Today's Sigma Is: Praising(?) Nikolai

TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8: ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪꜱᴇ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ cw: suggestive, angst, mild fluff | words: 5.5k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu | discord (18+)

Soft.

Something feels so soft, so comfy—warmth.

Nikolai frowns as his consciousness is slowly fading in. His body is strained and heavy but he fixes his arm, hugging the pillow a little closer as he leans his head back against the warm cushion. The quilt is strangely velvety this time, as if he is not lying on the floor, but rather a mattress.

Hold on.

He does not remember laying on a mattress. He does not remember having another pillow to hug and cuddle with. His sleep for the past several weeks has been uncomfortable—he is practically training himself to be mummified and prepared for a coffin sleep.

His eyes snap open. What he sees is the fabric of one of his sleeveless shirts covering a body—a female body. His face is directly in front of a mound. Faint pink bleeds onto his face when he starts to realise what is happening. Panicked, Nikolai gets up from his position.

A gasp. Maybe two—coming from both of you.

“A-Ah—!” You wince slightly, flinching at his abrupt movement. You rub your eyes, lifting your body a little bit from the mattress. “Kolya… good morning…” Your voice is dreamy and Nikolai finally has a good look on you. You are wearing his sleeveless shirt, with a pair of shorts—that he had to buy two weeks ago for you since you cannot fit his pants—and your body is draped with his sweater jacket.

Nikolai swallows hard as he feels scorching hotness crawling all over his insides, coating his heart with flusters.

“Are you okay? You’re…” You scoot closer and although his heart is shouting at him to lean back, to avoid you, Nikolai stays. Your hand reaches up to his cheek. “You’re red… Are you still tipsy?”

Tipsy, yes! Foggy memories come rushing in and Nikolai can vividly remember drinking with Viktor last night. He can see the vision of him chugging whiskey straight from the bottle. This is embarrassing—very shameful on his part! He thought his blood basically runs on vodka as its gasoline and yet he got too drunk to even control himself from laying down next to you for the night.

“No, I’m…” Nikolai holds your wrist, eyes gazing at your figure fast. He feels his saliva choking his throat when he sees the shape of your breasts—and he finds his breath to be hitched away when he catches a glimpse of your nipples through the fabric of his shirt.

God… Your body sweat is practically seeping into his clothes.

Nikolai swallows hard as he tries to look away. He averts his gaze but somehow the image is still lingering as a fading vision in his eyes. He scrambles to grab the blanket close to his crotch, hiding his stiffening boner. 

This is so not a good time at all. But his body is betraying him—as always. 

He takes a deep breath. “Did I do anything to you last night? Inappropriate things?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t lie to me. Did I do bad things to you?” His voice hardens. 

“You… You, uhm, just laid down and then you started to talk about killing Viktor—”

“I’ll really do that.”

“No, no. Let’s not kill him. He’s your friend.” You reply quickly. “And then you talked about this… Fedya guy. Said he’s the one putting you in prison.”

Nikolai shuts his lips. He brings his hand to his face, regretfully gripping his head. His Pandora’s box has shattered, ironically from his own conflicted mind. He holds his riddles close to himself, they were not meant to be figured out and yet he hands them to you when his sober mind is barely steering himself.

“You said you wanna go to St. Petersburg too…” Your hand slowly trails to hold his, thumb rubbing his fingers, seeping little ounces of comfort. “… to kill him.”

Nikolai’s irises shiver, as if they are also seeking the right path to focus on—everywhere but your body, that is. He returns your grip—the coldness of your hand is not enough to harmonise his tense fire. Fire in his heart, the fire of his loins. He needs to hold more, like last night. Nikolai attempts to speak but all that leaves his mouth is just a mangled string of ‘I’ and ‘uh’. His tongue is pushing back against his heart’s desire to tell you, to spill everything that has happened to him for the past eight years.

He continues to stare at your face—your presence is strangely illuminating, or perhaps that is his tipsy thought. Perhaps his eyes are still seeing things, as you are contrasting this dull and sombre bedroom. It is not your skin or your clothes that mimic a flower in the middle of a graveyard. It is just your tender touch on his skin and sugary whispers of ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay.’ while your gaze is beaming sympathy towards him.

Sympathy—Dear devil, he hates that.

“I…” Nikolai grasps your wrist. He rambles quickly, words uttered without his brain scrutinising them. “I need to talk to you. Viktor won’t understand it. Maybe you would. I don’t even trust it. You don’t look like you would understand me. But… I don’t know, I just… really, really need your… opinion, sort of. Listen. Hear me well. Freedom—No, that’s not right. My life— life— I’ve been trying to— to free— Fuck, shit—” A sharp inhale. “I-I wanna be—”

“Nikolai, Nikolai, calm down.” You are holding his arms now. Nikolai bites his tongue, halting. His eyes roll up in frustration as his hand scratches his hair. He can feel his braid is already loosening and tangled through his fingers. He laments this—he is a mess, physically, mentally and sexually. His face is starting to redden as shame is omitted away, replaced by a sense of humiliation.

God, I’m pathetic.

He is over thirty years old. Anyone who is over thirty is already figuring out their life but not Nikolai, it seems. He groans lowly—utterly pathetic.

“Kolya, how about you take a shower first?” You say, tilting your head as you offer him a smile. “Go refresh your head and clean up. I’ll make breakfast for you. Hot chocolate?”

His lips open slightly before he nods slowly. “Right… You’re right… Hot chocolate is good too… I should… um, take a shower…” He mumbles. Your hand travels to his back, sending tiny shudders onto him, and you pat him lightly. Then, you get up from the bed, tugging on his arm as if you are trying to drag him to the bathroom. The turmoil on his face dissipates as he starts to chuckle.

“Come on, go shower!”

“I’m offended, doll. Am I that smelly?”

“You smell like an alcoholic.” Nikolai snorts a chortle at your response before he gets up, sighing defeatedly. “I’m gonna make breakfast, okay?” You say before you walk out of the bedroom happily. He just watches you until you disappear into the kitchen, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He looks around—the room is indeed dull and sombre. It is as if you also drag away the sparkle that makes this place bearable for him. He purses his lips—disliking this feeling that is bubbling inside. 

He shakes his head, making his way to the bathroom after grabbing his towel. He takes off his shirt, tossing it on the floor—he will wash it later anyway. Nikolai stands in front of the somewhat cracked. His nimble fingers fiddle with his braid, untying the strands before he reaches for the hairbrush on the cabinet. He brushes his hair, untangling some of it as his eyes wander around the sink and the mirror mindlessly.

He stares at his reflection.

Misery.

— ♡

You are humming in the bathroom.

After he had dressed up, Nikolai made his way to the kitchen but halted when he passed by the bathroom. You got in while he was in the bedroom after his long shower. He stops and stands in front of the bathroom door upon hearing your faint melody accompanying the rushing water from the shower.

He does not know why he stops. The rest of the house is awfully quiet, except for this small spot in the bathroom, where you are in. There is no radio or television in the house that could bring some sort of noise to uplift the gloom clouding this space. Before he kidnapped you, this place was nothing better than the prison—except, the prison was stricter and noisier. It has been weeks since you are practically living with him and he does not think he could get used to the same silence.

He pouts, scratching his damp hair in frustration. “What am I doing? This is so perverted.” He thinks. He is about to step back and leave but the door is pulled open abruptly from the inside.

“Woah! H-Hey—”

Nikolai wonders if he is subconsciously digging his own grave. Maybe the grave has already been dug and it is just he who refuses to submit to the earth. His eyes blink profusely, irises travel anywhere but your figure that is only covered by a towel. The fresh scent of his body wash is emitting from you dangerously. His tongue sticks out slightly, licking his own lips when he takes a good look at you.

Droplets sprinkling your skin, the small hairs at your nape are dripping with water, naked and soft thighs are close to each other, upper chest is exposed, a tiny drop of water is dripping to your cleavage.

That’s the breast you slept on last night— What the fuck.

