that it matters… right? Not that he cares . Not that he likes you or anything. Not that his affection has grown a tad too big that he dreams of your lips sometimes. Not that his desire boils itself too high when sometimes he hopes the night he lays his head on your chest repeats again. Not that his yearning is tickled over and over when he recalls the moment you hug and cry against him.

“I’ll find a way. To help.” He finally says. The longer he ponders over his choices, the clearer his answer is. The first choice only brings havoc between his head and heart, but the other is agreed upon immediately. His feelings are not in shambles if he keeps thinking about his second choice. Matter of fact, he feels good. 

Extremely good. 

He feels disappointed though—this decision is not made by his own free will, is it? His empathy, guilt and feelings towards you lead him to this point. He is being led by something else—a force he wants to break free from. 

But those emotions are a part of him. He cannot just escape from himself. He cannot steal him from himself. If he does—then death will offer its hand to him. 

“You’ll help me?” You ask. Then, you scoot closer, offering a pinky finger. “Really? Promise? Honest?” 

Nikolai scoffs. He pulls his hand away from your face only to link his pinky with yours. “There. Promise. Satisfied now? Are we on good terms now?”

You giggle and it brings Nikolai’s deep chuckle out too—he does not really understand why but your sweet adorable giggle certainly has a charming melody in it, chanting radiance to anyone, including him apparently. 

Ah, he lied. He knows exactly why he acted so. 

“I have another question. Will you answer it honestly? No lying, no hiding?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you want, little dove.” He replies nonchalantly before he retracts his finger from you. You tilt your head, looking at him expectantly. 

“Why do you help me?”

Nikolai’s lips part slightly, stopping himself from blurting out the words out of his heart. He looks uncertain and the only thing he does as a response is shake his head. 

It is not a lie if it is not told. 

Chapter Text

“I feel cold…”

Nikolai sighs as soon as you say that once he gets back inside the car after filling up the gas. “I told you not to just wear a cardigan.” He replies before he starts the engine again. You pout, hugging your body as your fingertips caress the soft fabric of your white cardigan. 

“Yeah… But it looks sunny and I thought it wouldn’t be as cold.” You say. Nikolai only glances at you, giving you a frown. 

“In what world do you think the weather will stay warmer for a degree during a snowy winter?” He only watches you increase the temperature of the heater as he starts driving again, leaving the petrol station. You are clearly restless because it does not get any much warmer, considering that his car is barely decent in condition. In an attempt to preserve your heat, you try to pull the sleeves of your cardigan to at least cover your hands. 

“Hold on, darling. We’re almost there. Jeez, can’t even handle a bit of cold, huh?” Nikolai says, his tone is slightly mocking. You only pout and shake your head. 

“Maybe your car is too old to get the heater functioning.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” Now Nikolai is the one who pouts. You once again reach out to fiddle with the buttons in the car but you retract when Nikolai slaps your hand away, lightly. “Stop.” He says and you huff, leaning back with your arms crossed. 

It takes about several minutes until both of you arrive at Olga’s diner. The parking lot is empty and the sign is still showing that it is ‘CLOSED’. It is not even noon yet, so you figure that you two are here for important business rather than a lunch date—not that it is still impossible. 

“Come on.” Nikolai leaves the car and you follow after. You wheeze as soon as the harsh cold breeze hits your face. Hugging yourself tightly to keep warm, you jog your way to Nikolai, bumping into his body. His hands immediately reach to hold your shoulders. “Goodness…” He sighs. 

“I’m so cold!” You whine as you push yourself closer to his body and his arms instinctively wrap around you. 

“Well, it’s not my fault that you didn’t take my advice earlier!” He grumbles before he deliberately takes off his winter jacket and hovers it over your body. “Arms.” He commands and you obediently put your arms into the sleeves. It is heavy and big on you—disproportionate but warm. 

“What about you?” You ask, eyeing the beige sweater he is wearing. It does not look like it can provide better heat for this weather but Nikolai does not even seem to be affected by it—or at least he pretends so as his nose twitches a couple times. 

“I’m fine,” He says. “Let’s go.” He walks off first and you follow after. Before Nikolai could stuff his hands into his jeans’ pockets, you quickly grab one of them, wrapping your fingers around it. Nikolai only glances, but he does not pull away—instead, he holds your hand back, just as tight as how you are holding his. 

It feels warmer. 

When you two step in, Olga is already waiting at the bar, with Vasily by her side. She waves at you and you beam happily, waving back at her. You give a greeting nod at Vasily but the boy only smiles at you awkwardly as a response. He disappears into the kitchen without a word. 

“How are you, my dear?” Olga suddenly asks. “Are you well? Have you eaten?”

“I’m good. I have eaten but I don’t mind some more snacks.” You grin cheekily. Olga chuckles before nudging her chin towards the kitchen. 

“Help yourself, then.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Kolya and I are having a private talk, as he told me in the text. But you can go into the kitchen and get some snacks from the staff pantry. Just give us a moment for two, is that okay?” Olga says. Your head turns to Nikolai who is already looking at you. He does not say anything other than pouting his lips towards the kitchen, shooing you away. 

“Mm… okay.” Slightly defeated that you are being left out, you reluctantly let go of his hand. You get to the kitchen and peek at the bar through the small window, watching both Olga and Nikolai talking in a slow, whispering voice. Nikolai then goes to sit at a table before Olga approaches him with two drinks for both of them. 

You pull your gaze away, knowing that whatever they are talking about, it does not involve you or it is not even a matter that you have to be concerned with. You can try to ask Nikolai later but for now, you will enjoy your time alone. 

Or perhaps not. 

Because when your eyes meet Vasily who is silently preparing ingredients, you are perked with curiosity and interest. You have never spoken with him, only exchanging friendly nods and smiles. But you have the strongest desire to do what you are best at—bothering people. So, you approach him and Vasily seems to be noticing you as well because he is fidgeting on his spot but makes no move to avoid you. 

“Vasily… is it?” You say, adorably smiling at him. He looks at you and nods. You offer a hand, introducing yourself to him. He hastily wipes his hands on the napkin hanging in his apron’s pocket and shakes your hand.

“I heard that you’re a student at a university nearby.” You strike up a conversation. Vasily still looks apprehensive but he swallows his timidity, trying to respond to you with the same enthusiasm, or at least a chunk of it—as he feels quite uncomfortable with your sudden chatter, like a songbird. 

“Yes, I am…” He replies. “And you don’t… really look much older than me. Are you a student yourself, maybe?” He attempts a question and as if your bunny ears are perked up in the excitement of getting someone asking about you, you quickly answer him. 

“I finished high school several years ago. Couldn’t afford university, so I work.” You say. 

“At a bar, right?” His words leave his mouth like a bullet as if his thought does not even register the sensitivity of his question. You are surprised at the sudden fact about yourself being thrown at you like that but you have to remember—your face and name are already broadcasted in the news as a missing person. 

“Y-Yes, I work— well, worked , at a bar. I was an escort.” You say, your voice tender as you notice Vasily’s guilt is creeping in. His conscience is probably hitting a little too hard and you do not want him to get uncomfortable around you—although your friendliness might already give you the wrong headstart. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He mumbles. “Olga’s always dealing with shady people and I just saw your face in the news and… and… I-I’m sorry, I think I should shut up.” He bites his lower lip, holding himself back from saying more insensitive nonsense. 

“I don’t mind.” You say. Vasily’s eyes are frantic as they try to divert elsewhere but you. 

“Uhm…” He glances at you. “So… you’re really a missing person?”

You nod. “It appears so.”

“Are you in trouble? Right now?” Vasily asks. His tone is low and careful. Your eyes widen a little in surprise but before you can reply to him, he nudges his chin towards the window. You look at it and you can only see Nikolai from this angle. “The man you’re with. Isn’t he with you? Do you need help?” He hardens the tone in his whisper, emphasising the seriousness of his attempt to help. His eyes occasionally glare at Nikolai, as if the man could hear your conversation. 

“N-No, not at all. He’s with me, yes, but I… don’t need help…” You reply quickly. Vasily flashes you a suspicious look as if he does not buy into your excuse—well, to his defence, for a girl who looks his age hanging around with a man in his 30s is not really a pleasant sight, especially when you are definitely a missing person. A kidnapped person. A victim of a crime.

“Are you sure?” Vasily asks again, holding your wrist. “I can really help you. Nobody in this town dares to mess with Olga because she has protection from a lot of shady and dangerous people, as this diner is the perfect nest to make deals.” He says. “If that man coaxes you to say no—”

You pull your wrist off his grip. “No, Vasily. He doesn’t… I mean, yes, he kidnapped me but… But I do not want to leave him. I want to stay. With him.” You say, firmly. Vasily stares at your face for a moment before palming his face, muttering something in a dialect you do not understand. He then nods to himself. 

“Sorry. I misunderstood. It’s— uh, one of those kink things, right?”

“What?”

“Roleplay.”

“Oh… No, no. Not at all.”

You can only watch the confusion in Vasily’s face brew deeper. 

“Well, isn’t this a confusing situation…” Olga murmurs behind her palm after she listens to the whole story that Nikolai just told her—from his drunk and desperate aspiration to your father’s death. He feels slightly nervous at the stern glare Olga gives to him as she ponders over the question he just struck her. 

“Could you take care of her?”

“Well, Olga?” Nikolai asks again. “What do you say?”

“I don’t really understand what you mean by ‘taking care of her’,” Olga replies. “If work is what she wants, then yes, I can grant it. But there is more to this, isn’t there, Kolya? Be clear with me. Be honest.” She taps the table in front of Nikolai, urging. Nikolai purses his lips and grumbles. 

“I want you to shelter her. Give her a place to sleep and stay. Let her work as your staff or something. Anything. Your house surely can fit one more girl, right?” He says. Olga hums and nods before she silently sips her warm black coffee. 

“Why don’t you?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you do that for her? I know you adore her, Kolya. Ever since you first brought her here.” Olga smiles, almost like a tease but Nikolai feels extremely humiliated by that remark. Was he that obvious? Were his feelings too upfront than he thought? Were his emotions engraved too deeply into his soul? 

“Well, Kolya?”

Nikolai clenches his fists, sucking the air through his teeth. “I can’t. I just can’t. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. I thought about that every day. I think about her every fucking day. I just can’t let her stay with me. It’s dangerous. It’s more dangerous in Peters and I don’t want any loose ends. No loose ends… especially not in front of Fedya…” His words are like bullets, blurting out of his mouth without a pause—though the last bits are nothing but whispers of comfort for himself. 

“But you must understand that it is no less dangerous if she stays with me,” Olga replies solemnly before she finishes her black coffee. 

“It will be fine.” Nikolai leans forward, his tone hardens. “I don’t care what you plan to do with her. If you don’t want her to work here for the sake of your safety, that’s fine too. I just want you to give her a place to stay.” Sensing that Olga is already frowning again, Nikolai quickly adds, “It’s not like I will disappear tomorrow right there and then. I am still here for the next few weeks, so you can still think about it. And— And I’ll help her move in with you. Seriously, it will be one simple task. I really— I just— I—”

He finds himself stumbling upon his words, and he groans slowly. His gaze lowers to the table. He shuts himself up before he goes to say the wrong thing again.

Olga only stares at Nikolai, God only knows what she is thinking and although he tries his hardest to not return the gaze by watching you roaming around the diner with the staff boy, he does feel restless. Jittery even, for numerous other reasons. 

“Alright, Kolya.” Nikolai turns his head towards Olga when he feels her rough hand—that is carved with half a decade of life—touch his. He feels her tenderness and pity on him. Though the comfort is nothing better compared to when you are the one holding him, Olga’s smile tells him what he wants—which is more important at this time. 

He nods. He nods again. “Thank you… I owe you one.”

His eyes divert again towards you, who are now playing with a jukebox. The boy is talking to you, with a friendly smile on his face. He seems to be around your age. The smile he gives you is returned full—with the same kind from you. Upon seeing the sunshine you gift to the boy, warmth creeps up into Nikolai’s heart. 

Not the nice kind of warmth. 

It is something else. Warm, warm—nothing cosy but scorching. That warmth soon broils to an uncomfortable heat that makes him frown deeper at the sight of you giggling at whatever that boy just said. 

What’s funny? 

“That… is Vasily.” Olga suddenly says and Nikolai once again turns his head fast towards her. He tries to relax the frown on his forehead but he certainly could feel the grimacing pout formed on his face. 

“Can’t he pick another name?” He grumbles before he takes his cup of coffee. Ignoring the heat, he swallows the hot coffee, further fuelling his own warmth. 

Olga chuckles. “What about his name? It’s just any other usual name a lot of people in this country have.” She says. “Ah, you cheeky guy. Don’t worry. He is just being nice. And I think it's her that makes friends with him. She’s pretty good at that, you know?”

Nikolai hums half-heartedly. “I know. Whatever, I don’t care anyway. Just don’t have that kid get too close to where he doesn’t belong.” He says. Olga grins, tilting her head as her eyes pan towards you and Vasily and then Nikolai. 

“Oh, why? I think they look great with each other. As friends, of course. Besides, Vasily is a university student. He is around her age, so she is definitely going to enjoy being with him. As friends, of course.” Olga teases again, amused by Nikolai’s little quirks he does when he is visibly annoyed—scrunching nose, twitching eye, rolling eyes, sulking pout. 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him. He has his eyes on someone else already.” Olga clasps Nikolai’s hand, offering him some reassurances. But Nikolai’s focus is still on you, who is watching Vasily closely as the boy manoeuvres the old jukebox. 

He then abruptly stands up from the chair and his hand trails away from Olga’s. Nikolai makes his way to you and stands between you and Vasily—who yelps slightly upon being shoved by Nikolai’s taller body. 

You gaze up at him. 

“Are you done, Kolya?” You ask sweetly, giving him the same type of small smile you gave Vasily. Nikolai does not know what possesses his mind when his hands reach up to your face, and both of his index fingers lift the corner of your lips. 

“Hm?” You giggle, holding his wrists. The smile grows brighter—turning to one that Nikolai is familiar with, something he wants to steal and keep inside his coat forever. 

“Why, is there something wrong?” You ask. 

No, nothing is wrong. Nothing is ever wrong. 

“Nothing,” Nikolai says. 

“Are you done talking with Olga? Do you wanna go for a lunch date? I’m pretty hungry.” Your lips twinkle, bringing a tint of smirk to Nikolai’s face as well. He drops his hands to his side, eyeing your figure. You are still dressed in his jacket—not that he wants to ask it back. Rather, he thinks you look cute in it. 

And the thought of you smothered with his scent is sending tingles somewhere down there. The thought is eroded away as quick as it flashes in—Nikolai does not want to lose control of himself, not even a little. He has lost himself a lot already. 

“No… No lunch date— No dates…” He mumbles. “I have to leave the town for a while. There is an errand I have to do and you’ll stay here with Olga and… him. I’ll come fetch you when I’m done.” He says, his voice is veiling regret. 

“Oh…” You nod, understanding. “Okay, it’s fine. I don’t mind waiting here. Besides, I made a friend already!” You hold his arm and turn him towards Vasily who is standing awkwardly by the jukebox. Vasily is trying his best to not look at Nikolai in the eyes—as if the older man is emitting a strange ambience that, unfortunately, you do not comprehend. 

For Vasily, he is a menace. 

For you, he is a solace. 

Perhaps the strange ambience has driven Vasily to a point of dread as his words are staggering to form coherence. “M-My name i-is Vasily, sir. I-I work h-here…”

Nikolai ignores the boy before he turns his attention to you, not even sparing a smile. But his gaze softens when he lays his eyes on your innocent face—either you completely miss the awkwardness you created or are totally enamoured by your kidnapper, who knows. 

“I must go now. And take this,” He gives you a few crumpled cash notes. “Get yourself something for lunch. I’ll see you later.” He says before he deliberately leaves the diner in haste—he must have gotten an important job from Viktor. 

“Ah, he forgot his jacket.” You grip the jacket you are wearing as you can only watch Nikolai’s car leaving the area from the window. You feel slightly guilty that you did not remind Nikolai to take the jacket. 

“Jesus, that man is so terrifying…” You hear Vasily whisper. You turn to him with a playful pout, as if you are offended that he thinks of Nikolai in that way. 

“He’s not bad. Well, he was rough the first time I met him but he is very, very nice!” You say and Vasily’s eyes widen as his face contorts into genuine bewilderment and concern. 

“Are you… genuinely okay?”

“Damn it.” Nikolai grips the steering wheel hard as his foot presses the gas pedal. His car moves faster as they travel the highway. The clock is already past twelve o’clock and the night is getting darker. He did not mean to stay out of town for long—but there were mishaps. 

He went to a certain bank to finish a couple more documents now that he has a new identity. It took about three hours for him to be done since the bank was filled with people. Then he had to leave the town to finish a job tasked by Viktor for extra cash. When he was finally done, he had to deal with horrible traffic. A supposed one-hour journey multiplied and he was already out of curses to spout when Olga texted him that the diner was closing. 

Twelve twenty-five—Nikolai finally arrives at the familiar suburban place he barely considers home. He makes a turn to reach the street where Olga’s diner is located and as he approaches his destination, he realises that the entire premise is totally dark. 

His heart drops.

Olga would not just leave you in the dark like that, right? 

He parks his car abruptly by the side of the road. He rushes to the diner, looking through the window. He sees no sign of people. The entire restaurant lacks lights and life. He rattles the door to the restaurant, only to find it locked.

“Shit.” Nikolai bites his lip as he frantically looks around, calling for your name. There is no way you have disappeared. Olga is a nice lady. You would not betray her motherly kindness, would you? 

Hearing no response, Nikolai’s frustration grows. His feet cannot stop pacing around the premise and his eyes are straining as they refuse to blink, in fear that he might lose sight of you—his little bird. He does not want to think the worst—because you have promised him. You promised to stay. 

Or perhaps you’ve fallen into the same trap again. 

Nikolai shakes his head, raking his hair at the unwanted thought intruding into his mind. But as more seconds pass, he fears that his heart is agreeing with his head, blaming and mocking him for falling and accepting his feelings, repeating the same mistake he had made years ago— Now look where it got you. It got you the same way with him. 

He stomps through the snowy pavement, thinking that he could get in from the back door. He could not use his ability—for his jacket now belongs to you and only a sweater is covering him from the intensifying cold wind. 

He calls for your name again, this time louder—angrier.

“Kolya?”

Nikolai turns quickly to the back door of the restaurant upon hearing the melodic rhyme of his name. His eyes fixate on the sight of you peeking through the gap between the door. His lips part open, and he is about to gore your heart with malicious words—but the fire begins to ebb when you walk out from the building and waddle to him with his jacket still hugging you. 

“You’re late. The diner is closed already and Olga and Vasily went home first.” You say. “How long have you been out here? I thought of waiting for you at the front but Vasily said it was dangerous and told me to stay inside. He gave me the spare key to the back door.” Nikolai blinks profusely before he throws his head back and sighs loudly. 

“You okay?” Your hands reach up to touch his face, caressing his skin. Nikolai tilts his head towards you, breathing heavily as your thumb rubs his cheek, so tenderly, so softly. He nods. 

“Yeah, sorry. I was… uh, distracted.”

“Long day?”

He nods again, subtly leaning his lips against your palm. They pucker, planting just the slightest tint of a kiss on your skin. Nikolai then feels your hands leave his face, replaced by each of your index fingers arcing the corner of his lips upwards. 

He chuckles—the panic he felt has dissipated and relief courses in. “What’s this?” He asks. 

“I like it when you smile. You look handsome.” You say with an adorable smile—the kind of smile that only a dewy girl would have.

“I look handsome, little dove?”

“Okay, I will rectify. Ahem. You are handsome.”

Nikolai snickers, pride beneath his beam. “Well, isn’t that the most correct thing you have ever said…” He then gently takes your wrists, pulling your hands away from his face. “Come on. I’m cold and it’s already past midnight.”

Nikolai pulls you by your wrist and walks off. However, as his focus is on his car, he feels your hand shake itself off his grip. Before he could even take a look behind, he feels your hand holding his properly, and he gladly wraps his fingers around yours as well. 

You two get into the car and as soon as he starts the engine, he hears something grumbling lowly beside him. He jerks his head towards you, noticing that you are looking at him like a pathetic wet cat as your hand is on your stomach. 

“Seriously? Did Olga starve you?”

“There were a lot of customers during dinner time and we were rushing. I kinda forgot to eat dinner…” You say shyly before suddenly you gasp happily. “Vasily told me something about a supper date. Like, like… eating at a 24-hour convenience store. How about we go to supper?”

Nikolai hums. “Good idea. But unfortunately, I’m pretty tired. We have food at home.”

“Aww, please?” You shake his arm. “You are not going to let my tummy grumble all night, right? Please~?” You clasp your hands together, pleading to him. Nikolai stares at your face—relishing in the way your eyes reflect the orange street lights outside. 

“Okay, okay. Whatever you want.” Nikolai shoves your face away lightly, receiving a giggle. He starts driving with a destination in mind. Before you come into his life, he often finds himself at a bar to have supper, but he very rarely ever visits a convenience store. He does not even think there is ever a 24-hour store. The latest those stores stay open is only up to three in the morning. 

He finds a store. It is empty but it is still open. There are a few empty tables outside, presumably for customers. Both of you leave the car after he parks near the store. You get out of the car first, looking around with excitement glistening in your gaze. Nikolai follows after and locks his car. He huffs as soon as he is out of the car, shivering at the chilly breeze brushing his neck. 

“Kolya,” He turns to you, seeing that you are giving him his jacket back. You tiptoe and he bends his knees a little, allowing you to drape the jacket over his shoulders. He smiles. 

“Are you sure?”

You nod eagerly. “I know you’re cold as well. And it’s your jacket, so…” Your words trail off as he wears his jacket properly, adjusting the clothes on his body. Nikolai snickers before he himself puts on the jacket properly. 

“Don’t come crying when you’re freezing later.” He teases before he takes your wrist, tugging you close beside him. Both of you make your way to the convenience store, entering the empty premise. The cashier looks sleepy and barely awake—he does not even spare a glance at either of you. 

As soon as you are inside, you wiggle your hand out of Nikolai’s grip and make your way deeper inside, looking through the snacks on the shelves. Nikolai only glances in your direction before he grabs two cans of beer and a packet of sushki. He goes to you, seeing you are carrying a basket and still choosing things to buy. 

“Hey,” He calls you before tossing his stuff into your basket. You look at him as he gives you his wallet. “I’ll wait outside.”

The speed of your hand snatching his wallet like a thief makes him raise his eyebrow in amusement. The naughty grin forming on your face as you hold his worn-out leather wallet brings a jeer on him. “Okay, beggar. Make it quick.”

He leaves you to sit outside at a table. He takes out his phone and replies to Olga’s spamming text—he still has to explain to you about your future in living with Olga. Most of his preparations for St. Petersburg are almost done. Two weeks left—two weeks and he will be gone from this town, catching the train to go on a twelve-hour journey. 

But still, he has to keep working on Eyes of God—the duplicated one, that is. Fyodor’s location is ever-changing as if the man is waiting for him and knows who is coming for his life. One thing that is consistent with all the coordinates he has noted from his work is that Fyodor is in St. Petersburg. Nowhere else. 

His routine is unpredictable though. One day, the surveillance camera caught him walking into a church. The next day, he was seen in a library and left after thirteen hours of staying in that building. Sometimes, the surveillance cameras do not even catch sight of him—which could be because Fyodor is also actively trying to avoid authorities.

Does he even want to get into Meursault again? This time, Nikolai will not go and jailbreak him. Nikolai is also pretty sure that the authorities on Meursault have amplified and strengthened the security in that secret prison. How could they not? He literally broke into Meursault by killing a lot of guards, released two dangerous ability users with his ability too easily and toyed with the whole system in the building like a dollhouse. A single person who does not even possess a world-destroying ability can bring so much chaos—it would be a dumb move for authorities to not amp up their game. 

Nikolai sighs. He feels exhausted. Part of him wants to stop this pursuit. Yet, he is still unsatisfied. His heart craves for a closure that does not end with a conclusion to his raison d’etre. The closure he wants is the spilling of blood—a grandiose ending for an unbound performer to his puppeteer. 

He puts his phone down and finally lifts his head to assess the place he is in. He sees that you are by a counter—not the paying kind, but rather, a counter where people get hot water and have access to the microwave. You are heating up your food, it seems. He watches you for thirty more seconds before looking away. 

However, his eyes then catch the sight of a weird car parked not far from the building. The car is parked directly under the street light. From afar, people may not see a single lone masked man sitting inside it. The plate number is even stranger, specifically, its region code. 

Seven-seven-seven. That is the code for Moscow. 

Whyever does a car from Moscow travel so far here?  

Nikolai stares at the car, hard. His hand slips into his jacket, digging into the void before his fingers wrap around a solid metal. He raises his body a little and perhaps the person in the car realises the situation he is in—the lights from the car brighten up and Nikolai watches the vehicle leave the place, fast. Hasty. 

“Kolya?” 

Nikolai turns his head, seeing you carrying a cup of instant noodles and a plastic bag full of snacks. You blink at him confusedly before you look around. “What’s wrong?” You ask. 

“Nothing. Just thought there was a thief.” Nikolai replies before he sits back down and releases his grip on his gun, letting the weapon fall back into the unknown. You walk towards him and pull your noodles and the snacks on the table before pulling a chair close to right beside him. 

Nikolai says nothing of your effort to be close to him. He does not even move an inch to give himself some space, letting you intrude however far you please. As you are stirring your noodles, he takes the beers and sushki from the bag, receiving a curious look from you. 

“Are you not eating?” You ask. “I grabbed a beef sandwich for you here.” You show him the rest of the snacks you have bought with his money. Nikolai only shakes his head. 

“Not hungry.” He says. 

You grin mischievously. “Well, the sandwich is mine then—” 

Before you can touch the sandwich, Nikolai quickly slaps your hand before snatches the sandwich away. “I am not hungry, for now. Doesn’t mean I don’t want it. All of these are mine. It’s my money.” He grumbles. 

“It’s not like I have any money of my own!” You huff.

