Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"God watches all things, my son. There is no hiding from Him."

The house smelled like candle wax, the air thick with incense burning in the corner. The low hum of his father’s voice filled the room, words Nikolai had heard a thousand times already. Scripture into every conversation, laced into every command, every breath…

Nikolai sat stiffly at the dinner table, hands clasped in his lap, he had long forgotten the urge to dig his nails into his palm. His mother sat across from him, eyes lowered, lips mouthing a prayer. She looked ready to cry. His father watched him with a gaze that made his skin crawl.

"Do you know-" he began, his voice harsh, enough to make Nikolai flinch "what you’ve done?"

Nikolai knew. Of course, he knew. The entire school knew. The headmaster knew. The whispers had spread like fire through the halls. Nikolai Gogol, the pastor’s son, had kissed a boy. Well, he didn’t, the boy kissed him. He didn’t want it…So why was he the only one getting blamed?

He swallowed, his throat dry. “It wasn’t-”

"Do not lie to us…" His mother cut in, her voice cracked. Her hands trembled where they gripped at the fabric of her dress. “We raised you better than this Nikolai”

“We raised you to be a man of God” His father exhaled sharply, shaking his head. 

Nikolai bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood.

The boy, Mark, had kissed him first. It had been brief, yet harsh, hidden behind the gym. 

And then, someone saw.

And now, here he was.

"You will repent” his father continued, his voice rising. "And you will pray, you will fast, and you will ask for forgiveness. Most importantly, you will not be like…” he paused “...like them." he spoke with disgust.

Like them.

Sinners. Deviants. The damned.

He felt sick.

His mother’s voice broke slightly. “Your father had to beg them not to expel you, Nikolai. Beg. Do you know what that means?”

Shame. It meant humiliation.

But it wasn’t enough. The school had agreed to let him finish the semester, but he needs to leave afterward. Quietly. His parents had already made arrangements. A new school, a public school, where no one would know his name. A fresh start.

“We are saving you,” his father said, softer now, but still burning with judgement. “God is testing you, and you must prove yourself worthy of His love.”

Nikolai’s fingers twitched. A fresh start.

But the weight in his chest told him that what he had done was something that could never be erased.

“Do you understand?” his father’s voice was cold, eerily…

Nikolai sat still in his chair. His fingers digging into his thighs under the table, no doubt leaving marks as his father’s words rang in his ears.

He wanted to laugh. Or scream. Maybe even both.

His father’s hands were folded on the table, the veins beneath his skin raised. His mother’s eyes, red-rimmed from tears, flickered between him and the uneaten plate of food in front of her. The meal had long since gone cold but no one seemed to care.

“You will not speak to that boy again.” His father’s voice was firm. “Do you understand me?”

Nikolai nodded, though the truth sat heavy on his tongue. Mark had already made sure of that.

After word of the kiss had spread, Mark wouldn’t even look at him, let alone speak to him. Nikolai had seen how his hands shook as he stuffed books into his bag, how he avoided meeting his gaze in the hallways. How, when their Bible teacher pulled him aside, he nodded frantically and said “I didn’t want it. He- he kissed me. I swear it wasn’t me.”

Nikolai wasn’t stupid. He understood what it meant.

And now, he was the one being removed.

“Nikolai!” his father's voice raised as he punched the table, “Do you understand?”

Nikolai flinched, his gaze back on his father, “Y-Yes, sir” 

His mother rubbed at her eyes with a napkin, getting herself together before speaking again. “The school… it will be good for you, Kolya.” Her voice was almost gentle, but it didn’t comfort him. It stung. “It will keep you from… from making the same mistakes.”

Mistakes...

Like his feelings were an error, a sin to be corrected.

Nikolai felt his throat tighten, something ugly and hot bubbling beneath his skin.

“Public school” his father muttered, as if the word itself was filthy. “It’s not ideal, but it will do. It has a good academic rate and a bible study club”

Public school…The thought of it twisted his stomach. He had only ever known the suffocating walls of private Christian education. An education where scriptures were written on every classroom wall, where prayers were mandatory, where students were disciplined with sharp words and sharper punishments.

Public school meant freedom but it also meant uncertainty.

It meant a new place. New people. 

But as he sat beneath his father’s heavy stare, that flicker of hope was gone before it could take form.

“You will pray on this, Nikolai” his father said, pushing back from the table. “You will reflect on your actions. And you will not bring this shame upon us again.”

His mother exhaled, murmuring something under her breath, another prayer.

Nikolai swallowed. He felt numb. “Yes, sir.”

His father stood up and nodded in approval. His mother followed, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder before moving toward the kitchen.

The moment they disappeared, the silence suffocated him. 

Nikolai sat there, staring at the untouched plate of food. His hands trembled under the table. His chest ached

Public school.

It was supposed to be a punishment.

But this could be a way to a new start… 

…

His bedroom door creaked as he pushed it open. The room was dark, except for the faint glow of the streetlamp outside his window. He shut the door behind him and exhaled.

Then he laughed, because what else could he do? He was stuck here until he graduated, if he even lived until then.

He ran a hand through his hair. His mind was full of half-formed thoughts and emotions he couldn’t process.

He stopped in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection.

His pale face, his wide, tired eyes. The boy in the glass didn’t look like a sinner.

But that’s what they saw, wasn’t it?

So maybe he should too….Right?

He turned away.

Slowly, he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had been taught that this was a sin. That, how his heart had pounded in his chest, how his breath had caught when Mark kissed him was something evil. 

