Cage Of The Soul

will wood ref with nikolai ( 2econd 2ight 2eer ) sigh

Tiktok is getting banned, so I need to post here again >_<. pfps or something idk

Nikolai Gogol x Lector Masculino

Suposiciones de NIkolai con su amante

Aviso ; Nikolai está loco (nada nuevo)

menciones a la muerte y creencias filosóficas

El lector tiene pronombres masculinos

[Notas de Pickle: primera historia traducida al español. Necesitamos más Nikolai x Lector Masculino]

ᴇꜱᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ

Nikolai te habría mantenido secuestrado, esperaba que gritaras y suplicaras por tu vida.

las personas desesperadas por salvar sus vidas y llorando para que sus asesinos las salvaran siempre fueron muy agradables a sus oídos

sin embargo, eras diferente. Quizás no eras tan inteligente como Fiodor ni tan encantador como Dazai, pero lo tienes envuelto en tus manos como una serpiente

le sorprendió lo bien que estabas. Entendiste lo vacía que es la vida y lo inútil que es. En corto, después de esa conversación, pensaba que eras demasiado precioso para matar

también tomó una increíble cantidad de tiempo convencer a Fiodor de que te mantuviera con vida

ᴛᴇᴏʀÍᴀꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴘɪᴀꜱ

Significas MUCHO para él. Siempre a tu alrededor, queriendo estar en tu presencia Honestamente, no importa si eres un hombre, a él no le importa si la gente te mira mal (¡les cortará las piernas más tarde!) Definitivamente te interroga por diversión, incluso si te equivocas en la respuesta, te dará un beso en los labios Empuja de tus piernas a través de su portal para asustar y luego se pone muy feliz cuando te ve

-¡hola, моя любимая!

-¿¡NIKOLAI, QUÉ DIABLOS?!

Probablemente molesta a sus víctimas por hablar de ti, y de lo afortunado que es de tenerte como novio si vives con él, pone una ALARMA RUIDOSA a las 4am solo para despertarte le gusta bañarse contigo, no tiene que ser algo sensual, simplemente es bueno para tener un momento solos no lo dejes que cocine para ti, podría quemar el lugar, no es una broma. te regala un corazón de humano para el Día de San Valentín, el olor era repulsivo, al final tú decides si lo tiras o lo guardas. trae 1000 animales a tu lugar, algunos de ellos eran jirafas, ¿CÓMO LO HIZO? si estás en el DOA, él sería tu compañero todo el tiempo si no trabajas con él, estaría feliz a introducirte a Sigma y Fiodor, pero también preferiría que te mantuvieras alejado de esa organización. te hace trenzarle el pelo todos los días, no importa si eres muy malo, porque seguiría peinándose contigo PROBABLEMENTE DUERME EN SU DISFRAZ DE PAYASO TAMBIÉN, CON SUS ZAPATOS RIDÍCULOS Y TODO AMA el contacto físico y dar regalos; son sus lenguajes del amor Hablando de contacto físico, le encanta darte los abrazos de oso, tomarte de la mano y acariciarte además, tus regalos consisten mayormente en partes del cuerpo o cadáveres (qué romántico)

can you draw shadow milk showing support for y/n for exam days pls ☹️🤍 we just need some fluff fr

extra

𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑺 — a passionate physical and emotional love; stereotype of romantic love

RECEIVERS。dad!nikolai gogol x mama fem!reader

WISHCARD。“I want to marry her. Yes, yes, I do. Listen, Yurochka. I need to propose first. So, it's gonna be on Valentine's Day! I know, I know. I could have picked another day but like. . . Valentine's Day feels romantic, doesn't it?”

BOUQUET。fluff, oc kid (yuri/yurochka), suggestive, unhealthy thoughts

PRICE。approx. 3.6k

FREEGIFT。say yes to heaven (lana del rey)

MAIN MENU。FOUR SHADES OF PINK

“Are you sure?”

Nikolai looks up. Currently, you are getting your makeup done. You are in a simple yellow dress. Your hair is styled very nicely with some ribbons and white clips. If Nikolai would describe your look today, it would be the equivalent of an angel. It is fun to just sit on the bed, watching you get ready for your day today.

It has been a year since your first childbirth. You gave birth to a baby boy, whom Nikolai named as Yuri. Nikolai remembers the first moment he carried the baby in his arms, he lost all his thoughts. And when the nurse asked what the baby's name would be, the only thing that popped up in his head was one of the most common names in his town—Yuri.

