Even The Side Characters Are Sooo Good - Blog Posts

TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10: ʀᴇꜰʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ mature content, angst, barely mild fluff | words: 9.2k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu

“Dad… I’m scared…”

Your small hand is desperately clinging to his jacket as you try to follow him through the bigger crowd. People around you are much taller, much bigger and much scarier. A speck of an ant—you feel like that is your point of view right now, for a tiny young girl who stands average at an adult’s waist height. 

“Dad— Daddy! Don’t walk too fast—!” Your breath hitches when your hair is gripped hard and you are yanked to his side. You whimper, tears brimming again as he roughly grabs your hand and practically drags you to the bridge. 

Boats with people in poor and depressing conditions are a sight here at the shore. 

“W-Where are we going?” You ask again, scared. Big men holding guns, masked people counting money, packages traded and exchanged. Frustrated groans leave your father’s mouth before he crouches in front of you. His calloused hand grips your jaw, hard. 

“You little… I need you to shut the hell up and do not ask any fucking thing. You know too much, you’re gonna die. You ask too much, you’re gonna die. Nobody cares about your goddamn questions.”

He shakes your puffed face, eyes swollen with tears, nose stifled with snot. 

“Nobody. Cares.”

“Hey, you okay?”

You lift your head and glance at the door. Your kidnapper is standing there and his lips twitch to force himself to smile—only for that attempt to be buried away. What is the point of smiling anyway? 

“You didn’t even eat your coco pops yet… It’s past lunchtime.” He says softly as he steps towards you, sitting down right next to you. Despite sitting at the edge of the bed, your body is slumped horribly—posture goes to hell—and your head is hanging low. 

“I don’t feel like eating…” You reply to him. Your voice cracks a little, most likely due to the lack of water. You have not eaten well for the past two days. When your stomach grumbles, you only nibble on some plain bread you found on the dining table. 

“You said that but you know your body is starving, right?” Nikolai says. 

“I am hungry… I just don’t feel like eating.” 

“… It happened to the best of us.” He replies before he also goes silent, just sitting right next to you without any word lingering in the air. 

One minute. 

Two minutes. 

“Was it the loan shark who killed him?” You finally turn your head towards him. Nikolai does not smile as his mismatched eyes pierce straight into yours. He bites his inner cheek before he averts his gaze away. 

“No. He really did shoot himself.”

“Who told you that?”

“Viktor. Even the loan sharks did not know he killed himself.” Nikolai says. “Forensic said they found a bowl of charcoal in the motel room he resided in. They suspected that he was trying to poison himself with carbon monoxide, but maybe he thought otherwise and used a gun on himself instead.” He tells you, tone as solemn as your own. 

“Do you know why he killed himself?”

“… No idea, love. They also suspected that he could not enter Belarus, which is why he did what he did. Besides, the bad guys your father was indebted to were coming for him before he committed. It was only a matter of hours.” 

You tear away your eyes from him before staring at your lap. The blue nail polish on your nails are peeled off—half of them, anyway. And your thumb continues to scratch your index fingernail, getting rid of the colour. 

“Were you the one who told them about his whereabouts?”

Silence. You do not even look at the man beside you. But his answer is not something unexpected. 

“I’m sorry.” 

—is all he says. 

You do not realise you have been biting your lips until they tremble, begging to be released from the intensity of your sentiment. It is only until you feel your eyes are burning again—burn more and more as you blink fast.

You hastily rub your eyes but you cannot hold back a sniffle. Facing away from him, you murmur, “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I wasn’t thinking right… I’m the dumb one. I thought you were different.”

He says your name, but his voice is tugged with strings of dolour itself. Syllables are not clear—just a crumpled word. You cover your ears, retreating to your shell as you shrink and shrink—feeling smaller and more humiliated than before. You shake your head.

Hiding. 

His hand reaches out to you but before the slightest touch can ever land, the door is knocked. You cannot see but from the corner of your eyes, you notice the shaky uncertainty in his quiver as he curls his fingers into a fist and retracts his hand away from you. Far far away. 

He does not say anything. He leaves the room and soon after, you hear the unlock.

— ♡

The grocery bags from different stores are still unopened. A bowl of Coco Pops cereal is still untouched and there is already a plate of warm quick lunch beside it. The chair that is supposed to be filled with a person is empty. 

Nikolai stares at that emptiness. 

Even his meal does not feel fulfilling. He already gives up eating his lunch after two spoonfuls of it. He knows the meal he prepared will not be touched again and yet he still prepared it—in hopes that you might come out when he is there in the kitchen, sit in front of him and take your spoon as you tell him your thoughts of the universe. 

But his house has gone empty. 

Just like what it was one month ago before he brought in a stray flower he plucked from the street. 

He learned more from the news and his friend about your father’s suicide. There was a receipt of him buying a bag of charcoal and another receipt of him buying cigarettes and a lighter. Forensic suspected that he intended to die by poisoning his system by creating a hazard in the motel room. 

But ultimately, the quickest and most painless method became his choice. 

He saw the state of your father’s dead body—given by Viktor who managed to access uncensored photographs from a database. Bullet wound through the head, specifically on his mouth and throat. He was lying face down in his pool of blood. 

Gruesome pictures are not something foreign to him. Hell, he kills people for a living too. He has done worse. He skinned a man alive, he poured corrosive poison directly on someone’s head, he made an entire body, save for the head, burst into a mess of flesh and blood—Nikolai has seen and done it all. 

But there is a bitterness when seeing your father’s picture. 