He rubbed his hands over his face, wiping away tears he hadn’t noticed. 

What was wrong with him?

That kiss…it hadn’t been wrong. It hadn’t felt wrong… at least, not in the way his father had made it seem. Sure the kiss had been rough and rushed, but Mark’s lips had been warm.

However, that moment sparked something inside him. It sparked the one thing that could ruin him. Something that he could never wash away.

His stomach twisted as his mind became a tornado of emotions.

You’re not supposed to feel this way. You’re not supposed to want this. 

You’re disgusting. 

His breath became short as the guilt filled in. He had been taught that love was special. Holy. But this wasn’t love. It was a betrayal, a drift from the path he had been raised to walk.

He can’t even trust himself

He squeezed his eyes shut, his father’s voice echoing in his ears. 

You must repent. 

You must ask for forgiveness. 

You must deny this weakness, this sin.

The sickening thing was that he agreed with them.

And that’s what terrified him the most.

Because he knew that deep down, a part of him was ashamed of his feelings. He hated himself for them. He hated himself for the way his heart had wanted Mark. For how he had leaned into the kiss when he should’ve pushed him away.

Wasn’t it unnatural? Wasn’t it wrong?

Chapter Text

Nikolai woke up with a start.

His chest felt tight, like something was placed on top of him. Something that was suffocating him. 

After dinner, after dealing with his feelings, he went to bed. But he barely slept. 

Every time he closed his eyes, everything replayed. Like a recurring nightmare. His father’s voice filled with disappointment, his mother’s cries, the way his stomach had twisted with guilt. 

And for the moments he didn’t sleep, he would stare at the ceiling, his skin clammy with sweat. His stomach would twist, the nausea piling in the back of his throat as he pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts, the memories, the way it had felt. 

Trying to block out how, even for just a moment, how it felt.

How it felt right .

Right…right? No

How felt wrong

How everything is ruined…

.

.

.

"You will not bring this shame upon us again."

His father’s voice rang through his head.

Shame.

That was what this feeling was…shame. It wasn’t heartbreak or longing. It was just a type of sickness creeping under his skin, stuck to him like a parasite. The voice telling him he deserved this. That he was filthy. That he needed to fix himself.

He forced himself out of bed and went through the process of getting dressed. His uniform felt wrong on him somehow, like he was missing something from the day it happened.

As he walked down the stairs, his mother greeted him with a tired smile. “Kolya, eat something before you go”

He shook his head. “Not hungry.” he’d rather die hungry.

She frowned but didn’t say a word. 

coward

He just grabbed his bag and left, not bothering to say goodbye. 

…

The halls of the school felt different.

Sure, people still moved the same and voices still filled the air, but Nikolai knew. And it sat heavily on his shoulders. No matter where he went, every turn he took, he could feel their eyes on him. The whispers behind his back, the glances, the way conversations dropped when he walked past.

No one said anything directly to him, but they didn’t have to.

The rumors had already done their damage.

His reputation was spotless, at least on the surface.

He was the son of Father Gogol, the town’s most respected priest, he had grown up under the eyes of both his family and God. From the moment he could speak, he had been taught how to present himself. How to be polite, to be obedient, and unwavering in faith. He was the boy who never questioned scripture, who knew his verses by heart, who sat in the front row every Sunday with his hands folded just right.

He was perfect.

Or, at least, that’s what everyone thought.

At school, he was well known, not just because of his loudness or charm but because he was expected to be known. The Preacher’s son. The boy with the good grades, the quiet discipline. He was the kind of student teachers trusted without question, the kind parents used as an example.

"Why can't you be more like Nikolai?"

"Nikolai would never do something like that."

“Nikolai is a good boy."

But reputations like that are easily broken.

He kept his head down, his hands hidden in his pockets when he made his way through the halls. He thought maybe if he acted normal, if he pretended nothing had happened, they would lose interest. If he stayed silent, it would all go away.

…

By lunch, Nikolai wanted to die. He used to thrive in attention, now he wants to just disappear.

Eventually, he found himself in the library, the dim lighting giving him a moment of peace. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and made his way to the shelves

However, the universe wasn’t that kind.

Because the moment he stepped between the shelves, about to run his fingers over the spines of the books, a hand grabbed him around his wrist, pulling him toward the back. 

He barely had time to react before Mark was in front of him.

Mark, who looked terrified.

Nikolai’s stomach dropped.

His eyes were wide, and his grip on Nikolai’s wrist was too tight.

“Mark-”

“You can’t tell anyone!” Mark whispered harshly. His breath was uneven, his face red. “You won’t, right? You won’t.”

Nikolai blinked, his breath caught in his throat. “I- I never-”

Mark shook his head. “Please, I can’t let you. My parents- my dad…you don’t get it. If they ever find out-” He exhaled shakily, eyes darting around before settling on Nikolai. “You can’t tell anyone.” his fingers tightened. “You wanted it. You did, right?”

Nikolai swallowed, words catching in his throat. “Mark… This isn’t- it’s not-” It had been days since that moment. Since he had let everyone think Nikolai had forced it.

And now, here he was…desperate, pleading.

Mark’s grip on his wrist tightened. “What happened…it was a mistake. I- I don’t even know why I did it. I don’t feel that way. I just- I just got caught up in the moment.” his voice was urgent, panicked even. 

Nikolai felt something twist in his chest.

A mistake.

He looked at Mark. The same Mark who had leaned in first. The same Mark who had held onto him like he meant it, like he had wanted it. 

He should’ve expected this.