Truth be told, Nikolai still feels strange about this. He does love his son, he knows. But he finds it hard to actually bond with him, as his old conscience is always hard to get rid of. Voices—sometimes reminding him of his past and his desire to be 'free'. There were times when his intrusive thoughts were telling him to hurt the boy, all to prove to himself that he was not bound to some kind of brainwashing.

But he loves the boy. Nikolai loves his son. He loves you more, of course, knowing you wagered yourself to give another a life. He tries his best to be there for both of you. The first two weeks after childbirth were hard. Your mood swings were horrible. Nikolai did not really mind though. He lost hours of his sleep but it was fine once again when he finally got to embrace you once the night fell.

“Kolya?” your sweet voice shakes him out of his train to the past. Nikolai looks at you. “Are you okay? If you prefer, I can send Yuri to my mom. She can watch over him for a while.”

Nikolai bites his inside cheek. He knows you mean well. You are one of those people who truly sees him for who he is. He knows you are aware of his inner chaos. Attachment is something Nikolai has tried to avoid for many years.

Most of the time, Yuri prefers his mama and honestly, Nikolai would not blame him for preferring his mom over him. After all, he will admit that he is a bit distant from Yuri—mainly because he feels like fatherhood is quite an intimidating space for him, considering his own issues in his head and heart.

Nikolai thinks you notice it too. Whenever he shows a bit of discomfort when Yuri wants some uppies, you would swiftly take the role and carry Yuri up. Whenever it is just the two of them on the couch, Yuri would look around, seeking his mother.

Nikolai is still mentally preparing to be a proper father. He tries. But anxiety bothers him sometimes.

“No. . . No, it's okay. I can take care of him today. You don't have to worry about anything, love.” Nikolai replies before he stands up and approaches you. He wraps his arm around your waist, his gaze leers onto you. “You're so gorgeous, little dove.”

You smile, holding his face before you tug him down a bit to give a kiss on his cheek.

A red lips stain his skin.

“Ah— whoops!” you giggle but you do not rub it off. Nikolai looks at the mirror, seeing his cheek that has a kiss mark from you. He snickers.

“I look sexy,” he remarks before he turns to you again. “You look sexy too,” he says softly as his hands squeeze your hips, trailing down to touch your butt. You huff at his playful grin. Some parts of your body have grown in size after your pregnancy—breasts, ahem—and Nikolai does have the time of his life, freely touching you whenever you least expect it.

“Don't do that,” you whine, hitting his chest playfully but making no attempt to push his hand away from rubbing your body. “You're a massive pervert,” you pout. Nikolai cackles.

“Darling, one of your weird ass cravings was literally to grope my ass. I don't think you have the right to call me that,” he teases.

“Well, t-that's excusable!” you tap his cheek. “Now, let go of me, big boy. I need to finish my eyeshadows.”

Nikolai giggles and obeys anyway. He instead hugs you from behind, kissing your neck as you continue to pat down the brush on your eyelid. Nikolai is always a clingy one, and his hands are always finding their way to sensitive spots you do not even know you have on your body.

But his peppering kisses on your neck feel a little strange. It is quicker. Usually, he likes taking his time kissing your skin.

“Kolya?” you call.

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?”

A few seconds of silence.

“Just a little.”

You know Nikolai is still having a little of an issue within himself when it comes to family relationships. He tries to bond with Yuri, like any good father would do. But perhaps because he lacks one, he is having a hard time to actually bond with the boy. Sure, he does change the diapers, bathe him or cook for him, but affectionate gestures are very rare.

Nikolai is a very unique man. His way of thinking is absurd and yet mature enough to question oneself. For the past several years, he has been too fixated on trying to reach his goal and live within his ideal. But now, he has to abandon it once again for someone who is his blood and flesh.

You did reassure him. You do know how he is. The way he reacted to the news of pregnancy was exactly how you expected. Lost, confused, angry, anxious — those emotions are obvious when you have spent enough time staring into his eyes.

In fact, you are fully prepared to be a single mother.

But Nikolai's love towards you goes far beyond at this point. He cherishes you so much that he willingly—albeit scared—takes your hand and walks along with you on this small journey of his life.

“Fear nothing, my dear, I'll hold you forever.”—that's your promise to him and he still holds to it. And you plan to never break it.

You turn around, once again holding his face. “I see your effort, Kolya. I see you. And you have done so well so far, alright? Trust me.”

“He probably doesn't even think that I'm his dad,” he replies slowly, referring to Yuri. You smile softly.