He would be very glad to grab the shaver on the cabinet by the sink to shave every layer of his own brain right now. It really does not help at all when he starts to recall the mementos of his sleep. He still laments at the fact that he was drunk and could not control his own mouth to blabber his past to you while clinging to your body.

“Are you policing my path?” You suddenly speak with an adorable pout. “Get out of my way, please. It’s cold, it’s cold.” You say as you playfully bump your fist on his chest as if he is a wall—well, he is, frankly, a tall man.

It’s cold? I think it’s very hot right now. 

“I-I gotta use the toilet. Go away.” He attempts to make his voice harsh but it just sounds shaky. He holds your bare shoulders, pulling you out of the bathroom before he steps in and slams the door closed.

“Hey! Rude!” He hears your whine but he just stays frozen behind the door, with his hands rubbing against each other.

The feeling of your cold skin is still lingering. He brings his hands to his face, palming his cheeks.

Nikolai does not need to use the toilet at all. He just needs an outlet to sulk about his own mind. He glances at his reflection, finding the skin on his face is already reddish. He shakes his head—No, no. I am not blushing. This is because of the cold air. The breeze! The prickling cold is making me red! Darn the winter, not the girl!

He forms a fist and hits his head, grumbling. Why is he acting like a teenager who just saw boobs for the first time? Nikolai is much better than this. He has slept around multiple times—he is almost reaching his mid-30s for fuck’s sake. Once he feels his libido is peaking, he would have just gone to any red light district and had his fun there—he can just do that right now if he is this sexually frustrated.

But it does not feel right. He does not want to sleep with any other people. He surely does not want to sleep with you, for a multitude of reasons. You are supposed to be his victim, darn it. You are supposed to cower in fear, begging for your life to be spared. You are supposed to feed into his sadism, not turn him into a mush of flustered flesh. If he were to have a basement, you should’ve rotted in there. But no, you are not. You are roaming around his house freely now, sleeping on his bed, wearing his clothes, using his things, touching him, holding him, hugging him.

What kind of victim does all that? To a horrible man, no less. Are you the one who is being imprisoned or is he?

A few knocks shock Nikolai out of his thoughts. Your voice is calling him out from the outside. 

“Kolya? Kolya, are you alright in there? Do you want laxatives?”

“N-No. No, what the hell?” Nikolai replies back, swallowing a chuckle from erupting. “G-Go away. Sit at the table and eat your breakfast.” He says, shooing you.

“Okay, okay. But don't be embarrassed with me if you need anything—”

Nikolai opens the door, jolting you upon seeing him. You grin at him heartily. He snorts scornfully. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” He says.

“Are you implying that you do need laxatives?”

“No! I don’t need shit pills.” He groans, making you spew a short laugh. He shakes his head before walking to the kitchen as you trail him closely.

On the dining table, there is already a stack of pancakes being served. Nikolai nudges the stack with a fork that you have prepared, amazed by how fast you could make them. Or perhaps it was him who took too long in the shower. Nikolai sits at the table, across from you. He watches you take two pancakes and drizzle them with honey. He thinks it is quite a waste of time to put sauces and toppings on the pancake, so he just eats his own portion plain.

“Is it good?” You ask and he nods. You smile before you continue eating. Your head is tilting left and right, a clear image of your joy.

“Why are you so happy?” Nikolai asks grumpily.

“A lot of things.”

“Such as?”

“You.” Nikolai’s eyes glance at you for that answer. Your hand shyly slither on the table, reaching his own. And his fingers wrap around you instinctively.

“What do you mean by that, doll?” He murmurs and you lean forward a bit.

“Well, for instance, you finally sleep on the bed.” You say and those words once again bring crimson to his face. “I know how uncomfortable you are sleeping on the couch. I mean, you did change your place to sleep on the floor. It does not make it better and I feel a little guilty to see you go through nights like that. So…” You exhale, finding the correct words as your thumb is rubbing against his hand. “So, even if you were drunk last night, having you slept on the bed comfortably made me happy.”

“About that.” Nikolai quickly replies. “I-I won’t do that again. Even if I’m drunk, I’ll try not to sleep with you—”

“No, I don’t mind.”

Please don’t do this to me.

You tilt your head, gaze glimmering. “I don’t mind having you on the bed with me. You’re not liking the couch and you're a very… tall and big guy. The bed is the best place for you to sleep on. Besides, it is yours.”

Nikolai sighs, throwing his head back. “No, you’re not understanding. It’s not the bed I worry about. It’s you.”

“Me?” You blink confusedly. “You did not do anything weird to me last night.”

“Yeah, but I…” Nikolai purses his lips. Damn it all—why is it so hard for him to talk about it? His other hand reaches to his lips, caressing his lower face. The one that is holding yours is still refusing to let go. He takes a deep breath.

“Fuck. Listen here, doll. I know you think that I didn’t do weird things but I hugged you and touched you. And you’re okay with that because—” A pause. “Because you like me.” He stares at you. “But I don’t like you back. Not in that way, not in any way.”

“But… you said otherwise last night.”

The whole world can crumble onto him and Nikolai would be thankful for his death. His heart is beating so fast that it will leap out at any second. The realisation comes to doom him even deeper.

“No, that wasn’t me speaking. I wasn’t sober. I wasn’t thinking.” He defends himself quickly. He could not even remember what things he had confessed to you and he only hoped that his mouth did not jabber too much for his own sake. He catches a glimpse of your sorrow across your face. His molars clash with each other, biting his own tongue.

Guilty.

“I don’t mean that,” Nikolai says, gripping your hand tighter. You frown slightly.

“You keep hopping from one opposing sentence to another… Which one is it?”

“I don’t know.” He mutters. “Everything has been a fuckin’ mess since forever.” He sighs before he palms his face, lamenting. As he is staring into the nothingness of his hand, he suddenly feels your hand retracting from his grip. A desperation tingles within his fingertips when each of his fingers is clenching the air, hoping to feel your skin again. He lifts his face, seeing you sipping your drink.

His lips utter a silent word, pleading to you to hold him again. But you could not hear his silent plea, so he swallows his wish—just like how he always does.

Nikolai stares at the table.

Silence.

Silence.

He takes a deep breath.

“Several years ago, I joined a global terrorism organisation.”

You halt, eyes widen.

“I didn’t know the true extent of the plan. I knew all of us in the organisation were manipulated by the founder itself. I knew that reaching the main goal of the whole plan would bring death to a lot of people and nations. It was pure evil and I thought that it was worth supporting.” He purses his lips. “Such evil will separate a man from normality and morality. It will push him to his freedom. That’s what I thought.”

“I killed so many people. I caused so many deaths. And I understand how wrong they were. I am very well aware of the evil I commit, and I feel just as guilty as any sane human would. You are probably wondering why would I kill if I know very well I will feel guilty about it, despite morality telling me how wrong I have lived. Morality, my love, is a mere conditioning. We are bound to it, the moment we are born. It is only a matter of time before the bird realises itself to have lived in a cage. It is up to the creature itself to stay living in it or pry and break free.”

“What are you talking about..?” You mutter.

He grabs your hand, gripping it. His mismatched eyes bore straight at yours.

“Freedom, little dove. I’m talking about free will. The power to make a choice for yourself from yourself, without influences from all over. I am not going to live like a poor secretary who is merely a tool for the system that is utterly meaningless, nothing good to live for. Morals, empathy and feelings are nothing but hindrances.” His grip gets tighter. “Viktor said that I’m gonna end up killing myself but that’s—” He takes a sharp inhale of breath. “That’s exactly what it is. The free will to make a choice to live is also to die. And you know what? I seek the freedom of my soul more than any kind of joy—and death, little dove, is the only option for me to be truly free.”

“You’re harming yourself—”

“I fucking do! Don’t you listen to what I said?” He suddenly says loudly, surprising you.

“I listen, I listen!” You reply with the same tone, higher. “Don’t get angry with me, please.” Nikolai presses his lips together, murmuring an apology. “If happiness isn’t something you want, wouldn’t that be more painful for you? You are already trying to reach something so… high.” You say carefully.