Should’ve known Mark would rather tear him down than risk the consequences of what they had done.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Mark’s hand shot up to Nikolai’s jaw, causing him to flinch. His fingers gripping too hard. “Say it” he whispered. “Say you wanted it.”

Nikolai opened his mouth to speak, maybe to say no, to tell Mark to let go… but then- 

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone” Nikolai muttered, pulling his wrist free. 

Why? Did he just say that? 

Mark exhaled, relief showing on his face for just a second… Then something darker settled in his eyes.

“Good” he said, stepping closer. Too close. His fingers brushed against Nikolai’s collar, gripping his uniform loosely.

“Just- forget about it” Mark whispered in his ear. Nikolai felt his heart pound in his chest. “Forget it ever happened.”

And, without warning, his lips crashed against Nikolai’s with something far harsher than the first time.

Nikolai’s breath hitched.

Mark kissed him.

It wasn’t like before.

There was no hesitation, no warmth. Just something different. Something panicked and rough and desperate. His hands gripping Nikolai’s blazer as if trying to prove something.

Nikolai froze, his mind screaming at him.

Mark pressed closer, pushing against him, trying to take more, his hands trailing downward…

Then panic.

Nikolai tried shoving the other off. Trying to pull away from the kiss but Mark wasn’t moving. 

Then, something inside Nikolai snapped.

With a harsh force, he pushed Mark off, causing him to stumble back, eyes wide. His lips were swollen.

Nikolai’s chest rose and fell rapidly. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. His skin burned. 

His lips burned.

For a moment, both of them stayed silent.

Then, Mark’s face shifted to something unreadable.

“See?” His voice was sharp, defensive. “You don’t want this either.”

Nikolai’s stomach churned.

But before he could respond, Mark left, leaving him alone, his skin burning and his breath still unsteady.

He pressed a shaking hand to his lips.

It didn’t feel like a sin.

But it felt wrong.

The library was silent.

Nikolai’s knees felt weak.

Chapter Text

The dinner table felt colder than usual.

Maybe it was the silence, or from everything left unsaid. 

Nikolai sat stiffly, his hands in his lap, his dinner untouched. His mother had made something simple, potatoes, fish and some vegetables on the side. He wasn't hungry, but eating felt easier than speaking, so he forced himself to take a few bites, chewing slowly.

His father cleared his throat. “Your schedule has been finalized.” His voice was even, leaving no room for arguments. “Your mother and I have made sure you’re placed in courses that will challenge you. Honours literature, advanced mathematics, and so on…”

Nikolai swallowed his food and forced himself to nod. He expected as much, seeing as his father always believed that intellect was discipline, keeping busy was the best way to stay on the right path.

“Your extracurriculars have also been decided.” His father took a slow sip of water before continuing. “You’ll be joining the debate team and the student council. I’ve spoken to the coach about you trying out for track and field. You’ll also be required to attend Bible study every Thursday evening. Your mother has found a new church for us. We expect you to participate.”

Nikolai pressed his lips together, nodding again. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

His mother looked up from her plate. “You’re getting a fresh start, Kolya” she said, her voice softer than his father’s. “It’s important that you take this opportunity seriously. No more distractions. No more foolishness.”

His chest tightened.

“You understand, don’t you, son ?” his father pressed.

Nikolai exhaled through his nose, forcing a small smile onto his face. “Of course, Father.”

His father nodded in approval, but his mother didn’t look convinced. She stared at him for a moment longer before lowering her gaze back to her food.

The conversation shifted to other things, such as his father’s work, the weather, and gossip about the town’s mayor. Nikolai barely listened. He kept his head down, eating, nodding when necessary.

This wasn’t new…This was routine.

They set the rules. He follows.

That was how it had always been.

But as he stared at his untouched glass of water, watching the way the dim light reflected off the surface, he felt something deep inside him crack.

A fresh start.

That’s what they called it.

A fresh start wasn’t supposed to feel like a cage .

…

His room felt quiet. Too quiet.

The house creaked around him, distant footsteps from his parent's bedroom echoing through the hall.

It was almost peaceful. Almost.

His bag sat open at the end of the bed, half-packed from earlier. His mother stood in the doorway as he packed his supplies, watching, making sure everything was properly labeled, his clothes ironed, and school-appropriate. She had double-checked his uniform and hid a tiny Bible in the side pocket of his backpack without saying a word.

Now, the room felt unfamiliar. Like a stage set that no longer belonged to him.

He crossed the room slowly, running his fingers along the top of his desk. The very same one he’d had since he was ten. The wood was worn at the edges, carved with old pen marks and doodles he’d scratched into it.

The same desk he used to hide notes in. Crumpled half-poems he never finished. Sketches of all sorts of things that he was sure his father would tear apart…

He pulled one drawer open. 

Empty.

His fingers brushed the inside edge, where he had once taped a photo. It wasn’t there anymore. He had taken it down weeks ago.

Mark had been in that photo.

A stupid selfie their parents had taken behind the church, both of them flushed from running around after youth group, laughing too hard to breathe. Nikolai had hidden it, taped it where no one would find it, not even himself.

He didn’t want to see it.

He sat on the edge of his bed. His fingers curled inwards, nails pressing into his palms.

He should’ve told someone.

He should’ve said no.

He should’ve fought harder.

But instead, he let it happen. He let it become his fault.

The way Mark looked at him in the library haunted him more than the kiss. His terrified expression. The desperation. His voice…

“You wanted it.”

Nikolai ran a hand through his long hair, pulling at the ends until it hurt.

He hated this.