“That’s why you will work with Olga. Or something.” Nikolai says before he opens a can of beer and sips the strong alcohol. He does not really want to get drunk so much, so he decides to not drink the whole thing in one go. 

“What do you mean?” You ask as you eat your noodles. “What were you talking about with Olga earlier?”

“A week or two from now, Olga will take care of you. She agreed to let you stay at her house.” He says while he thoughtlessly nibbles on a piece of sushki. His eyes are staring deeply at the table. “I told you before, you cannot and will not come with me to Peters.”

You are silent for a moment. Your small voice creaks out timidly. “Does that mean… I only have a few weeks with you?” His heart tugs downward when he feels your desperate grip on his arm. Nikolai refuses to turn his head towards you, so he looks away, staring at the nothingness in the sky instead. 

“Will you come back?”

“I don’t know, love.”

“Why?”

“I just… don’t know.” He murmurs. His thought is only to find his old friend and return a favour—to claim and experience freedom. He can only plan so far—and he knows planning against one such as The Conjurer himself can only get him to a certain point of success. 

Frustrated, he takes a few chugs of his beer. “I feel like I’m going to die in a way.”

Your eyes widen, gawking at him. Fear casts over you as you shake your head slightly. “I don’t want you to get hurt…”

“Too late to say that, isn’t it?” He sighs before he takes out a cigarette, lighting it up. He turns his head, blowing the smoke away from you. “I mean… if it wasn’t because of Fyodor, I would be dead right now.” He pauses, taking another smoke. “I was supposed to die during one of our schemes. Getting chopped in half with a saw—scary thing, isn’t it?”

You cringe—just imagining the thought of shooting someone already makes you feel extremely uneasy. You wonder how brutal his past could be. You knew he was a terrorist—which is weird because any terrorist would be deep in the dungeon for the rest of their life. Yet, this particular one is sitting right beside you, enjoying his beer and cigarette—he looks beautiful, although his eyebags may suggest otherwise. 

In your (perhaps, wrong) gaze, he is beautiful. 

“Was that a plan… created by Fedya guy?” You ask carefully with disgust on your face. Nikolai nods silently. At that moment, a brief memory passes by in your brain when you remember the news you saw on the bus all those years ago. 

“Was he inspired by that one terrorism event in Japan?” You say. As if you catch his interest, Nikolai looks at you. “Do you know? The one where a lot of government officials got killed? I heard that they were… sawed in half.” You frown as your gaze lowers to your food. 

“Oh…”

“Mm-hm. I don’t know the details but it sounds like what Fedya guy intended to do with you is similar to what happened to those people. Poor them… It must have been so painful for the families to mourn. Because, you know, they’re like… half…” You murmur as you continue eating the noodles that are no longer hot—the weather helps cool it down, maybe too cool. 

“Right…” 

You turn your head at him, with cheeks puffed out as you just stuff a big chunk of noodles in your mouth. “You— don’t— mm , look like you’re— hold on — bothered by it.”

Nikolai snorts before he pokes your cheek. “I, have, seen, worse.” He says. “And to say that I am not bothered by it… No… I guess I wasn’t. But that sentiment turned into something else that actually bothered me.” His finger stops poking your cheek before his thumb gently caresses your skin, trailing down to your lips before his hand pulls away. 

He leans back. His heart becomes heavier the more he talks about his little agenda—the thing that drives his passion to achieve something in life. In an attempt to submerge his thoughts that might go havoc later on, he stuffs more pieces of sushki into his mouth. 

“Are you thinking of something?” You suddenly ask. “Your agitation… is kinda obvious, if one has spent so much time staring at you enough.” You smile teasingly. 

Nikolai scoffs, crossing his arm. “And here I thought I am enigmatic enough.”

“You are! In a way. I mean, Nastasya told me before, like before you got to prison and all, that you were very… how to say this in a nicer way… Hm…” You tap your chin in wonder. “She said you were… chaotic and obnoxiously scary.” 

“Ouchie, that hurts.” Nikolai places his hand on his chest, acting surprised and shocked, though his tone suggests otherwise. 

“But I think you have become softer now,” You lean closer to him, tilting your head adorably. 

“Mm-hm, and what makes you think that I will not pose myself differently to you?” 

You sit straight as if you are baffled by his sarcasm. “You have been drunk in front of me. And I have heard a lot of drunken words from others. A lot of times, they rarely lie.”

Nikolai swears his heart drops to the floor and runs away, nowhere to be found. Shit , he forgot about him being drunk and sleeping on the same bed, head resting on your breasts so comfortably. He still does not recall what he has said to you that night and the fact that you bring that up now makes him nervous about whatever confession he has laid down to you. 

It must be something embarrassing. What else could it be? I laid on her chest and slept for the whole night in her arms like a baby! Not that it’s a bad thing— No, no, no, shut up. She’s weird. No, she’s actually very nice. Too nice. Should I ask about what I have said? She would not lie to me, right? She never lies to me. She would rather lie to herself, so long she satisfies her love. 

To me. 

No. 

“Y-You gotta get rid of that observation s-skill of yours, perhaps.” He says before he drinks the rest of his beer. Then, your hand grips his wrist, gently pulling his beer away from his lips. “W-What?” His voice sounds slurred. 

“Don’t drink too fast. You’re gonna get more drunk. You’re already tipsy.”

Ahh, that explains it. 

No wonder he feels agitated for no reason. Nikolai obediently nods and puts down the beer on the table. He is indeed tipsy and he needs to stay focused because he is going to drive later. He does not want to get too intoxicated.

But his hand refuses to let go of the can. “There’s half left…” He poutily mumbles. “It’d be a waste if I stop drinking it.”

“Let me finish it then,” You say. “I know how to drink without getting drunk so fast, you know?” You wink playfully and he reluctantly lets you take the beer from his hand. 

“Oh, yeah? What’s your secret, baby?” Nikolai rests his chin on his hand. You bite your lower lip but it does not help a joyful squeal leaves your mouth upon hearing his soft yet sultry voice. 

Your heartbeat is faster—you can feel the drumming of it travelling through your veins as you shakily grab your apple juice cup and open the lid. “W-Well, we usually drink watered-down alcohol… or just mix it up with other drinks. Sometimes we served them… but the customers never know.” You grin. 

Nikolai watches in horror as you pour the rest of his beer into your apple juice. “You’re gonna burn your liver quicker than me if this is your way of drinking.” He says. Shaking his head in slight amusement and more perplexity, he just watches you drink your combination of beer and apple juice. 

He is pretty sure you are going to get drunk much sooner. 

“You know, girls like you should leave as soon as possible if their captor cannot think properly.” He blurts out another one of his jumbled thoughts before he snacks on the sushki. You giggle as a response—somehow your pitch is higher, as if you are slowly entering euphoria. 

“You’re not the first drunk man I have to deal with.” You smile. Holding his arm, you say affectionately, “And you’re much much much nicer than anyone else.”

Nikolai hums, pleased. “Mm-hm? What’s the worst thing that has ever happened to you?” He asks.

“Uh… hit me?”

“I’m not talking about your daddy. I mean, the customers.”

“Oh!” You suck the air through your teeth, thinking. “Well, there’s this one time where this man got so wasted that even when I tried to stop him, he kept drinking. He started shouting because he wanted to lay his head on my lap—”

“And you allowed him?” Nikolai cuts you off. 

You nod, fast. “Yeah. I had to. He laid his head on my lap and then… um… He kinda asked me for his pacifier—” Nikolai bursts out laughing. “D-Don’t laugh! I mean, he’s old, so he’s probably feeling nostalgic. But anyway, I had no choice because he was starting to cause a scene, so… I let him suckle on my—”

“Wait. Don’t tell me…” Nikolai cuts off again and you shush him. 

“Can I speak, please?” You pout. “I let him suckle on my fingers. It was weird. Very very weird!”

“Oh, thank God,” Nikolai whispers as he watches you staring at your hand in disgust—maybe those were the fingers that had to feel the slimy tongue of an old drunken man. “That’s pretty tame, in my opinion.” He comments before he continues eating his sushki. 

“That’s like… the second worst thing.” You reply as you resume drinking your poisonous—as Nikolai thought it—alcoholic juice. 

“What’s the worst of the worst?”

Your gaze is blank as you scour through your memories, lips still clamping on the straw as you continue sipping little by little. Nikolai’s gaze is blank too—though they are not due to reminiscing, rather they are hypnotised by how alluring your lips look right now. Pouty and wet—or glossy, hell, he does not even know. You are quiet and still for a moment, allowing Nikolai to stare and scan your body as he pleases. 

His mismatched irises land on your lap. A familiar heat he felt this evening when you were roaming around Olga’s diner with that boy comes barging in again. His fingers clench as he bites his inner cheek, remembering that an old disgusting man had the chance to lay on them. 

He despises the thought. He despises the image his mind is forming based on what you have described even more. 

Should have been me…

His hand grabs the beer can, intending to swallow his jealousy with another rush of ecstasy, but upon lifting the empty can, he angrily puts it on the table. 

“I think—!” You suddenly speak, a little louder. Nikolai smirks to himself—you are definitely not in the most sober state now. He notices that you have sipped almost half of your drink. You must have drank it while thinking about things. 

“I think the worst that ever happened was when… Well, you know, the other escorts do not encourage me to sleep with customers. Because, uh, selling fantasy, things like that.” You lean back, resting your head on his shoulder. “Then, there’s this one night, one of the regulars there—we called him Mr. Ben—and he kinda pulled me to the private section. You know, the one where the table is all covered with curtains. And then I was like— I kinda— I told him I don’t want to sleep with him. He called me pretty and cute and— Wait,” You drink some more. “Mr. Ben said he just wanted me to watch him. And I was like ‘Watch what?’ and then he took off his pants and started doing… Uh, you know… the thing that men do. This…” You jerk your fist up and down as a demonstration. “That kind of thing…”

“Holy fuck, stop.” Nikolai grabs your wrist, stopping your very helpful demonstration. His shoulders shake before he inhales deeply. But his effort still does not help the bits of laughter escaping. 

“Yeah. That was the worst.” You emphasise your point by poking his nose with the same hand that was jerking the air just a few seconds ago. “I did not look at it !” You yell, defensively. “I just stared at the floor.”

“You know, for someone who has seen horrors done by men , you should have been more distrusting towards people in general,” Nikolai remarks, keeping his grip on your hand. His thumb rubs your pulse. The sheer size between his hand and yours is a pleasant sight. His fingers link between yours, tipsy mind drifts off to an imaginary world where he is holding your hand during something else entirely. 

Something lewd.  

“Would you be like Mr. Ben?” You retort his remark. 

“Uhm… no…?”

You yank your hand from his grip and wrap your arms around him, clinging. “Then I have no reason to distrust you. You’re perfect.” You murmur, burying your face on his shoulder. Your body is extremely tilted against him—your bum is barely placed on the chair. 

“I know, little dove.”

You start to wail. “You’re so perfect, you know that? You’re so nice to me and you’re so kind… You’re so smart and I think you trying to be free is so admiring. I kinda feel jealous sometimes because I cannot do that…” You sigh loudly. “And I just really want you to be happy. Sometimes you’re so scary and so rough but it is like… It feels so good… Does that make sense?”

Nikolai feels the warmth makes itself cosy in his heart at your babbling. It is cute, he thinks, especially with the glassy eyes you are flashing him—you are tearing up just by thinking of him. He does not know whether this affection comes from intoxication or genuine love, but he enjoys it. He likes it. 

He feels happy with it. 

And as much as he wants to pull away from that desire—to stay focused on his freedom, you are much more alluring. 

Fine, just this night. I will allow myself. 

His hand reaches up to you and Nikolai then gently caresses your head. His gesture causes you to look up at him, staring with a flushed face and yearning gaze. He chuckles softly before he carefully pulls your arms away from his body. His hands then cup your face, cooing at your teary yet darling look. 

“Oh, you little crybaby…”

“I’m not crying!”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that, love.” His thumbs press harder on your lower eyelids, wiping the brimming tears. “Doesn’t seem like ‘I’m not crying!’ to me.” He mimics your voice, receiving a pouty face from you. Your lips slant upwards. 

Tempting fucking lips. 

“I’m— I— I just—”

“I, I, I. Come on, baby. Speak.” He teases again. 

You sniffle. “I… It’s just… I cried because I love you so much…”

Nikolai smiles. 

“Don’t you love me too?”

Nikolai sighs. “Mm… Time to go home.” He says to himself before he grabs the plastic bag containing the rest of the snacks and slips it into his jacket. It disappears into the overcoat. You usually would be excited at the sight of him using his ability, but your mind is more focused on something else. 

“Please? Can you answer me? Do you love me too?”

Nikolai does not answer as he gets up and brushes off the crumbs from all the sushki he feasted on earlier. He takes your hand but you refuse to get up the chair until you get your answer to adorn your own fairytale. 

“Let’s go, love. It’s getting so late now.”

“No, no! Answer me first, please? Or else you’re just like Mr. Ben to me in my eyes!”

Nikolai shakes his head. “Well, Mr. Ben or not, we are going home now.” He tugs your hand, trying to convince you to get up. You whine, stomping your foot childishly. 

“No! I don’t wanna get up!”

“Fine.” 

He leans forward, flinging one of your arms behind him before he hoists you up, getting you nice and stable on his shoulder. You whine again, shaking your legs as you watch both of you go further and further away from the convenience store. His hand is placed firmly on the back of your thighs, preventing you from even rebelling much.

Reaching the car, carefully, Nikolai puts you in the vehicle—or rather shoves you in—and buckles your seatbelt. You cross your arms, huffing as he goes to the driver’s seat. When he is finally seated and buckled as well, he takes a good look at you. 

Sulky. 

“You don’t love me…” You mumble, angrily. 

“I did not even say that.”

“Hmph!”

Nikolai scratches his head and then shrugs his shoulders. You will not be angry for long anyway. Tomorrow you will forget. But maybe not tonight. He can very much answer you—he knows and has the answer in his heart. 

It is just that he still wants to deny it. 

Human compassion leads him to agony. He learnt it the hard way. 

Nikolai is still tipsy. 

Perhaps the beer he consumed earlier was too strong. No wonder you went crazy—in a good way. At least you were not unhinged like drunk Nastasya. Just thinking about dealing with her makes Nikolai shudder. He washes his face a couple more times, trying to get rid of the floating feeling in his head. 

He brought you home, successfully. You were not angry for long, as he expected. He was carrying you by the stairs and you were quick to tell him a story where your father pushed you down the stairs because you were slow at packing things up—happened during one of his attempts to escape loan sharks. Then you went to say you love him because he carried you upstairs. 

Weird. 

But it did amuse him to the max. 

You went to take a shower first and by the time Nikolai wanted to grab his towel from the bedroom, he saw you already lying on the bed, sleeping, in one of his shirts and his shorts. The sight is… pleasant . You must have been so tired from a long day of working.

Nikolai finally decides to leave the bathroom. He takes his towel and wraps it around his waist before walking to the bedroom. He sees that your eyes are closed, still asleep. Great, he can just get dressed in his own room. 

He takes his time choosing a shirt with his sweatpants hanging on his shoulder. Occasionally he glances at you. You keep shifting in your sleep—sometimes you lay on your back, your stomach or your side. Is the bed getting uncomfortable for you? Or is it the blanket? Either way, it does not even matter because what attracts his eyes is the fact that he can see the swell of your breasts peeking out from the collar of his shirt. 

Right… You tend to not wear bras when sleeping. It is a common fact. Nothing so surprising because Nikolai is aware of this trait of yours since the second night you sleep in his clothes. 

So, why is his dick hardening right now? 

It’s just boobs, god damn it. You’ve seen them many times. 

Nikolai swears it is getting so much more difficult to stay in the same room with you any longer. His tipsy mind is not helping him with the random arousal he gets from your little quirks—from your stories about letting a man suck your fingers to the sight of his shirt riding up your soft and touch-inviting tummy. 

Once we’re in Peters, we’ll get a hookup! —His head suggests. But Nikolai finds the thought to be repulsing. He does not want to hook up with anyone else. His lust and desire are not sketching a silhouette of his future partner for a tryst or anything. 

They are illustrating you, manifesting you. 

It has been a while since he last had sex, and really, he could have done so at any time he wanted. But ever since a little dove settles herself on his bed like it is hers, to begin with, he finds it hard to even plan or think about his next date in a local nightclub. 

He does not want anyone else. His heart refuses to even immerse himself in a lust shared by somebody else somewhere. Nikolai wants it here , shared with you . But he knows if he indulges himself in a series of pantomimes more intimate than a hug, there will be no turning back. He is already a possessive man, to begin with.

But what’s wrong with it? What’s wrong with it? Was there even a path to turn back? There’s no turning back ever since that day. So what’s wrong with indulging a little bit more? And maybe more ? 

“Kolya?” 

Nikolai flinches as he grips his towel, apprehensive. He looks down at his body—thank God, he is dressed. He was lost in his thoughts but gladly his body could still dress itself on auto-pilot. Nikolai hastily hangs his towel on a hook by the closet. 

“I thought you were asleep… Were you watching me getting dressed?” Nikolai says. You blink confusedly at him and shake your head. 

“Can’t really stay sleep… I didn’t look at you… I was… staring at the floor… Because you’re like Mr. Ben…” Your words are staggering as if you are still barely sober. Nikolai scoffs. 

“I don’t even take off my pants and jack off in front of you and you’re comparing me with Mr-fucking-Ben.” Nikolai jabbers quickly without even thinking twice. Only after he notices your eyes widen, he freezes and starts to actually contemplate his life. 

“Sorry. Uh, that was not appropriate…” He mumbles awkwardly. “G-Go back to sleep. Don’t bother me.” He says again before walking to the door. 

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

He freezes again. His mind is running wild. Wilder. He feels like he is going crazy with the scenarios that his mind is playing with right now. He is trying to think straight, he swears, but everything about you is too damned alluring. 

Your sweet voice, your tempting body, your flushed face, your sweet kindness, your pure innocence— god damn you, I hate you so much. 

Nikolai thinks he made the mistake of turning his head towards you, for his eyes are now feasting on the way you look—laying so vulnerably on his bed, your stomach is peeking from the shirt and your chest is begging for him to rest his head on them. The shorts cover your thighs, but even your calves look ravishing. He wants to dig his nails deep into that flesh—he truly does. 

His dick is hard, Nikolai has to admit it already. 

“I-I don’t think t-that’s a good… idea…” He says. It feels like he is facing a darn succubus—except this one is as dainty as a fairy. 

“Mm… I don’t think sleeping on the couch is a good idea too…” You murmur, adjusting your position once more. Your hands reach the hem of the shirt and pull it down, covering your stomach. Nikolai protests internally—he wants to see, maybe if there is a chance (there is plenty of it but he pretends blind), he wants to touch it. 

“I just…” You pause, yawning. “I just want you to be comfy when resting…” You mumble before you scoot to one side, making space for him already. You pull the blanket close to your body again, looking at him with droopy eyes. “If you wanna sleep here, just get on the bed, okay? I don’t mind…”

Nikolai thinks he is possessed. Or maybe he is just following his own heart. 

His hand pushes the door to close and he steps closer to the bed. His eyes meet yours and you give him a delightful smile. Nikolai swallows nervously before he sits at the edge of the bed, scared to even lay on the mattress. 

Fuck, what am I? A virgin? —He berates himself internally. 

He takes a deep breath and finally sinks his body onto the bed, but he is as still as a statue—as a mummy even. He tries to shut his eyes, wishing his lascivious mind and his perverted thoughts to die away like a dimmed candle. 

“You’re so handsome, Nikolai…”

Alright, it’s hard again. It is definitely hard.

Nikolai tenses, shutting his eyes harder as if he can even relax his own arousal when he hears your dulcet voice and subtle touch on his arm. The way your finger is tracing his skin feels familiar—your fingertip is following the lines of his tattoos. 

“C-Can you just sleep?”

“Sorry… You’re just… so… handsome. And your hair is very pretty…” You murmur. Nikolai is hesitant to open his eyes, fearing that he will not fall asleep peacefully later but he really wants to take a look at you. 

So he does. 

He turns his head to the side, looking at you. Your gaze is piercing— needy . He blushes when he sees your legs are tightly together and his very-not-so-innocent mind is wandering to one and only one possibility. And that possibility brings him a tint of comfort because now he knows—and he thinks he is right—that he is not the only one feeling so bothered. 

“Kolya…” You mumble, one hand reaches his face. With a weak yet sultry voice, you ask, 

“Do you love me too?”

Suddenly, he seizes your wrist, grip tightens before he lifts his body and leans forward—pushing himself onto you, pushing his lips onto yours. 

Fuck.

I can't think. 

I can't stop. 

His hand cups your face, moaning against your lips as his tongue probes between your lips. Your hand instinctively grips onto his hair as you whimper between the kiss. Your saliva dribbles slightly from your lips and Nikolai unashamedly licks it before his lips continue to devour yours. 

You feel his hands travel to your body, roaming on your torso. His palm halts under the mount of your breast. You break the kiss, only to whine softly. But your break is not for long as his other hand grabs your hair, pulling you to another deep kiss. He sinks his tongue into your mouth smoothly and you try to match his pace. 

But he is hungrier. 

He has been wanting it for long. 

Nikolai thinks his tipsiness is spiralling deeper into pure intoxication. He groans against your lips, grinding his hips upward when your lips are teasing against his. He grabs and fondles whatever he can reach—your hips, your ass. One of his hands slips under your shirt, and finally, his palm touches your bare stomach, pinching and squeezing your flesh. 

Your moan that was subdued finally manages to leave your mouth when his lips slide to your cheek and jaw, nibbling on your skin. He buries his face into your neck, inhaling your scent, moaning against you. His tongue slithers on your pulse, travels, trails and traces every spot he can taste. With your arms wrapped around him, you moan breathily when you feel his hand brush over your chest—halting for a few seconds on your hardened nipple. 

His mouth on your neck gets rougher and you wince when you feel slight pain when he nibbles on your skin hard, as if he is going to rip it off, as if he is going to devour you, literally. Though, hearing your painful wince sends him a message to be softer—he kisses the spot he just nibbles and those kisses trail up again to catch your lips. 

This time, you match his pace—holding his face as you kiss him back, battling tongues until air is no more. Nikolai is too eager—even after a break, he is relentless, kissing you deeper and sloppier each time he drives his lips against yours. His hand slips into your shorts, his nails raking the skin of your thigh. You grip on his shoulders, whimpering. 

“A-Aah…!” Your thigh jerks away from his rough, demanding touch. Nikolai’s hand pauses and he plants one last kiss on your lips. Your face is an inch close to him. His emerald and lilac irises are staring deeply into yours and shivers run down your spine at his darkened gaze. 

“Sorry… I was being… rough. I wasn’t—”

His words are cut off when you shut your eyes and lean forward slightly. Your lips pucker, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. Timidly, you open your eyes, looking at him sheepishly. He seems surprised but a soft smile later forms on his lips. 

“I love it.” You mumble shyly. Your hands gently nuzzle his face before you lean again. He closes his eyes and you kiss the scar slit through his left eye softly. 

“I love you.”

Nikolai opens his eyes and then looks at you intently. Your hand moves a little up, caressing his hair too. He sighs quietly before he tilts his head down, resting it on your chest, and you gladly embrace him, just like that night. 

“I love you.” You say again and he nods silently, tilting his head up to give a little peck on your collarbone. 

“I love you.” A kiss. 

“I love you.” Another kiss. 

“I love you.” And more kisses. 

Chapter Text

Have you ever met a jester in prison? 

It was like a horror movie, living together in a cell with this guy who went by Nikolai. As someone who made a living by collecting debts and killing people for various reasons, Nikolai is probably one of the men I would not mess around with. 

He’s a weirdo. His smile always hides weird intentions. He talks in riddles, drawing laughter from others but I know that he is just making them the fool instead of himself. What’s scary about him? Well… if a group of bullies accused him of locking them up in the bathroom and exchanging their limbs with each other, you would be careful, no? 

Unfortunately, people think the bullies went crazy. Nobody believes that a jester like him would be able to do such a weird horrible thing. Nobody believes that a smiley guy like him would tear up limbs like it’s nothing. I mean, look at him! He may be fit but there are other guys that are way bigger than him. 

He cannot do such a thing, not in prison, never in prison. 

But I think they spoke the truth. 

Dream threatens to shut away but you want to have a couple more hours to see it to the end. But the glimpses of sunlight from the window tease your eyes when your eyelids flutter. You squirm, your body tries to get up and begin the day, but the blanket is pulling you in and keeping you still. 

You roll and roll until your body bumps against another. Forcing your eyes to pry open, you gaze up through the haze and smile. “Good morning,” You say with the softest voice to the man sitting next to you on the bed. His back is leaned against the headboard, cushioned by his pillow. There is his phone in his hand and he looks serious for a moment there. 

Nikolai says nothing. But without the satisfaction of his voice, you do not think your day could begin any better. So you take his arm—he is wearing a short-sleeved shirt today, with his old tattoos slithering his pale skin. You give him a shake. 

“Good morning,” You repeat. 

Finally, he looks at you. Usually, he would flash you a glare of annoyance but for the past few weeks, glaring has not become his habit. His mismatched eyes instead address you with an indecipherable gaze. Nikolai stares at you for a few seconds before he hums and smiles. 

“When you’re drunk, you don’t snore.”

Your eyes widen as you shriek in embarrassment. Hiding half of your face with the blanket, you look at him timidly. Oh, how unsightly it must be! How many nights has he suffered through your snores? And, and, and—oh Lord, didn’t you hug him as close to you last night? Did you snore right by his ears? 

Your face is plastered with a thick sheet of embarrassment. “I-I…”

But your apology is cut off when Nikolai lets out a small cackle. “I’m kidding. No, you sleep like a log. The quietest you’ve ever been.” He says. You huff, frowning at his teasing. Nikolai snorts. “Hm, maybe I shouldn’t even say that I was kidding. Let you believe you’re a noisy one in bed.”

“I’m not noisy in bed!” You protest. Nikolai glances at you, his eyebrow jerks up a bit before he turns away. 

“Yeah… not sure about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“…Nothing.” He murmurs. He seems distraught for a second and his cheeks are shaded with light pink as his eyes frantically travel between you and the nothingness around the room. 