“What’s the difference? My pursuit is true.”

“I know. But you do say that free will is the power to make a choice without any influence… So while you are trying to seek it, why not… Why not be happy as well? Why torture yourself? You can freely make a choice about it, yes?” You say. “Sometimes joy can make people forget about their misery. It’s true for me.”

“I am not indulging myself in such shackling feelings like happiness.”

“But you are miserable, no?”

Your words are quick to shut him down. You offer him a solemn smile. “Have you ever felt happy, Nikolai?”

Nikolai looks at you and then his eyes travel elsewhere. He tries to dig through his memories. Yes, he does feel happy sometimes—when he broke into Meursault with ease, when Olga gave him free food for his birthday, when he received extra payment from Viktor, when his target did exactly what he expected, when he made you carry his heavy laundry basket, when you wear his clothes, when you made him hot drinks as he was about to work late at night, when you were visibly surprised at the amount of debt your father owed, when you squeal cheerfully after he bought you Olga’s chicken pie for dinner, when you—

Yes. He does feel happy about small, unimportant things.

Nikolai frowns, trying to think again. No, there is no way he just convinced himself to feel pleased about such events. He is better than that.

“Maybe… when my, um, friend… understood what I meant when I talked to him about this.” He says.

“Fedya guy?” You quickly figure out the ‘friend’ and Nikolai cringes before he hesitantly nods.

“His name is Fyodor Dostoyevsky. He was… the founder of the organisation I joined. Basically a terrorist like me but worse.” He pauses. “Ironically, he also understands me. He understands what I seek. But… I knew that the short conversation we shared was merely manipulation. What I did during… the last phase of my part of the plan was controlled by something else. It is complicated but I wasn’t exactly… doing things fully of my own free will.” Nikolai sighs loudly. “Recalling back feels pretty dumb to me. I was supposed to die during the plan. But I used my ability to escape death. And now I’m looking at the tragedy from different views. I wasn’t ‘dying’ with the scream of my free will. I ‘died’… being controlled by something else somewhere. It’s pathetic. A little part of my heart knows that I was not free when I supposedly ‘died’ that time.”

“And you want to go to St. Petersburg to kill him…” You mutter. “You said he put you in prison. And now you just said he had manipulated you… Is it revenge that you seek?”

Nikolai suddenly bursts out a laugh. “Revenge? No fucking way.” He pants slightly before sighing. “No, no. It’s not something as cheap as revenge. No. I’ve always wanted to kill him. I think that this… attachment I have on him will be a doom on my part. My feelings are hindering me. It's brainwashing. Killing him will prove myself to be truly free. I just want to set it right. I am setting it right. It’s not revenge I seek. I’m freeing myself—is a better description.”

You shake your head. “Are you sure?”

“Sure of what?”

“Are you sure you’re not seeking revenge?”

“No.”

“Nikolai…”

“Fine! I’m angry, okay?” He huffs. “He literally shoved me into prison and when I left, everything I owned was stripped away and I only have my overcoat. I don’t have a house, a car or even a fake ID card. Can you imagine being free for once from a literal prison and then getting shackled again by this fucking system?” He groans and throws his body back to the chair.

“Now that is a little confusing, no? You said emotions are a hindrance and yet you are driven by anger…” You reply with a strange smile on your face.

“Some little sacrifices have to be done to achieve greater things…”

“Then, why not make an exception for joy as well?” You finally say as you hold his hand, your fingers link between his and his eyes wander towards them.

“Why are you so fixated on making me happy, huh? You don’t even know me.” He grumbles, voice shaky and uncertain.

“I think I know you better now. Maybe I cannot understand you as much as that Fyodor person understands you. But I think your pursuit of freedom is unique. And yet, it’s very… tragic. Perhaps you can call me brainwashed for thinking like this but I feel pity for you. I feel pity that you have to suffer internally like this. I don’t think I like seeing you being miserable either.” You pause before you lift your hand that is holding his. “But Nikolai, if you think that the answer to total free will is death, why not… die with a smile? Must you cry? Were those little unimportant joys you felt no better than agony?”

“You are basically suggesting that I pursue happiness. The thing I don’t wish to dwell in.”

“No. I am suggesting you to be kinder to yourself. You can try to reach freedom with… however method you are trying to do. But you can definitely do it in a less painful way, no? I care for you. I like you.” You say softly. “And… And I understand why certain things are decided by you. You don’t have to… um… return my feelings. All I want is for you to be well, even if your end goal is inevitable.”

Nikolai stays silent and both of you are left with no words exchanged. But the hands are still linked and Nikolai is starting to feel uneasy. He wants to pull away and push you out of his sight, but his body is not cooperating with his thoughts as his fingers are reluctant to let go of you and his mouth prefers to stay quiet than to yell at you to leave him alone.

He despises your response—really, he just said he will seek the freedom of his soul more than happiness. And yet you want him to pick the less painful path—enjoying the little joys. He wants to scream at that kindness, at that positiveness. But he cannot. He will not.

Screaming at you will only push you away. Anger will make you fear and you might retreat yourself into a cocoon. He has done that. He has gotten angry and yelled at you before. And he feels horrible about it.

Horrible, guilty—death is much better than seeing you sleeping in complete darkness on the couch.

His heart and head are rarely on the same page. Conflict has become a norm in his own existence. He knows what you said is right, in some ways. Happiness does decrease his pain but indulging in it will only make him betray his own codes. However, not indulging in merry is only encouraging him to submerge in his gloom. He will escape a feeling to jump into another, and what will be the end of it? How many emotions and empathy does he have to flee and dive in until he reaches liberty?

“Kolya,” Your voice breaks the silence and he looks at you. “Have your heart and head ever pointed in the same direction?”

His eyes immediately pace towards your lips.

“Maybe.”

You beam. “That’s great. Why don’t you follow them then? You know, scientifically, your body will always try to help you.” You wiggle a finger and Nikolai cackles bitterly. The heavy atmosphere is slowly fading away with that sweetness from your voice.

“They’re dangerous thoughts, that’s all…” He replies before he finishes his lukewarm chocolate drink. The poundage of discordance in him is shrinking—perhaps all the things he always wanted to say to someone have already been poured earlier, to you. Your words are much better than Viktor’s, that is for sure. Perhaps he does not really hate your response. He just hates how it adds to his own quizzes.

“You’re pretty good at listening to rambles, aren’t you?” He remarks. You giggle and it automatically tugs a tiny smile on his face.

“That’s probably because a lot of my customers rant to me, especially when they are drunk.” You reply. Nikolai scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Huh, so you’ve been treating me like old men in the bar this whole time?” He says coyly.

You gasp. “You’re not that old.”

“Uh-huh, I’m pretty sure we have about a little more than a decade of differences. It’s honestly amazing how you can keep up with whatever conversations we had earlier. I’m pretty sure you’ve been listening to worse things at the club.” He says.

“Well, I’m mature enough to know what’s right and wrong!”

Nikolai refutes back. “Now that’s exactly what a manipulated and naive young girl would say. You shouldn’t follow and interact with old dudes who are indecent and filthy in nature. Stick to the youngsters and good guys, yeah?”

“Mm-hm! Got it. I’ll stick with you.” You salute at him, jovial.

“That’s really not what I meant…” Nikolai sighs before he props his chin on his hand. “Hey, I just wanna say again, I’m sorry about last night. Whatever I talked with Viktor messed me up.”

You smile. “I told you, it’s fine. I really don’t mind if you want to sleep on the bed. I just want you to feel comfy.” You say before you grin teasingly and get up from your seat. You place your arms on the table as you bend over, leaning towards him. “And you were really comfortable last night. Especially when I play with your hair like this.”

Nikolai’s words are stuck in his throat when he feels your hand tenderly caressing his head. His hair feels soft against your fingers, albeit a little dry as he just blow-dried them earlier. The warmth is slowly coursing up to his face, down to his groin when his nose picks up your scent again. His eyes trail up, catching the sight of your lips just close to him. A small nudge upwards and he can taste them.