Not just what happened, not just the rumours or the forced transfer. He hated everything. He hated what it meant about him.

Because part of him had wanted it, but the other part of him had hated it. And part of him remembered how his heart had leapt the first time Mark’s hand brushed his.

And if he wanted it… didn’t that mean it was true?

Didn’t that make everything his father said about him right ?

His stomach twisted.

Nikolai staggered to his feet, stumbling out of his bedroom, past the dark hallway and into the bathroom. He barely got the door shut before falling to his knees and retching into the toilet.

His fingers gripped the porcelain, knuckles white.

It was too much.

Too much.

Too much.

Everything. The feelings. The memories. The guilt.

The fact that for a split second, he hadn’t wanted it to stop. That his body had responded. That his heart had fluttered.

What kind of person did that make him?

He spat, coughed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trembling.

He felt disgusting. Like, he could never be clean.

He didn’t cry.

He never cried.

He just sat there on the cold tile, arms wrapped around himself, his forehead resting against the wall. His cross still hung around his neck, pressing hard into his chest like it was trying to remind him of something.

He didn’t want this.

He didn’t ask to feel like this.

So why did it still live inside him?

Chapter Text

The cold January air bit at Nikolai’s cheeks as he stood in front of the tall gates of his new school.

He hated how much it looked like a prison.

Big, grey, and boring. Like it already knew the kind of people it kept locked inside.

A public school.

His father had called it a " punishment ."

His mother called it a " second chance. "

But neither of them had looked him in the eye when they said it.

His tie felt too tight, like a noose. Maybe if he’d tighten it, he’d choke and be forgiven... 

His blazer felt itchy. He wasn’t even sure if the school had uniforms. It was a public school, not private. His bag was too heavy. His schedule was folded neatly in his hands, it was packed with advanced this and accelerated that, “The Lord doesn’t reward the sluggish.” His father had said once. 

He exhaled slowly, watching his breath twist in the cold air, before walking through the gates. He had three objectives for today; 

One: survive the day.

Two: don’t be noticed.

Three: don't feel anything.

…

The halls were too loud.

The noise of voices, lockers being slammed shut, and the burst of laughter was all overwhelming compared to the neat, quiet corridors of his old school. He just hoped his tie would tighten magically around his neck…

He walked with his shoulders tense to the front office, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

In the front office, the woman at the desk was polite. She looked tired, but polite. She gave him a folder with his schedule, his locker number, and a campus map. Told him where to report for the first period. Mentioned something about how “nice it is to have new students midyear” even though her eyes didn’t match the attitude.

“Try to stay on top of things” she said, with a glance at his classes highlighted in yellow. “You’ve got a challenging load.”

Nikolai returned with a sharp nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

She blinked, clearly not expecting the formality.

He turned and left before she could say anything else, and glanced at his first period. 

Room 203. AP Literature. A class most likely full of Juniors and Seniors. He remembered his dad on the phone arguing with the principal to place him in the class. He had done it at his old school. 

He found the class after a few minutes of wrong turns and nearly bumping into a girl carrying a trumpet. He mumbled an apology and walked inside the classroom.

The teacher barely looked up, just pointed to an empty seat in the back and by the window. Nikolai sat, pulling out a notebook he didn’t want to write in. Everyone was dull. He liked that part, it meant no one would say anything to him. That was good.

He didn’t listen to the lecture, while the teacher was rambling on about tragic heroes, he stared at his open notebook. Drawing little doodles until his brain caught onto the words.

Tragic hero.

He thought about what the tragedy in his story was supposed to be.

Was it Mark?

Was it him?

Or was it being born into a family who didn't care?

When Nikolai glanced back down at his notebook, he froze.

He had drawn Mark.

Unintentionally, of course. The curve of his jaw, the shape of his mouth. A few pencil lines that carried too much weight. The one person who had started all of this. The boy who had touched him, kissed him, and lied about him.

And still, somehow, Nikolai was the one who felt guilty.

Guilty for letting it happen.

Guilty for wanting it to happen.

Guilty for ruining his parents’ reputation, for failing the image they built for him.

Guilty for the sick twist in his stomach that whispered, You liked it. You liked the way it made you feel.

He slammed the notebook shut, heart pounding like he’d been caught. He felt a few heads turn to look at him, but he didn’t care. God, what was wrong with him?

He wanted to scream. To rip the page out. To crawl out of his skin and leave it all behind. But instead, he opened the folder the office had given him earlier. Distracted his hands. Distracted his mind.

A days

AP literature

AP history

Honours Physics

Algebra ll

All advanced. All carefully chosen. None of it he chose...

He’d asked for Drama Club. Something that might’ve let him feel things, even if just on stage. A place to be someone else for a while. While they did allow it, or his mother allowed it, his father made him take calculus. 

B days

Theatre

Advanced art

Calculus

French lll

Nikolai pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, chewing at it until he tasted blood.

Nikolai set the folder down and turned toward the window instead.

Because looking out was easier than looking in…

When class ended 80 minutes later, Nikolai was the last to leave the classroom and walk to his next class. Ap history. It shouldn’t be bad, right? The teacher won’t assign any group work, right? 

Dead wrong. 

The moment he sat down at his desk, the teacher gave a brief introduction and then assigned a group project! Now, Nikolai didn’t even get a chance to ask to do it alone before someone dropped into the seat beside him with a soft thud, their bag slipping to the floor.

“Hi.” He said.

Nikolai blinked.