If he were his younger self—crazier, mayhaps—he would have printed that photo and flaunted it in front of your eyes while you were crying for your daddy. 

“See, see! Yes, I made your dad kill himself! Aren’t you happy now, baby? No one’s gonna hurt you anymore, right? You should be thankful to me. Look at it, look at it! See these horrors with your own eyes!”

Perhaps he would say that, taunting you. 

But he is not. He does not have the desire to. He does not even think about mentioning his death if you never hug and cry on him for minutes on a street, rained with light snow. 

Nikolai finally stands up from the chair. He leaves his unfinished food and walks towards the bedroom. He peeks inside, seeing you sit silently on the edge of the bed, consumed with your own thoughts. A shadow is clearly looming over you. His lips part open but close too soon when he thinks back on his decision. 

Two days. Two days you have been like this. Quiet, with only less than fifty words a day to him. 

“Yes.” “No, thank you.” “Okay.” “I’m not hungry.” “I will eat later.” “I’m going to sleep.”

Nikolai despises this small talk—they were barely a talk. His world has gone quiet again, just like the snowy street outside. The evening sky is grey and gloomy, just like his apartment right now. The little bird has stopped chirping, leaving him with no melody to harmonise him. The stray flower he picked has withered, petals falling one by one.

He approaches you and finally sits down beside you after a long while of giving you your needed space. He notices how you slightly flinch at his presence and his eyes harden—What? What are you thinking right now? What are you thinking of me right now? 

“Was it the loan shark who killed him?” You ask. He does not realise he has been holding his breath until he can finally exhale in relief after hearing more of your voice—this time it is not just repeating the same phrases but you actually talked. 

You talk and he indulges in it. 

Nikolai answers your questions and tells you what he knows from the information he has gathered himself. He does not wish to keep them from your knowledge but he does not intend to straightaway tell you either. If you wish to know more, you can always count on him—that is what he wanted. 

Until, 

“Were you the one who told them about his whereabouts?”

He tenses, words are boiling in the brim of his throat and yet nothing comes out. They are not even trying to form a comprehensible sentence—just an abundance of things he thinks he could and can say. He should pick one, decide on one and yet nothing sounds right. His finger points on one and his brain diverts it away and his heart pushes it down. Yes, no, not me, him, her, she did it, he did, I know who, I don’t know, sorry, sorry, sorry—

“I’m sorry.”

It feels right. It is right.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I wasn’t thinking right… I’m the dumb one. I thought you were different.”

No. I am not the same as them. You’re not dumb—I fucking am. I am not like them. I am different. I am not the same. I am not.

Nikolai does not realise it when he starts to clench his fist. He despises being compared to normality—hells, that is one of the very reasons he defied the norm by dressing up as a loud clownish jester. He is not the same as any other people—he is aware of his cage, unlike all of them. He wonders who you are comparing him with. The other rancid killers? The other ugly kidnappers? The other heartless murderers? 

He is not like them.

Your sniffles are rusty needles, pricking his heart deeper and deeper especially when that is the only response you give after he calls your name. It jabs, it spikes, it hurts. The rust only spreads more dread.

When your body shrinks to its cocoon, his lips open again, wanting to tell you to stop. When your hands cover your own ears, his own pair twitches, wanting to grab your wrists and pull them away so you can hear his voice. You are hiding from him. And Nikolai does not like it. He hates it.

His hand reaches up to you.

Knock, knock, knock!

His hand halts in the air. He does not remember calling or expecting any visit. He wishes it is not one of the loan sharks, trying to take you away from him. Not now. Not yet. Not ever.

“I am going to check it.” —He does not say that. He could not. You are not even looking at him, not even wanting to talk anymore. This is not right. This is not how both of you work. Gaze should be shared and yet you are facing away, staring at the dirt in the corner instead of him.

He gets up and walks to the door. He unlocks it and opens it slightly, to see who is behind it. Two faces he does not expect, especially when his relationship with one of them is as sour as a pair of divorced parents. 

“We brought food,” Viktor says.

“Viktor…”

“You and I need to talk, darling. Now. I won’t accept any answer or I’ll literally commit arson in this building tonight.” He scowls. Once Nikolai finally opens the door wider, Nastasya pushes him aside and steps into his house uninvited. She does not even spare him a look. But the way her hand shoves him, he can only guess how high her anger is towards him.

“Geez, you are more frustrating to deal with than before. All grumpy and shit. Told you to go to therapy but you’re too prideful for that. Therapy is cheaper than coming to you, you know that, asshat?” Viktor huffs, crossing his arms. He glares at Nikolai up and down, snorting scornfully. “Not gonna dwell in guilt, huh? What’s with that face?”

Nikolai does not say anything as he stares at the floor for a moment. “Give me a minute. We’re gonna talk downstairs.”

— ♡

“Why are you not eating lunch?”

You jump slightly at the familiar voice. You turn to the door, seeing Nastasya holding a bowl of stale coco pops. “You’re not hungry? Viktor and I even bought more food for you. Not for… that clown, though. He’s pissing me off.” She grumbles as she walks towards you with the cereal. She sits beside you, offering you your ‘breakfast’.

You shake your head. “Not hungry.”

And your stomach grumbles. Loudly.

“I hope that’s not fart,” She says before she grabs your hand and places the bowl on it. You look at her, taking in her appearance today—plain grey tank top and jeans, black fur jacket and her cross necklace. Her lipstick is a little smudgy but you are not going to point that out. Your eyes look away and travel to the bowl of coco pops.

“I don’t think this is edible anymore.”