You keep your eyes on him, sensing his nervousness. When your gaze is fixed on his quivering lips, your mind is rushed with last night’s drunken affair. Drunk as you were, the memories are still fresh in the back of your mind the deeper you scour through them. 

You remember his tight grip on the back of your head, pulling you close to cut your breath with a deep kiss. You slightly shiver at the ghostly feeling on your back, tummy and hips—where he touched them and fondled them. 

His touches were fire, as far as you remember it. 

You thought you were accustomed to his touches by now—soft and rough. It was not the first time you slept with him on the same bed—there was that moment when he was drunk out of his mind and sought comfort. Last night was different enough for you to feel flustered every time you reminisced about it—your mind could play the same fragment of memories over and over and you would still be sheepish. 

Last night was more . 

You are not sure whether to talk about it to him—what is there to talk about anyway? You knew you had poured your heart out for him. Those three sacred words that you muttered to him were and are never a lie or a mere drunken thought. 

“Kolya…” Your hand holds his as you brace yourself to look up at him. He turns his head to you, unreadable. “I… About last night—”

“Do you want to go to Olga’s place?”

Nikolai cuts you off immediately. You flinch lightly at his words. You stare at him and although his face remains unchanged, his hand holds yours back, squeezing it.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. 

A heavy flood of disappointment and embarrassment rushes in within you. But you understand it—well, try to. Nikolai has stated before that he has no desire to fall in love or even settle down. He wanted to finish something with an old friend—as much as you despise the thought of him being lost and lonely after that, you do not think you can even change his mind. 

A soft voice calling for your name startles you out of your thoughts. Your irises roam towards him again. He tilts his head, and gives your hand another squeeze before he asks: “Are we going? You have to return the backdoor key to Olga anyway, right?”

You nod slowly, forming a smile. At least he does not push your hand away. 

“Quickly!” Nikolai grunts as he is waiting for you at the front door. He hears your pleas for one more minute from the bedroom. Sighing softly, Nikolai checks his phone one more time, reading Viktor’s new messages. 

Viktor: Are you coming? 

Viktor: You bring your girl along? 

Me: no i’ll drop her off at olga’s

Viktor: Whaaaat we ordered food for you two!

Viktor: Just bring her along. Zoya’s packed with customers and I’m getting a tattoo from my baby today

Me: nope she can’t come

Me: something important happened last night

Me: and i have to tell you

Me: very important 

Viktor: Oh shit sounds like an emergency 

Me: yes. so

Me: don’t have sex in the studio

Viktor: Heyyy

Nikolai shuts off his phone once he sees you jogging towards him. Your body is covered with one of his jackets—as usual, nothing new, he is so used to it—and a scarf around your neck. You stop by the front door to wear your shoes. As if on instinct, you place your hand on his chest to support your balance as you slip your feet into the shoes. His lips curve slightly for a smirk before he completely purses them together when you look up at him. 

“Okay, I’m good.”

“Alright. Get your ass out of the way then so I can lock the door.” He says and you only grin as you step outside happily. As you walk past him, Nikolai notices something from the corner of his eyes—a blazing red thing on your hair. 

He turns his head, taking a good look at you. Your hair is tied in a ponytail style and a red pompom on it. He lets out a nervous chuckle. “Not enough leeching off my fortune and you’re now stealing my stuff, sweetheart?”

“Hm?” You look at him and grin. “I lost mine and I found yours on the table.” Your hand gently takes his braid and wiggles the end of it in front of his face. His braid is also tied with a similar red pompom hair tie, except the red on it is faded. “We are matching! Oh, your face is as red as this too.” You tease, tickling his cheeks with his own hair. 

“You’re playing too much,” Nikolai pouts but makes no attempt to push your hand away. But your comment about his red face brings him some sort of self-consciousness. He turns away to close the door and lock it. In the meantime, his other hand palms his cheek, trying to get rid of the red—which is mainly caused by the cold, perhaps.

No other reasons. 

When you two arrive at the diner, there are already some customers inside. In haste, Nikolai quickly pulls the hood of the jacket over your head. You whine at his sudden roughness but you cannot really protest him—he has all the reasons to worry about you being recognized. 

He brings you to the bar, where Vasily is stationed today to make drinks. He straightens up once he sees Nikolai and you sitting at the bar instead of at any other table like other customers. You give Vasily a happy, friendly wave before Nikolai grips your wrist and pushes it down. 

“Call Olga for me,” Nikolai says, his tone cold. 

“Can you make a hot chocolate for me, please?” You ask Vasily. He nods and gives you a small smile but it drops when Nikolai glares sharply at him. He quickly rushes into the kitchen, calling for Olga. Nikolai almost smirks in amusement at how the young man is visibly intimidated by him but his smile could not even form when he feels a hard pinch on his arm. 

“O-Ow!” He flinches, looking at you in disbelief. 

“Don’t scare him like that.” You huff. 

“I don’t scare him. He is scared of me!” Nikolai replies.

You shake your head, crossing your arms. “He is scared of you because you are scaring him. You should be nice to him. He thinks you are scary because you always look angry around him.” 

“Well, I happen to like it that way.”

“You like to be scary?” You ask. He just shrugs. He is fairly aware of people who perceive him as intimidating—his reputation in prison was an example. Befriending guards and feigning friendships were easy. The hard part was to control himself from doing the worst to others. 

Nikolai is very sure that there was a reason why he ended up in a prison facility that is clearly only for ‘normal’ people with no special abilities. Meursault was easy to break in and out—most people think that by confiscating his white cloak, they also confiscated his abilities. But really, all he needs is just a fabric of space to get the work done. 

“Hello, you two. Sorry, we are kinda busy in the kitchen.” Olga’s voice makes both Nikolai and you turn your heads towards her. She walks into the area behind the bar with Vasily trailing her from behind. Vasily wordlessly starts to make a hot chocolate for you. There is a playful and mischievous impulse within him to further torment the boy but Nikolai holds back. 

“Here’s your hot chocolate,” Vasily says as he puts a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. You gleefully thank him, which sours Nikolai’s mood some more. What are you thanking for, darn it. It is just hot chocolate. I can make one too. Much better one too —he thinks. 

“Ahem,” Nikolai turns to Olga who is giving him a teasing smile. He huffs and looks away. Olga only chuckles before she turns to you. “I suppose you already know that you will move into my place a few weeks from now?”

Nikolai glances at you, watching. You nod at Olga’s words before you sip the hot chocolate. The drink stains your upper lip and your tongue emerges between your lips to lick it. He tries his best to pry his eyes away from your lips—he really does, but at the back of his subconscious mind, everything that happened on his bed last night has burnt and seared deeply in his brain. 

He knows it is bad to think about those same pair of lips kissing and smooching his face and the scar on his eye until he falls asleep. But it cannot be helped, really. Since this morning—he woke up earlier than usual and proceeded to tuck you in properly to bed—he has been thinking about whatever happened between you two. He wanted to convince himself that it was really a drunken decision to kiss you but Nikolai knows that even if he was not drunk at the slightest at that time, he still would have kissed you. 

He would. 

Nikolai barely listens to what you and Olga are talking about. It is probably something to do with your work as a staff here. He does not care about that, really. What he does care about is how you would live in a new place later on, possibly with a new roommate. 

Somehow he finds the thought of you waking up in the same house with other people annoying. 

“Kolya? Did you hear what I said?” Olga taps the table in front of Nikolai and he blinks confusedly. He shakes his head, not bothering to even lie that he was ever concentrating. He does concentrate though… on someone else. 

“I will need some time to prepare her room. When do you think she could start to move in?” Olga asks. 

“Why ask me? Ask her.” Nikolai pouts his lips towards you. “When do you want to leave?”

Your eyes divert down to your hot chocolate. Fiddling with your fingers, you mutter hesitantly, “Maybe… on the day you leave to Petersburg?” You say. “I don’t wanna move too early, you know?”

Nikolai glances at Olga and he finds her returning the same glance. He knows that there is a similar thought in their mind right now. You do not mind moving into Olga’s place early, surely, if your kidnapper is not him . 

“When will you leave, Kolya?” Olga asks slowly. 

He shrugs. “In two weeks or so… I gotta prepare a bit more things with Viktor about my apartment and car. Speaking of which, I do have to leave because I have to see him at Nastasya’s studio later.” Nikolai says. Your head jerks at him, frowning at the way he is already standing and adjusting his jacket. The gaze you are giving him is a clear protest that you do not want him to leave you—but ultimately, you say nothing. 

“Don’t make that face, birdie. I’ll be back at five. And you will work here and assist this graceful old lady.” Nikolai says and Olga’s sweet smile turns into a scowl. She smacks the back of Nikolai’s head mildly, which thankfully makes you chuckle. 

“Okay, I’ll wait for you.” You say to him. He smiles. 

“Good,” Nikolai then leans down, bringing his lips close to your ear as he whispers, “And don’t trust or talk closely with any customers or strangers. You can trust Olga but not the others, do you understand?”

There is a clear confusion on your face at his sudden warning but a good girl you are, you nod at his words. Nikolai is about to pull away from you but from the corner of his eyes, he notices that Vasily is looking at him suspiciously. Hating the idea that there is still a possibility—no matter how small—that Vasily could get a little too close to you, Nikolai makes a quick decision, not a second thought. 

He kisses your cheek. 

“Okay, buh-bye, ladies.” He turns on his heels, practically stomping towards the exit door. On his way to leave the restaurant, he hears your little squeals of happiness and attempts to even form a word to Olga. 

Nikolai smiles to himself, proud. 

Whenever you are by yourself, a small giggle cannot stop leaving your mouth. 

It feels so unreal. The lingering feeling on your cheek is so unreal . 

If you are not working right now, you would have twirled and spun under the falling snow, skipping and dancing like a princess in those movies who live happily ever after. Your cheeks are warm and your heart is still fidgeting in delight. 

You are stationed at the bar, assisting Vasily with taking orders and learning to make drinks. It comes very easy for you since this is not entirely a new experience for you to work in such a setting. Olga even gives you a sheet of recipes for coffee and tea drinks, which is very much helpful. 

Vasily is gone to the back for a while now which leaves you alone at the bar. You do not mind since there are not many customers. But five minutes later, Vasily walks out from the staff room, completely changed into casual clothes while carrying a laptop bag. 

“Oh, are you leaving?” You ask. He nods and gets behind the bar to fill up his water bottle. 

“I have classes from five to nine.” He says. You coo, nodding in amusement. 

“What kind of classes do you have that you gotta go to college at night?”

“Electives… It’s very annoying.” Vasily huffs. “The coursework is always too redundant for a subject that is, frankly, quite unnecessary. The class is only for two hours but I will have to join a group discussion for another two.” He groans as he throws his head back. “Haven’t gotten a good sleep these days…”

You chuckle. Somehow you feel a little grateful that your day is not as busy as his. All you do during the day is bother Nikolai until he shuts you up by giving you food, but even then, you still talk to him about random things. Lately, you are trying to ramble to him about a short story called ‘The Fair at Sorochyntsi’ that you read from the old books he found around the house.

Reading short stories would be more fun than reading academic books, you think. Even so, you are not opposed to experiencing the struggle.

“I wish you luck then. And don’t forget to eat dinner and take care of your health, alright? You must stay healthy if you want to study smoothly.” You grin. Vasily looks at you for a moment before he snickers and nods. 

“Yeah, thanks. You too.”

He leaves the bar and with a farewell wave, he leaves the restaurant. From inside, you see him approaching his friend who is already waiting outside. You pry your eyes away and take a seat behind the bar as you wait for any new customer. 

You are overcome with boredom as you do crosswords in the newspaper to kill your time, until you hear the bell on the entrance door ring, signalling someone is walking in. You hope it is Nikolai but it is just a quarter past three o’clock. When you look up from the newspaper, it is a tall man who looks to be in his 40s, approaching the bar instead of choosing any table to sit at. The way he is walking is a little weird—it looks like he hurts one of his legs or something. 

Reaching the memo pad to take orders, you stand up and greet him. He returns your smile before sitting directly in front of you at the bar. “How can I help you, sir?” You ask. 

For a second, you notice how his eyes leer up and down upon you. Something about this man does not sit right with you. Nervously, your hand pulls the hood to cover your face a little bit more. You attempt to keep smiling and stay calm—you are probably more anxious doing things alone since Vasily is not around anymore and Olga stays in the kitchen with her other staff members. 

“What do you recommend to me, sweet pea? I don’t know much about this restaurant. It’s my first time here.” He says. Your eyes twitch upon hearing the nickname roll out his tongue like that. It feels repulsive—despite you being used to being called sweet nicknames like that by the men you escorted before. 

“Uhm, we have a tea-time promotion from three to six.” You say, trying to be as friendly and helpful as possible. You take a menu and give it to him, showing him the tea-time promotion. But the man’s gaze is not even on the menu, instead, it is fixated deeply on your face. 

“Maybe coffee,” He says.

“What kind of coffee would you like, sir? We have the classics.” You tap a section on the menu with your pen. “We have espresso, cappuccino, latte…”

“I’d like your favourite, then.” He grins. You force out a small cackle—just to remain friendly with him despite the uneasiness swirling deeply in your chest. 

“Uhm, mocha… would be nice, sir.” You mutter. He nods. 

“Alright. Two hot mocha please,” He says and you scribble the name on the memo pad. Before you could ask him for anything else, he grins once again. “One for you, one for me. My treat, miss.”

“Oh…”

Your hand stops. “I don’t… uhm… It’s not my break time yet, so…” You try to come up with an excuse. It is clear that this man is trying his way to you by offering you a drink, but you are still holding on to what Nikolai just said—do not trust anybody except for Olga. 

Besides, you are very not interested in meddling with other people right now. Your heart belongs to someone else and that someone has ignited a fire within you with a soft, faint kiss on the cheek. You do not want to entertain this man any further, so you quickly say, “ One hot mocha coming right up, sir.”

You do not even bother asking him whether he wants any pastry or cake to go along with it. 

“Aww, come on, sweet pea. You aren’t really a friendly one, are ya?” He says again, this time, his tone is very flirty. He even makes whistling noises at you whenever you step a little closer to his spot to reach the equipment to make his mocha. 

“You’re real cute, sweet pea.” He rests his chin on his palm. He then sneers as his eyes roam all over your body. “Nice bod, too. No wonder people come here for you.” He winks before cackling at you. 

You only glance at him and say nothing as you put his hot mocha in front of him. You once again force a tiny smile. “Hot mocha, sir.” The man nods and stirs the drink.

“Say, little girl. You don’t look like you’re from here.” He says, leaning closer despite the counter bar being the only separator between you two. You try to not give him much attention to him and just smile at him—enough to not anger a man who lacks attention. “You don’t live alone, by chance?”

“I live with my man.” You mutter.

“Oh yeah? You really have a man?” He says. His tone is mocking, as if he does not believe you. You frown. 

“Yes. Yes, my man.” You affirm to him. It is not entirely a lie. You do live with a man but is he your man? Though your confession might be one-sided, you want to believe so—a little fantasy could help with your sanity after all the madness you have gone through in your life. 

The man only snickers at your response before he takes a sip of his drink. With his attention briefly moving away from you, you finally let out a sigh of relief. You do not think you want to linger behind the bar like this with this man near you. 

You must find something else to do. It is really unfortunate that it is not peak hour, so there are not many customers. When his gaze is away from you, you quickly slip out from the bar and make your way to reach the broom from the cleaning closet. You do not know what you are cleaning, but you do anyway. Anything to get away. 

But his gaze never leaves you—marking dirt upon your figure. 

“Hello.” Nikolai steps into VIY Studio. He sees Zoya who is currently consulting a client in the lounge. She turns to him and nudges her chin to Nastasya’s office, already knowing the reason for his presence. Nikolai makes his way there and knocks on the door. 

“Oi, it’s me.” He says. He does not want to barge in like before. Big big mistake. 

“Come in!” He hears Nastasya’s faint voice from the inside. He opens the door and finds Viktor lying on his stomach, with his bare torso out in the open. Nastasya is dressed in black pants and a strapless black top. She is focused on tattooing Viktor’s back shoulder—it seems like a nose or something. 

“What’s this? What kind of movies are you inspired by now?” Nikolai asks as he takes off his coat and places it on the chair near Nastasya’s working desk. He sits down and reaches for the food that the couple ordered beforehand for him and you. 

“I saw an old play about noses. Pretty good shit and I want it tattooed on me as a memoir. Do you get me?” Viktor grins. Nikolai’s eyebrow jerks up in slight bafflement. 

“You tattooed a nose on your skin because you saw an old play? Wow. I’m glad I’m not that crazy.”

“It’s not just a nose! It’s the nose! The nose!”

Nikolai looks at Nastasya and as he munches on the chicken pelmeni, he says, “Are you sure you still want to be with this guy?”

Nastasya only scoffs. “I think it’s cute.”

“See!” Viktor cheers. “You don’t know shit about love, bro. Maybe try practising it with your baby blue babydoll, eh?” He teases. But Nikolai stops eating when he hears the mention of you. His face goes slightly red again when he remembers that he kissed your cheek unprompted before leaving earlier. 

Now how can he save his face when he returns to the diner? God, that was embarrassing. 

“Hey, I want to ask… She is not from this town, right?” Nikolai asks. Viktor nods. “And the loansharks… I don’t think they’re from here but they must have a base to operate if they want to catch her dad. Where are they? Where is it?”

“Moscow, but I don’t know which exact part of Moscow they’re based at,” Viktor replies. “Why?”

“Just curious.” Nikolai bites the inside of his cheek. His mind remembers a weird event last night where he sees a car from Moscow, seemingly suspicious. He does not want to think too hard about it but he does not want to take any risk. 

He will make his own investigation later. After all, he still has that knock-off Eyes of God. 

“So, what have you decided to do with her? You have like two weeks left here, right?” Viktor asks before he turns his head to look at Nikolai. He groans slightly, probably already feeling strained by the position and the dabbing needle on his back. 

“Yeah, I talked to Olga about it. She’ll take her in…”

“Ooh, good choice, good choice. Well, she’s safer with Olga for sure. No criminal groups are going to let that diner burn. It’s like a beloved nest for all drug dealers!” Viktor laughs but stops immediately when Nastasya slaps his ass as a warning to stop laughing so his back would not move so much. 

“I said I have something important to tell you, right?” Nikolai says. Viktor only hums. Nastasya is not even listening, most likely. She never really is the one who inserts herself in their business, unless it involves something that could endanger Viktor—which, frankly, a lot of times. 

“Well, this is about her.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“We made out.”

Silence. 

Complete silence, except for the buzzing noise of the needle in Nastasya’s hand. Even then, the holder herself is wide-eyed, mouth agape, visibly surprised. And her boyfriend is no better. They physically freeze in their spot for a solid minute. 

With their wide-eyed gaze upon him, Nikolai feels extremely abashed, as if he has been put under the spotlight without his consent. As if he is forced to perform a play he never rehearsed. Even if he wants to stop the conversation right there and then—because he thinks they deserve just a speck of last night’s rendezvous—the way both of them look at him makes him want to confess all his sins. 

“We, uh… got drunk… and… she said I can sleep with her on the bed because… you know… and then… and… she kinda touched me— not like touched me there or anything— I think I touched her more than I should but uh… I… we kiss— well, I… I kissed her…”

Hot, scorching, blazing fire is burning his insides. Nikolai wants to bury his face in the soil and let the earth dim his heat away. Although he cannot see his face, he feels the tingles on his cheeks prick so damn hard when Viktor suddenly howls in excitement. 

“Woah! Woah! Woo! Woo! What? You fucking joking! Waow! Is this real?!” 

“Was she okay about it?” Nastasya asks carefully and Nikolai wants to just smack her because of that stupid question. What does she think? You are smitten with him (and he refuses to admit that he is the same when it comes to you). Of course you were fine about it. You literally hugged him, kissed him to sleep and kept him so close to your body like a teddy bear! 

Viktor is already sitting up, ignoring the pain in his muscles. He is enthusiastic, too happy for something so ‘small’ that happened to his friend. The way Viktor is cheering is as if Nikolai did not have occasional casual sex all his life. 

“Hey, wait! If you two have kissed… did you…” Viktor grins perversely as he makes a circle on one hand and his other hand makes a pointing finger gesture. With that stupid smile, he inserts his pointing index finger into the circle, which could only mean one thing. He even wiggles his finger as if to make his point any clearer. 

“No! I did not do that .” Nikolai lowers his voice. “We did not fuck, are you crazy? We were drunk! A-And… it’s too fast and it’s inappropriate and… she’s probably gonna be afraid and… you know…”

“Oh yeah, surely, dude. Suuuurely…” Viktor giggles and it turns to a loud laughter that he throws his head back. He is enjoying this a little too much and Nikolai could only lament his decision to even tell this couple. Nastasya is only watching, amused and entertained. Her laughing boyfriend tries to control himself as he teases again, “So, did you take a cold shower or something? You woke up with a boner this morning?”

Nikolai lowers his face in shame. 

“Worse.”

The sky outside is cloudy but the snow is not as heavy as usual. The weather has been quite unpredictable these days. Nikolai has five more minutes until he arrives at Olga’s diner. He just finished an errand given by Viktor for some extra cash—he has to deliver some ‘mysterious package’ to a smuggling group and he got it done earlier than expected. 

When he finally arrives, he parks his car near the diner and sits back to check his phone. His eyebrow cocks in confusion when he sees a new message from Viktor—a link is attached to it.

Viktor: 10 Ways To Make Your Partner Feel Good In Bed

Viktor: Hope this helps, bro. From one bro to another

Me: pls fucking die 

Nikolai could only imagine the laugh Viktor is doing right now. But he does not really blame the guy. If the situation flips and it goes like Viktor is the one acting like this towards Nastasya, Nikolai would tease him the same—well… if that ever happens before his imprisonment, that is. 

He finally turns off the engine of his car and leaves the vehicle. He fixes the coat on his body and looks around as he walks towards the diner. But his steps are halted when he sees a certain car parked just several metres away from his own. Nikolai diverts his direction, approaching the car instead.

Seven-seven-seven. Moscow. 

The car is similar to what he saw last night in front of the convenience store. He remembers the plate number and the region code. His eyes narrow as he circles the car, trying to find anything that could answer his curiosity and suspicion. 

“This shit looks new and modern. Probably has an alarm if I touch the wrong button.” He mumbles to himself. Both of his hands are in his pockets, wagering his chances to even meddle with the car from the inside. Deciding that it is not worth his time—plus, the owner of the car might be inside the diner with you—Nikolai turns around and walks towards the diner. 

From the window, he sees only two tables are occupied by customers. A man is sitting at the bar and he notices you standing awkwardly by a table with a broom in your hand. Nikolai observes the others again—one group of customers is a couple of old people enjoying tea and reading newspapers and another group of customers is some teenagers enjoying their late lunches. 

The man, however—

Nikolai knows him. That figure he has known so well. There is no way he can forget a person he spent almost six years with while in prison, especially not when he has to live together with them day and night. 

“Bastard…” He mutters before he finally walks into the diner. The bell rings and Nikolai notices your eyes brighten up like the morning sun when you see him. You are about to take a step towards him but Nikolai immediately holds up his hand towards you without even looking at you. 

Instead, he approaches the man at the bar. Once he is close, he wraps his arm around the latter’s shoulders. 

“Elvir, my friend! How long has it been!”

Elvir flinches hard, hearing Nikolai’s cheerful, friendly voice. His head jerks to his side, seeing the familiar grin on Nikolai’s face. Nikolai immediately takes a seat beside him, his arm still extended over the older guy’s shoulder, patting his back at a steady pace. 

“How’ve you been, friend ?” Nikolai asks, with the last word hardened at the edge of his tongue. “How’s Borys, if you still keep in contact with him. Oh, oh! How’s your leg, hmm? Still clanking nice? Still clanking good?” With his foot, Nikolai nudges the metal that replaced half of Elvir’s left leg. 

Elvir immediately pulls back his left leg, avoiding Nikolai’s playful kicks. An intense fear is clear in his eyes, with the way his irises shake. “Nikolai… What are you doing here…?” He asks and his voice is yet another proof of his dread. 

“What am I doing here? Well, I live here, silly goose!” Nikolai grins. “What are you doing here? All the way from Moscow? Huh? Yeah? Moscow, right? I mean, I saw a strange car outside and then I saw you—I really don’t imply that you are strange, no, no, not at all!—and I make the connection and badump! You’re all the way from Moscow.”

“I… I am.”

Nikolai smiles, nodding. “Mm-hm, mm-hm. So, why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you come here, dummy? Oh, and let’s not lie to each other, Elvir. I know how tricks and lies work, alright?” He says, tapping the table in front of Elvir, demanding answers. “Come on, spill out, old guy. This is the time for old friends to catch up with one another.”

“It’s… It’s just that I have a job here.” Elvir says hesitantly. “No other reasons.”

Nikolai smirks. “Let me guess. Is it to retrieve the daughter of your debtor?”

Elvir’s eyes widen. His irises frantically move between the man in front of him and the girl who has been sweeping the floor for over an hour. He tries to speak but all that leaves his mouth are filler words of nervousness and uncertainty. 

He then gasps before lowering his voice to a whisper. “Wait… Are you perhaps… the informant Vivian?”

Vivian —Nikolai knows that name. It is a pseudonym for Viktor to ensure the privacy of his real name. He only ever uses that name for criminal stuff ever since both of them worked at the shady circus. Viktor wanted to have an alter-ego, so to speak, as his ‘illegal identity’ and wanted the name to begin with ‘V’. He ended up with ‘Vivian’ after multiple horrible suggestions from Nikolai—prime exhibit: ‘What about Viagra? Vibrator? Virgin? Viscerocranium?’ ‘Shut your hole, Gogol.’

“I’m not Vivian. But I am acquainted with him.” Nikolai says. “He’s my manager, basically. Well, partner-in-crime, more accurately. F-friend, sorta.”

“Vivian has been in contact with one of my men about… our debtor. We asked him to get his daughter as our hostage quite a while ago…” Elvir whispers, which only annoys Nikolai because there are no goddamn people near them. The teenagers are busy with themselves and old people can barely hear anyway. Boldly, Nikolai pushes Elvir’s shoulder away, putting distance between them. 