The boy beside him was pale, with long, waist-length hair that was half soft lilac, half ghost-white. His eyes were light grey, rimmed with lashes too pretty for someone so quiet-looking. He wore an oversized cream turtleneck tucked into high-waisted grey pants. Cute… 

What? Nikolai was having an internal panic and looked back at his desk. No doubt his face is red. 

“I’m Sigma” The boy said. His voice was soft but clear, like he knew how to make people listen without raising it.

Nikolai nodded before hesitating. “Nikolai.”

Sigma smiled. Not too wide, not too forced. Just enough to feel warm.

“You’re new” He said, glancing at the open folder on Nikolai’s desk. “You have literature with Mr. Morimoto, which means your schedule’s a nightmare.”

Nikolai blinked at him. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s also suffering.” Sigma joked and tapped the edge of the worksheet. “You’ll survive. I have a friend in that class, it isn’t as bad, most exaggerate it.”

Nikolai didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t expect… kindness. Not so soon. Not from someone who didn’t even know him.

They worked through the project together in a strange kind of rhythm. Sigma was efficient but didn’t rush. He asked questions, but didn’t talk over Nikolai when he answered. He didn’t act like he was doing him a favour. He just… like existed beside him.

It was the first time in weeks that Nikolai didn’t feel like he had to shrink himself to be tolerated.

As the bell rang and students began to gather their things, Sigma turned to him.

“Lunch next, do you want to sit with me and a few friends?”

Nikolai froze. Lunch? 

With Sigma. Sigma, a cute classmate-. Cute ? No. A classmate, he just met, asked him to sit with him.

And a few friends. 

Everything was going too fast. 

His mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out. The question wasn’t complicated, but it landed like a weight in his chest. His thoughts tangled with each other.

Why was this happening so fast?

He barely even knew Sigma, and yet Sigma acted like it was nothing. Like it was nothing to offer him space, to make room for him in a place where he didn’t yet belong. Like it wasn’t strange to reach for someone who hadn’t earned it. Like kindness didn’t need to be tested first.

Nikolai stared at him for a second too long.

Sigma tilted his head slightly, the movement gentle. “You don’t have to” he said quickly. “No pressure. I just thought… I don’t know. You looked like someone who shouldn’t have to sit alone.”

That didn’t help.

If anything, it made the pressure on Nikolai’s chest worse.

Because Sigma wasn’t saying it to be nice. He meant it. Genuinely. And that made it so much harder to turn him down.

Nikolai swallowed hard and glanced toward the hallway. Students were walking out in small groups, moving past each other like they all had a place to go. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag.

He wanted to say no.

He should say no.

He should’ve said no

That voice. That stupid quiet, sharp, and sickly familiar voice, curled like smoke in the back of his mind.

You remember what happened last time, don’t you?

Mark? How fast it changed the second you made the mistake of letting someone close?

How he said all the right things? Until he ruined you? 

Every little thing Nikolai did, reminded him of Mark. Their first meeting. Mark invited him to sit with him and a few friends Freshman year. His jaw clenched and his skin itched, twitching with the need to scratch the inside of his skin. 

One wrong move, and Sigma can ruin his life. Like Mark.

But… Sigma wasn’t Mark. No, that didn’t matter.

Because the voice in his head didn’t care about the truth. It only cared about survival .

No friends. No attachments. No chances to be hurt again. To be ruined again. 

Say no.

His lips parted, the words caught in his throat.

It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t forced. Sigma wasn’t trying to win him over. He just asked. Because he wanted him there. Like that was normal.

“Nikolai?” Sigma said softly, tilting his head. “You’ve gone… pale…”

Nikolai blinked. His chest hurt.

“I’m fine” he said quickly, voice a little too tight. “Just tired. Long morning.”

Sigma didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he gave a small nod, that same warm, knowing smile curling faintly at the corners of his lips.

“Well” Sigma said, stepping back slightly. “If you change your mind, we usually sit by the windows during lunch. In the courtyard. Near the benches with the graffiti.”

Nikolai just nodded.

Sigma didn’t wait for more. He gave a little wave and then disappeared into the crowd of students drifting out of the hallway. Like he didn’t give Nikolai a heart attack…

Now, he was alone again.

Exactly how he was supposed to be.

Exactly how he deserved to be.

He stared down at his shoes, heart pounding for reasons he couldn’t explain, and told himself over and over:

You did the right thing.

You said no.

You’re safe.

So why did it feel like something had just slipped away from him?

Something… real.

…

The rest of the day passed in a blur.

He didn’t feel as panicked walking through the halls. In Physics, he answered the most questions correctly. Someone, his desk mate, Bram, had complimented his handwriting. 

He hated how those things made him feel good, as if it were that easy to forget everything.

But still… Sigma found him again after the final bell.

“Walk home?”

Nikolai blinked. “You don’t even know where I live.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll walk part of the way. It’s what friends do.”

Friends .

That word stuck itself somewhere in his chest.

He didn’t say anything, but he nodded. He didn’t trust his voice.

And when Sigma walked beside him, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, rambling about the weird teacher in biology and how they were trying to start a book club no one would join, Nikolai listened.

Like, really listened.

It was the first time in weeks he hadn’t felt like he was dying. Like he was empty.

He could breathe.

“Wait, do you live near 14th and Ash?” Sigma asked suddenly, cutting himself off mid-story about a history debate that spiraled into someone crying.

Nikolai blinked. “Yeah. Couple blocks down from the train station.”

Sigma looked mildly surprised. “You’re kidding! I live right near there. That grey house with the weeds.”

Nikolai paused before laughing. “That’s your yard?”

“Inherited disaster. It came with the house” Sigma said dryly.