“You’re right. That’s why we have other food. Come on, we’re not going to let you be malnourished.” She says before she takes your arm and gets up. Her hold on you is quite firm and you have no choice other than to follow her. Both of you step out and you instinctively look around the house.

“He’s with Viktor. Outside.” Nastasya says. “It’s just you and me in the house.”

“Are you watching over me?”

She shakes her head before she sits down at the dining table. “No. Vitya wanted to talk to Nikolai alone.”

“Why did you follow along?”

Nastasya stares at you and she says nothing. She just taps the spot on the table in front of her, gesturing to you to sit down. You obey, sitting down on your usual chair. In front of you is a plate of untouched meals. It is supposed to be your lunch.

“You wanna eat that or the food we bought for you?” Nastasya asks before she pushes the plastic bag containing food takeaways towards you. “Pick whichever you want.”

“I don’t feel like eating…”

“I know, but you must eat.” You are about to protest but Nastasya hisses once and you immediately take one of the food takeaways from the bag. You reach the provided cutlery from the bag as well and begin to half-heartedly stir the noodles. You eat the noodles, but your pace is extremely weak and slow as you pick one strand by one strand.

The smell of tobacco hits your nose and you glance up, seeing Nastasya huff the smoke to the side, away from you. Her eyes are blank as they are fixated on the lit cigarette, watching the fire devouring the white paper bit by bit. Her other hand is twirling her necklace.

“How do you feel?” She suddenly asks. You lift your head, one hand fiddles with the hem of your—well, Nikolai’s—shirt. You eye her, confused. She sighs softly. “How do you feel these days?” She repeats again.

Your gaze falls on the noodles. God, you really do not have the spirit to even chew a strand of it. Mindlessly nudging the noodles with the fork, you let out a heavy breath.

“Weird, somehow.” You say. “My father… um… well, I think you already knew. He died.” A pause. “I feel a little sad about it. I mean, he is— was… not a good person. Very not good. I knew he wouldn't come to my aid from the beginning. He never even cared when I did not come home for a night because I had to sleep in the bar for warmth. He stole my money, he dragged me here and there to run away… Said if people got me, he’ll be in trouble.”

“He’s a bad person… And I think I am not supposed to feel sad about it. I shouldn’t even feel surprised that he left me all the way almost out of the country. And yet…” Your vision is blurry as you feel warm tears start to drip over your eyes. Your lips are hanging open, seeking the words that you could put to complete the puzzles in your mind. “Yet… Yet, I… I feel disappointed.”

“It’s like I still have some hope, somewhere, that my father may still care just a bit about me. That my father is a father. But… he died now… He did it to himself… Left me here across the country… With… bad people…” You look down at your hands, not realizing how much you have scratched your skin as if to direct your pain elsewhere. 

“I just…” Irises tremble. “… feel fucking horrible.”

Your head jolts up towards Nastasya. “Does that make sense? I-I feel disappointed that he ran away so far instead of coming to help me but… but it’s not really something I did not expect. I know he won’t come but somehow… I still hoped.” Your voice is too shaky and it is only a matter of seconds that your whimper will slip. “And now I lost… a lot. My childhood, my mother, my job, my hope, my life…”

Nastasya stares blankly at the table before she presses the cigarette onto the ashtray. “I felt the same way too,” She says. “When my mother died, I felt exactly what you feel. She killed herself too, remember?” Her voice is quiet and solemn. “I felt horrible and sad and disappointed too when I lost her. Although I should’ve been the happiest girl in town because she was a massive bitch. You’re making sense, girl. Your head is making sense of your heart.” She leans forward a bit, reaching just enough to wipe away your tears. “No shame in that. I’ve cried over a horrible person too.”

You are already crying again, sniffing and weeping. “Then… why am I grieving? Why did you grieve?”

“I didn't grieve for my mother. You don't grieve for your father. You grieve for the little daughter who lost it all.”

— ♡

“Alright, so where do you want to begin?”

Nikolai glares at Viktor as the man chugs on his soda. Both of them are just sitting on the staircase at the back door of the apartment building. Nobody really walks through here and there are two vending machines nearby.

“What do you mean?” Nikolai replies, grumpy.

“Our talk! Do you think I’m here to hoo-haa with you?” Viktor huffs. Nikolai sighs before he flicks open his can of soda and drinks it.

“I apologise,” Nikolai says. “I said bad things to you and caused you to complain to two different women.” 

“Mm-hm, apology accepted. That sarcasm at the end is not accepted though.” Viktor replies before he puts down his soda and bites a cigarette before lighting it up. “You know what will happen now, right?”

“Yeah…” Nikolai mumbles. “I’m pretty sure the loan sharks are on their way here now. They know where we are based.” He says before his eyes watch a flock of ravens in the sky, some landing on the electrical pole, some on the snowy ground.

“I haven’t replied to them, you know? The middleman already asked for her but I said nothing… yet.” Viktor says as he smokes. “Just feel bad for the girl. She just lost her only family and now she’s gonna get taken away. Just wanna give her some time to mourn for her daddy.” He continues. 

“I think she hates me already,” Nikolai sighs as he brings his knees closer to his body, hands frustratingly clasping his own head. “Fuck.” 

“Well, why does it matter to you?” Viktor snorts. “You don’t care about her, right? I thought you wanted her to leave you.” 

Nikolai glances at his friend. “Shut up.”