“I’m aware. After all, I was the one who got the girl.” Nikolai says before tilting his head in your direction. You are not facing him, instead you are now changing your sweeping job to wiping the windows. “She’s the girl you wanted, right?”

Elvir glances at you for a second before he licks his lips, contemplating and choosing his words carefully. He nods slowly. “Yeah. She is. I-I thought she would be… locked and tied up… And she’s not even…” He pauses, staring at you. You are incredibly close to the main door to the diner. At any time you can run out and scream for help. Hells, you can even plead your case to the group of teenagers and yet—

“She doesn’t even run away…”

Nikolai smiles to himself— Locked her up, tied her up, knocked her out, I did all that and she ran back to me. 

Elvir scoffs, suddenly. “I see. She doesn’t run away because you trained her or something? Make the girl obedient and listen to you?”

Quite the opposite, actually. 

“You can think of it that way,” Nikolai shrugs his shoulders before he grabs Elvir’s jaw, turning the older man’s gaze away from you. Then his hand moves to stay on Elvir’s back, almost like a warning gesture. “But that’s not important right now, yeah? You came here to retrieve her.” Nikolai says. 

“Well, y-yeah.”

“Her daddy already died, though.”

“He had millions in debt, Nikolai.” Elvir grunts. “If he cannot pay anymore, his daughter can.” 

“That’s not her responsibility,” Nikolai replies, his glare turning sharp. Elvir is about to retort but Nikolai quickly cuts him off. “I know what the likes of you do to young women like her. Even her former job did not pay her well. You expect her to be able to pay off millions and possibly more because of your fuckass interest rates in just a couple of years?”

He suddenly cackles dryly. “You’re full of shit, you know that? You’re gonna enslave the fuck out of the girl.”

Elvir frowns hard and his fist clenches. His anger seems to be accumulating, probably because of the condescending and mocking tone that Nikolai has been using to speak to him—he feels disrespected, and the jester is more than happy to taunt and ridicule him. 

“Your business ended ages ago, Gogol. You’re just paid to kidnap the girl. Nothing more. Your job is done done. The girl belongs to us and she has more shit to do than cleaning this damned restaurant.”

Nikolai’s lips form a soft, tiny twinkle. “Mm-hm. I know.”

“Then what the fuck is the matter?”

“ This is the matter.”

Click!

Elvir freezes. His breath is stuck without a second once he hears a familiar cocking sound of a gun. And he is right on the money when his eyes lower to his stomach, where a gun is pointed. His eyes then slowly shift up, meeting Nikolai’s sweet smile and menacing stare. 

“Now, here’s a quiz.”

He smiles broadly. “What other limbs can I tear apart from you aside from your left leg?”

Elvir says nothing and he shudders when Nikolai guides the gun to his right leg. “The answer is its lovely pair.” 

“E-Easy with the threats—”

Nikolai cuts him off again. “You see… I believe that when we have the free will to choose our options, we also choose our consequences. I mean, you made the choice to report me to the disciplinary act in jail, so your consequence is that you lost your leg, oops ! So I’ll give you options, choices and free will , so to speak.”

He leans closer and the tone of his voice lowers deeply as he says, “One, you come near the girl, this place or this town, I’ll sever more than just your right leg. Bonus if I’m diligent, maybe your men can get a part of your limbs, who knows? The skin, after all, is the biggest organ. You would have enough to be a souvenir to many.”

The fear on Elvir’s face is prominent. He swallows his saliva nervously and even carefully as if one wrong move can lead him to death. And he is not entirely wrong considering that an unsecured gun is still pointed against his stomach, with Nikolai’s finger already on the trigger. A simple press and he could have lost his guts—and he does not think Nikolai’s threat is merely trivial. 

No, he does not take this man lightly. What he witnessed in prison is enough. 

Nikolai suddenly laughs keenly, as if he finds this situation fun. Perhaps it is fun for him. “Ah! Don’t make that face. It’s comedic, really! I almost forgot what your second option is!” He sighs, shaking his head. 

“Don’t screw with me—”

“Second, you turn around, face straight ahead and fuck off back to Moscow.” Nikolai retracts his gun, tilting his head with an adorable smile. “And you shall live happily ever after like a prince in fairy tales.”

Elvir stands up. 

Without words and at a fast speed, he turns around to leave. He hastily walks off but his steps stop when Nikolai loudly says, “Hey now, my good friend! Why are you in a rush? Just walk, man! Your legs are totally fine and healthy, aren’t they?”

The diner is silent, except for a steady series of footsteps echoing through the whole room and that series ends finally when the bell on the door rings, signalling that someone has left. 

“Nikolai…?”

Nikolai turns his head, finally seeing his blue angel after minutes of talking with an old creepy man. The sight of you is a real eye-cleanser and his heart flutters when he sees the confusion on your face that is only adding to your grace. 

“Are you angry with me?”

Now he is the confused one. “What? Where do you get that from?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s ‘cause you were like… don’t want me to talk to you or something earlier…” You say before you move to behind the bar again. You stand right in front of where Nikolai is seated. 

“No, I don’t mean it that way, love.” He says softly. “I stopped you because I didn’t want you to come to me when I was talking with that guy. Glad you actually didn’t approach me with a menu.” 

“Do you know him?” You ask. “He had been sitting here for about two hours or so. He was being creepy and I was… scared.”

Nikolai hums, resting his chin on his palm as he stares at your timid face. As if you notice his eyes are on you, you look up at him, giving him a smile which he gladly returns. “What did he talk to you about?”

“Mm… He was flirting. He tried to buy me a drink as well and he asked me if I live alone.”

“Uh-huh… And then what did you say?”

“I said I don’t live alone.”

Nikolai nods and sighs. “Good girl. That’s smart of you for saying that. It could be worse.” A sheepish smile crooks on your face before you give him a menu. 

“Anything to drink? I can do most of the drinks now! Vasily taught me.” You giggle. Nikolai is about to whine and protest at the mention of the name but hearing your giggle only makes him snicker to himself. He does not really want to drink anything but he proceeds to ask you to make him a hot latte anyway. You nod and take the cup that Elvir used hours ago and then stop. 

“Oh. Your friend did not pay…”

“He’s not my friend.”

“Who is he then?”

Nikolai rubs his lips, pondering. “He was my cellmate, back in prison. His name is Elvir.” He says. He wonders if he should tell you about Elvir’s involvement with your father—he does not want you to get scared to live by yourself. But he also does not want you to carelessly interact with people, although knowing that Olga’s place has an ‘extra protection’ from criminals who often make deals here. 

He watches you walk around, making a latte in precision. You do not seem to be clueless about any of these—which makes him wonder whether you have worked in a cafe as a barista before. He knows you have been taking small jobs ever since you were young to support yourself. Nikolai scoffs to himself a bit. He realises that you are more than capable of being independent but for many reasons, you surely love being pampered so much—by the man who kidnapped you, no less. 

“Here’s your coffee,” You say as you put a cup of hot latte in front of him. “Please give me fifty-percent tips.” You beam playfully. 

“Ha, you don’t demand tips, little dove. No tips, no tips, you already leeched off a lot from me.” He says before he puts down a couple crumpled cash notes on the table and the amount is certainly more than the price of the latte. “Here you go, love.” You take it and count it. 

“Do you want to donate to charity?” You attempt again. Nikolai is baffled but still very much entertained. 

“What fucking charity?”

“Orphans.”

He rolls his eyes, cackling under his breath as he waves his hand dismissively. Your little noise of victory is a melody to his ears as you register the exact amount of cash equal to the latte’s price and stuff the balance into your pocket. 

“Ah, but what about Elvir’s mocha?” You ask. “He asked for two too.”

“I ain’t paying for that,” Nikolai says before he sips his coffee. His eyes glance around the area, not finding Olga anywhere. She is in the kitchen, likely, because he hears faint gossip noises from there—old ladies’ activities, what is new? 

“Just hush hush about it.” You nod at his not-so-helpful suggestions and quickly go to wash the used cups at the sink. Nikolai just sits there, watching you intently. He is still thinking about whether to talk more about Elvir. He does not want to lie to you—he promised that many nights ago. Elvir is not from here and surely he has not a single clue on how things work with the underground world that exists in the shadow of this town. 

He calls for your name. You are surprised at his call for a moment but you make your way to his spot anyway. 

“Elvir works for loan sharks.” He states. “I don’t have any promise that he would not come back and it would be extremely dumb on his part to do that… but if you ever see him even when he does nothing more than just smile at you, you have to tell me.”

“Loan sharks…?” You mutter. “Is he…”

“Yes.” Nikolai firmly says. “Yes, he is exactly what you think. So if you ever see him, tell me. Do not tell anyone else other than me or Viktor. You can ask for a phone from Olga but still, it’s either me or Viktor. Is that clear?”

You say nothing, eyes lowered down. You bite your lips as you try to form a question amidst your agitation. “W-What is he planning to do with me? I mean, he surely will come back, right?”

“If he wants to be decapitated apart, yes,” Nikolai mumbles. He glances at you before sighing softly and offers his hand to you. You wordlessly put your hand on his, gripping it tightly, which he returns with little rubs of his thumb on your skin. 

“Don’t be scared, little dove. You are going to be fine. People here love you lots, you know?”

“Do you?”

Nikolai stays silent. 

“Do you… love me?“

You know I can’t answer that. 

Nikolai says nothing. Even with your pleading gaze upon him, he says nothing. Instead, he brings your hand to his lips. 

And kiss it. 

Chapter Text

You are still not in the right headspace.

As soon as you woke up this morning, Nikolai told you to get ready to go out. By ten in the morning, he already shoved you into his car. Right now, you are still sleepy and confused as to where he is taking you. It is not even the road to Olga’s diner or Nastasya’s studio. You remember Olga did not ask you to come to the diner and take a shift the last time you were there.

“Still sleepy?” Nikolai asks when the car stops at the red light. You hum and nod slowly. “You drink coffee?” He asks again.

“Not really. I prefer tea… and hot chocolate.” You say before you tilt your head to the side, looking outside the window. The world is dull and pale. The snow is falling today, but it is not so cold that you cannot handle it. Though, you have a tendency to snatch one of Nikolai’s many overcoats and wrap yourself in it. They always smell so nice, with a hint of tobacco and alcohol. 

“Here,” Nikolai slips his hand into his pocket and takes out a can of peach tea from it. Your eyes widen slightly as you accept his little gift. You still do not understand how his ability works—hell, you do not even understand that there are the existences of unique people with unique abilities. Your whole life was spent moving from one place to another and Nikolai was the first instance of such people.

You subtly slip your hand into the red cardigan you wear—it belongs to him—and sure enough, your hand ends up in an empty pocket. Huffing to yourself, you open the can of peach tea and drink it. It is quite sweet.

You glance at Nikolai, noticing that he is grumbling curses in Ukrainian as he flicks off a car that drives past him. “Where are we going?” You finally ask the question that has been swirling in your mind. He seems to snap out of his minor road rage when he hears your soft voice.

“Olga’s house. To see your new place.” He says.

“Oh…”

Being constantly reminded of how you are going to leave Nikolai—or more accurately, he leaves you—does dissipate your delight. Your face turns sour as you drink more of your peach tea. It is not that you despise the possibility of living with someone new in a better house. Olga’s place probably has a better bed, better bathroom and a kitchen fully equipped with food. Vasily could be a very fun housemate too.

But your heart tugs elsewhere, towards someone else—someone who repeatedly has said that he is going to leave this town.

You suddenly remember bits of your conversation with him long ago—when he first opened up about himself. He told you about him joining a terrorist organisation, his attempt to kill himself, his anger and frustration and his desire for freedom. You remember feeling sympathetic towards him—which in better logic, you should not. He is not a good man, in a lawful sense. 

But at least he is not as bad as his friend, Fyodor. That name has been nothing but a ghost until recently. The closer you are to his departure date, the clearer that name is in your mind. Fyodor, Fyodor…—what is he? How amazing of a man is he for someone like Nikolai to do a lot of this preparation and sacrifice just to kill him? Why does Nikolai want to kill him? What kind of illogical yet profound reason could justify that?

“Killing him will prove myself to be truly free. I just want to set it right. I am setting it right. It is not revenge I seek. I’m freeing myself.”

Would such scenarios be applicable to you? Would you kill your father to be free? Perhaps—if you have the guts to actually hurt someone. But then again, your freedom from your father would only be in a physical and literal sense. However, despite his absence from the world now, you are still not free. Dangerous people are after you.

Nikolai’s goal to kill that friend does not really look like a path to literal freedom. Killing him will prove myself to be truly free —he wants to free himself in a spiritual sense, you think. It is a weird sentiment, you would admit. What kind of person Fyodor Dostoyevsky is if his death could prove something as abstract and complex as the free will itself? If free will can be proven, would that also deny the presence of destiny itself?

Somehow you feel slightly envious—if he has made that much impact on Nikolai’s life, he must be very important. To be such a significance in someone’s life—oh, you could only dream about it. Not even your father wants to save you and certainly not your kind mother who gives up life. 

“Alrighty, we’re here,” Nikolai says as he parks his car at a box near a brown apartment building. The apartment certainly looks better than a lot of other blocks in this suburban town. It looks cleaner too. Sometimes you just want to cry to Nikolai because of how bad the staircase at his apartment smells. It is a privilege to have a couple janitors having a cleaning duty every Saturday. 

You leave the car and look around the area. Pretty empty, save for a convenience store, a closed food truck and a leather boutique—it looks vintage and apparently the boutique also has repair services for leather goods. 

“This place is boring,” You murmur. Nikolai snorts. 

“I know right. That’s why I’m gonna leave.” He says as he walks towards the building. You follow him closely from behind. 

“Must you always bring that up?”

“What? Me leaving?”

You nod, crossing your arms as you size him up. Nikolai returns your dissatisfied stare before he taps your cheek lightly. “You gotta get used to it. I know you like living with me, but there comes a point where you have to let go of something, you know?” He says before his fingers wrap nicely on your jaw, bringing your cheeks together. “And Olga would be a much better person to take care of you. She has connections and you’ll be safe, I assure you. You’ll like living with her.”

With pouty lips, you say, “I hope so. I hope Vasily is a good housemate too.”

His eyes darken. A frown forms on his face. Before he could say anything back, the lift dings open and he quickly retracts his hand from you. Then that very hand slithers down your figure, grabbing your wrist instead as he pulls you into the lift. He presses the ‘4’ button. 

“Hey, girl! W-Wait!” You both turn to the outside of the lift, seeing a middle-aged man trying his best to rush towards the lift. You are about to press the ‘Open’ button but Nikolai slaps your hand away and presses the ‘Close’ one. 

He waves at the man as the door closes. 

“Hello, you two! Come in, come in.” Olga greets you at the door, opening it wide enough for you and Nikolai to enter her house. You are gaping at the way her house looks. Humble but extremely cosy. Much better than Nikolai’s apartment indeed. The living room is quite spacious, with just one couch, a coffee table, a shelf of antique fine china plates and an old yet functioning television. There are some board games in the cabinet under the television too. 

The kitchen is just a little messier, probably because she was cooking before you two came. There is a small dining table placed against the wall, enough for four people to sit in. A vase of multi-coloured carnations is in the middle of the table. It does look like fake flowers though. 

Olga leads you two to a vacant room, just beside Vasily’s room. The vacant room is quite messy—a complete contrast to the rest of the house. There is an old bed, complete with a blanket and pillow. The bed is covered with old-fashioned floral sheets. The room is also filled with boxes and old items.

“I kinda make this room as a storage room,” Olga chuckles sheepishly. “Lots of unused and used things.” She adds. Nikolai snorts. 

“So you’re a hoarder.”

Olga huffs, crossing her arms. “Oh, come on. If I had an overcoat like you do, this room would be clean! And don’t tell me that there isn’t some random stuff in there either.” She says. Nikolai pouts, sticking out his tongue at her childishly when he has no counter for that. 

“Olga, I couldn’t find more mops— Ah!”

You turn your head, seeing Vasily is holding a mop. He looks shocked when he notices Nikolai. You do not understand why he fears Nikolai that much and why Nikolai just cannot be friendly to Vasily specifically. If Nikolai does not want to be friendly with Vasily, that is fine. Not in your case though. You are more than happy to make friends with him. 

“Hi, Vasily!” You wave at him. Vasily nods at you, his shoulders relax slightly as his lips twitch into a smile at you. His voice does not come out confident when he says hi back. 

“No more mops from downstairs, Vasya?” Olga asks. Vasily shakes his head. She turns to Nikolai, eyes leering at the coat he wears. “No mops in you?”

“What, like in my ass?” 

“Hey, language!”

Nikolai hums half-heartedly and shakes his head. You wonder what limit he can store stuff inside his coat—you know he can store a long rope in there. Can he store a whole bed in there? Or a car? Can a human fit in his overcoat? His ability is one of the mysteries you want to unravel about him—it is fascinating, you think.

“That’s fine. Mopping can wait. What’s more important is to move all these things…” Olga wiggles her index finger at the items on the floor. “… and clean all the dust off the floor, windows and walls.” She grins before she nudges Nikolai deeper into the room. “So, uhm, get to work, men. Vasya will help. He knows what stuff to throw away and what not.”

“ Whaaat , why should I do it?” Nikolai tries to protest.

“Because I’ll be in the kitchen with her and Vasya needs a trusted adult,” Olga grumbles, patting Nikolai’s back. You beam. You do not really mind working in the kitchen with Olga. Cleaning this whole room sounds like hard work. 

“Biblically inaccurate trusted adult.” Vasily murmurs. “Can’t she stay with us?” He points at you. “This will be her room anyway. She needs to stay with us. She has to. Please stay with us, please.”

He sounds like he is begging for you. 

Olga only laughs before nodding. “Alright, alright.” She looks at you. “You help them. I’ll be fine alone in the kitchen. Play nice, you three. Oh, and don’t steal anything. I know you still have those naughty hands.” She ruffles Nikolai’s hair before walking to the door. She stops by you, also giving your head soft pats. “If they give you hard times, tell me okay? I’ll handle them.” She grins, flexing her arm. You nod, grinning as well before she leaves. 

It is an awkward five seconds of looking at each other after Olga leaves. You cough and look at Vasily. “Where do we start, Vasily?” You ask before you put away your baby blue pouch on the bed and take a broom for yourself. Vasily stops you. 

“Oh, we don’t need to sweep the place just yet. Olga wants most of these things to be thrown away. Unusable things… old things… broken things.” He says before he takes an empty box. “We put those in this box so we can throw it away later.”

“Here I have one.” 

Vasily freezes when Nikolai gently rakes his fingers through his hair. The younger man’s eyes are frantic, seeking you for help. You sigh loudly, pulling Nikolai’s arm to move him away from tormenting the poor guy. Nikolai pouts at you—he looks almost like a boy who thinks he does nothing wrong. You look around and reach one of the white cloths used for wiping dust. You shove it into Nikolai’s hand. 

“You clean the window. Vasily and I will gather the things.” You say, poking his chest. Nikolai looks at the dusty window and his pout just gets longer. 

“I have allergies.” He says. 

“No you don’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“You always smoke by that dusty window in our house.”

Nikolai nods. “Fair enough, my love. Fair… enough.” He grumbles before he walks to the window and starts wiping the glass half-heartedly. You turn your attention to Vasily and smile. 

“Okay, let’s begin. Shall we start with this pile of boxes?” You ask, walking to an opened box, filled with vintage and antique house decorations. Vasily follows you and crouches beside you just as you crouch by the box. 

Time passes by swiftly as you two work together. You sort box by box, setting the items according to their rightful place—not really, some items you think should be thrown away but Vasily insists that it is valuable. You start to notice how there are some out-of-place things among the antiques—a deflated basketball, various coloured caps, broken board games, chess pieces, some Game Boys and a couple of old game controllers. 

“Do these things belong to yours?” You ask Vasily as you examine a Game Boy. It is blue in colour and there is barely any button anymore. 

“Nope, not mine. Nothing in this room belongs to me. And that looks very old. I wasn’t living here until two years ago.” Vasily replies. “Probably belonged to her son.”

“Olga has a son?”

“Had.”

“… What happened to him?”

Vasily glances at you slightly and shrugs. “I don’t know. I just got here. I just know she had a son.”

You chuckle. “Well, she looks like she would have a son. She kinda treats you and your friend like one.” You say as you examine an old, torn board game before tossing it into a box that is meant to be thrown away. 

“My… friend?”

“Yeah. What’s his name again? Err… A-Aleksy?”

Vasily suddenly huffs and curses under his breath. “Nah, not my friend anymore.” He mumbles angrily. Your eyebrow jerks up before you pause your sorting duty, looking at him intently. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I thought he was a fine guy but he started being weird after he hung out with this group of guys. I don’t know, he just made me uncomfortable now. We’re not friends anymore.” He says. His face grimaces, as if he is remembering hard times that happened probably not long ago. Feeling bad about his gloom, you place your hand on his shoulder, giving a light squeeze as a tiny solace. 

“I’m sorry for you. I’m sure you have other friends who care for you.” You say softly. Vasily gives you a thin smile, nodding to himself. 

“Yeah, I do. My friends are cool and they end up hating Alyosha for that too.” He laughs briefly. “They’re fun people. Smart too. Some of them tutor other students in their free time.”

You coo, nodding in amazement. Tutoring other students? Must be a next-level kind of intelligence. If the opportunity to continue your study presents itself, surely you will take it. You are not sure where your qualifications can have you end up in but if it is a road to see more of the world, you would take it. 

Maybe if you are lucky, you can pursue your education somewhere else—a better place, a better life. Like Vasily does right now.

“Maybe someday I can introduce you to them,” Vasily says as he closes one box with tape. You look at him, sheepish. You chuckle lightly. 

“Uhm, I don’t know. I’m not a student like you guys.”

“Why does that matter? You’re perfect as you are. Very friendly, very kind, naive… Too naive sometimes. You gotta make friends with people within your age range… for similar experience purposes or someshit. Although… none of us got kidnapped and insisted on staying with a suspicious guy.” Vasily smiles sweetly at you. You find his dimples to be adorable, a remarkable trait indeed. It compliments his slightly tanned skin. “If Olga likes you, everyone likes you. That’s the rule of thumb.”

You scoff before you smile smugly at him. “Oh, really? Olga likes Nikolai. You don’t seem to like him.”

Vasily sulks immediately. He grabs the box properly and hoists himself up. He adjusts his stance as he carries the big box. For a brief second, he looks at you. “I would like him if he actually helps us instead of napping in the bed… and not being so scary.”

You turn around, finally seeing the figure of your kidnapper on the bed. Nikolai is lying on his stomach, facing the wall instead of your direction. He is watching a video on his phone—it looks like a theatre play or something. Vasily grumbles again under his breath but you cannot really catch it before he leaves the room with the box in his arms. 

Being alone with Nikolai gives you that familiarity again. Sure, Vasily is a good company. It is comforting to talk to the guy but Nikolai’s presence alone is complete enough for you. You look at Nikolai. He seems to be so engrossed in the theatre play. You smile to yourself, finding a little joy at the fact that you find something new about him. You wonder if he was involved in some kind of play like that, considering he used to work in a shady circus. 

What was his role in the circus? What was his favourite magic trick? What made the circus so shady? You want to know, you need to ask, but pestering him would probably end up with you being pushed away and your questions being diverted to many roads. Although, there are also some instances where he gave up to your curiosity. 

You keep working alone, with Vasily occasionally coming in to take another box to move out. By the time you start to sweep the dusty floor, you are already overcome with boredom and exhaustion. Your laziness takes over as you tread slowly to the bed, and plop yourself down on the surprisingly soft mattress—although the bed frame does creak very loudly. 

Nikolai rolls himself, lying on his back and his eyes meet you. He smiles. “Tired already?” He asks. You nod. “You’re such a hardworking girl, even when you don’t have to be.”

“Or maybe you’re just too lazy.” You murmur, slightly displeased that Nikolai abandoned his duty so quickly. You bet the windows are still dusty. Nikolai only snickers, seemingly proud of his unproductiveness. You look at the door, hearing the faint voices of Olga and Vasily from the nearby kitchen. You are about to get up, wanting to join in and help. You are in Olga’s house and it would be so rude if you just lounge around and do nothing. 

However, just before you can raise yourself, your wrist is grabbed and held tightly. 

You look at Nikolai. His eyes are set on you. “Just stay and take a rest, my love. That boy is helping Olga anyway.” He says. You hesitate, eyes wavering towards the door and then him. He tugs on your wrist slightly. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

As if his little tug has a stronger force to it, your body feels heavy as you descend slowly onto the bed, exactly beside him. Your head on his firm arm, his hand shakily holds you. Heart beats fast and yet you find it hard to properly breathe as you lean into his heat. 

“Is this okay?” You ask. 

He does not answer, only staring at the video on his phone. His eyes are unfocused and his body tenses up. For a brief second, his hand tries to pull you away from his proximity, but his fingers itching to tuck you close. And those very fingers press harder onto your shoulder when you place an arm on his waist, with half of your leg straddling his. 

Was it nice?

“ Fuck .” He breathes out.

The two of you stay like that for a moment. You are staring at nothing, just enjoying the closeness shared between you two. His breathing is heavy at first but it gradually calms down, though you can feel him getting tense once a few seconds. 

“Kolya?”

“Yes, dove.”

You tilt your head up to face him. “Can I ask you something? About Petersburg?” You say. Nikolai blinks profusely at your question before he puts away his phone and faces you. His mismatched eyes are as mesmerising as ever, his lips are slightly dry and his cheeks are slightly reddish. Wavy white hair, begging to be ruffled and messed with. As you stare deeper, you notice more features on him—a mole on his neck, a little bump on his nose, dark circles under his eyes. 

Beautiful, beautiful man. 

“Hey,” He suddenly pinches your cheek, tugging it. “If you want to ask, just ask. No need to scrutinise my face like a customs officer.” You giggle at his touch before lifting your upper body just a bit to look at him clearly. 

“Is your plan… uhm… going well? What’ll you do after this?” You ask. 

