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ticket2urheart · 9 days ago

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TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 14: ꜱʜᴀᴀɴᴛɪ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ cw: general content in main menu, fluff, angst, depictions of violence | words: 9.9k

➛ ao3 | spotify (note: listen to i only have eyes for you by the flamingos!) | main menu

“It doesn’t fit…”

“It will. I’ll make it fit. Just stay still.”

“Ugh…”

Nikolai taps your cheek lightly as soon as he sees your pout but it only makes you scowl deeper. It is not his fault that you wanted to try one of his old jackets and happened to be interested in a navy windbreaker that he bought about twenty-one years ago. It certainly does not fit him anymore, just like the old red cardigan you wore last few weeks. But this windbreaker is older than the cardigan, so it is smaller.

“Sweetheart, I only have five days left in this town. I don’t think I wanna play dress up right now.” He sighs. He is supposed to separate his old clothes and the ones he still wants and wearable. And you have been clinging to him, ‘helping’ him to pack up but it is clear that you just want to be involved and stay close. He does not shoo you away though. You are like a duckling following him around and asking him stuff about his massive collection of overcoats.

“It can’t even be zipped. It’s like— Is the metal getting rusty or something? Why is it— Ah.” You freeze when the slider breaks off from the zipper. Nikolai stares at your hand and your eyes wander up to his face innocently before you give him the slider. “Sorry.”

Nikolai huffs, leaning his face closer as he glares at you with disappointment. “You ruined my jacket.”

“I said sorry!” You whine. “The zipper was stuck!”

“Just spit on it, the classic way.”

You cringe, shuddering hard as you wiggle your shoulders. “Ew, that’s gross.”

He snickers and waves his hand dismissively at you. “Well, I don’t want that jacket anyway. You can do whatever you want with it.” He says before he continues taking a coat from the pile of clothes on the couch. They are all washed, including the ones he had forgotten in his secret dimension. He hears you squeal in happiness quietly as you hug yourself—seems like you really wanted that forgotten windbreaker.

Knock! Knock!

“I’ll get the door,” You say as you quickly get up and walk to greet the guests. You open the door and smile broadly when you see Viktor and Nastasya waiting at the front.

“Hello, peasant~! Not you, girl.” Viktor cheerfully invites himself in, followed by Nastasya. You grin sweetly at her and she just silently smiles back. Nikolai has told you that Viktor will come today so he can help with Nikolai’s old stuff. The man may not condone furniture smuggling but if there are old things he can sell for extra cash, he is so up for it.

Viktor approaches the living room and sits on the floor. Nastasya sits on the couch, just beside Viktor’s spot. His eyes are gawking at the pile of overcoats in Nikolai’s possession. “I did not expect that you would have this many! Are you going to sell them all?” He asks.

“All? Even the thought of selling one is making me sad.” Nikolai mumbles. In his hands, there is a vintage jacket. It is already torn in multiple spots, seeming to be made with fake leather with a lot of polyester.

“Yeah, you should have given me some,” Viktor replies before he lights up a cigarette between his lips. Nikolai scrunches his nose and before Viktor can even take a short inhale of the nicotine, a floating hand suddenly appears in front of him, yanking the cigarette from his lips.

“Hey!”

“You’re gonna make all my jackets smell smoky,” Nikolai complains.

“Alright, alright, my bad, baby.” Viktor huffs before he takes the cigarette from the floating hand and presses it into the ashtray hidden beside the big couch. Nastasya just sighs, shaking her head at her boyfriend’s bad manners.

“Urm…”

They look at you. Your face is full of confusion as you stare bewilderedly at the weird stuff happening in front of you. “Is that a hand?”

“Yes, dummy.” Nikolai slips his hand out of the inside of the vintage jacket that is on his lap. At the same time he does that, the floating hand also disappears. “It’s a hand. My hand.” You coo, nodding with amazement as you look at his hand.

“I think your… uniqueness is very cool. It’s like magic!” You say, leaning closer to him.

“He is—well, was—a magician!” Viktor says, pointing at his friend excitedly. “Ask him to make a card trick.”