His head slowly tilts up. His trembling pucker ever so slightly.

“You know,” Your face turns serious as you pull away from him and walk to stand behind him, hands still on his hair. Nikolai lets out a very shaky exhale. He wants to turn, confused by your sudden move. He tries not to think of what he almost did just now.

“What are you doing, doll?”

“No, I’m really curious about your hair. Like, it seems unnaturally white but your roots… Your roots are not showing any other colour.” You say, amused and awestruck by his hair. “And it’s so soft too… Though it seems that you have some unique cut over here,” You pat his neck. “And then the hair behind it is long. You get what I mean?”

“I guess so, sweetheart.” He says.

“Is your white hair a part of your superpower?” You ask curiously.

“Not at all. They’re natural.”

“Can I ask something a little sensitive?”

“… Keep your curiosity to the hair on my head and not anywhere else, little doll.”

“I don’t mean that!” You protest, hitting his shoulder. “I just wanna ask if they’re a result of stress…! Not— Not… your other hairs…”

Nikolai muffles his laugh but ultimately fails when he cackles, entertained by your panicked voice. He coughs a bit, trying to stop his chortle. “No, I don’t think they’re from stress… I’ve had them since I was a kid.” NIkolai replies as he looks up at your flustered face. “There are weird, unnatural things happening all over the world, doll. My hair is nothing compared to them.”

“Right… Right, that’s… um… good to know.” You say as your hands drop to his shoulders. Nikolai smiles warmly at you, bringing heat to your inside as you look away. “Can I clean the table?” You ask meekly.

“Yeah, go on. I have to do some work anyway—”

“Hey,” You hold each of his arms with your hands. “What about… taking a rest today? You’ve been working on God Eye—”

“Eyes of God.”

“Same thing. Anyway, you’ve been working on it for nights and days. And I don’t think you should stress yourself with those things today. Just for a day, relax yourself.” You say. “Maybe you can do the dishes? Or read some books? Oh, I know! What about a trip to the laundrette?” You ask with a broad smile.

“Laundrette, huh? You’re draining my pocket.” He pouts. “But alright…”

“Great! Give me ten minutes to wash the dishes. You can go gather your dirty clothes, especially last night’s clothes.” You order and Nikolai just nods, watching you gather the dirty plates and mugs and walk to the sink. He just observes you doing the dishes while he is sitting like a statue at the table, leering at your figure and face.

Savour each moment, he is going to lose this anytime soon.

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Sometimes self care is putting your silly little clown in silly little outfits

I AM INCREDIBLY SORRY FOR POSTING LIKE ONCE A FEW MONTHSSS AGH HAVE A NIKOLAI!!! its not the best but thats ok!! :3 also it was my birthday 3 days ago yippee!! ^_^

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Merry Crisis everyone!

Here's a fyolai doodle

Nikolai doing some circus tricks!!

So, I've been taking circus classes for about seven years now. The aerial apparatus shown is called a lyra, basically a big hoop attached at the top with one or two spansets (I prefer two). The reference images are taken from a performance I did a couple months ago to the song Bernadette by IAMX, and I wanted to draw nikolai doing some of my favorite tricks from it.

Please don't use the reference pics without my permission. Also, lmk if I should do more of these :>

A LIGHT NOT FAR AWAY FROM US

synopsis: it's a restless night for both you and nikolai, which makes room for late night talks—maybe the two of you have more in common than initially thought.

content: ch. 5 of icarus falls - main navi / wc: 8.1k

Restlessness is not what you thought would accompany you tonight.

The sound of your bedsheets rustling was becoming increasingly tiresome at this point. It feels like the hundredth time that you are shifting to the opposite side, hoping that, this time, it would be the more comfortable spot—though you're sure you already have your answer.

You don't usually have trouble sleeping at night, but something unseen is bothering you, like an invisible force compelling you to stay awake.

Frustrated by your futile attempts to fall asleep, you reluctantly leave the warmth and comfort of your bed, dragging your feet on the wooden floor as you head to your front door to seek solace in the calming night air. You put your slippers on and open the door, expecting an empty balcony at this hour—only to see a certain someone already standing on the balcony with his arms folded on the railing, gazing into the distance, looking at nothing in particular.

"Nikolai?"

Startled, Nikolai turns to face you with a flicker of surprise in his tired eyes.

"I'm sorry for spooking you," you say, the corners of your lips turning upwards at his reaction. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replies with nonchalance.

Taking in Nikolai's exhausted appearance and red eyes, it becomes evident to you that maybe he was also struggling to sleep.

"I couldn't sleep for some reason, so I just wanted some fresh air," you explain to him, moving closer to stand beside him on the balcony, mirroring his stance and resting your hands on the railing like he's doing.

He seems taken aback at your response as if he didn't expect that to come out of your mouth. "I couldn't sleep either."

It's like your presence is making Nikolai feel on edge, evident from how he isn't facing you and the tight grip of his hands on the railing. Wanting him to ease up, you place a gentle hand on his back. “Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah! Don't worry about me," he reassures with a laugh, finally meeting your eyes.

There was a magnetic pull, the way his eyes locked onto you and your appearance. It's hard for him to tear his gaze away like usual when his eyes trail and notice how you look this flawless, even when you're just wearing a simple loose t-shirt and pajama pants. He loathes that even for a second he liked seeing you like this, your bare-faced look with tousled hair.

Stop it.

He scolds himself internally and forcefully turns his head the other way, realizing it's too risky to keep staring.

You pull your hand away from his back, returning to rest on the railing when Nikolai shifts away from your touch. "Don't you love the smell of summer night air? There's just something about it that's unique and refreshing," you say, looking at him. "I guess it isn't really summer anymore though.. since fall is practically here. The weather changes so quickly, don't you think?"

He nods and remains silent but listens as you continue to speak aimlessly, your voice filling the void.

"It's still summer in my heart, though," you add, a grin forming on your lips as you run your fingers through your hair to smooth it a little. "I find it hard to decide what my favorite season is. As much as I adore summer, sometimes the heat gets to me and I can't wait for winter to start. Every season is charming and unique in its own way, so I can't pick one over the other."

A soft, almost wistful smile forms on Nikolai's lips while he listens to you sharing your thoughts. "I like winter," he confides. "I personally think it's the best season."

"Oh, I never would've guessed that!" you laugh with surprise at his unexpected response, your hands retreating close to your chest again in delight. "Do you like the cold?"

He nods almost immediately. "It's familiar to me. Where I'm from, it's always cold, so winter feels especially comforting."

A grin pulls at your lips with his choice to concede. It encourages you to go on. "Now I can't wait for winter to arrive, just so I can see the pure joy on your face."

Your remark elicits a laugh from Nikolai, a sound that quickens your heartbeat and brings a subtle warmth to grow in your cheeks. It felt like a rare chance to talk to Nikolai like this, so you made the most of it with what you could. These infrequent moments of connection were precious to you, and you wanted to seize every one of them and hold them close.

"Maybe we can go ice skating when winter comes around," you propose to him impulsively, heart racing with spontaneity. "I've always wanted to learn how to ice skate."

"And what makes you think I know how to skate?" he retorts, a teasing edge to his voice. Yet, there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, his expression softening a bit at your suggestion, momentarily replaced by one of intrigue instead.

"I just.. thought it would be fun if we could try it together, that's all." you giggle, warmth blooming in your chest at the mere thought.

"Yeah, thought you would say that," he slyly says before his gaze returns to the starry night sky.

Your eyes follow his. "Aren't they pretty?" you ask him, referring to the stars that twinkle like tiny beacons in the dark, tilting your head in fascination.

His attention shifts from the sky to his own hands in front of him, which rest on the balcony railing. "Yeah.. whatever," he shrugs with disinterest.

A thought pops into your head, nearly making you laugh out loud. "Do you think wishing on stars makes dreams come true?"