“It’s going fine… I just need to pack my things and return the apartment key to the landlord.”

“Huh? You don’t have like excessive documents you need to do?”

“Eh, the landlord is all for money anyway. She lets anyone rent with her, as long as they pay. Just ask for the key, really.” Nikolai says. “You can count on one hand how many lawful citizens there are in this city, sweetheart.” He pinches your cheek again, lightly and teasingly. 

Nikolai sighs softly before he turns away and gapes at the ceiling for a couple minutes. With a slow voice, he asks you, “Does Elvir still come to the diner?”

You rake your brain to remember who Elvir is and it is not easy to forget that middle-aged suspicious-looking man. He sat in the restaurant for hours and you forced yourself to sweep the same tile on the floor just to avoid him—although, his leering gaze rarely left you. Knowing his true connection with the loan sharks and your father sent chills and a trickle of paranoia in you that for the past five days, you have been working in the kitchen instead. 

You did tell Vasily about Elvir since he works mostly outside the kitchen and Vasily has not seen anything peculiar. So you shake your head at Nikolai’s question. “Haven’t seen him in the diner…”

“I think you need a gun, for your safety.” Your eyes widen at his words, confused too. Nikolai is unbothered by your reaction as he takes out a gun from the inside of his coat, handing it to you. He even wiggles it, encouraging you to touch the dangerous metal. You shake your head fast, keeping both of your hands to yourself. The retraction of your arm from his waist makes his eyes twitch, but he says nothing. 

“What? It’s not gonna shoot if you don’t press it.” He says before he wraps his fingers around the handle. He sways the gun left and right. “It’s a very quick thing to kill someone.”

You gasp when he suddenly presses the muzzle right on your head. Complete silence and intense stares. Your body tenses and freezes as your eyes quiver terribly towards him and the gun. His name is stuck in your throat as your voice refuses to vocalise itself. His staring is deep and he bites his lips as if his mind is swirling with thoughts he forces himself to swallow. 

“I’m kidding. I won’t hurt you.” He says before he retracts his hand, resting the gun on his chest instead. 

“… You won’t?”

“Mm-hm.”

“P-Promise?”

“Yes, little dove. Pinky promise, sealed with a kiss.” He smiles and just like that, you finally find the courage to gesture the same. You glance at the gun on his chest and nudge your chin. 

“Can you put that away?”

“What, you’re scared?” Nikolai smirks. You timidly nod and he cackles briefly. He moves his gun away, putting it beside the pillow he lays on. “Ha, you’re lucky you look cute when you’re sca—”

Nikolai’s throat dries up all of a sudden. His eyes shake terribly as they travel down to you—as soon as he puts away the gun, you lay your head on his chest, once again placing your arm around his waist. You make yourself comfortable and Nikolai— well… he would not say he is uncomfortable. He feels something , surely. 

You are laying on his chest, so close, so so close. Worse, his arm that you laid your head on before instinctively goes to wrap itself around you—as if that is the most natural thing to do. As if it is the right thing. You could probably hear his heartbeat by how close he holds you. And your eyes certainly could see some signs of his delight . Nikolai groans, bracing himself for any embarrassment he might get today. 

“W-What’s with this?” He shakily asks. 

“Hm?” You move your head upward, looking at him. The way your eyes twinkle makes his stomach aflutter. It burns—warmth seeps into his chest, whelming his ribs.

“You are being sooo clingy,” Nikolai grumbles, making his voice as annoyed as possible. But he wants to shriek when he notices how whiny he sounds. It feels like his cold mask has slowly melted, thawing his old glee and jest. Did the warmth manage to travel up to his face too, just like how it travels so easily to his groin? 

“Is that not okay with you?”

“Nah,” Too quick, Nikolai. Too quick. “I’m good.” 

You squeal tinily before you turn your head to its comfortable position. Your finger is fiddling with the decorative rope on his jacket. He just watches you silently, while praying to someone to grant him the power to control his heartbeat. 

It is just silence between you two—you are just silently playing with whatever you can reach of him and he is just watching. 

“Nikolai…” You finally say something after about five minutes of tying and untying a knot from the rope of his jacket. “Are you really going to be okay when you reach Petersburg?”

“Why would I not be? I’m over thirty years old. I can live alone. Been doing that since forever. Everything’s almost settled. Car, house, transportation to go there…” He murmurs as his hand mindlessly plays with the threads peeking out of your (well, his) red cardigan. 

“It’s not that I’m worried about…” You say. You sound a little frustrated, but Nikolai is not so sure. It is just a tint so faint it can barely be seen. 

“Then, what?”

“You,” You look at him again. “I’m worried about you.” You purse your lips and glance away. “I’m worried that the friend you wanted to kill—Fyodor—will do terrible things to you. Again . W-What if he made you go to prison again? I…”

I’m not ready to lose you. I’m never ready. 

Nikolai’s eyes widen at the mention of his old friend. A mixed quandary bubbles and boils among the delightful warmth—slowly it bleeds into conflict. Suddenly he is repulsed. Suddenly he is angry. Suddenly he is irritated. Suddenly he is pissed. Suddenly he wants to shove you away, scream at you, grab the gun, pull the trigger, scream and scream— go away, go away! Why must you torment me like him?

With a hand on the side of your face, he stares hard at you.

He does not say anything, just glaring. But his mismatched eyes are not as dull—they are alive, blazing like fire igniting chaos and havoc. You, however, are slightly shaken—a light touch on a stagnant swan lake. 

“Do you remember what I told you about him? About me?”

You nod slowly. “You two were… terrorists… and you were supposed to d-die.”

“He was supposed to die too.”

You frown but only for a quick second—in fear Nikolai might think you are displeased. You reach to touch the hand on your cheek. “Will you allow me to know about it?”

He is silent but his gaze is wandering madly all over your face—your eyes, nose and lips. He squeezes your face slightly before he throws his head back and groans loudly. And in quick precision, he pulls you by your waist to lay directly on top of him, with the rest of your body resting between his legs. You mewl in surprise and you want to ask him but he wraps his arm around your head and tugs you close to his chest. He is hugging you like a teddy bear—except you can barely move. You cannot even move your head except your eyes. 

“I don’t want to see your face right now.”

“W-What?” Your voice sounds muffled, thanks to his arm. 

“I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just can’t.” He murmurs and his tone is hushed and desperate, as if to urge you to comply. You do not nod—you cannot even do anything, really. You can only hum and stare at the wall—as that is the only thing your eyes can freely gawk at. 

Nikolai takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent. He is wagering his choice. He just cannot spend another millisecond gazing back at your glimmers. He will lose it. He will lose himself to delight and delirium. 

But at the same time, he needs to pour his chaos elsewhere. A little whisper in him convinces him to allow you to know—after all, whether he likes it or not (he likes it), you are entangled with him in one way or another. 

You are not protected like Olga or Nastasya. You are not entirely an unimportant outsider like Vasily. You are definitely not as well-knowledged as Viktor. You were just an outsider, a stray dove who flew wrongly at the wrong place and the wrong time. His message to Viktor— “Yea, yea. I accept. I’ll call you when I got her.” —was just a small piece of domino that had fallen. 

The pieces fall one by one until the little dove decides his arms would be her cage. 

What good would it be for you if you were left in the dark? Even a prison has a light from the sun or a lonely lightbulb. 

“Fyodor was supposed to die…” Nikolai says slowly, still hugging you tight. “He was in a special jail, along with his… beloved chess partner, I guess… I arranged a scheme to break him out of jail and ensure his death.”

“Y-You broke him out…? Why?” You ask. 

“… I don’t know. At that time I wanted to help him and release him from jail. And at the same time too, I wanted to kill him. I guess it would be a mere instinct, much like animals, to only kill him. Listen, you listen.” His voice deepens. “I was torn between saving him and killing him. Saving him would mean that my emotions are still intact and tangled in me. That’s why I did both. It was to prove that it was not a mere animal instinct.”

He takes a deep breath and continues, “He got out of the prison first and got into the helicopter that was prepared to aid the winner in his escape. He got in… and well… minus some details, he was stabbed when commanding the pilot. The helicopter crashed, exploded, burnt to debris. All that's left of him was his arm. It’s probably somewhere in my coat.”

You flinch. 

“Was it spooky?” You nod quickly with all your strength. Despite his voice being soft and alluring, it is very uncanny. Probably because he does not seem bothered about keeping a mutated limb in his possession. He chuckles, but just a short, feeble one. “Sorry,” He says while he caresses your hair. 

“I-It sounds like he was very important to you…” You attempt to reply. 

“Mm, I guess you can think of it like that… We barely talked to each other but he understood me when nobody else did. He understood me , my essence, my goal, my ideal. That’s why I agreed to join the terrorism. Partly because it was a pure evil plan, separating morality and amorality. But also it was because I could die freely. Because I could choose happiness or freedom of my soul. I, obviously, chose the latter but it wasn’t… as… satisfying and liberating as I thought, especially when I was caught up with my emotions towards him. I caught up with that and changed my fate. And I thought I would feel liberated when I saw him die but… it felt the same. Maybe I did feel the freedom, but it wasn’t as pleasing as I thought it would be.”

You try to take a glance at him but when you make the slightest move, he firmly holds you, insisting you to stay in your position and keep your face hidden. You obey, not wishing to push his button too much, especially when he is being too vulnerable and unstable right now. 

“After that… what happened?” You ask. 

“I returned here. I met up with Viktor again. I truly believed Fedya was dead. Anything that happens on the other side of the world is none of my business. I don’t care what happens to the rest of the group, nor what happens to the world when some kind of beasts are unleashed. I just feel… lost… and empty.” He sighs. “One day, when I was in St. Petersburg, I saw him. I saw fucking Fyodor Dostoyevsky in the street, alive and well and… as if nothing ever happened. I don’t know what’s his goddamn superpower—it is probably something to do with death. At that time…” He sucks in his breath, sharp. His fingers grip your hair harder. “I felt everything. I felt angry, I felt sad, I felt nostalgic, I felt infatuated, I felt understood and… disappointed.”

“I felt disappointed,” He mutters. “And I don’t know at whom I’m disappointed with.”

“I told you. You tried to kill me. I am simply returning the favour. I am not too late, aren’t I?”

“What?” An awkward laugh, a tiny crumbling mask. “You’re going to kill me now? Huh, I guess there really is no use trying to outsmart someone like you.” He stares at the ground. “What are you waiting for then? Are you going to touch and bleed me? Or is it something you actually never do? What does the great one have in mind?”

“No. Not here. Not now. Nothing so ordinary.”

“Ooh~ I’m excited!” He grins, but his fingertips are cold. His smile falters when the man turns around, seeming to leave. Cold, frosty fingers twitching intensely, eager to wrap all of them around his neck, squeezing the life out of him.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere concerning you. But you should go back. Walk home, Gogol. Walk. By then, you’ll find yourself hungry for your key.”

He leaves. He walks away. He does not turn back. 

“Nikolai?”

Nikolai glances at you and you let out a tiny whimper. “You’re pulling my hair…” His eyes bolt towards his hand, now realising he unconsciously gripped you a little too hard, as if his anger is accumulated and seeking something to descend on. He loosens his grip, both arms pry away and drop on each of his sides. You slowly lift your body, just enough for you to see his face. You are basically lying on your stomach with your legs up—except you are also still straddling his body. 

“The way you’re describing this man is like he can do anything even avoiding death, apparently. Do you really want to face him again?” You frown, your voice is careful. “Because… well, if I may speak freely, I think chasing and living your hurtful past wouldn’t be a good idea. Besides, he’s a terrible, big guy, isn’t he?”

“He’s not a big guy.”

“Well, we’re not talking about sizes. His influence on you was rather big, no?” 

Nikolai hums passively, slightly rolling his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I will admit that. He certainly had a grip on my head, once. That’s why I must kill him. I must. Killing him would get rid of it. If I kill him, I’ll kill the very thing that controls the entirety of me. If I sever it—I sever myself from this brainwashing. Do you understand me now, my love?”

It is now your that is beating fast. Not because of the closeness between you two, but the shakiness in his voice—fragile, just like his lucidity. A push, a nudge, a poke—it feels like anything can make him fall into madness. It is only a matter of time—a matter of who . 

“Kolya… this kinda sounds like— it’s— it’s like… you’re saying…”

You purse your lips, wondering if it is even a correct assumption. You are uncertain whether you should even say it, so you decide to put away that thought. However, it is hard to just pretend you forget it—as its implication alone is already disturbing. 

He does not push you to tell him, but one of his hands creeps slowly onto your lower back. Maybe you do understand Vasily now. 

“Am I scaring you?” Nikolai suddenly asks as both of his hands touch your face again, tilting your head left and right like a mannequin. “Are you scared of me?” His thumbs press and fondle your skin, hard, causing you to squeak pitifully at his roughness. 

“S-Sometimes. But you’re more confusing than scary.” You say truthfully and immediately hold his wrists to stop him from kneading your face like dough. “I prefer that over my father’s though.”

Nikolai hums, nodding to himself. He thinks of something and decides to test his theory once more by pulling your hair a couple times. You only fight it with pouty pleas for him to stop. But you do not look too displeased. You certainly do not look so repulsed by his touches. 

He decides it— yeah, that’s definitely a kink or someshit . But that thought is only kept in a special corner of his mind. 

“Hey~! Lunch is ready— Oh my God!”

You shriek in surprise and hastily get up from his body. Your face is hot and you feel extremely abashed when you see Olga standing right by the door, eyes wide, a hand on her waist. Her amused gaze is on you before she turns to Nikolai. 

Nikolai has already surrendered. He does not even move from his position and the embarrassment he is supposed to feel has become dormant. He gives up, really. His friends would target him more than you for their teasing and perhaps it is truly the time for him to accept the fact already. 

But he is thankful that you are still seated in the space between his legs though. His embarrassment could have awakened again because Olga would see the rush that tightens his pants— fuck, it hurts .

“Food, anybody? Food? Or did you two eat each other already?” Olga laughs at her joke, bringing a fluster onto your face. 

“We didn’t do anything…” You mumble. 

Olga’s eyebrow jerks up before she scoffs. She crosses her arms and smiles smugly. “Yeah… sure, sure. I’m not going to ask more, it’d be disgusting to know.” She makes the motion of ‘Come here’ with her hand. You quickly get up and Nikolai follows after. He even stretches himself, making whiny noises as if he has been working the whole day. 

“Vasya told me you’re being lazy,” Olga grumbles, hitting Nikolai’s shoulder. “Not even helping a thing. Hey, you’re still taking care of her. You should ease her work.” She says. Nikolai pouts and fakes a big yawn in front of the lady. 

“Nikolai’s been tired lately,” You suddenly come to his defence. “He’s… uhh… been very stressed.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is.” 

“For fuck’s sake, Olga. Come on…” Nikolai groans and pushes you and Olga to walk in front of him. Olga wants to protest but you wrap your arm around hers, immediately distracting her from teasing Nikolai some more. 

It works smoothly. You are certainly very good at your former job. 

“What kind of food did you cook that took you so long?” You ask, sounding excited. Olga’s frown at Nikolai dissipates in a blink when she grins broadly. Her face is adorned with wrinkles and they become more prevalent when she smiles. 

Just a happy woman. 

“Ah, it took a while because I was making meat pies by hand. Frozen food isn’t really my favourite.” Olga says. She turns her head to Nikolai. “I also made deruny for you, Kolya! Your favourite, yeah?”

“My favourite is pyrizhky.”

Olga looks perplexed for a moment before she cackles. “Oops, I must have mistaken yours with Vitya’s.”

“Viktor eats everything.” 

Olga leads the two of you to the dining area, where Vasily is cleaning the table. The smell of food coming from the kitchen taps your nose—definitely delicious and you are already feeling hungrier. You do not want to discredit Nikolai’s effort in cooking but you definitely miss the taste of complete, homemade meals instead of instant food. It feels like it has been forever since you touched food made with motherly love—you have forgotten it and you can only grieve it.

Your father was not exactly the best provider when it comes to food. He either gave you small meals that could not keep you sated or threw a couple cash notes for you to find yourself something to eat. It was lucky that at the very least, the club you used to work for did provide you dinner. But what kind of healthy, nutritious food that a night shady club can provide? The menu mostly consisted of appetisers and snacks. 

“Vasily, let me help you.” You say to him, smiling sweetly. 

“Huh? You’re a guest. Just have yourself seated.” Vasily looks slightly appalled by your sudden kindness but it does not really come as a surprise to him. You look at Olga as if to ask permission. She shrugs her shoulders. 

“I would love some youngsters to help serve the food, yes.” She says, side-eyeing Nikolai in particular. 

You grin. “Of course! You already cooked the food by yourself. It’s only fair that we do the rest.” You say as you walk towards Vasily, hold his arm and drag him to the kitchen. “Show me the way, Vasily.” You say happily. 

“You’re already leading the way…” Vasily murmurs. “Are you sure you wanna help?”

“Hm? Yeah, why not? I help you, you help me. We have been helping each other since this morning.”

Vasily nods slowly before whispering, mostly to himself. “Right… Lord Jesus, please protect me from the Devil today…” 

Both of you disappear into the kitchen, leaving Olga and Nikolai at the dining table. Olga coos, clasping her hands together. “Aww, isn’t she very nice? What a lovely sweetheart. I like her.” She says, nudging Nikolai’s arm with her elbow. She then giggles mischievously. “Just what were you two doing in that room, huh? She was on top of you and you were very excited. Very! I was suspecting that you two were having sex because I heard suspicious noises.”

“We weren’t doing anything other than conversing.” Nikolai sighs. “Seriously, what do you think I am? A rabbit in heat? I have great control over myself, m’kay?” He says as he continues watching you and Vasily through the door frame connecting the kitchen and the dining area. You are holding a big ceramic plate with one hand and tongs with the other. You are struggling, it seems, due to the tongs barely working right. You accidentally dropped a piece of meat pie into a pot of soup. 

“Oh shit, girl.”

“Quickly, take it out, take it out. Shh, shh, shh.” 

You and Vasily are holding back laughter when you stuff half of the soup-soaked meat pie into your mouth to get rid of the evidence. The other half is shared with Vasily. 

“Kolya, control your face,” Olga says, firmly.

Nikolai’s long pout, dark gaze and scrunched nose disappear one by one. They are replaced with eyes flashing with malice and an uncanny wide grin. “Please keep the boy in his line or the babies in the orphanage across the street will burn.”

Olga blinks confusedly before she laughs out loud, slapping his shoulder. “Ahaha! You’re a funny fella when you’re jelly !”

Nikolai does not say anything. He just watches Olga until her laughter slowly vanishes. “You’re joking right?”

He says nothing. 

The day must have been exhausting for you. 

You two left Olga’s house at around 6PM. But on the way back, Nikolai made a quick stop at Viktor’s house to grab something. You wanted to come along but he told you to stay in the car. It really was just a brief business because it took him less than ten minutes to go and return. 

“What did you take from Viktor?”

“Some documents.”

“Can I see?”

“Sure, if you can take it out of my coat.”

You gave up immediately after that. Nikolai noticed that you lost most of your energy since you were not as talkative as usual during the car ride. He expected it though. You had been helping Vasily and Olga regarding your future living place. He barely did anything aside from moving boxes, but even then, he ordered Vasily around most of the time. 

And when you two were home, you took a shower to get rid of the sweat and dirt from your hard work for the day and plopped onto the bed as soon as you got in your pyjamas.

It is two in the morning and Nikolai is still not asleep. He is lounging in the living room, with a black bag open on the couch. There are a couple clothes in the bag. He is starting to pack his stuff for his journey to St. Petersburg. Nikolai plans to just pack his travel essentials and some long overcoats so he will just have to carry one bag. He is extremely grateful that his ability allows him to throw everything inside it. He can even put the whole couch he is sitting on right now if he wishes. But he could not do that because all the furniture in the house did not belong to him. It comes with the apartment. 

Though, the idea is not entirely opposed. Except he has already gotten an earful from Viktor to not smuggle furniture out of the apartment because the landlord will come to seek Viktor for an answer instead. What a pussy. It’s just a small crime —Nikolai thinks. 

Nikolai has been gathering his coats that are scattered and hung around the house. There were two on the chairs at the dining table, one on the couch where he sleeps and about four on the racks near the entrance doors. He piles them up on the living room floor—he plans to wash them all before throwing them into his favourite big white cloak. 

He makes another round around the house to check for any remaining clothes he might have forgotten. When he is about to move on, he remembers he has not checked the bathroom yet. He does not step into it after you use it. Nikolai enters the bathroom and finds the red cardigan you wore today hanging on the hook behind the door. 

His cardigan. 

He takes it and inspects the cardigan. It is actually quite an old one. It does not fit him perfectly anymore—a little smaller for his figure. He remembers this cardigan was bought when he was like nineteen…? Twenty? He does not remember the exact year but definitely when his body is not as beautifully shaped as now. 

No wonder it suited you. It looked like you were indeed wearing your age-appropriate boyfriend’s clothes. 

Nikolai holds the cardigan tightly. It would not fit him nicely anyway. Might as well give it to you. 

He leaves the bathroom and tosses the cardigan onto the pile. All of those clothes will be washed tomorrow. He is pretty sure he should at least wash the coats he never and rarely wears that are kept in the closet. They must have smelled like old wood by now. 

Nikolai makes his way to the bedroom, finally. He slowly opens the door, and immediately his eyes fixate on you. You are snuggled under the blanket, curled up. He enters the room, making silent steps so he will not accidentally wake you up. He just needs to get to the closet and take his old never-worn coats. 

But he halts when he is by the bed, so so close to you. He hovers slightly and his hand reaches out to you, fingers twitching over your body. But he does nothing more, leaving his longing hand suspended above you.

Nikolai sighs softly. He turns away, about to continue with his late-night task, until—

“Nikolai?”

Your slurry, slow, sleepy voice just had to call out to him. Nikolai turns his head, seeing your eyes are barely open and you seem to be not even half-awake. “You’re not sleeping yet?” You murmur. You look adorable—almost like a kitten that is barely aware of its existence. He snickers at the thought before he sits on the bed. 

“Yeah… I gotta pack my things.” He says before he smiles tenderly at you and gives some pats on your head. “Go back to dreaming, little dove.”

He retracts his hand but you reach out to touch him. Your fingers are barely linked with his own, and still, it is enough for him to stop moving. He looks at you and your hands. You try so hard to open your eyes, blinking profusely to clear your vision a little bit more. 

“You should… sleep too. You worked a lot…”

Nikolai scoffs lightly, chuckling. “Are you sure you’re not mistaking me with that Vasily boy? I might get angry.”

“No… No, you should get some rest… You deserve it… Because you always look… exhausted …”

“I will get my good sleep, I promise.”

“On the couch?”

“Where else?”

And your fingers dance their way to slither further, grasping his pinky and ring finger. It is just a weak pull but his body heavies down onto the bed until his head lays on the empty pillow right beside yours. 

As if you are just awake for one and one objective only, you are back to snuggling the blanket and your eyes close fully. Nikolai can very well get up and leave, but he stays, watching as you are slowly descending back to the Dreamland. He does not move away, instead, his hand grabs some of the blanket you dominated and lazily drapes it over his body. 

“Nikolai,”

You are clearly struggling to stay conscious. Whatever do you need to talk about that you cannot wait for tomorrow to pass a bit more? 

“When you told all that story… it sounds like… you will kill anyone you love.”

Nikolai does not like where this is going. 

“… You won’t kill me, right?”

“Have I ever said that I love you?”

Your eyelids flutter and your forehead creases slightly. Your lips part open but Nikolai quickly cuts your sloth-like momentum by pushing you by your waist to turn you away from him. Once your back is facing him, he pulls you and scoots himself closer. His arm rests around your body. 

“I wasn’t serious about that.”

“… Which one?”

He does not reply. And perhaps you have given up because you also say nothing afterwards. Your breathing slows down as you relax in his embrace. His eyes are still not shut asleep even after ten minutes—he just waits for you to fall asleep again. When you do, he hopes that you will forget this conversation tonight. 

Nikolai leans down a bit, placing a soft kiss on your nape. 

He hopes you will forget that too. 

Chapter Text

“It doesn’t fit…”

“It will. I’ll make it fit. Just stay still.”

“Ugh…”

Nikolai taps your cheek lightly as soon as he sees your pout but it only makes you scowl deeper. It is not his fault that you wanted to try one of his old jackets and happened to be interested in a navy windbreaker that he bought about twenty-one years ago. It certainly does not fit him anymore, just like the old red cardigan you wore last few weeks. But this windbreaker is older than the cardigan, so it is smaller.

“Sweetheart, I only have five days left in this town. I don’t think I wanna play dress up right now.” He sighs. He is supposed to separate his old clothes and the ones he still wants and wearable. And you have been clinging to him, ‘helping’ him to pack up but it is clear that you just want to be involved and stay close. He does not shoo you away though. You are like a duckling following him around and asking him stuff about his massive collection of overcoats.

“It can’t even be zipped. It’s like— Is the metal getting rusty or something? Why is it— Ah.” You freeze when the slider breaks off from the zipper. Nikolai stares at your hand and your eyes wander up to his face innocently before you give him the slider. “Sorry.”

Nikolai huffs, leaning his face closer as he glares at you with disappointment. “You ruined my jacket.”

“I said sorry!” You whine. “The zipper was stuck!”

“Just spit on it, the classic way.”

You cringe, shuddering hard as you wiggle your shoulders. “Ew, that’s gross.”

He snickers and waves his hand dismissively at you. “Well, I don’t want that jacket anyway. You can do whatever you want with it.” He says before he continues taking a coat from the pile of clothes on the couch. They are all washed, including the ones he had forgotten in his secret dimension. He hears you squeal in happiness quietly as you hug yourself—seems like you really wanted that forgotten windbreaker.

Knock! Knock!

“I’ll get the door,” You say as you quickly get up and walk to greet the guests. You open the door and smile broadly when you see Viktor and Nastasya waiting at the front.

“Hello, peasant~! Not you, girl.” Viktor cheerfully invites himself in, followed by Nastasya. You grin sweetly at her and she just silently smiles back. Nikolai has told you that Viktor will come today so he can help with Nikolai’s old stuff. The man may not condone furniture smuggling but if there are old things he can sell for extra cash, he is so up for it.