“Bonding takes time. We have all the time in the world to build this up,” you say, assuring him. Nikolai pouts as he fiddles with the fabric of your dress. He is surely a grown adult but his behaviour turns into a manchild when he is near you.

“You know what, how about a small mission, hm? A little game for you and Yuri. Maybe by the time I come home, we can have a small progress?” you suggest. Nikolai's eyes glimmer when he hears the word 'game'.

“What game?” he asks.

“Hmm. . . Well, I guess you could try to get him to colour his fruit colouring book. Perhaps teach him a word or two.” you say as your hands are busy to stuff your belongings in your purse.

“Can that kid even hold a crayon?” Nikolai mumbles.

“That's for you to deal with.” you grin. “How about chocolates for your reward? It's almost Valentine's Day, no? Gotta give chocolates to my boyfriend.”

Nikolai pouts. “Don't say that,”

“What?”

“Don't call me a boyfriend. It feels like we are high schoolers.”

Right. . . You two are not married. You both live together, with a child. Nikolai never proposes you to be a fiancée or anything. At least not yet. Nikolai is so good at masking his feelings, but you know he is serious with this relationship—else, he would not be here, one year later, after contemplating leaving you at the beginning of your first pregnancy.

You smile, patting his cheek again with a cheerful smile. “Okay, okay. I'll get some chocolates to give my man a reward, how about it?”

“Hmm, slightly better.” Nikolai tilts his head, kissing your wrist. “I'm already planning our Valentines, so you can leave it up to me!” he pats his chest proudly. You cackle, nodding in approval.

“Well, I better go now. I'll get home before ten,” you say and reach for your car key on the makeup table. Nikolai bids farewell to you with a playful slap on your ass.

And for the rest of the day, he is left with his son.

It is only four hours after you leave the house, and Nikolai is already feeling awkward when he sits with Yuri on the couch. He fed the boy with simple home-cooked borscht and changed his diaper. Yuri is looking at him and then he looks around as if he is searching for his mama.

“Mama's out to have fun without us, Yurochka,” Nikolai says. He doesn't really take it to heart about Yuri's preference towards you.

Yuri blinks confusedly at Nikolai. With his small finger, he points at the man. “'K-Kawoi?” he attempts to say. Nikolai almost bursts out laughing at Yuri's attempt to say his name.

“No 'Kawoi'. It's 'Nikolai'. Ni. . . Ko. . . Lai. . . Nikolai!”

“Nnn. . . Ni— Kaw. . . wol,”

“Did you say 'Karol'? Can you even speak properly?”

“Mam. . . Mama,”

Nikolai only lets Yuri attempt to speak. Yuri never really calls him 'Dad' or 'Papa' or even tries to do so. He does not mind that much.

There is a small desire in him to make fun of his pronunciation but this boy is literally not older than two years old. But hey, Nikolai does not really care about morals anyway.

“You're still a dumbass, but it's okay! Once you grow up, you're gonna be as smart as me, okay?” Nikolai grins before he takes the fruit colouring book and a box of crayons. He sits on the floor and he carefully carries Yuri so he can sit beside him.

“Now, how to be smart, Yurochka? We need to learn. And because your mama promised me a reward, I'm making you work for me, yeah?” Nikolai says as he opens the book and gives Yurochka a red crayon, so he can start colouring the apple illustration on the first page.

As Yuri is colouring—or more like, scrabbling lines—on the illustration, Nikolai tries to get him to say the word too. Surprisingly, Yuri is such a quick learner and his pronunciation is not so far off. But it leaves Nikolai with little interaction to go with Yuri since he does not really know what to do after he gets him to learn the words and 'colour' the things.

Yuri already tosses the crayon after he is done colouring his fifth drawing. He doesn't seem to want to do it again, probably finding it to be boring. Instead, he starts to draw two stickmen on the blank page of the book. Nikolai just silently watches him—he is more focused on what to do with this father-son bonding.

Nikolai sighs and shuts his eyes. He rests his head against the couch, contemplating his life once again. He already misses you and he wishes you are here to give encouragement for him to actually bond with Yuri. He usually likes to have fun with kids—playing with them, teasing them, mocking them. But it is a whole different issue when it is his own flesh and blood—his son.

Is this really what he wanted? To have a family of his own? To be attached so tightly again?

He needs to hold you now. He knows he can feel blissfully liberated when you keep him in your embrace. And he needs it now. His mind is starting to doubt again and he is scared.

A tug on his shirt makes Nikolai open his eyes. He turns to his side, seeing Yuri looking at him with those eyes almost resembling his own. The little boy grabs the paper he has been drawing on and shoves it against Nikolai.