He smiled at Nikolai, and it was warm again. That fragile kind of smile that made it feel like things could maybe be okay if they just stayed like this. It made Nikolai’s stomach feel warm.

“Guess that means we’re basically neighbours” Sigma added.

Nikolai opened his mouth, unsure what he meant to say. A joke? An awkward cool?

“You should come to Student Council sometime” Sigma added, like it was casual, cutting off Nikolai’s thoughts. “We’re always looking for new people. You’ve got… presence.”

That’s when it happened.

The moment.

The high, weightless, floating feeling twisted.

Something in Nikolai’s stomach dropped.

Not all at once. Like a slow drain emptying out what little hope had managed to settle there.

“Oh.”

Sigma glanced over, confused. “What?”

“Nothing” Nikolai said too fast. “Just…uh. You’re in Student Council?”

“Yeah.” 

Of course, he was. Of course, Sigma wasn’t just a soft-voiced, stranger with kind eyes and a warm laugh. He was a school ambassador. He was the kind of person who got assigned to show new kids around.

And Nikolai? He was the new kid.

This wasn’t kindness. This wasn’t friendship.

This was an obligation.

And suddenly, it felt like the air was too cold again. Like his skin didn’t fit right. Like he’d been tricked into thinking that, maybe, this time could be different.

He smiled, just a little. Tightly. Fake. The kind of smile that meant shut it down.

“You don’t have to pretend” Nikolai said quietly. His voice was cold. Guared

Sigma’s brow furrowed. “Pretend?”

“It’s fine. I get it. You’re probably told to welcome new students. Walk them around. Make sure they don’t jump into traffic.”

“What?” Sigma looked genuinely confused now. “Nikolai, I don’t mean that!”

“You don’t have to keep walking with me.”

He wasn’t sure why his voice cracked at the end. But he didn’t wait for Sigma to respond.

He turned at the corner, down the street. Quickly, toward his block, not Sigma’s. 

He could still hear the shuffle of his own steps, not Sigma’s

The rustle of his own blazer.  

Not Sigma’s.  

He didn’t look back.

Not until he was at his porch steps, and even then, it was just for a second. The street was mostly empty.

No silver hair. No soft voice calling out.

Just the wind blowing and the ache in his chest where that word

“friends”

had started to grow.

He unlocked the door with shaking fingers and stepped inside, the warmth of the house pressing down like a weight.

In his room, he dropped his bag and stood there, fists clenched at his sides.

He didn’t cry. He felt like it, though.

He didn’t scream. He bit his lip until it bled. 

He just stared at the wall, breathing through his nose, trying to remember the rules.

Don’t feel too much.

Don’t be noticed.

Don't feel anything.

That’s how you survive.

That’s how you stay safe.

Chapter Text

The next morning was worse than usual.

Instead of the usual cold or the ache in his legs, it was the crushing, pressing, suffocating weight of what happened yesterday. 

Of what he did.

Nikolai didn’t sleep much. He spent most of the night lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, twisting and turning with a pillow against his chest until the fabric felt like skin he could shed. His mind replayed every word he said to Sigma, every look, every breath between them, every beat of silence he turned into something cruel.

‘You don’t have to pretend.’

That’s what he’d said. The words scraped like broken glass in his throat even now. He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter. So cold. So afraid. But that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Fear dressed as anger. Panic disguised as logic. Self-destruction masked as protection.

That morning, he walked to school.

His steps were slow. His cardigan unbuttoned. His scarf was missing. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to care. Caring meant feeling, and feeling was how things slipped out of control.

The building loomed ahead like a punishment. He wanted to turn around and go home. Crawl back into his bed, pull the blanket over him and hide in the darkness.

But he couldn’t. His father would find out. His mother would whisper about lost opportunities. God would be watching. Disappointed .

So, he went inside.

And immediately, he saw him.

Sigma.

Coming down the hallway from the stairwell. His hair looked like it had been brushed but not styled. His usual soft expression was quieter. His eyes met Nikolai’s for a brief second. Nikolai swore he saw his mouth open.

But Nikolai looked away. Fast, sharply. Like it would burn his eyes out if he looked for more than a second. 

He turned his head down toward his locker like he hadn’t seen him. Like Sigma didn’t exist. Like the boy who had walked him home, talked about book clubs and biology teachers and overgrown yards, was a stranger now.

His hands trembled when he turned the lock. When the door opened he shoved his things inside. Too fast. He ripped the calculus book’s corner. He didn’t care.

“Morning” Came from a soft voice.

He knew it. He hated that he knew it.

Sigma stood beside him, holding a flat portfolio case in one hand. Sketchbook under one arm.

Art class.

Nikolai didn’t look up. He didn’t want to look up

His fingers gripped the metal edge of the locker so tightly they turned pale, the tips felt like it was going to explode inside him. His heartbeat had started to rise too fast. Too sharp. His chest was tightening, like invisible hands were being placed on him, being pressed down on him.

Not now. Not here.

He stared down at the floor. At Sigma’s shoes. They were clean but rougned at the toes, like he dragged them when he walked. 

Nikolai tried to breathe, but it was shallow.

Just the top of his lungs. In and out. In and out. His vision was starting to flicker at the edges like the hallway was closing in. Like the walls were narrowing. The lights above were too loud, too bright. They buzzed like a fly in his ear. He felt people staring, like they knew . They knew how clean he was, what he did.

He could hear Sigma breathing.

He was too close, he felt too real.

“Are you okay?” Sigma asked, quieter this time.

And it cracked something inside him.