Viktor approaches the living room and sits on the floor. Nastasya sits on the couch, just beside Viktor’s spot. His eyes are gawking at the pile of overcoats in Nikolai’s possession. “I did not expect that you would have this many! Are you going to sell them all?” He asks.

“All? Even the thought of selling one is making me sad.” Nikolai mumbles. In his hands, there is a vintage jacket. It is already torn in multiple spots, seeming to be made with fake leather with a lot of polyester.

“Yeah, you should have given me some,” Viktor replies before he lights up a cigarette between his lips. Nikolai scrunches his nose and before Viktor can even take a short inhale of the nicotine, a floating hand suddenly appears in front of him, yanking the cigarette from his lips.

“Hey!”

“You’re gonna make all my jackets smell smoky,” Nikolai complains.

“Alright, alright, my bad, baby.” Viktor huffs before he takes the cigarette from the floating hand and presses it into the ashtray hidden beside the big couch. Nastasya just sighs, shaking her head at her boyfriend’s bad manners.

“Urm…”

They look at you. Your face is full of confusion as you stare bewilderedly at the weird stuff happening in front of you. “Is that a hand?” 

“Yes, dummy.” Nikolai slips his hand out of the inside of the vintage jacket that is on his lap. At the same time he does that, the floating hand also disappears. “It’s a hand. My hand.” You coo, nodding with amazement as you look at his hand.

“I think your… uniqueness is very cool. It’s like magic!” You say, leaning closer to him.

“He is—well, was—a magician!” Viktor says, pointing at his friend excitedly. “Ask him to make a card trick.”

“Can you make a card trick?” You obediently ask, still beaming. Nikolai looks at you and then Viktor. He is just grinning mischievously at the seed he planted. Nikolai wonders if this annoyance he is feeling is the same annoyance people around him felt before. Was this how Sigma felt when I was shitting around? No wonder he’s pissed like someone has a hold of his ass 24/7…

Nikolai sighs softly and holds your chin to turn your adorable, eager face away. “No card tricks, sweetheart. Not now.”

Viktor only giggles naughtily, clearly enjoying his teasing and he is relentless. “Aww, come on!” He says. “You used to do it all the time to pick up ladies. And let me tell ya, it’s not only the ladies that got picked up.” He wiggles his eyebrow before he whines dramatically. “Ah, if only I had such talents to impress my beloved!” He smooches the air in Nastasya’s direction.

“You’re already impressive in many ways…” Nastasya mutters slowly, smiling softly as she caresses his hair. Viktor pouts at her, resting his chin on her knee. His eyes glimmer submissively, glazing with pure adoration for his one love. 

“Mm-hm, you’re more impressive.”

“For God’s sake, if you two want to fuck each other instead of helping me, please do it outside,” Nikolai grumbles.

“Haa! You’re just jealous of us.” Viktor grins before his menace appears even clearer. “I know you’ve been single for a while but dude, maybe you gotta release that tension a bit. Everyone needs some actions in their lives. Let me suggest… uh, I don’t know. Have you considered kissing someone?”

Nikolai’s face reddens and his heart is pounding faster when he hears you choking on your saliva. He knows Viktor purposefully said that. What is worse is that you do not even know that both Viktor and Nastasya are fully aware of what happened between the two of you that night. He takes a deep breath and harshly rubs his face with his palm, just to ease his fluster.

“I don’t… need… to kiss someone…” He says awkwardly.

“Ohh?! Why not? Because you have kissed someone?!”

“Pyzda.”

If it was not for Nastasya’s proximity and ability to throw hands without a second thought, Nikolai would personally smack the shit out of Viktor. He does not even want to look at you because he can definitely feel you getting restless every second beside him. He knows you are also thinking the same thing as him—especially for the past several nights, you have been successfully getting him to sleep on the bed with you. You do not even have to say anything. You just tug at his hand, slightly pull him and he sleeps beside you. And he makes sure to be awake first, just to avoid awkward morning conversations and longing looks.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Viktor laughs.

“Well, if you’re kidding, why don’t you get your ass up and take my garbage with you?” Nikolai grumbles. Viktor salutes him, eyes sharp and serious. Nastasya lets out a small chuckle, enjoying the way her lover acts, totally does not care about the torment Viktor just put on the homeowner himself.

“Nastya, do you wanna bring home some of Kolya’s stuff? I mean, some of these old coats are high quality, aren’t they?” Viktor asks.

“Take from that pile. Those are the ones I don’t want anymore.” Nikolai points at a pile on the table. There are two piles of overcoats, one on the couch and the other on the table. He has been separating the ones he does not want to keep on the pile on the table. But the ratio of those piles is incredibly uneven.

Viktor jerks his eyebrow. “Dude, are you even throwing stuff? This is like 80-20. Oh, hey, this one’s pretty cute though.”

Nikolai pouts. “I still want some of them… Some of mine already got lost when I was arrested.” He could not really help himself. He is pretty attached to a lot of his clothes—the overcoats that have been his backbone for his trickery over the past several decades.  

“Yeah, I understand. It’s still surprising that you have this much even after your stuff was totally gone seven years ago. And now you’re discarding them again. I mean, someone surely wants to keep them. Ain’t that right, girl?” Viktor suddenly calls you out. You seem surprised at the sudden attention and shyly nod. Your hands fiddle with the navy windbreaker you are currently wearing. It cannot be closed because of the broken slider—and it cannot even be zipped in the first place because it is too small to fully close—but you have found your comfort in it.

“I mean, I’ve been sharing his clothes for a while. And a lot of them are comfy…” You say.

“Mm-hm. That windbreaker suits you but are you sure you want that? His ex-girlfriend used to wear that a lot, haha! Who was it? Ehh, Jovanna, right?”

“… Kolya, I don’t want it anymore.”

Nikolai groans loudly. The teasing will not stop as long as you are near. This is unacceptable. He does expect Viktor to be a piece of shit but he does not expect that it will get out of hand. With a deep breath and an eerie sweet smile, he holds your shoulder. 

“Can you escort Nastasya to the kitchen and serve her some of your famous hot chocolate?”

“Oh, shit,” Nastasya mutters. 

“Sure! Can I take this jacket off though?” Nikolai glares at you and you swallow nervously before fixing the position of the windbreaker that does not even have to be fixed. “N-Nevermind. The jacket is… uh, pretty. Err, come, Nastasya!” You say, taking Nastasya’s hand and practically dragging her away to the kitchen. Nastasya reluctantly follows you—she does not have it in her heart to shove you away and refuse your gesture. Knowing that her boyfriend has pushed Nikolai’s buttons a lot, she can only mouth ‘Sorry’ towards Viktor. 

“Wait! Don’t leave me here with this madman. W-Wait, girls— Ow !”

“You know, this house isn’t bad,” Nastasya says as she sips the hot chocolate you made for her. “Except for the… ugly walls and ceilings, I think it’s a nice place to stay if you’re alone.”

“You live together with Viktor, right? What’s your house look like?” You ask. Nastasya shrugs. 

“A little bigger. We have two rooms. One is our bedroom. And another room, Viktor renovated it to be his office. It’s very messy. Lots of papers and computers and screens. I don’t even understand.” Nastasya says. “I want to understand his work sometimes but I know it’s better for me to not know everything since he tends to get involved with dangerous people.”

“I thought he only works with Nikolai…” You mumble. 

“Nope. He works with many different people actually. It’s just Nikolai’s the closest one because they are friends. He is mainly an information broker and informant, so he knows many things about many weird organisations. By weird, I mean real weird. There was one time when he was commissioned by this weird narcissistic gambler who said he’s a mafia executive.” Nastasya says before she dips a wheat cracker into the hot chocolate. 

“You don’t mind him keeping you in the dark about things?” 

She raises her eyebrow. “No…? It’s dangerous for me to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. Besides, I trust Vitya. He won’t let anything bad happen to me—he never does. If he doesn’t want me to know about certain things, then I believe it’s for my own safety.”

“That… makes sense, I guess.”

“Huh?” She grunts. “Did you imply that what Viktor is doing doesn’t make sense?”

“W-What, no, no! Not at all. I mean, he looks like he would worship even your footsteps, so I thought he would let you know everything possible about him.” You stutter, shaking your palms fast. “I-Isn’t that how relationships work? You both get to know each other…?”

“You really have never been in a relationship, do you?” Nastasya sighs, pinching her nose bridge. Her eyes trail up, glancing hard at you and leering up and down. She frowns slightly before she crosses her arms. “I still find it hard to believe. Seriously? No one wants you? I mean, didn’t you move a lot to new places? You ought to meet someone at least.”

“Mm… no. Well, I had friends… but short-term kind of friends…” You mumble awkwardly. It is kind of embarrassing to publicly admit how much of a loner you are but it is not like that fact is well-hidden. You are aware that some of your behaviour with a certain someone does give some kind of vibes to those who observe—which, probably, most of the people you have met so far. 

“Huh…” Nastasya taps her dark red lips, pouting slightly. “But you’re an escort, weren’t you? Don’t you find some people cute sometimes? I mean, we were both sex workers—except you’re on another different spectrum. Sometimes I do find some people cute and attractive, but not to the point I wanted to have a serious relationship with them. Things like that weren’t meant for me. Until Viktor, of course… Well, I found him to be a cringe weirdo at first, but that’s not the point.” She murmurs. “Point is—have you gotten that spark of wanting to date someone, at least? And don’t fucking mention that clown’s name.”

“Err…” You bite your lips, eyes wandering up in the air as you try to remember a single instance where you were indeed interested in becoming someone special, but somehow those many instances happened when you were no longer working in the club and kidnapped by a ‘clown’. You shake your head. “I don’t think so. I mean, there were probably times when I would love to date someone but not really for a serious relationship.”

“Yeah? For what, then?”

“… Money…?”

A short laugh erupts from her throat. “Oh yeah, you’re actually so right. I don’t blame you. I’d do the same if Viktor didn’t come visit me once every two nights. There’s just so many others who are richer than him.” She giggles and you sheepishly chuckle too. You think Nastasya’s little laughs are somewhat adorable—a contrast to her usual bold appearance, always black and red. 

“Ooh~ what are you girls gossiping about?” Viktor suddenly appears from the kitchen entrance. He happily makes his way to Nastasya, hugs the woman from behind and kisses her head with a loud, shameless smooch. Nastasya smiles warmly, tilting her face up towards Viktor before her smile drops almost instantly. Her hands quickly cup his face, puckering his lips.

“What happened to your lips?”

You look at Viktor’s face a little more carefully, finally realising a faint reddish bruise on the corner of Viktor’s lips. There seems to be a tiny cut of dried blood on them too. But the man is just calm and nonchalant about it.

“Oh! Don’t get angry, Nastyushka, but Kolya just smacked the brat out of me.” He winks as if it is the most casual thing that happened to him. Nastasya almost jumps out of her seat before Viktor holds her by her shoulders. “Woah, woah, it’s okay! It doesn’t hurt!”

“I wish it freaking does.” Nikolai steps into the kitchen. 

“Grumpy. Consider kissing a very very cute baby blue girl— Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Viktor jerks back defensively and hugs Nastasya tightly. He whines at her, “Poor me, poor me,” he says. 

“You’re such an ass…” Nikolai shakes his head before he takes a seat on the empty chair beside you. His sharpened, angry eyes soften when you shake his arm, trying to get his attention. It works almost instantly as a small smile flashes on his face when he turns to you. “Yeah?” He asks, softly. 

“Kolya, I gotta go to Olga’s diner in an hour. She told me yesterday to come help out today.” You say. “There’s a football match tonight.”

“Ah, right. Hm, that means you’re gonna finish your shift late, right?” Nikolai asks. You nod before you lean closer—he does not pull away from your closeness—and your eyes are shining with expectation. 

“Will you wait for me until I finish my shift?”

Nikolai scoffs. “Are you dumb? No, I won't spend my time in her restaurant. And I have some things to do with my car and apartment anyway.”

“I thought there’s nothing left to do with the apartment.” You mutter. 

“Yeah, but apparently I owed the landlord about forty thousand rubles.” He says, his tone sounds like he is also confused by the amount of debt on his name. “He must be fucking with me…” He murmurs, pouting as he sulkily takes a piece of wheat cracker from the plate on the table.

“What? How can there be so much?” You ask. 

“See, I don’t understand it either. I made my calculations when I rented this apartment and I should not have that much debt. I think the landlord is messing with me because he knows I’m leaving.” Nikolai says. He eyes your hot chocolate and deliberately takes the mug. And you can only watch dejectedly as he drinks half of your hot chocolate. 

“Marking up prices, what’s new?” Viktor replies. “I’m sure he’s going to bring up the fact that you have your unregistered girlfriend residing together.”

You gulp and look away shyly. “I’m n-not his girlfriend…” Your body shrinks as you are engulfed with embarrassment. “Not…” your voice falters, “… yet.”

“Pull yourself together,” Nastasya says sharply.

Swallowing nervously, Nikolai tries hard to pretend he does not hear your personal whisper despite the shit-eating grin on Viktor’s face. He coughs awkwardly, “Ahem— He, uh, he probably would try to blackmail me about the fact that there’s another unregistered resident over here. But it’s fine. I’ll see him later in his unit after I send her to Olga’s. We’re gonna have some chit-chat.” He looks at Viktor, wiggling his index finger at him. “And you’re gonna guard the door, alright?”

Viktor’s grin falls. “… Dude, please don’t kill people today. I’m not cleaning your mess.”

“Are you guys really leaving me alone?” Nastasya grumbles, glaring at Nikolai and you. “You’re going to work—” She points at you and then turns to Nikolai. “—and you two are going to kill people. Am I really going to be here alone?”

“Nobody’s getting killed. Not even the landlord,” Viktor rolls his eyes.

You lean forward slightly, smiling at Nastasya. “Or~ you can come with me to Olga—”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Fine.” You huff but your little attitude does not last long when you hear a breathy chuckle from the man beside you. When you look at him, his chuckle halts immediately and his eyes immediately wander away from you.

He feigns another awkward cough as he fiddles with your hot chocolate that somehow has become his. “I think you should get ready to leave now. Olga’s probably waiting for you already.”

“Oh! Alright.” You nod and excuse yourself from the dining table. Nikolai only watches your figure disappear into the bedroom. His hand is holding the mug and he drinks the rest of it—he does not care if this is yours to begin with. It was his money that bought the chocolate powder in the first place. 

“Hey, Nikolai,” Viktor says and Nikolai’s heart is already uneasy with whatever stunt Viktor wants to pull. His friend giggles. “ Hee hee hee , your lips were on the spot where her lips were.”

“Alright, here we are.”

The car stops by the street and across the road is Olga’s diner. There is no parking directly in front of the restaurant, so Nikolai has to park by the street. It is not like it will take long as he just wanted to send you off. You look out of the window, seeing the hazy weather above. The snowfall is light today. Sun peeks between the clouds occasionally, just enough to shine its existence for a minute or two. 

“You’ll finish late, right?” Nikolai asks, making sure. You turn to him and nod. “Hm, in that case, tell Olga to call me when you’re done. I’ll come to pick you up.”

“Will your business today take that long to be done? Can’t you just come at like… ten or eleven?” You lean closer to him, beaming. He scoffs, tugging a strand of your hair. And you let out a tiny whine as you swat his bullying hand like flies. He laughs shortly before he retracts his hand and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, no. I think even my business will finish later than usual because I also have a small… job to do. Just some extra cash.” He winks and you do not dare to pry more because whatever job he is about to do is probably something bloody and dangerous. You know he commits crimes—a shitload of it. And somehow you find it amusing to see a former inmate be so brave to break the law again and again. You wonder if the justice system is that flawed and damned—is money truly the god of it all? 

“Okay… Be careful.” You say. Nikolai scoffs, finding your words to be ridiculous. 

“I think that’s not what you should say to an ex-terrorist, love.”

“Still, I don’t want you to get hurt or anything.” You reply, your tone is firm as you poke his chest. “You don’t want to get into prison again, right?”

Nikolai laughs, lifting both his hands in a surrendering manner. “You got me there.” He then holds your wrist, pulling it away slightly. “You don’t have to worry about me so much, you know? Worry about yourself.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, and it makes him nervous. Sometimes your staring would take away the sparkles in your eyes and he is left with deep questioning on what kind of thoughts are spiralling inside your head. When you look away, your attention is fixated on your lap instead. 

“I love you, Nikolai. That’s why I care and worry about you…” 

“… I know.”

God damn it —Nikolai curses to himself when you look at him with those eyes, akin to a lost puppy. He turns his head away, refusing to return your gaze, for he knows that his self-control is already struggling. He already begins to feel the cold mask that he puts on thawing—perhaps it already melted and the shield he puts up is no longer. His heart flutters when he feels a tiny tug on his arm—a habit he is no stranger to. It is as if you are constantly begging him to pay attention to you— look at me, listen to me, love me, love me, love me . 

He despises it. He knows many strings of his have attached themselves to you—tightened their knots the longer you stay with him. He needs to sever the ties—he does not need more people to be concerned about. He only has himself and his focus should be on his former friend who truly understood him—that is all there is. Relationships, human connections, emotions are all controls—and he is damned with them.

He left prison for one reason only—to kill Dostoyevsky and do what he was supposed to do back in Meursault. 

He does not want to care too much. One wrong move and he will drown again in the cage he fights so hard to stay out of. One wrong move and the care will turn to love—that will not do, that shall not happen. He must keep it withered, watch it perish slowly. 

He needs you to learn to unlove him. He already did so much to get rid of you in the nicest way possible—got you a nice working place, a nice house to live in, nice people to befriend with. It is just your dependency that is the main problem. 

“Nikolai…”

God damn you . 

“Listen,” Nikolai hesitantly looks at you. “I don’t hate you, alright? But I can’t just let go of… what I’m trying to pursue. I don’t hate you, I really don’t.”

“I know you don’t hate me. But do you like me?”

He holds himself back from lashing out mean words at you—not because he is angry, but really, he just does not want the knots to tighten. He sighs internally and shrugs. “Of course I do.” He murmurs and as much as he wants to deny it again, the little shine of hope in your face does soften his heart enough for him to not hurt your feelings. 

“I like you too. I like you a lot.” You smile at him—adorable little flowers planting their seeds in his heart. He feels his chest tightens before he smirks faintly. Loving him is extreme and he is content enough if you just like him—as long as you are not hating him. He knows it is better if you hate him, but he does not want to be the one who is pushed away. Let it be him who pushes you away, out of his sight, out of his life. 

Selfish, yes. But perhaps it hurts less. 

Nikolai swallows nervously before he nudges his chin towards Olga’s diner across the road. “I think you should go already.” He says. You turn your head to look at the building before you sigh to yourself softly. Truthfully, you feel reluctant to even leave Nikolai’s side—especially knowing that you only have five days left with him. You want to make every second count but even the man himself is getting busier each day approaching. 

Well, at least he does sleep on the same bed as you every night. Except you wonder if he leaves right after you totally black out because every time you wake up the next morning, he is already gone.

With half enthusiasm in your heart, you take off the seatbelt and gather your belongings—it is just only your purse, really. You take out your lip gloss and hastily apply it to your lips. Smacking your lips lightly a couple times, you tidy up your hair and clothes. Then you turn your head towards Nikolai to bid farewell, but you find him to be staring at you. 

And upon realising that he has been caught, his eyes divert away little by little until he fully looks straight ahead. 

“You stare a lot—”

“Get out of my car already, geez.” He cuts you off. Without even looking at you, he pushes your shoulder a few times, as if to urge you to leave.

“Okay, okay! I’m leaving! Hmph, I can’t even be cute.” You protest and open the car door before you take a step out. Nikolai presses the button at the console on the side of his door and the window to your door rolls down. You close the door but it is a weak push that does not shut the door perfectly. 

“Close the door again.” He says right before you take a step to cross the road. You huff and pull the door again, only to slam it as hard as you can—perhaps it is too hard as Nikolai even flinches at the banging noise. 

“ Heyyy , be gentle! Broken car won’t sell nice.”

“I did be gentle.” You retort, unsatisfied with his complaints. Nikolai huffs, waving his hand to shoo you off. You stick out your tongue and turn around to leave. 

“Look both ways.” He says—his words are just a casual, breezing advice but from the corner of his eyes, he sees you turn your head left and right at the very empty road. You look at him one last time and wave your hand. 

“I’ll see you later tonight. Bye-bye. Love you.”

The giggles that follow you when you jog away to the restaurant only make the butterflies in his stomach wilder. Those two words are just as casual as his breezing advice and yet the knots tighten. Nikolai taps his own chest, face blushing when he realises how fast his heart is beating. 

He watches you until you are safely inside the restaurant.

“… Love… you…. too…”

He whispers. It sounds foreign, strange—should not be uttered, should be buried, concealed, confined . 

But it feels right. His heart delights.

“Are the stars out tonight?”

“I don't know if it's cloudy or bright,”

“I only have eyes for you, dear.”

“Olga, can we change the radio already?” Vasily complains as he arranges the washed dishes. You two have been taking turns washing the dishes and it is your turn to soak both of your forearms in the sink.

Your shift supposedly ends at eleven but you decide to stick around to help for closing. The football match went horrible, you think. Some people left the restaurant even before the game ended. Apparently, the team the majority were rooting for was on the losing side and there was little to no hope left to get back in the game. 

At the end, when the match ended, people were rushing to make payments to leave. You remember Vasily’s panicked face because he had to take over the cashier at the moment. He did call you over to take over the machine as he needed to leave for a moment. 

Despite Olga’s advice to not work too upfront with the customers, you had to do it because the diner was lacking the necessary staff. The kitchen staff were busy with dirty dishes. The bartender only cared about the cups and glasses returned to him.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of some old song, Vasya?” A kitchen staff member who is still around replies. You do not know his name. He is a little taller than Vasily. He has dirty blonde hair and a light moustache and goatee. He seems to be only working on the evening shift.

“I’m not scared but might as well put up some songs other than old jazz in the middle of late night.” Vasily rolls his eyes. Olga cackles before she intentionally twists the volume knob on the old radio to increase it. Although the jazz is quite creepy, it pleases you to learn that Olga likes jazz—old classic ones. Does Nikolai like jazz too? Or perhaps he prefers some opera since you have seen him watching a recording of a play before?

“Yeah, you definitely are not scared, although your legs are trembling. And that’s not jazz, that’s… R&B or something.” The kitchen staff says.

“I’m not trembling!” Vasily bickers back. “Jazz, R&B, country, they’re all jazz if they’re released before the 1960s, alright?” He adds. The man lets out a mocking laugh before he pats Vasily’s back.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Vasya.” He says. “Hey, Olya! Thanks for the dinner. I’m sooo gonna enjoy it.” The man waves to Olga before he takes his backpack from the counter. Olga nods and waves back with a warm smile on her face.

“Be careful on the road.” She says.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, ‘mum’.” He replies jokingly before he walks past you who are standing at the sink. But he stops behind you and seeing his shadow looming over you,  you slowly turn around with a plate in your hands.

“H-Hi…?” You say with a small voice.

“You’ve been here for a while and I still don’t know your name,” He says before he offers his hand. “Name’s Cherevyk. I’m the chef.”

You hastily wipe your right hand on the apron you are wearing before taking his hand. His grip is rigid and you frown slightly when he seems to still insist on holding your hand despite a little pull from you to break the handshake. Knowing it is not wise to tell him your full name, you just give him your shortest nickname.

“You kinda look familiar, not gonna lie.” Cherevyk grins. “Seems like we’re going to work together for a long time, eh?”

“I-I suppose so.” You glance at your linked hands and finally manage to pry away your hand from him.

“Hey, since you’re working more in the kitchen, you wanna exchange numbers? I’m not trying to brag but I’m pretty darn good at my job, you know? Maybe someday you can upgrade yourself to a chef like me too instead of sticking around with Vasya here and there.” He smirks before taking out his phone. You want to refuse the idea since your phone is still dead. But before you can politely decline, Vasily quickly appears right beside Cherevyk, with his hand behind the chef’s back.

“She has a man, dude,” Vasily says. Cherevyk’s eyebrow buck up as he looks at Vasily confused.

“You? That’s a quick move-on from your last heartbreak. I remember seeing you sit under the rain—” 

“Fuck you.” Vasily cusses him out. “Not me, asshat.” He sighs before he gently pulls Cherevyk away from your personal space. You finally let out a long exhale before you watch the two of them, blinking bemusedly at what Vasily is going to do to defend you. You can definitely speak for yourself but you do enjoy the feeling of having someone get you covered.

“Yeah, as if I’ll believe that.” Cherevyk scoffs before he turns to you. “I’ll trust the cutie pie herself. You have a boyfriend?”

“Err…”

Vasily sighs loudly before he uses his whole body to steer Cherevyk away from you even further. Cherevyk is protesting, cursing at Vasily to move and let him have his chance on you. You purse your lips and turn to Olga, trying to ask her for help but she is just packing up some leftover food for you and Vasily while humming over the same song she has put on a loop—or maybe it is just the way the old radio works. 

“You are here and so am I,

“Maybe millions of people go by,

“But they all disappear from view,

“And I only have eyes for you.”

She serenades to herself.

“Cherevyk, you gotta trust me, you won’t have a chance at all with her. I’m telling you, her man is not someone you’d mess with.” You look at Vasily and Cherevyk—they are speaking to each other in hushed voices but it does not seem like they even bother to be secretive because you can still hear their conversation. And they are not that far anyway.

“Huh? What kind of man is he? A freaking police or something?” Cherevyk sneers, snorting scornfully.

“It’s Nikolai,” Vasily grumbles.

“Who’s that?”

Your friend’s sigh turns louder. “You know the guy with the white hair? The one whose hair is often braided with a red fluffy thing?”

“… Gogol?” Cherevyk asks, his voice is loud and surprised. His head quickly snaps towards you as his face is ashen. Trying to ease the tension growing between them, your lips curve into a sweet smile and Cherevyk turns away. “Oh, fuck…”

“Yeah, you’re fucked. Deep fucked. In the ass too and it’s not pleasant. What if he knows, huh? He tried to box me up and throw me in the trash the other day for no reason too.” Vasily says. He clearly purposefully tries to make his tone spookier, instilling fear in Cherevyk.

