It was like something out of a dream, seeing Nikolai again.
Though John wasn't sure if the dream was one of the gentle, beautiful kind, or the opposite. It had become hard to tell as of late.
There he stood in the foyer of the flat John had found to hide in, the warm brown of his eyes shining honey-gold under the shoddy lighting. John couldn't remember if the last time he saw Nikolai the other man had looked as tired as he did now.
"What are you doing here?" John asked after too long, though the answer was obvious.
"I have been searching for you."
I am the only one who could find you.
The man didn't need to say it for John to know. The way Nikolai tilted his head, eyes full of sorrow, was enough. John's hands clenched into fists to stop them from shaking.
"Don't call me that," he bit out, taking a step back as Nikolai took one forward. Somehow he was simultaneously too far and too close, somewhere John could almost give himself the mercy of falling into him but still shrank away in fear of staining Nikolai's hands with the grime and blood that drenched his own.
His back hit the wall. A low whine came from his throat before he could clamp it down and to his shame he felt the prick of tears in his eyes as Nikolai hushed him gently, the other man's hand settling on the side of his neck.
"You are okay, John," he murmured. "We are okay." Blunt nails scratched the hair at the base of John's skull. The gentle motion made shivers wrack down his spine, drawing another low sound from deep in his chest.
Trapped between peeling tapestry and Nikolai's body, John wasn't sure whether to snarl and throw Nikolai off him or shatter and let him gather the pieces.
In the end the choice was made in his stead when Nikolai slowly, so slowly, drew him into his arms. His hands burned like a brand on the bare skin of John's back where one of them slipped under his shirt to hold him close.
He was loathe to admit just how much the realisation of how long it had been since gentle hands had touched him frightened him.
In the wake of it John let Nikolai bear his weight when his knees grew weak, his hands grasping the back of Nikolai's worn jacket in a desperate attempt to find some sort of tether.
Chapped lips brushed his hairline in a fleeting kiss, the rasp of stubble on his skin sharp and real enough to have him muffling a sudden sob on Nikolai's shoulder.
"I am here, John," Nikolai whispered. His grip was almost as desperate as John's was when he lowered them both to the floor and pulled John to his lap.
He took refuge in the warm expanse of Nikolai's chest and hid his face in the hollow of his collar. His breath hitched around the lump in his throat as salty tears left itching tracks on his cheeks. "M'- m'sorry."
Almost immediately Nikolai hushed him again. "No need for apologies," he said quietly against the crown of John's head. "We will figure it out."
He wiped the tears with a soft hand and pressed a kiss to John's brow. "Rest now."
John couldn't find it in himself to refuse now that Nikolai was there with him.
He had been tired for so long.