“No, let’s talk about this, Kolyushka.” Viktor scowls as he turns his head to Nikolai. He frowns, displeased. “Frankly, I don’t understand whatever you say about free will and stuff. But I sure think I am free as fucking pigeon right now. I have a stable job, I have a place to live, I can get discounted food, I went to therapy, I have my girl Nastyushka—I think my life is so content right now. And I have never felt freer.” 

“You know why? Because I am happy, Nikolai. I do not deny happiness and joy because of an absurd idea. Sure, I can appreciate your ideal philosophically but you are dwelling in depression and misery. Dare I say, you are purposely caging yourself.” 

Nikolai bites his lips. “Happiness is still—”

“I’m talking, sir.” Viktor flicks his fingers, cutting him off. “Yeah, yeah, happiness is brainwashing or control or whatever. But so is sadness, is it not? So is guilt. So is despair. So is vengeance. So is hope.” He pauses. “Just let yourself be human once. Your pursuit is nothing but unjust and tragic. That road leads you to either death or a loop.”

“I may not understand how exactly you want to be truly free, if we push out suicide from the equation. I may not even understand you fully as a friend. But I still care, you know? I’ve known you for more than ten years.”  Viktor stops, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “So, spill it. Don’t hide things from me. I am smart too. In a way. I guess.”

Nikolai stares blankly at the ground. He rubs his face, groaning into his palm. “I know she likes me. In… that way.” He halts before he looks away as he feels heat creeping all over his nerves. “It was weird. It’s not like I haven’t been with anyone in that way. But…” 

He bites his tongue, holding back. “You’re probably right…” His head nods mindlessly. “Maybe I do have feelings for… Uhm…” Nikolai purses his lips tightly. He does not want to say it. He still hopes that this lingering feeling is just a harsh breeze passing by—but that breeze will only send chills all over his body. 

“At first she was so goddamn annoying and clingy. But I don’t know… Maybe her naivete and the way she looks at me are making me feel weird, sorta. She’s kind, I give her that. Too kind, maybe. And sometimes… uhm, she does things that I like…” Nikolai cringes, scratching his head in restlessness. “Damn it, it’s just one month and a little bit more. And… Fuck. I have known you for more than one whole decade and I never get the feeling to sleep with you or anything but when it’s her, I’m like—”

“Hold on now!” Viktor sits straight but his body is bouncing in excitement. He tries to speak but his mouth only spurts incoherences, akin to a football fan who experienced victory. He grabs Nikolai’s arm, shaking it. “Bro, that sounds like… You want to… hehehe…”

Nikolai blushes again—the shades on his cheeks turn deeper red—before he buries his face into his arm. He groans but says nothing. Viktor only cackles, patting his back. “You know what, I don’t even blame you. Humans have desires. It just happened that your desires point in the same direction.” 

“Right… But listen, I don’t intend to do anything about this… feeling I have. I still want to go to Peters… and do what’s important…” Nikolai says. “My feelings are just temporary. And… it is not like me to embrace it. If I do, I’ll just betray myself.”

Viktor only scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

They sit in silence for a couple moments again, until both of their sodas are finished.

“Hey, what do the loan sharks want to do with her?” Nikolai asks. Viktor shrugs his shoulders.

“So, like we said before, she’s most likely going to get trafficked. Loan sharks won’t kill their debtors but they’re criminals just like we are. They’re going to do worse.” He replies. “My best guess is she’s most likely going to be forced to become a prostitute, or at least something like that. They probably will get her to work until she can fully repay the debt.”

“Is that why Nastasya doesn’t like it?”

Viktor’s shadow of a smile drops instantly. He is overcasted with dull ashes. “Yeah. I know she hates it.”

“I know I’ve told you how we met but it was never in detail, right?” Viktor takes a long drag of his cigarette. “When I went to the club, she was literally the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. It felt like I just saw an angel who got displaced in Hell. I didn’t even want to sleep with her, you know? I wanted to get close to her but I didn’t know how so I paid for her ‘services’.” He chuckles briefly. “She just sat there on the bed and I wanted to kinda introduce myself. I wanted to show what I am, so I taught her how to do Python.”

“Cringe,” Nikolai says.

“I just wanted her to see that I’m a smart boy, alright?! And shush, I’m being nostalgic.” Viktor pushes his index finger on Nikolai’s lips, only for the latter to move his head away. “Well, I kept doing that for nights. Just went there to spend time with her. I was kinda broke at the time so I can only spend an hour or two.” He sighs.

“Then, she told me about herself. I was like ‘Yes, fucking finally!’ because it took a while for her to open up to me.” Viktor once again cackles to himself. “Won’t really tell you much but she was basically forced to live that way. I felt so fucking angry. Every time she told me about what she had to deal with in that club, I thought to myself, ‘What should I do? What should I do with her?’”

“So I took the risk. I made a lot of ‘dangerous’ arrangements. A car, some fake but valid-looking documents, a safe place for her to live, a therapist to heal… Just things that will keep her away from harm, you know? Then I asked her if she wanted to leave. She did come with me and the rest is history.” Viktor ends his narration with a pleased smile. “And I think I am the luckiest man alive.”

Nikolai does not say anything. On one hand, he wonders why exactly Viktor told him that. On the other hand, he finds himself resonating with a tiny part of his tale. That same question Viktor asked himself also has been popping up in Nikolai’s mind again and again—What should I do? What should I do with you?

He has been thinking of any possibly perfect solution for this conundrum since three days ago. You really do not have any reason to stay with him any longer. Your father died and the responsibility has unfairly dawned on you now. He does not know if the police are still searching for you but most likely they still are. You are a target of many.