“Nikolai was just kidding. He wasn’t trying to harm you.” You chime in, not liking how they speak of him negatively. He might be a little scary but he is a sweet person… sometimes.

“See?” Vasily gestures to you. “So you better give up, dude. Really, for your own good. Now go home and find another girl, okay?” He pats Cherevyk’s back and leads him to the pantry at the back, where the back door is also located nearby. Before Cherevyk leaves, he glances at you one last time, a little regret in his eyes for flirting with you.

“Hmph,” You pout before you arrange your final cleaned plates on the rack before approaching Olga. As you walk closer, you hear the jazz louder. As you take a look at the old radio, you see the jazz CD spinning on its port.

“First time seeing an old radio?” Olga suddenly says. You grin, shaking your head.

“I have seen my fair share of antique stuff.” You reply. “But this radio is certainly working nicely for this kind of model…” You murmur, hand curiously inspecting the radio. “Don’t you think it would be romantic to listen to a song with your lover like this?”

Olga chuckles to herself. “What I’m hearing is, ‘Can I borrow this radio so I can show it and play it to Kolya?’. Do I get that right, sweetie?”

“N-No, I don’t mean that!” You deny quickly, ironically with your hands in front of you as if you are guilty. She laughs before she pushes one of the packed food towards you.

“A way to a man’s heart is by food. Give one to Kolya, will you?”

“O-Of course!” You say before you take two packed food—one for you, one for Nikolai. “Uhm, do I go home now? It doesn’t look like you’re going to close just yet…”

“Ah right, you did tell me to call Kolya to pick you up, didn’t you?” She murmurs. “You can go home, dear. Vasily and I are staying a bit. I have some food supplies to retrieve and stock up.”

“I can stick around and help.” You say. “I thought Cherevyk would stay around but he’s been more than eager to leave.”

“Of course he would when Vasya does not stop fear-mongering him. What’s sooo scary about Kolya anyway? He’s just… quirky, sometimes.”

Bam! “I know, right?” Your palm slams the counter, accidentally hard, and it makes Olga jump at the sudden wham at the impact. “I mean, he can get nerve-wracking but he is not scary. Mm-hm, I’m glad we think the same, Olga.” Your lips jut outward as you rest your head on Olga’s head. “Nikolai is not scary…”

“Yeah, he’s not 'scary'. That bastard is madly terrifying.”

“My love must be a kind of blind love… I can't see anyone but you…” 

“Sha bop, sha bop… Hm, maybe this is why I don’t go to karaoke…” You mumble self-consciously at your attempt to voice out the melody that has stuck itself vigorously in your mind. You have no one but Olga to blame for this. She has been tuning in old songs in the diner to fill in the silence instead of turning on the TV. You sigh before that sigh turns into a yawn.

It is already eleven forty-three. 

It was an exhausting day. But it does not end yet as Olga told you to wait for Vasily at the back to move some new food supplies for the restaurant. So, at 11:43 PM, basking in the winterly night, you are waiting for your friend by yourself. You do not blame Olga for this though because you did agree to help and she has been nothing but a kind person for you all this time.

However, it is weird that some food supplies are arriving at this hour. Is the supplier really that busy to not be able to send the items when the sun is still out? Why now, when the moon is barely reflecting its glamour? You wish Nikolai was here to accompany you or something. You did tell Olga to call him to come pick you up later on. 

Five minutes later, you are already shivering in the cold. Your exhale of breaths is emitting faint tiny clouds. You are about to get inside again, to complain about Vasily’s lateness to Olga, but that idea is halted when you see a car approaching the back of the building.

Your hand on the doorknob, you watch in suspicion as the car stops in front of you. Then it parks before Vasily gets out from the driver’s side. The wariness in you dissipates as you sigh in relief. But not so long when you berate him immediately after. 

“You’re so late!” You say. Vasily scratches his head, looking fairly guilty. 

“I got lost…”

“You lived here longer than me.” You cross your arms, pouting. 

Vasily rolls his eyes. “Girl, you cannot even afford a driving licence. You don’t have the right to get mad at me.” He says and you could only smack his shoulder lightly as a response—because he is right… in a way.

“Here, come help me. Jesus, I don’t even know why Olga has to receive these supplies right at this hour as if tomorrow won’t be.” He grumbles as he opens the trunk. There are four polystyrene foam boxes. Out of curiosity, you lift each lid of the boxes one by one. There are some frozen seafood, frozen vegetables and suspicious packages containing white powder. 

“Urm, Vasya…? I don’t think these are… food supplies.”

Vasily takes a peek at one of the boxes. He swallows nervously before he gently pushes your hand to close the box back. As if to reassure you, he pats your hand. “Well, that is… something. I don’t even know about that.”

“Are these… what I think they are?” You ask, your voice hushed. Vasily nods awkwardly. 

“Yes…? I hope not but… yes, it is.” He rubs his face. “Damn, I’m an accidental smuggler. This won’t look good in my records.”

“Are we going to erm… smuggle… these? That’s a crime.” You shake his arm, hesitant to even think about carrying the box into the restaurant and place it somewhere hidden. You know once you carry it into the restaurant, you are complicit. Vasily’s eyebrow jerks up when he looks at you. 

“You’re a kidnapped victim… who refused the police… and stayed… with a man who kills for money… I think you should put that worry somewhere else.” Vasily shakes his head. You frown, pinching his side in protest. He yelps and slaps your hand away. 

“Nikolai does those things for a reason.”

“For money.”

“… Two reasons.”

Vasily scoffs before he pulls the boxes containing frozen seafood and frozen vegetables closer. “Whatever. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s scary. He looks like he will lock you up if you push a certain button.” You glare at him. Maybe he is a pussy after all. You say nothing other than a tiny huff of disagreement. 

“Anyway, let’s get this done so both of us can go home.” He says. “We’re going to carry the food first. Okay?”

“Okay!” You salute him and take the box with frozen seafood. But finding it to be heavier, you switch to the vegetable one. You grin cheekily at Vasily as you watch him slightly struggling to carry the seafood box. That is not to say yours is not heavy but the weight is something you can manage. 

You follow Vasily to the door. He presses the foot pedal at the bottom of the door and uses his whole body to open it. He lets you step inside first before moving aside to let the door close by itself. 

“Where do we put these?” You ask. You are in an empty space where empty boxes are placed. Two metres ahead, there is a doorway to the pantry, and the door frame is only covered with some plastic curtain strips. 

“Freezer room,” Vasily says. “Come on, follow me.” He walks ahead first.

You are about to follow Vasily before he abruptly stops. “Wait.” He says. He looks around, eyes sharp. Then, with a whispering voice, he asks you, “Did you turn on the TV again?”

“No? I don’t even know where the remote is.” You say. “It was off when I left to wait outside.” 

“… Where’s Olga?” Vasily asks again. 

“She was cleaning the stoves,” You reply before you scoot closer, finding Vasily’s apprehension to be concerning. He looks scared and nervous. And you are easily influenced by his manner right now. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you hear that loud ass TV? The radio was already loud and you could barely hear it. Olga would not turn the TV back on. She isn’t one to watch late-night stuff…” He says. Clicking his tongue, Vasily turns his body and places the box in his arms on the floor.

“Hey, Vasya… You’re making me scared.” You murmur shakily. “M-Maybe Olga just wanted to watch the midnight news  or something.”

Vasily glances at you. “Maybe.” He agrees. “But let me just check first, okay? I mean, nobody in this town wants shit to do with Olga. And I’m directly acquainted with her. But not you. You stay here.”

You shake your head, gripping his shirt. “Wait, let me just come with you.” You insist. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“Well, if something happens to you, your boyfriend is going to kill me and Olga and nobody in this town will be pleased by that.”

“Don’t speak of Nikolai like that… He’s not reckless…”

Vasily groans, slightly irritated by your never-ending defence towards Nikolai. You are a fun person to befriend with and he really does want to keep in touch with you, considering that you two are going to be housemates. But your behaviour can be very confusing. He wonders what really goes on in your mind to stay with someone like that, even loving them a little too much. Vasily knows Olga adores Nikolai because they are long-time acquaintances. She has known him for years. But you? You are just a girl who had to be kidnapped and objectified as a bargaining chip—which apparently failed very horribly. And even so, fight does not come through your mind at all, as if your sense of danger is thrown out of the way when it comes to Nikolai. 

He sighs. “Ergh, you know what? Whatever. Point is, you are better off staying here. I’ll just check if Olga is around. She’s probably having a deal with some shady men again because we are literally going to smuggle some cocaine and if that’s the case, you can’t be seen, alright?” He says before he pats your shoulder. 

Your frown grows deeper but you know he is right anyway. You do not even know the extent of Olga’s shady business and if there is anyone who can be your middle man, it is Vasily. And from the look of it, it seems like he will insist you stay there regardless. You relent, half-heartedly. 

“Okay… I’ll wait.”

Vasily smiles before he leaves you alone. Already feeling cramped in your arms, you place the frozen vegetable box in your hands on top of Vasily’s box. You sigh in relief as you stretch your arms, easing up your tense muscles.

You crouch right beside the foam boxes, taking a rest after standing for so long. You did not even sit when you were waiting outside earlier. Gladly the shoes you are wearing still feel comfortable—you remember you asked Nikolai to buy you a pair of shoes that are suitable for working in a restaurant. He was reluctant at first, making up horrible excuses. 

“What? Why should I buy it? Use your money!”

“I don’t get paid yet…”

“Are you in a slavery contract or something? Ask Olga to buy the shoes. I’m not responsible for that.”

“Please, Nikolai, please? Pretty please~?”

And as you expected, Nikolai came back home with a box of a new pair of shoes. You do not even know how he got your size somewhat right. Hopefully he referred to the current boots you always wear. 

You know you have been leeching off him a lot these days. You try to think about things you could return his (questionable) kindness with. You do cook for him—with the groceries he paid for. You do his laundry—with the coin tokens he paid for. You do clean the house—with the detergents he paid for. 

You could not really think of other possible ways. However, you do subconsciously treat him like the customers in the club sometimes—they will pay for your drinks and buy you pretty stuff, and all you have to do is look cute and desirable. 

But living with Nikolai makes you lazier. Sometimes you do not even bother to look pretty. He has seen your sleeping faces. That is another level of vulnerability if you say so yourself. You rest your face in your hands, humming the melody that is still gnawing your mind.

“The moon may be high… But I can't see a thing in the sky…”

Bang! 

You flinch and you immediately stand on your feet once you hear a very short yet loud banging. It sounds like something bumped into a hard surface. You look at the doorway but you cannot really get any view of the other side because it is just too obscured with the curtain strips. 

“V-Vasya?” You try to ask but your voice comes out slow. “V-Vasily?” You try again, this time louder. 

No answer. Your gut is churning as it is telling you that something is horribly wrong. Your feet are fidgeting, not knowing whether to step into the pantry or leave through the back door. Your purse is still in the staff locker and the restaurant’s phone is at the register. 

You do not even know Nikolai’s number… 

You do not think that it is wise to even move. But you have to do something. You need to find Olga or Vasily or just anyone nearby. Screw your supposedly-hidden identity. You need Nikolai to be here right now. 

You turn around to leave through the back door. However, once you try to twist the knob, the door feels too heavy than usual for you to push. It is as if something is blocking it from the outside. You hear the clanking noise of metals as you shove your weight against the heavy door. 

“Oh no,” You suck your breath in sharp as sweat starts to form on your palms. You look behind you. It is the only path to exit now—the doorway to the pantry and then to the kitchen and then to the bar and then to the entrance and home, home, home . 

You try to find something that you can use to defend yourself. There is a toolbox and you immediately open it. Not a lot of tools in there except for various sizes of wrenches and screwdrivers. You take the biggest screwdriver and clutch it tightly in your shaky hand. With slow and steady steps, you embark into the pantry. 

There is only the faint noise from the television that accompanies you. You look around, whispering “Vasily” and “Olga”, gripping to the feeble hope that they are still around. The pantry is empty so you walk slowly to the kitchen connected to it. 

You take a peek at the kitchen and your eyes widen when you see someone lying on the floor. You cannot see who exactly it is as your whole view is blocked by the kitchen counter. You see the person is wearing white pants and black shoes—which could be anyone who worked tonight. 

You take a deep breath—and it is hard, as you have been shaking so terribly that you find it a miracle that you are still standing. You make your way quickly to the kitchen to help the lying person—wake them up, hide with them, help them, get them to call Nikolai and everything will be fine. 

Everything will be fine. 

Everything

will 

be 

I only have eyes for you

“… O-Olga?”

Your voice comes out hoarse. Your eyes are stinging as you let out a terrified scream. “Olga! Olga, Olga, no, no, no!” You shriek, pulling your hair in frustration as your feet unhelpingly rush towards her.

Olga’s eyes are bulging wide, her skin is unnaturally pale, cold and still. You are already wailing and crying, trying to pull her to lay her head on your lap. “It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ll help, I’ll find someone, you’re gonna be safe,” You reassure her, despite your wavering voice. You just want her to hear you, so she would not be scared and believe help will come, help will arrive. Your hands are shaking that it hurts when you try to even hold her shoulder, to drag her close to you as you try to pacify her directly in her ears—despite there being so much blood beneath her, so much, too much, red red red.  

Breath hitching, you stare at your bloody palms and between the searing tears, you finally catch the big gash directly on her head—her grey hair is smeared with crimson. 

“O-Olga, wake up, please… I’m scared…” You whimper, shaking her body hopelessly. Your chest is heaving fast and your shortness of breath is just getting more rapid each second passes, as Olga’s blood seeps deep into your skin. 

“Vasily! Vasily, please help! Anyone—”

“There you are.”

You gasp and look behind you. Your vision is blurry because of the tears streaming down your face and yet his face is familiar enough for you to panickedly get up and try to run. 

“… you have to tell me.” 

“… if you ever see him, tell me.” 

“… still come to the diner?”

“Don’t be scared, little dove.”

“You are going to be fine.”

“People here love you lots, you know?”

“A-Ah!” You yelp when Elvir’s hand manages to reach your shirt. He grips it hard and you scream, hand clutching on the metallic edge of the kitchen counter as your whole body is yanked back. “Get off! Get off get off get off!” You plead. Panic, fear and terror are boiling inside you. You can hear your fucking heartbeat as your body trembles horribly. 

With little to no thoughts, you grab anything your hands reach, throwing them behind you. Plates crashing, pans clattering, cutlery rattling. Even the radio does not escape your desperation, tossed as it sings, “You are here and so am I. Maybe millions of people go by,”

“Fuck! You bitch—”

Elvir grunts as he takes a wide step to catch up to you. You are trying to run out of the kitchen but you are forced to make a round at the counter because Olga’s body is blocking the shortest path. 

“Get back here, stupid bitch!” He barks and a loud bang shoots right at the wall beside you. You let out a pitchy scream—so close to death you are. The shot surprised you enough for you to halt your steps and with both your arms covering your ears, you try to run. 

Legs shaking, your vision breaking apart. You are soaked in sweat and tears. Your mouth can only cry out broken words of help that will not come. A farrago of names are uttered out in desperation— Vasily, Vasya, Cherevyk, Viktor, Nikolai, Nikolai, Nikolai, 

mom

“Ahh!” You wail when Elvir grabs your arm. You flail helplessly, struggling against his larger figure. He hisses, grunts and snarls at you, and the horror intensifies within you when his shadow mimics your doomed past. You shriek, tears and saliva—you do not know what covers your face anymore.

He pulls you towards him, shouting at you to shut up, shut up, shut your mouth, I don’t want to ruin your face, you have plenty more to cry over.

You harden your footings as you try to elbow his stomach—adrenaline is rushing all over and you just want to leave and get the hell out. You part your mouth open beneath his palm, trying to bite his hand—fight, anything. 

“Stop it, bitch!” Elvir groans and the hold he has on your arm loosens slightly. With a high rush, you pull yourself away from him. He curses—his face is red with anger and fury and his words begin to fumble in your mind. You do not process anything as you just try to move away from his grabbing hands. Your own hands are gripping anything they reach, holding and grasping to support yourself—if you stop, you are going to fall. If you stop running, you are going to die. 

Elvir is raging and he shoots his bullets to the floor, to Olga’s cold body—anything to scare you to slow you down. And your cries are only getting louder and more desperate as you are ducking over nothing—just fear that you are going to be shot. He yells at you in his mother tongue, something you can barely understand. He strides towards you angrily, huffing and fuming. 

“Get, back, here!” He reaches your head, grabbing a handful of your hair. You whimper, your hand thrashing on the counter by your side. You feel something like a handle within your grasp and without a second thought, you thrust your arm back, hoping it hits him. 

“A-Ack—”

You peek behind you, eyes widen when you realise you just shoved a pair of kitchen scissors directly on his collarbone. Elvir groans in pain, palming the bleeding gash on his skin. He glares hard at you, grumbling curses and oaths to make your life hell. Despite his injury, he lunges at you, grabbing both of your arms. You both fall on the floor and you whimper when your body is slammed hard against the surface. 

In complete desperation, only driven with adrenaline, you thrash wildly beneath him. Your grip on the scissors tightens hard, unyielding. You shut your eyes, swinging your arms against him as your legs try to kick him from below. Your thighs are sore, as well as your arms. Your body hurts all over and the more you move, the more painful everything is. Even your head is spinning and it feels like your insides are actually compressing as you even find it painful to breathe. 

Elvir’s words are muffled, but you do not care to decipher his pain. All you do is just shove the scissors at him, whatever it jabs into, you do not care—even if his warm life is dripping down your arms, you do not care. 

“F-Fuck—”

When his strength is fading, you finally open your eyes, panting frantically as you try to suck in the air. Your mouth parts, but no scream is leaving your lips other than a pathetic whimper when you realise how bloody your hands are. Elvir’s neck is covered with blood—when he tries to speak, blood spurts out from his throat. His eyes are bloodshot red, gawking wide at you. 

You cry, shaking. Your legs are weak and you can only scoot yourself backwards when Elvir tries to crawl towards you while his blood-soaked hand is holding the rips in his skin.

“Go… away…! Go away go away go away!” You beg—your throat is hot as if your voice has to rake through and claw itself to your flesh to emerge. It hurts to even speak, it hurts to scream and breathe and beg and yell—

Bang! 

You scream, terrified by the sudden gunshot. Instinctively you curl yourself, covering your head and ears. You are sick of the sound of gunshots—it rings the bells of death over and over and the echo will not stop. You scream louder, begging everything to stop shouting at you. Gunshots, the television, your screams, your cries, the song, they are all cluttered and they mangle into your brain—crushing.

But they all disappear from view

A hard thump gives you the tiniest courage to lift your irises. The first pair of eyes you see is Elvir’s bulging ones—he only had eyes for you.

And through your sorrowful weep, you see him.

Chapter Text

Eleven twenty-three. 

Olga still has not called him. 

Nikolai sighs. It feels a little unnatural for Olga to not call him at this hour, when she usually starts to close the diner. The football match ended a while ago—he kept track of the news, and the result was out. He is sure that Olga has subtly urged her customers to leave as the restaurant is approaching its end of operation hours. 

Maybe you are just too kind to stay and help. You always do that even when your manpower is not needed. It is not the first time you stayed late to help, but something about the lack of phone calls from Olga makes Nikolai feel uneasy. 

He grabs one of his overcoats—a dark brown one—and as he wears it, he makes his way to the door. He steps out of his house, slipping his hand into the overcoat’s pocket to take the car key from the coffee table. Once he is outside, Nikolai slams the door shut and leaves the building. 

It is getting late, and if you are still working by the time he arrives there, he will just grab you and drag you home. It slightly irks him that there is a big possibility that you are spending a little too much time with that boy Vasily—knowing that he is your only friend in that part of the town, aside from Olga.

The journey to Olga’s diner does not take long, despite some small traffic during the drive. When Nikolai arrives, he notices how dark the whole diner is. The ‘CLOSED’ neon sign is blinking weakly. There are only a couple of cars parked in front of the diner, and one of them catches his attention. 

“Fuck.”

Nikolai quickly gets out of his car and practically rushes to the diner. He looks at one of the parked cars—its plate number indicating that it is from Moscow, and everything about it is just too familiar to him. 

He reaches the entrance door, and when he tries to push it open, the door is stuck. Nikolai rattles the handle, realising that it is locked from the inside. The uneasiness in his heart burns, sending waves of discomfort through his entire nerves. His feet are fidgeting on their spot—restless. From the corner of his eyes, through the dim window, he sees that the kitchen is still bright. 

Elvir is here —Nikolai is sure of it. Without a second thought, he takes out his handgun from the pocket and shoots the wooden frame of the lock. He rattles it again, much firmer and faster. The door almost opens, but he lacks the patience to try again. Instead, Nikolai kicks it as hard as he can, sending the door breaking open. 

And immediately, he hears your scream. 

Your screams, your cries, your weeps. 

At that moment, he loses his line of thought. Instantly, his mind is filled with you—visions he never wants to see of you. For a moment, his anger and worry blend—a mixture that soon bleeds into hatred and frustration. Indeed, indeed, I was never free —the first thing his heart says to him. 

Red covers his sight as he stomps to the kitchen. He barges in, gun in hand. He does not even see you cowering and weeping on the floor—“Go… away…! Go away go away go away!” You beg—and he immediately lifts his gun, just enough to aim it at the injured man near you. He shoots. 

Bang! 

You scream in surprise, your body jerking and curling up. 

Nikolai steps deeper into the kitchen, and his eyes widen at the sight of a bleeding woman with her head cracked open. Her eyes are bulging wide—death greeted her before them. He treads carefully, making a large step over Olga’s body. Aside from the two dead bodies on the kitchen floor, he sees another unconscious young man sprawled by the freezer room’s door—he does not look as injured, as dead. 

The kitchen is eerily quiet, except for the hiccuping cries and hitching breaths—weeping blue girl who cannot breathe properly. Dead bodies do not surprise Nikolai—he does not feel a thing when he sees the unconscious boy or the dead man. But once his eyes take a glance at Olga’s body, his heart drops further—morose weighing in. 

This shouldn’t have happened. 

Everyone likes Olga. 

Nobody would let her be like this. 

This shouldn’t

I’m sorry. 

“K-Kolya…”

Your voice does not even sound like you. His eyes refuse to look towards you. He does not want to look at you—he worries that this heaviness in his heart would become greater. He refuses to burden it—though prickings of his conscience are getting more painful as he keeps his eyes on the floor. 

“K-Kolya…” You call again—a tiny, weak, frail voice desperately trying to reach him. It reached—it is just him who did not want to hold it. You sound as if a heavy lump is in your throat, tears soaking your face, blocking airways to even mutter his name clearly. 

“Help…”

Nikolai hesitantly approaches you, and once he is close enough to your proximity, you immediately wrap your arms around his legs. And you cry again. Your fingers clawing his calves, begging him to help you.

Something boils in him. 

He slowly steps back to give himself some space before he gets down on one knee, just enough to be at your level. You waste no time wrapping your arms around him, pushing your bloody mess self against him. You cry on his chest and he could only return your embrace—pulling you as close as he could, as if to keep you in his overcoat. His hands awkwardly rub your back and your head, all the while his eyes stare at nothing. The loud and desperate cries on his chest seep deeper—tugging his heart down at each attempt of you trying to say his name. 

For a second, your arms feel like a cage to him—something confining him even tighter. 

“N-Nikolai… W-What do we— Olga— She— She’s hurt and she— she was— she’s bleeding and I— I just wanted to help and he— he hurt me—”

“Shut up.” 

Your irises twitch, and it is clear that you are taken aback by his sudden firm voice. But you say nothing as your tears fall again, and you sob pathetically against him again. Your body shrinks, like a small child who was berated horribly. 

Nikolai bites his lips—he does not mean to scold you, knowing how distressed you are right now. But he is angry—his emotions are burning to a point, and he does not know where to put them. Your cries—even your tiny sobs—are thorns to him. They prick the spots igniting his own turmoil. 

He quickly takes out his phone, dialling Viktor’s number. As it rings, his hand mindlessly caresses your shaking body. 

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Vitya, please come to O-Olga’s place. Now.”

“Huh? Do you know what time it is? Office hour is closed—”

“Just come. I can’t do anything right now. It’s Olga— She—” Nikolai halts himself, biting his lower lip in frustration. “She…” is dead .

“… Hey, hey, what the fuck happened? I heard her crying. Is she crying? What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything. The loanshark— He’s dead now and I…” He could not find the right words—everything is a mess in his mind and it becomes more jumbled when they leave his mouth. His grip on your hair tightens. 

“Please.” He says. 

A few seconds of silence from Viktor before the man hums slowly. “Okay. Okay, I’ll come. You don’t have to wait. Take her home and get her safe.”  

Before Nikolai could send him his gratitude, Viktor hangs up. He keeps his phone in his overcoat and takes the garment off. He pries your arms from his body—somewhat roughly. And he finally gets a good look at your face. Runny nose, teary, bloodshot eyes and a face covered with a state of confusion. Your hands and forearms are covered with smeared blood, as well as your clothes. Your hair is a tangled mess—a sign of painful struggle. He drapes his coat over your body and silently helps you to get on your feet. 

You are shaking, but he does not have the time to be gentle. 

Not when his mind is barely in the right. 

He drags you out of the restaurant, ignoring your confused squeals and disrupted doubts— What about them? What about that guy? Is Vasya okay? Is Olga okay? Where are we going? It hurts. 

“A-Ah!” You yelp when Nikolai shoves you into the car, and your wretched gaze burns into another bursting tears again. You do not seem to care about your dirty hands as you try to wipe your tears with them. 

Nikolai only glances at you through the window before he makes his way to the driver’s side. He gets inside, turning on the engine. You are still crying in your seat, and your attempt to stop yourself is futile as you cannot stop hiccuping and whimpering how hard it is for you to breathe. And he ignores it all, just silently driving home. 