"Are you kidding? Of course, they don't. Maybe if you're five," he responds, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I was just curious to see what you would say," you giggle lightheartedly at his skeptical reply. "It doesn't hurt to hope though, right?"

That couldn't be more false.

He thinks you must be blissfully unaware of the double-edged sword that is hope. The emotional investment, the attachment that is linked with hope—they all contribute to and amplify the hurt and heartache of unfulfillment that follows. It's a painful reality he's already come to face, though he supposes you wouldn't know anything about that.

"What's your biggest wish?" Nikolai asks you, deterring the current topic.

You ponder for a moment before answering, reflecting on his question in the stillness of the night. "To be wanted.. no, needed. To have someone in my life who understands and loves me unconditionally," you reply, looking at him with a smile. "I think we can agree that everyone wants that, right?"

Nikolai nods half-heartedly as he absorbs your words, more so as a tepid response rather than an earnest sharing of sentiment.

"What's yours?" you ask him.

"What's my what?" he shoots back at you, confused by your question.

"Your biggest wish?" you pout jokingly. "I told you mine, so tell me yours!"

"Oh," he sighs, slightly overwhelmed by your encouragement and the playful spark in your eyes. He felt as if he'd been detached from society for years and didn't know how to interact or talk to people like a normal person anymore.

Actually, he isn't sure if that's ever been easy for him anyway.

"I don't have one."

Your lips press together at his response as disappointment flits across your face. But you change the topic, feeling as if he'd appreciate that. "Nikolai, I saw this park nearby on my drive back from work today.. and I think it would give us a great view of the stars," your voice turns quieter with nervous anticipation as the next words leave you. "Do you want to come with me?"

Nikolai shakes his head.

He doesn't really feel like going anywhere right now, not with you especially. So when he hears shuffling beside him and sees you stepping back inside your apartment, a lightweight sigh of relief escapes him as he realizes that you probably went back to sleep.

But a few minutes later, he hears your door creak and open again. He sees you emerge, changed out of your previous sleepwear.

"Where are you going?" he asks you, confused. A sense of curiousness swims in the depths of his light-colored irises, shadowed by a hint of something deeper.

"I want to go myself," you respond to him, your voice growing fainter with each step you take toward the stairs.

Panic.

"Are you crazy? It's not safe for you to be out alone this late at night," his voice turns stern with no care for the other sleeping neighbors as he watches you walk further down the steps, half-expecting that you will turn back at any second.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes piled into a mountain of dread that turned more unclimbable as time continued to pass. It was uncomfortable—the sensation of a certain unease that claws at his chest the longer he waits. Yet amid this feeling, an opportunity opened up for him. He realizes that if anything were to happen to you, it would no longer be of his concern—it wouldn't be his problem anymore, and he would be free of the burden that has begun to weigh so heavily on him.

But just as quickly as that surfaces, another hits him like a cold wave—you aren't coming back. A sort of alarm washes over him, so in a sudden rush, he hurriedly heads back into his own apartment to put on his shoes. He feels the roughness of the soles beneath his fingertips before he frantically pulls on a jacket, snatching up his keys and wallet just in case as an afterthought.

"Fuck.." His frustration was clear as he made it down the stairs, the irritation manifesting in the furrowed lines above his brows and the tense clench of his fists. He didn't have to follow you, but if he didn't, that didn't feel right either—the idea of letting you go out alone gnawing at his conscience.

He wants to be strong and unyielding, to resist the pull of his feelings and the impulses that guide him as an insurgence to rid the soul of its hell. But it's as if his heart and mind are engaged in a relentless tug-of-war, each vying for control over his actions and decisions. His want to stand firm and resolute seemed futile when his own emotions betrayed him at every turn, leaving him feeling ambivalent and astray from his own self.

He reluctantly follows you, scuffling with internal clashing desires, torn between the urge to resist and the unknown fervor brewing within him.

Like a moth disoriented by a flame, he follows.

— ✦

The moon embellishes the dark velvet sky with nothing but the rhythmic tapping sound of footsteps against the pavement echoing in the air, a slight breeze caressing your face as you stroll.

"I didn't tell you to come, you know," you turn to Nikolai who is now walking beside you, accompanying your walk with his hands buried in the pockets of his black jacket.

Honestly, you were thankful for his sudden change of heart and that you hadn't made it that far before he caught up to you. You were glad that he had decided to join you in the end because even if you didn't want to admit it, you didn't want to venture out alone in the first place.

"I didn't think you would actually go out by yourself." A low grumble comes from next to you, breaking the peaceful quiet.

You bit the inside of your cheek at his words, teeth bitterly pressed down to stifle a reaction and hold back a response, even if you weren't completely sure of how you would respond to that either.

So what if you did? Why did it matter to him if you went alone?

It made little sense to you. You couldn't understand why he would be irritated over this when he made the decision to follow you himself, a swirling mix of frustration and confusion brewing within you at the thought. It feels like no matter what you do, you are blamed for only doing what you want to do. He was under no obligation to accompany you. Yet, you still think he was kind for doing so anyway, even if it feels tainted by the unspoken tension.

Most of the walk was spent in silence, which surprisingly suited you just fine this time. Silence as in no words were being spoken, only the sound of the dead fiery-colored leaves that had started to fall from the trees crunching beneath your feet.

However, the silence did bother someone else.

It didn't go unnoticed to Nikolai that the look on your face was the same one from earlier in the day. It didn't go unnoticed that this silence was just like before, and he didn't understand why it bothered him despite it being a good thing for him. If you don't speak to him, he doesn't have to listen to you rambling nonstop. If you don't speak to him, he doesn't have to go through hell and back trying to decide whether or not he should respond to you or not. All of these are good things that he should want.

But he can't focus on anything when that same feeling of suffocation arises within his chest again, and it drives him to do something about it quickly to alleviate it.

The two of you came to a stop by a vending machine, its bright light casting a glow that illuminates both of your faces in the darkness.

"Do you want anything?" Nikolai asks you while he's reaching to pull out his wallet from his pocket.

You get closer to the vending machine and peer at all the drink options offered, a strawberry fizzy drink catching your eye. "This one please," you request as you point towards the glass.

He inserts a bill into the machine, the acceptor buzzing as it eats his money. He then pushes a button for the strawberry drink you chose, along with a melon cream soda.  

You smile to yourself when you notice his choice of drink. You don't know why, but you find his drink options cute. He could pick something like coffee or something bland, but he seems to prefer sweeter flavors.

Nikolai collected both of the drinks once they fell, handing you yours before continuing to walk along beside you. But he notices how you look at the can in your hands instead of cracking it open like he does.

“What’s wrong?” he asks before bringing his drink to his lips.  

“I feel bad,” you confess to him.

“Why?”

“Because you bought this for me, and I want to pay you back somehow..”

He doesn’t understand how you could feel guilty over such a simple thing. And he couldn’t decide whether it was admirable or pathetic either, though he was leaning towards the latter.

He is just confused. You always manage to find a new way to confuse or shock him, and he found it amusing above all. It wasn't like he hadn't ever felt guilty about money either, although for very different reasons. But he couldn't be concerned about something so insignificant anymore when there was a bigger issue at hand, standing right next to him.

“You don’t need to feel bad, just drink it. I already bought it for you, ‘kay?” he reassures you, an uncertain look swimming in his eyes.

A smile crept onto your lips.

It felt like a gift.

— ✦

"Guess what kind of flower this is!" your cheery voice fills the air.

"Let me take a wild guess. A white one?" Nikolai's monotone voice responds as a contrast while you're eagerly pointing to a bloom you happened to come across.

"No! Well, you're not wrong.."

Nikolai's arms are crossed while you're fascinated by the flowers that decorate the bushes. He finds it amusing that you can be so interested in something so ordinary, so trivial.

"You like flowers a lot," he states, his observation unable to stay confined in his mind, almost wanting you to say something to satiate his hidden curiosity.