Staying with you is just going to be damaging for him. He already left prison. He does not want to be under surveillance again because of his defiance to conform to the law and society standards. And though he is fairly certain he can defend himself against a crime syndicate group, he prefers to be lowkey and not be hunted. Anyone who is closely related to you will be in danger. It is the same cycle as how you are now in one because you are your father’s little girl.

“I think I need more time to think about this… about her…” He says to Viktor.

“You really just have two choices, Kolyushka. You want her gone, you let the loan sharks come. You want her to stay, well… maybe I can help a bit. Free of charge. Not like I haven’t done it.” Viktor smiles but Nikolai finds that his last remark is a little too suspicious—while also, undeniably quite appealing on a minuscule scale.

He decides to ignore that for now.

“Ah, right. I’m not here to just school you like a daddy would to his son. Come to send you special things, personally.” Viktor says before he finally reaches a suitcase he has been carrying all this time. Nikolai’s eyes perk up, interested.

Viktor places the suitcase on his lap before unlocking it. Inside, there is a stack of papers, some laminated, some not. “What are those?”

“What are those? What is your brain doing? Thinking about the girl? Look closer!” Viktor shoves the suitcase towards him. Nikolai grumbles at his rude remark but accepts the suitcase anyway, placing it on his lap. He takes one of the papers. 

“This is… legal documents,” Nikolai murmurs.

“Yeah, for your fake identity in Peters. Oh, and there is also a fake passport and an ID card, right at the bottom of these papers.” Viktor says. “I don’t know if you wanted a fake driver’s license too because you will sell your current car, right? But I made one anyway.”

After a while of not smiling, Nikolai finally cracks one, looking at the documents, pleased. “Good… I can proceed now.” He says, mostly to himself. He looks up at Viktor. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem. But I’ll charge you extra.”

Nikolai frowns. “Now, now… I don’t remember our deal about this stuff requires that.”

“Yeah, me too. But I will charge you extra.” Viktor smirks ever so slightly. “For another deal in advance.”

— ♡

“They’re taking a while…” You murmur as you have been staring at the door, waiting for Viktor and Nikolai to return from their secret meeting. Nastasya turns her head to the door and only hums.

“I think it’s a good thing. Sometimes Nikolai needs a scolding.” She says before she leans to the couch, sighing. She grumbles slowly under her breath as she combs her hair with her fingers. “Ugh… the cold air is really messing up my hair.” She huffs.

“Is that possible?” You ask.

“Well, it is possible, since my hair feels weird. I usually let it dry naturally but it’s getting long, so I have to use a hair dryer.” She replies. “Ugh! Do you have a hairbrush I can borrow? And do not give me Nikolai’s brush. I don’t even understand how a dude has better hair than me. I bet he uses 3-in-1 head-to-toe body wash.” She whines.

“I do have a hairbrush. I got Nikolai to buy it for me several weeks ago… Wait a minute,” You get up from the couch and walk into the bedroom. You reach the drawer beside the bed, where you keep your personal belongings—most were bought by your kidnapper. The only thing that is truly yours is your baby blue purse and its contents.

You take a hairbrush from the drawer and a few more things before leaving the bedroom. You stand beside the couch, looking at distressed Nastasya. She opens her palm, waiting for you to place the hairbrush on it, but you just stare.

“Hm?” She looks at you, confused. 

“Can I braid your hair?”

“W-What?”

“Um, you look a little bothered about your hair… I think it would be nice to tie it… or braid it… It’s totally okay if you don’t want to, though…” You give her a soft smile. “I think you’d look cute with a braid.”

“Cute? You little…” Nastasya’s eyes are gawking at you, perplexed. And you are just waiting for her answer, patiently standing there with a hair brush and a small pouch of hair ties. Your eyes are gazing at her, sparkling chaste.

“F-Fine… Make it quick.”

You gasp cheerily, moving to sit beside her on the couch before she adjusts her position so her back is facing you. Your nimble fingers start to trace and feel each of her black strands. “I’ll brush your hair, okay? If I accidentally tug your hair… sorry!” You say cheekily. Nastasya just nods as her shoulder tenses.

With careful motion, you start to brush her hair gently. You can smell the scent of rose coming from her. Her hair is silky but quite dry, which is probably why she felt bothered earlier. There are also remnants of snowflakes on her hair, which you try your best to remove.

“You know, when I was a child, my mom used to do my hair before school.” You say. “I used to get a little jealous of other girls who have cute hair, so I want one too. Usually, she either does braids or some cute ponytails.” You tell her as you brush the other section of her hair.

Nastasya is silent for a moment before she replies to you. “You learnt to braid from her?” 

You shake your head, though she will not see it anyway. “Mm-mm. I tried to do it on her hair but her hair at the time wasn’t really suitable for a braid. And my attempts were always messy!” You giggle as you are reminiscing. “I always cross the wrong strands over and under the other. I want to try braiding my mom’s hair to perfection one day but… well… you know.”

“Mm-hm.”

“So as I grow up, I practice on myself. It is very tiring, right? Braiding your own hair.” You say and Nastasya hums in agreement once again.

“As you grow older, you’ll just settle with a ponytail.” She remarks. You laugh softly in response, nodding.

“Mayhaps,” You say. “So after I master the art of braiding myself, I wanna try it on other people too. But I don’t have a lot of friends, so I used to get ribbons—oh, I used to work in a stationary shop, by the way—and practice it that way.”

Nastasya scoffs. “Must be hard. Ribbons are different from hair. They're flat and thin, unlike a strand of hair.” She replies. You nod again.