Nikolai’s eyes burned.

He wasn’t crying but the pressure was building behind his eyes. It was building in his throat, a place that always felt empty no matter how much he laughed or screamed.

He slammed the locker shut with a bang. It echoed loud, louder than it should’ve. A girl down the hall flinched. 

Nikolai didn’t care, he didn’t answer. He didn’t look.

He just turned and walked. He walked fast.

Fast enough so that Sigma wouldn’t follow. Fast enough to make it seem like he had somewhere to be. Like he wasn’t falling apart inside his skin. Like he hadn’t just stood in front of someone who wanted to be kind to him and burned the moment down with his silence.

His shoes hit the tile hard, with a purpose. 

He slipped into his 5th period classroom before the bell rang, found the seat in the back row, and dropped into it like his body was made of sandbags.

He didn’t take out his materials. He didn’t look at the stage. He just sat, arms wrapped around himself, chest tight and stomach sour, brain buzzing like static.

He hated this.

He hated feeling.

He hated the weight.

He hated that Sigma had looked at him like that. Looked at him with eyes that didn’t accuse or judge. Like he was allowed to be broken. Like it was okay.

It wasn’t. It wasn’t okay. It’s never okay.

Because if he let someone see inside. They’d leave. They always left .

And he wouldn’t survive it.

So, he sat through the next period, barely hearing the instructions. People laughed. They practiced improv. He sat in silence. When the teacher asked if he was feeling sick, he lied.

When the bell rang, he grabbed his bag and left without looking back and made his way to 6th period

Art. 

Nikolai walked into the room like a ghost.

His limbs felt too light, too distant, like they belonged to someone else. The air in the room smelled like clay and acrylics and something sharp. When he looked up, he saw him. 

Sigma was already there.

He sat in a corner with a few people, his head lowered with a pack of charcoal pencils from a fabric roll. His sketchbook was open. His fingers moved gently, like he was afraid to smudge the paper with anything but care. He didn’t look up.

Good.

Nikolai’s steps slowed for a second before he moved to the opposite end of the room. He chose a stool far away. Far enough that he couldn’t hear the scratch of Sigma’s pencil or the quiet sound he made when he exhaled through his nose while focusing.

He dropped his bag next to the chair and slumped forward. His sketchbook was untouched. His pencils were still perfectly sharpened. His hands hovered over them for a second before he pulled one out at random and just dragged it across the page.

He hated everything about today.

The teacher, Ms. Ozaki, started going over the assignment, an expression study, three different angles, same subject. He didn't listen. He didn't plan. He just started drawing shapes and lines and watching them spiral out like he was trying to exorcise something through the lead.

Halfway through the class, someone sat down across from him.

He didn’t bother to look.

Not until he heard a voice that didn’t sound soft. That didn’t sound scared.

“Huh. Not bad, kinda manic, though. Are you trying to draw or summon something?” they said.

Nikolai blinked and looked up.

The girl had pale skin and bright green eyes that stood out against her hair, deep crimson, divided into two thick braids that draped over her shoulders. Her bangs were uneven, chopped like she had done them herself. A white flower was pinned to the side of her head. She wore braces, with a smile that looked like she’d bite someone just to see what would happen.

She was already leaning across the table, staring at his sketchpad like it belonged to her.

“Looks like you're about to set the page on fire” She added.

Nikolai blinked again.

“You're new” She bluntly said “I’m Lucy. I sit on the opposite side of the room with Sigma , my friend. Also because I hate sunlight. It brings out my freckles. But I got bored today. You looked like you might die. So I came over.”

Nikolai just stared, his posture stiffening. “Sigma…?

“You’re Nikolai” She continued. “I asked Sigma. He said you’re smart and you’re in his history class but also sad. And avoidant.” She paused before sighing “He also said you’ve been dramatically avoiding him all morning. And he’s been sulking about it.” She tilted her head. “Because you broke his heart.”

Nikolai flinched, and Lucy saw it.

Her grin dropped just a little. Not all the way, but enough.

“Look” She said, voice quieter now but no less sharp, “I don’t know what happened, and I don’t care if you’re going through it or if you’re just emotionally constipated, but…”

He blinked.

“Sigma’s nice. And you were rude.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, watching his expression like she was dissecting him with her gaze. “He doesn’t really talk to people. Sure, he’s in student council, but he doesn’t trust easily. And for whatever reason, he likes you. Like from the moment he saw you. So if you’re gonna torch that bridge, do it with some dignity, not like a kicked dog sulking in the corner.”

Her words hit like darts. Quick. Direct. Accurate.

Nikolai looked down again at his page. His pencil had pressed too hard, causing a dent on the paper. His breathing was quieter now, but still uneven. His heart wasn’t racing anymore, it was just… tired.

Lucy sighed dramatically and slumped forward until her chin was touching the table. “God, you’re exhausting. You look like a Victorian orphan and draw like you’ve seen hell. Why are you even in this class?”

He didn’t answer.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Be mysterious. Brooding is a little cliché, but I’ll allow it.”

Then, softer, almost an afterthought.

“Still… your art’s not bad.”

He glanced at her, cautious.

Lucy stared back, this time without the bite. Her eyes weren’t mocking now. Just watchful. Curious.

“Next time you feel like crashing out” She added, “maybe at least warn people. Sigma looked like someone had stepped on his heart.”

That did it.

Nikolai’s stomach twisted, shame rising like bile. He gripped the pencil tightly until his fingers ached. His voice was low. Hoarse almost.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I know.” Lucy shrugged. “But you did. So fix it.”