"I like to care for and look after things that are delicate, that need me. It gives me a purpose," you turn to look at him as you both start walking again. "I find that whenever you have a purpose, life is more bearable."

If he was being honest with himself, Nikolai is at a loss for words. You seem so put together and have everything set in stone compared to him. You seemed to have achieved everything you wanted in life without grueling difficulty compared to him. You seem to have everything so easy compared to him.

You seem content. He wishes he could be the same.

He envies you.

The glow of the lamp lights illuminates the bench in the middle where you both return to, each footstep echoing softly in the quiet air before the two of you sit down, across from each other.

"When did you start working at that flower shop anyway?" Nikolai asks you with genuine curiosity before taking a sip of his drink, feeling a slight chill from the cold metal against his lips.

It probably wasn't a good idea to drink something this late at night, especially something sweet. But the drink wasn't as sugary as he expected it would be. Moreover, he was already awake anyway, so he found little to no harm in doing so.

And besides, this was certainly one way to kill some time.

"Only a year ago," you answer. "I was really unhappy about where I was in life but I ended up finishing my degree and graduating anyway, only to end up where I am now."

"Parents probably weren't pleased about that, I'm guessing?"

"Of course not, but why do anything at all if it doesn't make you happy?" you say, tapping your nails against the aluminum can.

Happiness.

Another putrid emotion. Why not choose freedom of the soul?

However, you seem much more open-minded compared to many other individuals he has ever met in his entire life. He had to wonder about something—if he were to enlighten you about his goals, would you accompany him on his journey? Would you understand him like he did?

No, nobody does. Nobody has before or since then, and nobody will.

He is a fool for even thinking so. But he had to admit, he was a bit astonished by your bold statement.

Extremely envious, even. Because you're stronger than him.

The words start to come out of his mouth, thinly-veiled. It didn't help that it was late either—his head getting fuzzier with each passing hour, the words flowing from his mouth with little inhibition.

"I think you're brave."

A subtle flush creeps up your cheeks, taken aback enough to stop your tapping when you hear the sudden words come out of Nikolai's mouth. "What?"

He freezes after seeing your reaction, a profound realization of what he just told you immediately settling in. It feels like time has paused for him—a moment suspended in disbelief at his own words, knowing it's too late to take anything back. There was no taking back what he had laid bare, no taking back the words that continued to come out of his mouth with no stop.

"For wanting to do your own thing, to follow your own path no matter what others around you say or think. That's a very brave thing to do, you know," Nikolai finishes off quietly, his gaze averted elsewhere as if searching for something else to direct his focus on.

Your voice is barely above a whisper as you let the sincerity of his compliment soak in. "Thank you," you shyly tell him while fiddling with your fingers before finally resting your hands in your lap. "That's the first time someone's ever told me that."

It’s impossible for him not to shift his gaze back to you as you speak softly, your voice mellow. "You weren't scared at all?" he asks you, resting his elbows on the table and crossing one of his arms over the other.

"I felt lonely, that's all," you admit in a voice more hushed, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you nervously gnaw at it.

You still do, but you didn't want to admit that to him out of shame. The humiliation that would come with doing so was something you feared, his reaction to the knowledge of it.

What would he think of you if you did?

Although recalling the events of earlier in the day, you think it's a little too late and even pointless to be worrying about that now. However, you still didn't have your answer, and you weren't sure of why you wanted it so badly either—why his opinion held so much weight.

Your eyes drift back to the star-studded sky above, which looks like a vast canvas painted with shimmering diamonds. But it's something you can't fully enjoy when a small chill creeps up on you, an elusive beauty dulled by a brisk breeze rustling the trees and passing by the both of you.

Nikolai notices you shiver. He knows you're cold.

But all he can do is grip the jacket on his frame and hold it closer to himself while looking down at the ground, where the earth seems more interesting than the unfolding situation.

He would not surrender to these feelings.

"You should tell me something about yourself too," you say with excitement bubbling in your voice to catch his attention again, but your gut signals you to back that sentence up with something else. “Only if you want to..” your words come out deliberately and carefully so as not to overstep boundaries that stretch between you.

Hesitance. Nikolai was practically hanging by a thread here.

What is he doing?

This was precarious. He should know better not to speak any further, to step further into this dangerous territory he knows he shouldn't explore. Still, he can't seem to stop himself like he normally would be able to when an unfamiliar urgency grips him to unravel his usual self-control.

"I do have one wish," he tells you, his fingers unconsciously curling around the now-empty can as if seeking comfort in its solidity, something he wishes he could possess in this moment.

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, but you nod to let him know that you're listening, undoubtedly interested in whatever he is about to admit to you.

"Freedom."

Freedom.

The word rings in your mind. It was so simple, yet it seemed so ominous.

"Freedom..?" you repeat in a way that makes it seem like a question directed back at him.

A nod confirmed it once more. "To be free from any attachments, and everything that bounds me," he reveals.

Nikolai's sudden seriousness took you by surprise. He was never one to open up about his feelings or his past, but now he’s telling you something that seems to hold importance to him, so casually at that. Maybe the two of you have reached a new level of closeness.

You've wondered about Nikolai's guarded nature and hesitance to open up about his emotions before, more times than you would like to admit. However, you never thought it would be because of such an unpredictable reason. His reluctance to share anything about himself with you could be a reflection of a deep-rooted apprehension due to this so-called freedom he was referring to. It's the earnestness with which Nikolai shares with you regarding his wish for freedom that alludes to something, but you try not to ponder on it for too long.

"Like a bird?" you ask when the thought flits across your mind like one.

He looks up at you, almost confused that you caught onto him so quickly. A hint of admiration imbues his tone as he begins to speak. "How did you know?"

"Cause birds fly freely, and that was the first thing that came to my mind when you mentioned freedom," you explain, a lilt in your voice.

"Yeah, that's precisely what I mean," he acknowledges and smiles, visibly content that you could comprehend it from his perspective.

"Aww, Nikolai, I know you so well!" you exclaim your happiness, catching the small glint in his eyes when you do so.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't expect you to understand where I was coming from," he tells you, unable to control how the corners of his lips turn upward.

"Why wouldn't I?" you sulk playfully to feign offense, causing a giggle to escape from Nikolai.

Nikolai shakes his head like he isn't sure how to respond. This whole thing was definitely a change of pace for him. Someone attempting to understand the way he thinks wasn't only rare—it was something completely unexpected.

"When did you first know that you wanted freedom?"

He feels his throat tighten at your question as if the words resisted escaping. In truth, Nikolai was far too young to be thinking of such things. But it wasn't like he had a choice given his circumstances at the time.

"At a young age," he replies regardless, his voice tinged with an unshakeable uneasiness as each syllable spills out like a reluctant confession.

What does he mean?

You had no choice but to contemplate why he felt so strongly for freedom since a young age, as he had just admitted to you. You were forced to wonder what blossoms such a strong desire in the first place.

How long has Nikolai been fighting for freedom? What exactly lies beneath his calm face?

More and more questions swirl in your thoughts, each one tugging at your curiosity and swelling an urge to understand him more deeply, to sift through his layers.

"But.. don't you think it's difficult for a bird to fly if it's been confined in a cage its whole life?" you ask gently, an ache growing in your chest at the thought of him dealing with hardships.

He feels as if everything around him crumbles when your words reach him, leaving him unsteady. "What are you trying to say?" he replies, a steely bite sneaking into his voice.

"The bird only knows what it's been surrounded by its whole life," you explain further. "You're striving to reach freedom, but what will you do when you get it? What if it's not what you had hoped for?"

In a heartbeat, Nikolai is speechless, his expression a mixture of different emotions. Your words cut deep, carving into the layers of his mind through his convictions and inscribing new ideas into it that he'd never entertained, unfurling deftly and intertwining with the beliefs he had cultivated for so long.

How dare you.

How dare you force him to rethink everything he's ever known.