“Yeah… that’s kinda the main problem… But I can try my best on you!” You grin as you part her hair into sections, enough to do double French braids. You lift your body a little, kneeling on the couch now.

“What colour of hair tie do you want?” You ask her.

“I don’t care.”

“Mmm, that’s a hard answer. I am not good at choosing things for people.” You hum as your fingers fiddle in the pouch. “Okay, got them. I’ll start braiding your hair now. If it hurts… Uhm, don’t get angry with me, please.”

“Fine, fine, whatever.”

You chuckle before you start braiding her hair carefully. Your forehead frowns sometimes as you are focused on finishing a braid on one side. The hardest part is the beginning as you have to carefully get a strand little by little and tug her scalp a bit. You can hear Nastasya’s deep exhale when you accidentally do it hard, but she does not complain or anything. To amend it, you will quickly pat her head as if it might soothe her.

You are halfway done after several minutes.

“Would you like to take a guess on what colour your hair ties are?” You strike a question. Nastasya seems to be snapped out of her thoughts as she tries to recall your abrupt query.

“What?”

“Your hair tie’s colour. Guess it.” You smile before you stick a mini butterfly clip on her braid.

“I feel like there is something else on me…”

“Yeah, some butterfly clips! It’s actually one of my favourite clips because my mom used to put them a lot on my hair and sometimes on herself too. She even bought a huge pack that has a hundred pieces! You’d look cute, I pinky promise.” You giggle. “Are you still guessing?”

“Huh? The hair tie? Uh… I don’t know. I… Hm… Black, I guess.”

“Bzz! Wrong. I chose white.” You say as your head tilts left and right in joy. Your fingers continue to tenderly and delicately crisscross her strands of hair, determined to finish the braids. You ramble on, “I chose white because I think it will give a little colour to your appearance. There is a logic here, listen, listen. You are always wearing black or dark-coloured stuff, so I think a little white here and there would give you more contrast, more gleam, as they say. You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were intimidating. I mean, your whole colour is bold and fierce. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong though! I… uh… well, speaking from a girl to another girl, I think white also suits you. I may be biased because I love achromatic colour but I think you’d look pretty in white too. Maybe you’ll like it if I stick it on you here and here and—”

You stop talking when you notice something. The braid is already done, mini butterflies are clipped on some parts and the white hair tie is securing the braid nicely. But Nastasya is quiet—no, she is burying her face in her palms, her shoulders shaking.

“N-Nastasya…?”

Oh God, was I too annoying?

You shrink in your spot, feeling small once again. You hear Nastasya’s long sigh and you swallow nervously. “Um, I can take them off if you don't like them…”

“No,” She says firmly. “No, I was just… thinking about something. I wasn’t mad at you or anything.” She adds before she takes a deep breath and turns her body towards you.

“Really?” You ask with a small timid voice. Before Nastasya could reply to you, the door opens from the outside. Both of you turn towards it as Viktor and Nikolai step in—one is jovial and another is sombre. 

“Nastyushka, my lady! Ah—”

Viktor’s jaw hangs low as he sees Nastasya. He then gasps dramatically, rushing towards her. “Oh my, look at you! You’re so… Ugh! You’re so fucking cute!” He squeals as he carefully touches her braided hair. 

Your timidity dissipates, changing to a smile towards Nastasya, as if you are saying ‘See?’

“Did you do this?” Viktor asks you and you nod shyly. He grins, reaching out to pat your hair. “Aw, you cheeky girl. You did so great. I love it.” He says. You only keep smiling sheepishly. As Viktor keeps pampering his lover with never-ending praises, your eyes trail to the quiet man in the room. 

Nikolai is just staring at you. Once your eyes are fixated on him, he pulls away his gaze. He even pulls himself out of the living room as he retreats to the bedroom, closing the door. 

“Well, I guess it’s your turn to talk to him now,” Viktor says. You look at him, slightly confused. 

“What do I talk to him about?”

“Oh, those questions will come up later. But I’ve done my best to discipline the fuck out of him.” Viktor grins at you. “Don’t be too angry with him, okay? That dude has a multitude of issues. You just have to be patient, sometimes. Oftentimes. Every time.”

Your eyes lower down to the floor. “I’m not angry… Not anymore, really…” You murmur. Truthfully, you were hurt at the fact that Nikolai did reveal your father’s location. You wanted to blame him—but you could not, really. The morning after his drunk night is still fresh in your mind. 

“Freedom, little dove. I’m talking about free will. The power to make a choice for yourself, without influences from all over.”

“Must you cry? Were those little unimportant joys you felt no better than agony?”

In a way, you can understand his desperation to be relieved of emotions and burdens—you want to create a justification for his action, but unless he says it himself, you cannot even fully convince yourself. 

Viktor and Nastasya leave the house shortly after. You are left with your thoughts and the man in the room. You know you cannot just stay silent and wish the universe to fix everything for you—talking to Nikolai and figuring things out is better than being quiet. You have been quiet for long enough. 

Your talk with Nastasya did go well—if you said so yourself. It was relieving to have someone who could mirror your conflicted feelings over your father’s death. You may not know the full extent of horrific things Nastasya had gone through, but her words alone were enough for you to pick up your puzzles and piece them together. 

You get up. Your fingers are cold and you feel your nervousness rise once you approach the bedroom. Taking a few deep breaths to support yourself, you knock. 

— ♡

At this point, knocking has become Nikolai’s worst nightmare. 