“What is it, Yurochka?” Nikolai gives him a small instant smile before he takes the paper and looks at it properly. Two stickmen. One has a skirt, with hair similar to yours and another has longer grey hair with two different coloured eyes.

“Aww, you draw us?” Nikolai coos.

“Mama,” Yuri points to a stickman.

“Mmm... ugly.”

Yuri points to the second stickman and then looks at Nikolai. He then pokes Nikolai's cheek before he points back to the stickman.

“Papa.”

Nikolai's eyes widen, genuinely surprised that Yuri says that. He laughs nervously. “You're a smart kid, aren't you?” he says to the boy. Nikolai caresses Yuri's head gently, staring at the drawing.

“Let's take this away. I'm bored already,” Nikolai pushes the colouring book and carries Yuri to sit on his lap. “Wanna watch some horror?” he asks the boy as he takes the remote control and changes the channel on the television.

Valentine's Day is approaching in less than a week and the advertisements are full of Valentine's promotions. He pats Yuri as he changes the channel to a cartoon.

“Valentine's is near, Yurochka. You know what it means?” he asks the boy, only to receive no response. Nikolai does not mind. He likes talking to Yuri as if he is writing a diary. The boy is a quiet one. And it is not like he understands a word Nikolai is saying anyway.

“That means you're gonna stay with grandma for a while, boy. Yeah, you're gonna be an orphan for a few days—I'm kidding! It's just Mama and I are going to go on a fancy date, so you're gonna stay behind because adults do adult things and babies do baby things.” Nikolai says as he plays with Yuri's cheek.

“Wanna know what I plan for the date?” Nikolai asks. “Yeah? No?” he nods at Yuri, trying to make the boy respond. Yuri looks at his dad and nods eagerly, only mimicking Nikolai's movement.

“Good, good. Well, I've booked this one expensive place for us to have dinner at. Yes, very expensive! It's a fancy restaurant. You know Yurochka? You can get a lot of money from doing various things, you know? I'll teach you someday. You're my son so you're gonna follow my footsteps. Not all footsteps but some steps. Like. . . identity theft. . . Ha! Kidding! I bet you're excited now for what your absolute chaos of a father did, huh?”

Yuri blinks confused.

“Anyway, I'm really trying to go above and beyond for this year's Valentine. Do you wanna know what I actually planned, Yurochka? Yeah? Yeah?” Nikolai nods and Yuri repeats his gesture again.

“I want to propose.”

Nikolai grins, already happy when he thinks about your reaction when he whips out the rings he already bought and picked. He already feels excited to ask you to marry him, to be his forever.

“I want to marry her. Yes, yes, I do. Listen, Yurochka. I need to propose first. So, it's gonna be on Valentine's Day! I know, I know. I could have picked another day but like. . . Valentine's Day feels romantic, doesn't it? I think your mama won't expect it either. But I do feel like there should be something else I could do to make it more special. . .” Nikolai says. Yuri's arms move up and down. He makes incoherent noises before he tugs on Nikolai's shirt, pulling and pulling the fabric.

“. . . You're right. You're right, Yurochka! You're so smart!”

Yuri makes a happy noise. Nikolai embraces his son and stands up from the floor.

“You should pick my suit and fashion for that day. Yeah! Come, Yurochka. Daddy's gonna teach you how to be handsome!”

― ♡

You arrive at home later than you expected.

It is already 11PM. When you open the door, the living room is dark and the only source of light comes from the kitchen. You walk towards it and see Nikolai resting his head on the kitchen bar. A bottle of red wine and two glasses are by his head. One glass is half-filled with wine. His eyes are closed. He looks like he has fallen asleep while waiting for you to come home.

You sit right beside him and your hand reaches out to brush his hair. He hums before his eyes slowly pry open and a smile crooks on his lips.

“I'm home,” you say.

“Did you have fun, sweetheart?” he asks. His voice is lazy and deep. He is mellow, slightly tipsy it seems. He stares at you before he finally sits straight.

“You don't seem really tired,” you say before you pour yourself a glass of wine. “Yuri's been nice?”

“He is always nice. Quiet boy.” Nikolai replies before he finishes his own glass of wine. His eyes glance at you up and down. He tilts his head with a small smirk. “Where's my reward?”

“The chocolates? That's for Valentine's,” you chuckle as you tickle his chin. “You're gonna love it.”

Nikolai grins at your ticklish touch as he pours his wine. He takes a long sip. “You're gonna make it from scratch or something?”