“Nikolai, I’m s-sorry…” You whimper. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. “I didn’t know… I just wanted to help and… I didn’t know… I…” You grip the overcoat harder. “I-I shouldn’t have stayed… I-It’s my f-fault… It’s all my fault… I’m sorry… I-I… I didn’t—”

You bury your face in your palms, bawling uncontrollably. Fingernails scratching your own skin in dismay. You whimper in pain—not only is it hard to breathe, but your head is spinning and aching. You want to stop, but the dried blood on your clothes and skin constantly reminds you of death. 

“I shouldn’t have stayed here… I should be dead…”

The car stops abruptly. 

“Please just shut up.” Nikolai props his forehead on the steering wheel, eyes shut. The guilt in his heart has travelled across his whole body—even breathing feels like a crime, with your cries as his punishment. He wants to block his ears from hearing your noise. His hands are itching to attempt anything—shut your mouth or wrap his fingers around your neck, wishing that he could put you to sleep . The constant apologies from your lips make him want to tear you apart—images of his past when he first spilled blood come flashing through his mismatched irises. 

“N-Nikolai, I’m s-sorry—”

“Shut up. Shut up, please. I don’t want to hate you more than I already have.”

He hears your little gasp of surprise—hate is a strong word, after all. Nikolai says nothing to that. He does not bother to correct himself nor retort to his own remark—for what he has said is true to what is dread in him now. Who else can those anger and guilt courses towards if it is not you? 

For now, he hates you. 

Nikolai wastes no time dragging you into the bathroom once you two arrive home. 

You are shaking, legs trembling as you try to match his angry pace. He takes off his overcoat from your body and pushes you into the bathroom—“Clean yourself, take a bath, leave the clothes on the floor, I’ll take care of it.”

You do not know where to start, especially when he is standing by the bathroom door, watching. His eyes are cold. With a shaky hand, you turn on the tap on the sink and let the water run through your hands. Some crimson bleeds away, but the dried, smeared ones are stubborn stains. You rub your hands, trying to clean them off but just like the guilt in someone’s heart, it stays. 

“I-I can’t…” You whimper. The gentle movement disappears as you start to hasten. Your fingers frantically try to peel off your skin, discarding the blood that reminds you of everything that happened less than an hour ago. “It’s not off of me… It’s not— coming— off!” You scream.

Nikolai clicks his tongue before he stomps into the bathroom. He grabs your arms, causing you to flail against him. Your whimpers and cries are loud in his ears, and it is clear that his rough touch on you is starting to hurt. But Nikolai only stares fixatedly at the fading red in the sink. 

His figure traps you between him and the sink. You are squirming, tugging away your arms from his roughness. Nikolai grunts, frustrated. He quickly wraps his hand around your neck, tilting your head up to face him. Bloodshot eyes, lips drooling with the results of your cries.

“Stay still! I’m trying to help, why can’t you just stop?” 

And with his wet hand, he harshly cleans your face. You are crying and begging him to be gentle—just as he usually does. Nikolai ignores you and instead, with his other hand, he holds you by your waist, pinning you close against him. His arm is pressing hard against your stomach, and his other hand is just pushing and wiping your face with water. You wail in pain, gripping his arms. 

“It hurts, K-Kolya… Please—”

He shushes you and yanks you by your arm to the bathtub. He deliberately pushes you into the tub, and your weak body falls into the hard porcelain. You hiss when the hard surface hits your body. Nikolai turns the shower on, and the water directly soaks you and your clothes. 

He is about to step away, but you immediately latch your hand on him. His attempt to not look at your face fails when he is forced to turn—confusion, lost, guilt—you remind him of his past turmoil. No matter how much he tries to rub that expression off your face—it keeps knocking again in the back of his mind. 

Nikolai stares at you. Guilt is eating and devouring him like Maenads, raving his conscience until he is reminded again and again of his own confinement, to a point of madness. The deaths that happened were a deliberate event from his choices. The moment he made a choice, his punishment was set. 

Maybe yours too. 

You can cry all night long—but he knows your wasted tears will never cleanse that guilt.

He takes a deep breath and gently takes your hand off his shirt. But you immediately grip his hand, apologising for things out of your control. Your tiny tugs are pleading to him to stay—even after how he treated you. Maybe he is not any better than Elvir after all. 

Nikolai is silent when he crouches beside the tub, looking at your teary eyes. Your body is shivering because of the unadjusted temperature of the shower. It is cold, and your wet clothes are sticking to your skin. 

Your lips part open, trying to speak but he lifts up a finger, stopping you. Parted lips say nothing—they only emit hiccups. He only stares at you with his finger still up in front of your quivering lips. You try to stop sobbing—like he wants. 

“Stop crying.” He says. You nod fast. “Don’t think about it. Don’t think about what happened, about the boy, about Elvir and Olga. Don’t.” His other hand wraps around your wrist. “It’s nothing big, nothing serious. Do you hear me?”

His tone is convincing. To someone. Perhaps not you.

You nod again, sniffling. But Nikolai is not convinced—he needs you to verbally say it. He needs you to affirm it—he wants to hear it. His hand reaches up to grasp your head, thumb pressing your lower lip. “Do you hear me?” He repeats.

“Y-Yes. I-I’ll stop crying… Promise… Please just stop…”

“… I’m sorry… I just—” His fingers caress your hair gently but his hold turns firmer. “It’s just you keep crying so much, saying sorry a lot, feeling guilty every fucking second. It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Won’t bring her back, will it? Doesn’t change anything.” He murmurs, voice quiet. Both of his hands reach up to your face. “Doesn’t make you all innocent—you can only forget about that feeling and let it die somewhere. It hurts being so sane, isn’t it?”

A glimpse of fear in your eyes halts him from rambling further. He needs to leave this room—far from your tears and cries, far from you. Biting his lips, Nikolai gets up again, wanting to leave, but you are just reluctant to let him go—always reaching, holding him as if his touches feel like sweet kisses. 

“D-Don’t leave… Help me…” You plead, whispering. “I-I won’t cry…”

Nikolai sighs deeply and resignedly turns to you. You need help, that is clear. A girl who experienced murder mess for the first time in her life will not know what to do with all that blood and dirt. He stands beside the tub, looking down at your figure, curled in the tub. 

He then quietly grabs the hem of your shirt and takes it off your body. The shower hits him, but he cares little about it as he sits on the tiles at the edge of the bathtub. He turns his body so his legs are in the tub as well. Nikolai leans down, tugging the waistband of your pants. You seem reluctant at first, but a glare from him makes you relent—you straighten your legs, allowing him to pull the garment off them. 

His mismatched eyes travel across your half-naked body, only covered with washed white undergarments. He does not think the rest of your skin is as dirty as your hands and arms. But he does see fresh bruises on some spots. For a moment, his anger ignites again—just what the hell did Elvir do to you? A tint of murderous intent seeps into his heart—he wishes he could go back to the diner and give Elvir’s dead body the treatment it deserves. 

“C-Cold…” You mumble. Nikolai internally sighs before he adjusts the temperature of the shower, not realising you are crawling closer to him. As the water becomes warmer, Nikolai feels something between his legs. He turns his head, seeing that you are there. 

“Can you h-hug me?”

It does not sound like a question as you slump your arms around his waist, resting your head on his lap. And he instinctively embraces your figure, one of his hands rubs your back and the other tenderly caresses your head—fingers stroking your messy strands. 

You bury your face into his thigh, sobbing quietly. “I shouldn’t have stayed, Kolya…”

His grip on your hair tenses. 

And I should’ve killed you. 

Chapter Text

“I think you should go already.”

You blink confusedly, realising that you are staying a little longer in Nikolai’s car. You are sitting in the backseat, and you cannot see his face from your position right now. “Oh! Right, right.” You say as you immediately hop out of the car. It is already late for work, and Olga must be waiting already.

The weather is scorching hot, the sun blazing between dark grey clouds. It feels painful to walk, especially when your feet are bare—skin to the earth. Trying to avoid the burn on your skin, you run to the diner, pushing the door open with your weight.

The diner is empty. Ambience is long dead.

When you walk closer to the kitchen, a large hand grabs your shoulder and turns you around. Your eyes meet a face so pale, bloody with bullet holes. Chunks of flesh drool out of an opening on their head. They lift their hands and wrap them tightly around your neck. They squeeze hard, and you begin to cough and gasp for air.

Lungs contracted. Your mouth is screaming—“Please! Help! Help me! Nikolai, please!”

The grip on your neck tightens, and your breathing becomes slower. Even the oxygen refuses to give you life. Your vision blurs, scorching summer and glaciating winter are mixing together, and the face of the corpse in front of you alternates between a woman and a man.

You black out.

And you suck the air sharply.

Your eyes jerk wide open and you realise you are tucked safely on Nikolai’s bed. However, you are alone in the room. From the window, it looks like it is still dark outside. It is still the same night when everything happened. Your hands are still trembling from the nerves, despite all the effort you put into making them stop. Your body is aching from all the rough touches from your assailant and your saviour. It hurts everywhere—it hurts, it hurts, it hurts just like when your father hit you.

“Nikolai…” You whimper. The door is closed and the lights are turned off. You are alone, all cold without his presence. You sniffle as you try to lift yourself from the mattress, despite the soreness all over your body. You hiss as you get off the bed and walk slowly to the door.

But you hesitate to open it.

What if you really are alone? What if he left you? But that is impossible, is it not? Nikolai will not leave you like this—no, no, he won’t, he’s too kind to do that…

right?

Your nerves are basically in chaos as you slowly reach the knob and twist it. You pull the door open, but only just a little—just a gap for you to peek and speak.

From your limited view, you see Nikolai sitting on the couch in silence. You could not see his face as he is facing away from you.

“K-Kolya…?” You call weakly. His head tilts just a little bit, indicating that he hears you. But he does not turn around. “Kolya,” You call again, but receive no response. The silence is deafening, and it shackles your growing humiliation.

“Can you accompany me, please…?” You beg with your cracking voice, on the verge of crying. “I-I’m scared… I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Please…”

Nikolai does not turn, but his head hangs low, as if he is just staring at his hands in silence. He completely ignores you, no matter how many attempts you make to get his attention.

After a couple more pleas with no answer, you sniffle—holding back the sob from your throat. Rueful, you whimper a pitiful “I-It’s okay… G-Good night,” before you close the door again and get back on the bed. You snuggle yourself in the blanket, curling your knees close to your body.

You try to keep your eyes closed, but a full, deep sleep does not come. Your brain is active—creating images of horror in the darkness of your eyelids. But you are floating between conscious and unconscious, mind seeping in and out of your sleep. Because of that, you barely pay attention to the noise around you—door opening and quiet footsteps approaching.

Until a weight behind you makes your eyes jolt wide open. You want to turn around, but you feel an arm over your body before you are being pulled close to his figure. Your eyes are brimming with tears again as he holds you close.

“Do you know…” Nikolai suddenly says—his voice is low and whispery. “… what I said to my victim when I killed them?”

You shake your head, just a tiny bit.

“They asked me, why did I do it… Why do I kill them, so cruelly, so brutally. I skinned one of them while he’s still alive…” His fingertips dance over your arm. “… I melted someone… with a corrosive poison…” His hand caresses your hair. “… and burst someone with high-pressure air.” His hand moves towards your lips before his fingers suddenly grip your jaw tightly, as if anger has been accumulating in the nerves of his touch.

“So I told them that I did it because it’s fun. It’s fucking exhilarating to see them crying and begging for their lives. Can you imagine? A bloody man who can barely talk with his mouth ripped open, nothing to cover even their throat, begging me to spare their pathetic life. But too damn bad, I enjoyed what I did. I truly, truly am.”

You freeze. Your teary eyes look to his arm that is over your body, and then to his hand—illusions of a stranger’s blood coating his skin play in your eyes.

“Y-You didn’t… really mean that, did you…?” Your voice comes out shaky. Just a tiny whisper for his ears. Nikolai seems to be still for a couple of minutes before you feel him getting up from the bed. You do not turn around, even after you hear the sound of the door closing.

You sniffle, wiping the tears away from your eyes. The night is cold, and the bed is empty. The room is dark as the crippling monsters in the back of your mind. You are very scared—it feels like many bloodshot eyes are watching you from graves.

And you could not even call him to come back.

Nikolai is in distress. He cannot sleep. He cannot even sit still. He roams around the house, rests his head against a wall and another wall. And then he ends up sitting on the floor, palming his face in regret and dismay.

His thoughts are a tangled mess. His emotions are swirling from one sentiment to another—guilt to apathy, sorrow to unconcern, frustration to anger, love to hate and hate to love. His fingertips drag the skin under his eyes, preventing them from closing and giving him images of Olga’s lifeless gaze and your terrified face. Yet, his ears are still ringing with your cries, and his mind is boiling with anger that he just wants to choke you to death, shut you up forever.

What should I do?—he keeps thinking. His whole plan for you was burned to ashes. It was perfect. It was supposed to be perfect. You will have a better life—nice home, kind caretaker, good friends and a better job. And he will leave and continue on with his pursuit, pretending that you were never there in his life.

And in just a couple of weeks, it shattered.

Olga is dead. The lady he had known for many years was murdered. The lady who was adorned by many low-lifes like him is gone. Elvir is also dead—his former cellmate, who happened to be your hunter. Nikolai did plan to kill him if the bastard ever came back again for you. But time and luck did not side with him. Now look what happened—two dead bodies in a shady restaurant.

Plus, this town is not safe anymore. It was a hidden gem for low-lifes, but Nikolai knows that the authorities must have paid extra attention to this particular area. Last few months, there was the news about a missing girl—you—and now there will be another news about two gruesome murders in a nest of criminals.

A whole can of worms will be opened, and Nikolai does not want to risk himself to get caught again. Not when he already knows where Fyodor is and his freedom is teasing his fingertips.

His freedom is near.

My freedom is near—he thinks to himself, repeating the words like a mantra as his eyes scour the floor. My freedom is near—he whispers under his breath as he restlessly walks back and forth. My freedom is—he stops before his eyes pause on the door to his bedroom, where you are sleeping in.

“Y-You didn’t… really mean that, did you…?”

Your question rings in his mind. He leaves without an answer for you. He does not want to answer it—ignorance is bliss, and he decides to ignore that dilemma, for the sake of his sanity. He plops back on the couch, his arms wrap around his own body—cold, unlike when they were around you.

He has no time to waste. There are only a few days left before he leaves for St. Petersburg and saves himself. Nikolai rakes his hair with his fingers, groaning slowly as he tries to think of any other better ideas.

His breath is shaky as he inhales slowly. Biting his lips, Nikolai clenches his fist—anger seeps in when his concern bleeds into frustration.

Why do I care?

His head grumbles. Really, why does he care? Why should he? In the end, you are just a victim who got caught up in things. And it is never his fault to begin with. He was not the one who was indebted to violent loan sharks. He was not the one who made your father kill himself. He was not the one who invited Elvir to come and take you away. His only goal for now is to get to St. Petersburg and kill Fyodor for his own ideals.

You were never in the equation.

Nikolai knows his goal is near—all he needs to do is to get rid of you for good. He cannot let himself get attached anymore and prolong the dilemma boiling within him.

No matter.

You could not really sleep. At all.

When the clock strikes seven, you are already propped up on the bed, staring at the dim sky outside the window. Nothing is in your head other than what occurred yesterday. It felt like a nightmare—maybe it was, and you are just waiting to truly wake up.

A pinch, a scratch, a squeeze. When it hurts, you are reminded again that it was not a dream.

Olga is gone. And it is your fault. You do not even know where and how Vasily is—the guilt of not knowing his condition is eating you alive as you remember how he volunteered to make sure everything was safe for you.

“This is all my fault… Oh, God…” You shriek under your breath before you bury your face in your palms. You begin to panic again, and suddenly it is hard to breathe properly as your chest heaves up and down fast. You shut your eyes, holding back the tears, but it only causes your whole face to strain.

Bam!

You jolt, surprised when you hear a loud thud of the bedroom door. You lift your head and look over your shoulder. But before you could process what is going on, you see Nikolai approach you with a grim look on his face.

“Kolya…” You sniffle. His eyes twitch when he sees your face, and he quickly turns away.

“I need you to get ready.” He says. You wipe your face hastily with your sleeves.

“R-Ready to what…?”

He clicks his tongue before he pulls you by your arm, roughly. He yanks you to the bathroom, and you whimper at the harsh gesture—this just feels like when he first got you here, except you are scared of this unusual frustration from him.

He nudges you into the bathroom, and before he can leave to give you space, you grab his arm. “A-Are we going out? Where t-to?”

Is it even safe to leave?

Nikolai purses his lips before he sighs. He takes your hand, prying it off his arm. “Just… go get ready. Brush your teeth and wash your face or something… Just listen to me.” He says, and with a brief squeeze on your hand, he walks away.

You do what he told you to.

When you are finally done, you find him waiting in the living room. You are just wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his old sweaters. He turns around without words, as if he already felt your presence approaching. When his gaze catches the sight of you, the corner of his lips crooks up, but he immediately drops it, putting his cold mask back on.

Without words, he goes to the door, and you are getting more and more confused by his quiet demeanour. Something is brewing in his mind, and you just could not figure it out—not that it was ever easy to figure him out. You follow him, and when you try to hold his arm, he pulls away from you.

So you keep your hands on your side, lonely, clenching the hem of your sweatshirt. Your poor heart makes it hard for you to be indifferent about his usual ‘rough’ gesture.

“Where are we going?” You ask weakly as you look around. The sky is still dark—the sun is barely peeking out on the horizon. Even the moon is still apparent above.

Nikolai does not reply. He just keeps walking, leading you to his parked car once both of you are out of the building. He opens the door to your side, pushing your shoulder once to urge you to enter. Then, without paying you any look, he goes to the driver’s side.

Usually, you are eager to get in the car and let him bring you everywhere. Oftentimes, you are accompanied by giddy giggles of joy—just happy to be included in his unique activities. But now, at this point in time, with his strange mood and behaviour, you do not even feel safe getting inside.

“What are you doing? Get in.” Nikolai says from inside the car when he sees you still standing by the open door.

“I don’t want to come with you,” You say. “I wanna go back.”

He groans. “Can you just listen to me once?”

“Not until you tell me where we are going.” Your arms wrap around yourself, shaking your head despite the fact that he can barely see your face from his angle. Fear shudders all over your back when you hear his loud groan. You swallow nervously, knowing that his annoyance has brewed into frustration—perhaps, even anger.

“I said,” A detached hand grabs your arm. “Get in here.” And it pulls you harshly, forcing you to get in the car. Your forehead hits the door frame as you stumble onto the seat. You whine, palming the spot that hurts.

The door closes on you then. Eyes tearing up, you look at Nikolai. His eyes widen, irises shaken, as his hand hangs in the air in uncertainty. His fingers twitch before he slowly reaches out and pats your forehead, exactly on the aching spot. His lips purse as a tint of rue emerges in his gaze. You are about to point it out, asking him again and again—Where are we going? What are you doing? Why are you doing this to me?

But none of those questions are spoken out of your mouth—just echoes in your head. Your heartbeat is getting more restless when his hand trails to your cheek, cupping your face gently before he pulls away. He says nothing, and you know you will not get any clear answer from him. So you push your bravery away into the corner, fiddling with the fabric of your pants instead to ease the anxiety looming all over you.

Men are the scariest when they are angry. You want to not push any of his buttons.

Nikolai drives in silence. And fast. You keep your eyes on the outside, trying to figure out if the place is familiar to you. So far, you are still in the same town—which is kind of relieving, seeing all these familiar panoramas and buildings.

You keep your eyes on the outside until you catch sight of Olga’s diner by the side of the road. So many people—authorities—are there. The diner is covered with yellow tape, and there are about five black vans parked nearby. You try to look some more as the car gradually leaves the area until Nikolai’s deep cough pulls you out of your curiosity.

“Don’t look.” He says. “Keep your head straight and don’t look.” You turn away from the window and nod slowly, fighting the urge to relent to your curiosity.

“Is… that guy truly dead?” You ask nervously. Your heart is beating faster than ever, and your hands begin to sweat profusely as you are reminded of the way your life was on the brink of death barely twelve hours ago. Parts of your body are still aching. Your hips and bum make it uncomfortable for you to sit too, but you try to subdue those pains to yourself—like you always did.

“Yes, I killed him,” Nikolai replies shortly. His tone is as cold and gloomy as the weather outside.

“W-What about Vasily? Is he okay? Is he… dead… too?” Your voice squeaks painfully, not wanting to think about another loss of people you are acquainted with. Enough with your father. Enough with Olga. Enough with your pursuer. If Vasily is gone, you do not know how else you could live with these deaths haunting you in every one of your steps.

“Nikolai, please answer me.” You beg. “I don’t like it… When you're being like this with me…” Your nose begins to feel stuffy, and harrowing warmth travels from your heart to your throat—choking you in agony.

“I don’t know,” Nikolai says. “He wasn’t bleeding when I found him. That’s all I could tell you. I know nothing else.* He glances at you, mismatched eyes pierce deeply into yours. All this coldness coming from him feels like a facade, waiting to be broken. He wants to look angry, but his face says otherwise—so hesitant and fearful whenever his gaze rests on you, even for a brief second.

“C-Can we visit him, maybe? At the hospital? Or… or Olga’s house? He’s my friend…”

Nikolai is silent for a minute before he sighs softly. “You can, maybe.”

“What about you?”

“He’s not my friend, is he?”

Fair point—you think. Considering how he talked about his beloved friend, you are kinda glad that Nikolai does not hold strong feelings towards or against Vasily. At least, that is what you think.

Minutes passed by, and the car ride went silent again. In an attempt to ease your mind, you look out of the window again. You do not think you recognise this area well, but there is a sense of dread when the further you go, the more familiar some of these buildings look.

The uneasiness in you is boiling.

You fidget in your seat and adjust yourself to be able to look more of the melancholic world. Throat dries and eyes widen as the car quickly passes by one of the old buildings that housed a premise that you recognise very deeply.

You remember this area now.

The street, the snowy pavement, the bar, the neighbourhood.

You turn to Nikolai quickly. “I wanna go home.” You say, gripping his arm. He is shocked by your sudden move as he is currently focused on the road. The car slows down slightly as he glares at you.

“I am taking you home.”

You shake your head fast, tears streaming down your cheeks—you did not realise you were on the brink of yet another cry again. You cried a lot for the past many hours—it already feels strange to have a clear airway without constant sobbing.

“No, no! I wanna go back! Why do you take me here?” You shed more tears, shaking him to demand answers and consolation—which even he seems to hesitate to give. He turns away from you.

Nikolai bites his lip, trying hard to not look at your face. “Don’t be dumb… You and your troublesome ass should know why…” He grumbles and pulls away his arm. You try to hold his arm again, but he catches your wrist, so you are just helplessly waving your hand up and down in an attempt to free yourself.

The car stops abruptly, and you look outside. Right across the street is a shabby house—almost everything is covered in snow.

Abandoned, no one to love and care for it.

“There,” Nikolai says. “Get out.”

You shake your head, fast. “N-No, I don’t wanna leave.” You say through your cries. “I don’t have anyone else, Nikolai, p-please…”

He sighs, burying his face in his palms. You reach for his hand—anything to plead your case, although he is actively shoving you away. Your fingers get in between his own, linked for just a second—you feel the little twitch between them—before he grumbles something under his breath.

And quickly, Nikolai opens the door at his side, stepping out of the car. The door slams on you, then, and you flinch. Through a teary vision, you watch him circle around to get to your side. You tilt your whole body away from the door when he opens it and tries to grab you.

“Oh my God, please. Just listen to me.” He begs, and with a hard pull, he drags you out of the car and holds you by your arms to prevent you from forcing your way to stay in the car. Your face is a mess when he looks—darker hues form under your eyes, just the evidence from your gruelling state of feeling sorry for yourself.

His heart shatters in that very second, and his hands subconsciously loosen their grip as they rub your arms in an attempt to soothe you. Nikolai only stares at you, trying to cover your face. You can barely get a word out with the cries and hiccups leaving your mouth every two seconds. You shriek, chest becoming too painful to process a simple breathing.

“A-Are you really going to leave me here?” You whimper, clawing his shirt. “You can’t just leave me, you c-can’t… I don’t have anyone… I only have y-you…” You shake your head, clutching harder and tugging onto him desperately. He shuts his eyes, his holds on your arms stiffen.

“It’s not fair, Nikolai…”

“It’s not, no.”

“Then, why…?”

“Because I hate you.” He says firmly. Both of his hands reach up, grasping your face and tensing. “Because I really, really hate you. Because you’re hurting me. So please, go away. Go and disappear. I don’t want to see you anymore. I don’t want to have to kill you.”

“You’re lying,” You grimace. “You don’t mean that. Tell me you don’t mean that…” Your cries leap out of your throat again as you lean against his chest, arms wrapping around him, refusing to let him go. “You’re lying to me, Nikolai…”

You feel his arms wrap around you, then, before a thick fabric begins to encapsulate you—you feel it rest against your back. You lift your face from his chest, trying to look, but your world is covered with a void in a blink. Your body leans forward to fall, as if Nikolai were not standing in front of you in the first place. You yelp—expecting yourself to drop onto the ground pitifully.

But instead, you fall directly on a mattress.

Blinking confusedly, you look around. You are inside a room—your father’s bedroom. His bed is dirty, and the mattress is greyed out. The room is filled with cigarettes, junk and bottles of beer.

You cannot process what just happened—it was too bizarre for someone who is too ordinary for the likes of Nikolai. But remembering him, you immediately get out of bed and rush out of the room. However, the house is just too messy that you have to be careful with every step you want to make—lest you are going to trip and fall again, this time probably onto a shard of glass.

But you manage to make your way to the door. Your hand hastily turns the latch to unlock it before pushing the door open. By the time you step out, you see his car is already leaving the area.

Your throat hurts to scream—not that it makes any difference now.

Eyes on the snowy ground, your mind becomes blank for a moment—a white canvas with buzzing white noises. The sentiments—anger, frustration, regret, love—towards all the moments of life he brought to you are nil. You have nothing now. No more free dinners, no more joking with friends, no more cute clothes and little cheap gifts, no more cuddles and late-night talks, no more love to receive—not even your baby blue dress and purse.

You could not even call him to come back.