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TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 13: ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴡ/ ʏᴏᴜ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ fluff, suggestive, angst, possessive and disturbing behaviours, heavy dillemmas | words: 8.7k

➛ ao3 | spotify (note: slow love by tender is vibesss | main menu

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.

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