He is lying on the bed, as still as a corpse, crafting possible answers he could muster if you ever drop a hard question. He thinks he does not get enough time and he feels his heartbeat rate is increasing to the max—it is as if his heart is struggling to leap out his chest. 

Ah, I’m not ready. She’ll ask me. She won’t ask me about her daddy. She’ll ask me things. Other things. 

He wants to shout—Go away! Leave me and torment me no more!—But even the thought of raising his voice towards you is already dimming the courageous fire that is barely lit. Instead, his fire shivers, smaller and smaller into cowardice as he watches the door creak open. 

You peek inside, looking at him curiously. Nikolai only returns your gaze, still unmoving from the bed. “Can I come in?” You ask and he hums in an approving tone. A tiny smile tints on your face as you step in. You walk to the bed and Nikolai does not know what he expects you to do but definitely, he does not expect you to get on the bed as well, lounging beside him. 

He thought his bravery would last long but your curious and blinking eyes—adorable—are too distracting. Irises emitting pristine, just enough to push his bravado back to the corner of his inner self. At that point, he just wants to kneel and say sorry again, for whatever he has done to you wrong. 

“Kolya, are you okay?”

“You should ask yourself that…”

“I am okay now…” You give him a small smile. “I already ate too.” 

Nikolai nods awkwardly. “Mm… that’s good…” He says. His eyes are trying their best to look elsewhere—just anywhere, except you. But when his vision is fixed on the crippled ceiling, he finds himself diverting his sight towards you instinctively, seeking something nice to see, something nice to probably hold. 

You two are basking in silence—though, Nikolai does not find it uncomfortable. Perhaps the slightest as he is pondering over the questions you will ask him. But the more he glances at you, the more he sees that you are actually waiting for him to speak.

“What were you talking about with Nastasya?” He asks. You turn to him with a smile on your face.

“She was… kinda helping me to process my feelings.” You say. “It was confusing and I felt lost. Maybe God sent her to me to get my head straight again.”

“Or maybe it’s the other way around.” He replies nonchalantly, his eyes are still fixated on the ceiling.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

Sensing that you may not get a clear answer from him, you look away. But Nikolai finally breaks away his stare from the crippling ceiling, mismatched irises attending to your features. “You could’ve just spoken to me, you know?”

“I wanted to… it’s just I didn’t know where to start.” You reply before you sigh and adjust your body. Slowly, you lower yourself to the spot next to him, lying right beside him as your hand cradles his arm.

Nikolai tenses. The familiar heat travels all over his nerves. His sensitivity peaks and he thinks he can perceive anything—everything. His nose is catching the hinting scent of your hair, his ears are begging more of your sweet plea and his eyes cannot break away. 

“I felt all sorts of things and they’re like roaming everywhere in my mind. I admit that… I kinda felt angry at you for a moment when you told me you’re the one who revealed my father’s location…” He feels the grip of your hand on his arm tightens. “Felt angry and disappointed for a moment. But then, I remembered what we had talked about before… About your freedom, your emotions and—” You sigh, leaning your forehead on his shoulder. “I want to trust you… I think your action was driven by a desperation to be free. So…”

“Enough,” Nikolai says. “Maybe you’re right, maybe not. I don’t even know anymore. But I am…” He pauses, biting his tongue before looking away. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you. Don’t blame yourself, please.”

“Your kindness will not get you far, sweetheart.” He murmurs under his breath, but it slips past your ears.

“What did you talk to Viktor about?”

“Huh?”

You grin at him and Nikolai almost scrunches his nose by how you look.

Cute…—he thinks.

“Alright, I get it. It’s only fair. You told me about your stuff with Nastasya and I shall tell you about Viktor.” Nikolai says. “We were just talking about… um, my stuff. He came here to send me fake documents for my new identity… It’s just some of my Petersburg stuff.”

“Oh…” You shift your head up at him. The proximity between you and him is extremely close right now—really, it is just the two of you lying down on the bed, he is as still as a log and you are as clingy as ivy. “Can’t you just go as you are now?”

“No, sweetheart. I was a convict and my name is still tied to a certain record that listed dangerous ability users. If I want to move around the globe freely, I have to assume the coat of another man.” He explains as he sighs. “Tedious, but it is what it is.”

“There’s a record of that?” You ask and he just nods. “Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”

Nikolai scoffs. “I’d say it’s a good thing for me. It’s a boost of ego, I take it.” He smiles at you and you also beam, enjoying the rare sight of his little ‘insignificant’ joy. “But some people think it’s a bad thing. If the government knows you have the potential to be a threat to the nation, you’ll be treated less than a stray dog. There’s a reason why a lot of people like me went into hiding after The Great War.”

“The Great War… I feel like I’ve heard about it in school…” You mumble, forehead creases as you try to recall bits of memories of your school days. “Were you… uh, participated in it? Involved? Affected?”

“I was twelve when the war ended.” 

“Where was the war again?”

“Not here.”

“Why are you being secretive?” You pout. Nikolai only gives you a sly smile but says nothing further. Unsatisfied that you may not be able to have answers, you let out a loud huff. “You and your secrets…”

“I’ll tell you when the time is right,” Nikolai says. 

“So, when?”

“Not now,” He replies shortly. “I will keep secrets about that side of things, but I won’t if you ask me the questions you have been wondering all this time. I will speak truthfully, starting from this second.” 

“Promise?”

“Yes, promise. I’ll be honest with stuff.” Nikolai says. He will be honest, but that does not mean he cannot omit important parts. It is not a lie if it is not told. 