To him, your innocent appearance was such an intense contrast to how effortlessly you could rake your fingers through layers of defense he'd hardened over the years, cutting into a wound that he doesn't think will ever heal. You look at him like you're peeling back each layer one by one, exposing the tears underneath that aren't meant to be seen by anyone other than himself.

He's convinced someone or something has sent you here to him to contest everything he stands for.

He doesn't know what it is, but he's afraid.

He felt like he was being cornered while clinging onto his idea of freedom, no matter how small he felt with your question that was like a dagger to his soul. Yet by feeling this way, he was only prolonging his stay like a bird stuck in its cage, the sharp, cold metal confining him inside with no release in sight.

The lack of response from Nikolai signals that maybe you said something you shouldn't have, your hands falling to grip the sides of your thighs in anxiousness. But rather than him being irritated like you expected, you notice that he only looks sad. Noticing this makes you feel so bad because it wasn't your intention to make him feel upset.

"So, you wish to be free from everything.. does that include your emotions too?" you ask, intrigued to know more and to ease some tension that started to cloud over.

"Exactly," he affirms, humming in agreement. "The mind is a cage. You'll never be truly free as long as your emotions tie you down and keep you captive," his tone softens while his eyes are still avoiding you.

A certain dread suddenly fills you, sensing something unsettling lying beneath the depth of his words.

"I guess so.." you respond, trying to understand it from his perspective for something he clearly cares a lot about. "Sometimes I wish my emotions didn't control me so much either.. I wish I didn't have to feel hurt or pain or anything like that," you breathe out, releasing a soft sigh to collect your thoughts while also making sure not to spill too much. "It's hard, isn't it?"

His head shoots back up, eyes widening as they meet your face as you continue to speak.

"But I think it's all right to feel like that occasionally because we're only human. It's natural to feel emotions and I shouldn't push myself too hard to resist against that." Your gaze trails over to him, observing the subtle shift in his demeanor.

Nikolai is still looking at you, his expression changing to one of astonishment at your words and the fact that you didn't judge him at all for what he deemed important. He wasn't sure that you could fully understand him or the complexities of what he felt. However, the absence of such judgment in regard to his goals and the thoughtful attempts you're making to try to understand him is what strikes him most, as it's something he doesn't think he's ever encountered to such an extent before in his life. Instead, you embrace the very facets of his existence, ones that he doesn't even bother to explore much himself.

You lock eyes with him, allowing you to notice a sparkle flickering in the depths of his trembling irises that you haven't seen before. Maybe it's the faint shimmer of the stars reflecting into them, or perhaps it was something else—it doesn't matter, because either way, his eyes have never looked prettier as you found yourself unable to look away from him like a pull is holding you in place. The way shadows dance across his features only accentuates the sharp lines of his jaw and the softness in his usually intense eyes, giving him an aura of fragile strength. There was something deeply evocative about his stunned expression, a depth that pulled at your heartstrings—a raw honesty that takes your breath away for a second.

It felt like you said something that changed his whole rhythm.

You don't know what comes over you, but you're so overwhelmed by an inexplicable urge that the words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, soft and earnest.

"I like your eyes.."

Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Nikolai's mind begins to whirl. It's hard to ignore the heat crawling up his neck and the erratic pulsing of his heartbeat, each thud echoing in his ears as the weight of your words settles around him. The moment hangs heavy as you're disrupting fragile boundaries, unknowingly pulling at the strings of something he'd carefully constructed for his own protection. He tears his eyes away to rest his head on his arms, which are folded over each other on the bench, giving zero mind to the discomfort of the metal. He couldn't be bothered by it when it granted him a reprieve from whatever you just stirred in him, taking the chance to escape the intensity of your gaze.

God, why did he have to be so fucking pathetic?

As if his former jester persona hadn't tattered him completely, he'd soon quickly donned a mask of a different type, one more draining than he could've ever imagined being. This facade of pretending to be unbothered and emotionless was one very different from the eccentric one he'd taken on years ago—an exhausting never-ending performance that lasted years.

But he's tired. He couldn't take it anymore, so he abandoned the former.

It was so easy to wear a mask of laughter then, easier in comparison to the one he was wearing now. How such a thing was possible was beyond him, but the difficulty of maintaining his present condition only rose when you appeared in the picture. Now, standing on the precipice of something real with you, the confusion and conflict only sharply twist deeper within him like a knife. 

What would it mean to let you in?

That thought terrifies him.

Fear grips him tightly—fear of vulnerability, fear of disappointment, fear of losing himself as his sanity as he knows it is slipping through his fingers like sand. 

Being around you only fed into such things, as well as the anger that came after the realization of it. It was a matter of time before he'd regret his actions again. He really does try to control his resentment, but his patience is wearing thin. He'd already unraveled too much that day he spent with you, and he wasn't going to unravel anymore. For obvious reasons, of course—but there was one that flits into his mind and out just as quickly, the ache in his chest persisting.

“Nikolai?” you ask, your voice breaking into his turbulent thoughts.

But he doesn't raise his head even after you speak up.

It alarms you, your lips rubbing together in nervousness due to this troubling situation you're put in. You decide to take matters into your own hands and channel some bravery—bravery you didn't even know you possessed yourself until tonight.

His words ring in your mind again, louder than the initial time.

You rise on your feet and walk over to his side, taking a seat next to him while also keeping in mind to not get too close to bother him. His braid fell over his back in such a way you considered far too perfect to be candid, far too perfect for someone who was struggling with sleeplessness. You had to take a second to admire him—and maybe it was wrong to do so while he seemed troubled, but you couldn't help yourself.

Your hand moved on its own, fingers sliding against the cold metal of the table. "Nikolai," you begin softly. "We can go back now.." Your hand reaches to his shoulder, gently kneading it with heedfulness.

One could mistake the caution instilled in your movements as fear, but that couldn't be further from the truth. You weren't scared of him, not at all. Your main focus was to keep the atmosphere light, to maintain what you had right now—fearful that anything you did could push him away at any moment, leaving you to face the silence in your life that felt all too heavy. You didn't want to upset your friend in any way. That was truly the last thing you could ever want.

"No.." he groans softly and shifts away from your touch.

"Hm? You don't want to?" your rubbing comes to a halt, just barely feeling the material of his jacket underneath your fingertips. You try to avoid touching his hair since you don't think he would welcome such closeness, but with a subtle movement from Nikolai, his braid falls and brushes against the backside of your hand, sending a shudder to course through you from its silkiness.

He lifts his head slightly, immediately prompting you to move away from him so he can have the space he most likely wants. You're very aware of the need to respect his boundaries and space, but when he looked so distressed you couldn't help but want to comfort him and soothe whatever was troubling him.

Nikolai's eyes are still avoiding you, looking in the opposite direction as he feels your hand move away from him. It wasn't your touch that he was so bothered by, but rather the feeling he gets when you do so and the ache that lingered in the absence of it. Not to mention, the words that came out of your mouth were dangerous. It's like you knew where it hurt the most and purposefully pushed his buttons, intentionally pressing those raw, aching spots of vulnerability. Yet, beneath the surface of that impression he wanted to believe, he was painfully aware that couldn't be farther from the truth.

He recalls the events of earlier in the day, those gentle, unintentional touches shared between you both that kindled something in him. The way you looked at him while he was in your apartment, the playful banter and laughter shared. The way you treated him with so much kindness despite him not doing anything for you. In a weird way, it felt like a dirty secret—one that not even he was supposed to have knowledge of.

"Are you okay?" you ask again, feeling concerned for him.

"Of course I am," he fleers as if it was ridiculous that you were even asking him such a question. He presses his lips together and relaxes his eyebrows, returning to his usual, placid expression. He slowly gets up from the table, slipping a hand in his pocket to feel for his keys.

You're momentarily a little startled by the sheer strength revealed to you when he takes both empty cans and crushes them with no trouble before tossing them in a trash can near the bench.

"Come on, let's go," he tells you before walking back in the direction of the apartment complex, pretending as if nothing ever happened.

Maybe it was for the better.