He didn’t answer.

Lucy leaned back in her chair with a sigh, then reached over and took a second pencil from Nikolai’s case. She started sketching on the corner of his page without asking.

“Dude” He muttered, watching the pencil move on the paper. 

“Relax. I’m improving it.” Her strokes were quick and clean, sharp details were drawn in the negative space he’d left behind. She sketched something strange and ethereal, a flower blooming from the side of the chaos. “Balance. Every work needs it.”

Nikolai stared at it. Then at her.

And for the first time in the morning, he exhaled.

Not fully. Not healed. Not okay.

But the panic… softened.

Like her strange, biting presence had poked a hole in the pressure. Just enough to breathe.

After a few minutes of silence and Lucy sketching in the negative space of his chaos, she sat back with a sigh.

“Well, that was my good deed for the week.” She added a little detail on the paper before sliding the pencil across the table toward him like she was done babysitting. “You owe me, Victorian Ghost Boy.”

Nikolai blinked. “For what?”

“For not letting you spiral into a black hole and die in front of everyone. That would’ve made my day awkward.”

He didn’t laugh, but his lips twitched. A little.

Lucy smirked like she noticed.

Then she stood, brushed the creases from her skirt, and leaned closer, just for a second, and her voice dropped lower than before.

“Just think about what I said.”

Nikolai didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat felt tight again, but in a different way this time. Like something hot and guilty was crawling up from his chest.

Lucy didn’t wait for a reply. She just turned on her heel and walked back to her side of the room, braids bouncing with each step.

She slid smoothly into the seat next to Sigma without a word.

Nikolai watched from across the room. He watched Sigma’s head lift slightly, his shoulders tensing in the subtle way only someone paying close attention would notice.

Lucy said something. Sigma nodded, eyes low.

And then, without even trying to hide it, he looked over.

Right at Nikolai.

It wasn’t sharp or bitter. It wasn’t cold like it should’ve been.

It was…. Soft .

Nikolai looked down again.

His hand clenched around the pencil. It pressed into his skin.

He wanted to scream. Cry. Vanish. Rip something from his chest and throw it against the wall so he wouldn’t have to carry it anymore.

Instead, he stayed seated. Silent. Still.

He stared down at his sketch, his own chaotic lines now mixed with Lucy’s strange and gentle addition. A flower blooming from the corners.

He didn’t know what it meant.

But he couldn’t look away.

And for the rest of the class, he didn’t draw again. He just sat there, heart pounding, his brain in a tangled mess of thoughts.

He didn’t even hear the bell when it rang.

Only when chairs scraped the floor and students began collecting their things did he realise. He packed slowly. His hands fumbled. His breath caught every time he thought about standing, walking, and passing Sigma’s desk.

He didn’t want to.

He wasn’t ready.

Lucy didn’t look at him when she left. Neither did Sigma.

But Nikolai looked.

And that made it worse.

Nikolai gripped his bag and walked out without a word.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t thinking about God or school or grades or even his mother’s voice in his head.

All he could think about was how badly he’d hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.

…

As the bell rang, the room thinned out fast. Students gathered their portfolios and rushed for lunch, trailing noise and footsteps behind them.

Sigma stayed. Quietly packing away his materials with Lucy, who still had her sketchbook open, doodling what looked like a mess of vines overtaking a human heart. She wasn’t looking at him, but she was aware of him.

When he finally zipped his bag and turned to leave, her voice stopped him.

“You okay?”

He hesitated. “Yeah.”

She snorted. “Lie again, but with more effort this time.”

Sigma’s hands tightened around the strap of his bag. He didn't turn. “I’m fine, Lucy.”

“You’re not” She said, gently. “But okay.”

It was her version of backing off. 

She stood too, folding her sketchbook under her arm. “He looked like he was going to cry. Or vomit. Maybe both. He’s messed up.”

Sigma didn’t answer.

“But he’s not evil.” she added. “You get that, right?”

“He’s not messed up...” Sigma muttered.

Lucy sighed and started to walk past him, brushing close enough that her braid swayed against his arm.

“Don’t disappear too far into your head, angel boy. It’s gross there.” Her voice was teasing, but not unkind.

He glanced over, finally. She offered a faint smile, then slipped out the door.

He followed, stepping into the hallway where students passed in waves, some yelling, some laughing, some completely unaware of the quiet ache pulsing in his chest.

He was heading toward the staircase when it happened.

A body turned the corner at the same time he did, and the two collided, not hard, but enough to jolt him off balance.

“Oh, sorry! I was-”

Then he looked up.

Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Perfect posture. Outfit dark as usual. A few strands of his hair fell into his eyes.

Fyodor didn’t step back. If anything, he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to decide whether Sigma was worth noticing.

“Oh.” Fyodor said in that soft voice of his. “Sigma.”

Sigma swallowed. “Hi, Fyodor.”

“You look…” Fyodor’s gaze swept over him. “Distracted.”

“I’m just going to lunch.”

Fyodor offered a faint smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “You always say that. Even when you’re clearly not.”

Something about the way he said it made Sigma’s stomach twist.

He looked away. “I need to go...”

Fyodor didn’t stop him. He only stepped aside with a little wave of his fingers.

“Don’t let yourself get too emotional, Sigma. That’s how people get hurt.”

Sigma’s chest tightened.

He walked past without another word, his grip on his bag tightened. He didn’t look back, but he could feel Fyodor’s eyes on his back like lasers. 

When he turned the corner, he finally exhaled.

And wondered how the day had became a mess.