He could not see your face from this position, as you are almost tucked comfortably at his side. But you soon lift your body a little and roll to lay on your stomach, facing him. His hand instinctively raises, hovering over your face, longingly, for a second before his fingers twitch—sending back his common sense into him. 

“What will happen to me?” You finally ask the big question. “The loan sharks are coming for me now, right…? There’s no way they will let my father’s debt dissipate like that…”

“… They’re indeed coming for you. They did ask Viktor about you. But he hasn’t replied to them yet.” Nikolai replies, his voice soft, just like his gaze on you. 

“Why?”

“Sympathy, guilt,” Nikolai says. “He has moral codes, you know? Not entirely heartless, that guy.” 

Your eyes waver to his hand that is hanging in the air, lost. “And then? It’s not like they will just… let me go, right?” You murmur. “I’m gonna be taken by force…” Nikolai purses his lips, biting his lower one when he sees you become tense and shiver—your eyes are getting slightly redder as seconds pass. 

Nikolai surrenders. 

His hanging hand caresses your cheek, his thumb rubbing the skin of your face. He can hear his heartbeat thump louder and louder when you nuzzle into his palm—like a cat seeking warmth. Nikolai can feel the blush creeping in all over his body again when you hold his hand to keep it on you—silently begging him to stay. 

For a second, Nikolai wonders who really is the captive and the captor here—because he sure knows that your glimmering irises, despite the tears, are capturing his attention right now. 

“I’m scared… I’m so scared…” You whimper weakly. “I don’t have anyone else, Nikolai… I only have you.”

“I know.”

You look at him, with a certain hope. Your fingers slide down carefully, tightening around his wrist. “Can I—”

“No,” He cuts you off immediately. “You won’t come with me to Petersburg. No one. Not even you.”

“But it’s not safe for me here—”

“I said no,” His tone hardens. “Listen. I don’t even plan to bring anyone to Petersburg. Every preparation I have done is only for me alone. So, no… I won’t bring you. I cannot.” He says. “But I’m not dumb enough to not be able to see that both Viktor and Nastasya really do not want the loan sharks to get to you. They will go to a great degree to get their money back and satisfy their hatred towards your dad. Horrible things will happen to a young girl like you, that is for sure. And neither of us will be safe for each other.”

“That’s not true,” You retort back. “I feel the safest with you…”

“Right now, maybe yes. But not in St. Petersburg. Not when Fyodor is around.” 

“Why, is he that dangerous?”

“Very much, yes.”

Nikolai can see your mood drop instantly. His thumb slides down to the corner of your lips and lifts it up. His gesture is enough for your solemn to turn into an adorable pout at his half-assed attempt to break a smile out of you. 

“Then… what will you do with me? Where will I go? To whom I should turn to?”

Nikolai stares at you for a few seconds. He knows asking himself to choose between letting you go or actually helping you only leads him to the second choice. He tried to delight himself with the possibility of you being gone, but his mind ended up to the worst-case scenario that might happen to you—and then delight is no more, only dismay. 

“Have your heart and head ever pointed in the same direction?”

He tries to remember what direction they were pointing at when you asked that question that day. His eyes glance at you, seeking his answer back then. Both of his mismatched eyes land precisely on your lips. 

Ah right… I wanted to kiss you. 

Nikolai sighs internally. He feels dumb. 

“Nikolai?” You call him as your hand caresses his hand as if it is a source of comfort for you. 

“Yeah, wait. I’m thinking.”

“Okay… You’re quite a thinker.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

You only chuckle briefly but your smile does not last long—your sun is too shaded. He understands why—you were and are dealing with a lot of things at once. Girls your age should be in college, arguing in a group project and studying for a surprise mock exam—not lounging on the same bed as their kidnapper, holding his hand and pouring naive affection. 

Nikolai sighs again—internally, of course. He does not want you to think badly about him—well, not that it matters… right? Not that he cares. Not that he likes you or anything. Not that his affection has grown a tad too big that he dreams of your lips sometimes. Not that his desire boils itself too high when sometimes he hopes the night he lays his head on your chest repeats again. Not that his yearning is tickled over and over when he recalls the moment you hug and cry against him.

“I’ll find a way. To help.” He finally says. The longer he ponders over his choices, the clearer his answer is. The first choice only brings havoc between his head and heart, but the other is agreed upon immediately. His feelings are not in shambles if he keeps thinking about his second choice. Matter of fact, he feels good. 

Extremely good. 

He feels disappointed though—this decision is not made by his own free will, is it? His empathy, guilt and feelings towards you lead him to this point. He is being led by something else—a force he wants to break free from. 

But those emotions are a part of him. He cannot just escape from himself. He cannot steal him from himself. If he does—then death will offer its hand to him. 

“You’ll help me?” You ask. Then, you scoot closer, offering a pinky finger. “Really? Promise? Honest?” 

Nikolai scoffs. He pulls his hand away from your face only to link his pinky with yours. “There. Promise. Satisfied now? Are we on good terms now?”

You giggle and it brings Nikolai’s deep chuckle out too—he does not really understand why but your sweet adorable giggle certainly has a charming melody in it, chanting radiance to anyone, including him apparently. 

Ah, he lied. He knows exactly why he acted so. 

“I have another question. Will you answer it honestly? No lying, no hiding?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you want, little dove.” He replies nonchalantly before he retracts his finger from you. You tilt your head, looking at him expectantly. 

“Why do you help me?”

Nikolai’s lips part slightly, stopping himself from blurting out the words out of his heart. He looks uncertain and the only thing he does as a response is shake his head. 

It is not a lie if it is not told. 

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