— ✦

1:54 a.m.

Your phone makes a click noise as you turn it off after checking the time, the brief glow of the screen diminishing in the darkness.

The walk back home was silent too, for the most part, momentarily broken by crispy leaves falling apart as the earthy scent of decay pervades the air.

"We should do this more often.." you smile at Nikolai who's walking a little ahead now. But he doesn't turn to look at you, the silence wrapping around the both of you like a blanket. The unresponsiveness makes you turn your head down, eyes drifting downward to look at the ground you're walking on instead. They trace the uneven pavement as you walk, examining each crack and stone after another.

As Nikolai navigates each step, he can feel the subtle heat rising over him again. It seems to worsen whenever he tries to distance himsel—a smoldering intensity that gets hotter and hotter, threatening to swallow him. He glances back at you, your figure slightly blurred by the fog of his unease. Each time he meets your gaze, it's as if you ignite something within him, a flicker of vulnerability he desperately tries to douse out. The last thing he wants is to be burned by whatever he's feeling right now—it's a flame that could easily turn to ash if he allowed it to grow.  

When you raise your head back up, you notice his gaze and quicken your pace to catch up with him so that you can walk side by side. You peek at him with a look of concern etched all over your face, a silent invitation for him to share what weighs on his mind.

“Stop, I'm fine,” he replies with an edge to his words, but even to his own ears, the words sound unconvincing and hollow. The reassurance falls flat, yet he presses on as if trying to not only convince just you, the uneasiness simmering just below the surface.  

Regret already started to settle in.

It was only now that he noticed there weren't many people out at this late at night, which gave him a strange sense of relief—that maybe you would've been alright by yourself. But, at the same time, he would've never known if he never came along either.

The image of you wandering alone in the darkness was one he couldn’t shake despite outwardly convincing you—and perhaps someone other than you—that he’s indifferent about the choices you decide to make. As much as he didn't want to admit it, each option felt equally as worse than the other and caused him to suffer a great deal, like a blade slicing into his skin no matter the direction he took. He feels trapped, resenting this reality where these new blooming desires collide with his autonomy.

As you both reach the apartment complex, he steadies himself. Just a little longer—he tells himself, to keep holding tight to that mask. He swallows hard, trying his best to suppress the intimidating heat slowly looming over him. He can’t afford to let himself get scorched. Not now, not again.  

Reaching the last step of the stairs, a hand slides into his jacket pocket to pull out his key to return to his apartment—something that needed to happen more than anything, but his fingers freeze in the process. Instead, he turns on his heel, drawn back to the balcony rather than his own door.

He can't help but sense someone's gaze fixated on him, confirming his suspicion when he turns his head to see you looking at him.

"What?" he asks you, his voice caught somewhere between the lines of curiosity and sensitivity.

"You're not going to bed?" you ask while following his movements as if tethered to him, reluctant to return to your apartment yourself.

He shakes his head as if he's not feeling tired. You, on the other hand, do feel weary, but you didn't want to leave him alone just yet.

"Nikolai.."

He listens as you begin to speak, your voice soft, your lashes fluttering like delicate wings. It's so difficult to ignore everything that he should, the ache in his chest growing sharper with your presence.

"Yeah?"

Even though the sun had already gone down long ago, he still felt its warmth right beside him. And with every passing moment, he feels drawn closer to that warmth, yet instinctively pulls away.

"Do you believe in fate?" you ask him, your voice carrying a sweet curiousness.

Fate? Why would you ask?

He isn't sure what he even believes in anymore.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think, his head clouded and fuzzy in a haze, his stomach twisting with warmth. He only shakes his head as his eyes are still peering into yours before quickly glancing away. On second thought, perhaps it would be better to stay outside for a little longer until his thoughts turn void and senseless.

There wasn't anything stopping you from retreating to your apartment yourself right now, yet you felt determined to stand in this spot until the both of you went to sleep. The silence hung heavy, a comforting yet laden awkwardness in the air. You don't know what to do but to look at Nikolai in this moment while your fingers twirl the ends of your hair, wrapped up in the shared silence.  

"Go to sleep, I can tell you're tired," his voice slices through the silence, breaking your trance as you blink repeatedly to expel some heaviness weighing down on your eyelids.

"But what about you? You need some sleep too," you tell him, a fine thread of concern weaving through your words. It feels important to you to let him know that he's not alone in this exhaustion.

"I'll sleep in a little bit," he reassures you, standing still in his place.

You don't have much energy left to muster up a protest when drowsiness slowly starts to overtake your senses, causing you to yawn and rub one of your eyes. "Alright, alright.. whatever you say," you reply with a smile and reach over to pat his shoulder lightly, taking his word for it.

"Don't stay up too late, okay?" you chide, your finger moving to give his shoulder a little poke. When you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, he looks back at you with a bit of surprise at your touch. The innocence of the gesture feels like a shared secret, and a grin breaks across your face at his adorable reaction—so infectious that it makes his lips twitch slightly upward as well.

Whether or not he was naturally shy was a mystery to you as it was difficult to read him—but you found these moments where such behavior was present endearing nonetheless, beautiful even.

Nikolai turns around and watches as you walk to your apartment door, gulping when you turn to him and flash him one more coy smile that somehow sparkles in the dim light.

"I hope you get your wish soon, Nikolai. Goodnight."

His mind blanks for a moment, overwhelmed by his surroundings, by everything.

Too overwhelmed.

"Goodnight.." he returns a fragile smile to you and watches as you close the door, the creak of the wood failing to bring him some solace like he thought it would.

"I hope you get your wish soon."

He would've. That was if you hadn't made it a hell of a lot harder for him, dragging him back on this earth to be shackled another day. His longing to escape the ground from below, his refusal to be consumed by the intense heat of his emotions again—they've all become increasingly difficult to preserve with your mere presence. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to explain to you that you're the very hindrance to his path to freedom, the bane of his existence?

It wasn't as if he wasn't used to difficulty, though. No—that's something he's something he'd come to terms with a long time ago, to the fact that true freedom was never easily attained. But when the weight of such difficulty relentlessly pressed down upon him, he feels lost in the end. It feeds into hidden doubts, places in his mind where he doesn't want to wander.

Nikolai is nothing without his goal of freedom. Yet, tonight, you had torched a fear he dared to never confront—a paralyzing dread of inadequacy once the chains were removed.

What would it feel like? When would he know? What would he do?

Is freedom even real?

But amidst all this, the strange sense of security and comfort that also came with your presence was unforeseen. This mixture of emotions was something he couldn't quite solve, much like an intricate puzzle with pieces that refused to fit together. That overwhelming, unidentifiable ache for something unknown he's experienced in the past is slowly creeping back into his core, but it seems more intensified around you for some reason—something both thrilling and terrifying.

He's getting too comfortable. He needed to save himself before it was too late.

But it was as if he couldn't help but get closer. To be able to see your face and hear your voice again was something he'd never find himself to be relieved over. He's never felt more pathetic and weak in his life over this very fact. It's like he turns into someone else when you're near him, awakening a dormant part of him—someone he had tucked away many years ago. He feels like a child again when he's with you, lively and unguarded, free from the weight of his burdens. Yet, he wasn't. He was exceptionally far from that reality.

You're making things unbelievably worse for him.

He doesn't think he's been this miserable in a long time.

Since..

Since...

How difficult things have come to be since his whole world had twisted into something indiscernible, burdened by troubles that seemed insurmountable. He doesn't want to believe that the light will evade him again, leaving him clinging to nothing but empty promises.

If only there was a way to reach the light without the danger of getting burnt.

He tries to distance himself from that lingering heat, but he knows deep down that avoiding the fire won’t extinguish its glow. It’s there, alive and threatening, every time you look at him with those gentle, unassuming eyes. And despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, he knows the blaze will one day demand to be felt.

© kolyasangel 2024 - no reposts. do not copy, steal, or translate. reblogs are appreciated.

nikolai got turned into a hamster and fyodor holding the urge to just squish him.