You almost purse your lips—that's exactly what you planned. You do plan to make homemade chocolates for him. Not store-bought. It is supposed to be a surprise and of course, Nikolai nonchalantly guessed right. You try to control your expression and shake your head.

“Mmm, that's a surprise.”

Nikolai's small grin is enough message for you that he would not press any further. He must have expected surprises for Valentine. You will try to make creative or ridiculous-shaped chocolates then if he is so smart to figure out your surprise.

“So, everything's fine today? Did Yuri learn a new word?”

“He called me 'Papa'.”

You gasp happily, clasping his hands, almost shaking them too. You fidget excitedly. “That's good news! Oh Goodness! What else, what else?”

Nikolai cackles, gripping your hands back. “He tried to say my name. And he drew us too. Stickmen us. I already pasted it on the fridge. And no, I won't let you take it down for the next ten years so he can look back at his first art. He's quiet now but I bet he has a funnier face when I shove that drawing to his face.” Nikolai says with a playful smile.

And you smile too, mainly because he is already imagining the future for years to come—a future where his son is all grown up and you are still with him, living together in this apartment.

Your hands reach up to hold his face. Nikolai's eyes widen a bit when you scoot closer, your thumbs rubbing his skin. And crimson slowly creeps to his face, giving a tint of blush on his cheeks.

“I'm happy for you.”

Nikolai stares at you. He holds back your hands, pressing them harder on his face. His gaze lowers, forecasting a shadow of unsureness.

He's doubting again.

His hold on your hands becomes tighter and tighter, it almost hurts. But you let him anyway. After all, you did promise to hold him forever. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes as he brings his lips to kiss your palm.

You let him calm himself down. Nikolai doubts himself a lot when he starts to think deeply about his attachments—which is something he always tries to be against. He has done horrible, horrible things, just to feel an ounce of freedom. His guilt and empathy are always gutting him inside, and he can only suppress the extreme thoughts that tend to barge into his head.

“Nikolai?” he looks at you. His irises quiver. You give him a soft smile, as gentle as possible, in hope of soothing the voices in his head.

“You don't have to fear anything, okay? I am always with you and we will go through everything together. I lo—”

“Marry me.”

You freeze. And Nikolai too.

He never proposes or ever mentions marriage or engagement in your relationship, despite how many years has it been. And you certainly least expect it from him.

Nikolai looks like he is lost. He does not expect himself to say it either—right at this moment out of any other.

“I . . . I-I mean—”

“Yes,” you jump from your seat, hugging him. And his arms embrace you instantly, with his face buried in the crook of your neck. “Y-Yes, Nikolai.”

“Marry me, love.”

“Yes. . . !”

You do not even realise that you are starting to sob, and Nikolai is sensitive when you let a single tear drop. He gently pulls you to hold your face, and you try to control your little happy cry. You both locked eyes with each other and a small laughter erupts from your lips.

“I'm so happy. . .”

Nikolai could not quite pinpoint it, but he feels happier when you say that. He is at a loss for words. He does not think of any joke that could make this any better or any more words that could prolong this moment.

The words came out too naturally from his mouth. He is already imagining life with you, and before he knows it, he has already proposed to you. And even if it is a small 'mistake' of an accident because of his distraught mind,

Nikolai does not regret it one bit.

He calls for your name, and it sounds heavenly, coming out from his lips. His hand gently holds the back of your head before he pulls you closer and closer. Until his and your lips are connected and hands holding each other ever so intimately.

He can think of his surprise for Valentine's Day. But for now, he is content enough.

Just in a home, shared by two hearts.

Merry Crisis everyone!

Here's a fyolai doodle

🎭 FACES 🎭 ✦ NIKOLAI GOGOL

He is so silly and stupid i love him

old Nikolai doodle (from yesterday)

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.

(Hoping this ask doesn’t get buried or eaten oop—)

First of all, I just wanted to say that I absolutely adore your art! I was already leaning towards having PureShadow be my new favorite ship, but seeing all the wonderful art you’ve made for it sealed my fate lol. Love these two fools and I can’t wait to see them make each other worse better :3

Secondly, if you’re still doing requests, could you do smthn with Shadow Milk being genuinely flustered by Pure Vanilla? Like SM acts all “Ohhh I must be your favorite cookie! You think I’m sososo pretty!” and PV hits him with the “u rite,” completely catching him off guard

If you’re too overwhelmed by art requests, feel free to just write about this instead! Either way I hope you take good care of yourself and you have a great day! ^w^