“Can you make a card trick?” You obediently ask, still beaming. Nikolai looks at you and then Viktor. He is just grinning mischievously at the seed he planted. Nikolai wonders if this annoyance he is feeling is the same annoyance people around him felt before. Was this how Sigma felt when I was shitting around? No wonder he’s pissed like someone has a hold of his ass 24/7…

Nikolai sighs softly and holds your chin to turn your adorable, eager face away. “No card tricks, sweetheart. Not now.”

Viktor only giggles naughtily, clearly enjoying his teasing and he is relentless. “Aww, come on!” He says. “You used to do it all the time to pick up ladies. And let me tell ya, it’s not only the ladies that got picked up.” He wiggles his eyebrow before he whines dramatically. “Ah, if only I had such talents to impress my beloved!” He smooches the air in Nastasya’s direction.

“You’re already impressive in many ways…” Nastasya mutters slowly, smiling softly as she caresses his hair. Viktor pouts at her, resting his chin on her knee. His eyes glimmer submissively, glazing with pure adoration for his one love.

“Mm-hm, you’re more impressive.”

“For God’s sake, if you two want to fuck each other instead of helping me, please do it outside,” Nikolai grumbles.

“Haa! You’re just jealous of us.” Viktor grins before his menace appears even clearer. “I know you’ve been single for a while but dude, maybe you gotta release that tension a bit. Everyone needs some actions in their lives. Let me suggest… uh, I don’t know. Have you considered kissing someone?”

Nikolai’s face reddens and his heart is pounding faster when he hears you choking on your saliva. He knows Viktor purposefully said that. What is worse is that you do not even know that both Viktor and Nastasya are fully aware of what happened between the two of you that night. He takes a deep breath and harshly rubs his face with his palm, just to ease his fluster.

“I don’t… need… to kiss someone…” He says awkwardly.

“Ohh?! Why not? Because you have kissed someone?!”

“Pyzda.”

If it was not for Nastasya’s proximity and ability to throw hands without a second thought, Nikolai would personally smack the shit out of Viktor. He does not even want to look at you because he can definitely feel you getting restless every second beside him. He knows you are also thinking the same thing as him—especially for the past several nights, you have been successfully getting him to sleep on the bed with you. You do not even have to say anything. You just tug at his hand, slightly pull him and he sleeps beside you. And he makes sure to be awake first, just to avoid awkward morning conversations and longing looks.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Viktor laughs.

“Well, if you’re kidding, why don’t you get your ass up and take my garbage with you?” Nikolai grumbles. Viktor salutes him, eyes sharp and serious. Nastasya lets out a small chuckle, enjoying the way her lover acts, totally does not care about the torment Viktor just put on the homeowner himself.

“Nastya, do you wanna bring home some of Kolya’s stuff? I mean, some of these old coats are high quality, aren’t they?” Viktor asks.

“Take from that pile. Those are the ones I don’t want anymore.” Nikolai points at a pile on the table. There are two piles of overcoats, one on the couch and the other on the table. He has been separating the ones he does not want to keep on the pile on the table. But the ratio of those piles is incredibly uneven.

Viktor jerks his eyebrow. “Dude, are you even throwing stuff? This is like 80-20. Oh, hey, this one’s pretty cute though.”

Nikolai pouts. “I still want some of them… Some of mine already got lost when I was arrested.” He could not really help himself. He is pretty attached to a lot of his clothes—the overcoats that have been his backbone for his trickery over the past several decades.

“Yeah, I understand. It’s still surprising that you have this much even after your stuff was totally gone seven years ago. And now you’re discarding them again. I mean, someone surely wants to keep them. Ain’t that right, girl?” Viktor suddenly calls you out. You seem surprised at the sudden attention and shyly nod. Your hands fiddle with the navy windbreaker you are currently wearing. It cannot be closed because of the broken slider—and it cannot even be zipped in the first place because it is too small to fully close—but you have found your comfort in it.

“I mean, I’ve been sharing his clothes for a while. And a lot of them are comfy…” You say.

“Mm-hm. That windbreaker suits you but are you sure you want that? His ex-girlfriend used to wear that a lot, haha! Who was it? Ehh, Jovanna, right?”

“… Kolya, I don’t want it anymore.”

Nikolai groans loudly. The teasing will not stop as long as you are near. This is unacceptable. He does expect Viktor to be a piece of shit but he does not expect that it will get out of hand. With a deep breath and an eerie sweet smile, he holds your shoulder.

“Can you escort Nastasya to the kitchen and serve her some of your famous hot chocolate?”

“Oh, shit,” Nastasya mutters.

“Sure! Can I take this jacket off though?” Nikolai glares at you and you swallow nervously before fixing the position of the windbreaker that does not even have to be fixed. “N-Nevermind. The jacket is… uh, pretty. Err, come, Nastasya!” You say, taking Nastasya’s hand and practically dragging her away to the kitchen. Nastasya reluctantly follows you—she does not have it in her heart to shove you away and refuse your gesture. Knowing that her boyfriend has pushed Nikolai’s buttons a lot, she can only mouth ‘Sorry’ towards Viktor.

“Wait! Don’t leave me here with this madman. W-Wait, girls— Ow!”

— ♡

“You know, this house isn’t bad,” Nastasya says as she sips the hot chocolate you made for her. “Except for the… ugly walls and ceilings, I think it’s a nice place to stay if you’re alone.”

“You live together with Viktor, right? What’s your house look like?” You ask. Nastasya shrugs.

“A little bigger. We have two rooms. One is our bedroom. And another room, Viktor renovated it to be his office. It’s very messy. Lots of papers and computers and screens. I don’t even understand.” Nastasya says. “I want to understand his work sometimes but I know it’s better for me to not know everything since he tends to get involved with dangerous people.”

“I thought he only works with Nikolai…” You mumble.

“Nope. He works with many different people actually. It’s just Nikolai’s the closest one because they are friends. He is mainly an information broker and informant, so he knows many things about many weird organisations. By weird, I mean real weird. There was one time when he was commissioned by this weird narcissistic gambler who said he’s a mafia executive.” Nastasya says before she dips a wheat cracker into the hot chocolate.

“You don’t mind him keeping you in the dark about things?”

She raises her eyebrow. “No…? It’s dangerous for me to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. Besides, I trust Vitya. He won’t let anything bad happen to me—he never does. If he doesn’t want me to know about certain things, then I believe it’s for my own safety.”

“That… makes sense, I guess.”

“Huh?” She grunts. “Did you imply that what Viktor is doing doesn’t make sense?”

“W-What, no, no! Not at all. I mean, he looks like he would worship even your footsteps, so I thought he would let you know everything possible about him.” You stutter, shaking your palms fast. “I-Isn’t that how relationships work? You both get to know each other…?”

“You really have never been in a relationship, do you?” Nastasya sighs, pinching her nose bridge. Her eyes trail up, glancing hard at you and leering up and down. She frowns slightly before she crosses her arms. “I still find it hard to believe. Seriously? No one wants you? I mean, didn’t you move a lot to new places? You ought to meet someone at least.”

“Mm… no. Well, I had friends… but short-term kind of friends…” You mumble awkwardly. It is kind of embarrassing to publicly admit how much of a loner you are but it is not like that fact is well-hidden. You are aware that some of your behaviour with a certain someone does give some kind of vibes to those who observe—which, probably, most of the people you have met so far.

“Huh…” Nastasya taps her dark red lips, pouting slightly. “But you’re an escort, weren’t you? Don’t you find some people cute sometimes? I mean, we were both sex workers—except you’re on another different spectrum. Sometimes I do find some people cute and attractive, but not to the point I wanted to have a serious relationship with them. Things like that weren’t meant for me. Until Viktor, of course… Well, I found him to be a cringe weirdo at first, but that’s not the point.” She murmurs. “Point is—have you gotten that spark of wanting to date someone, at least? And don’t fucking mention that clown’s name.”

“Err…” You bite your lips, eyes wandering up in the air as you try to remember a single instance where you were indeed interested in becoming someone special, but somehow those many instances happened when you were no longer working in the club and kidnapped by a ‘clown’. You shake your head. “I don’t think so. I mean, there were probably times when I would love to date someone but not really for a serious relationship.”

“Yeah? For what, then?”

“… Money…?”

A short laugh erupts from her throat. “Oh yeah, you’re actually so right. I don’t blame you. I’d do the same if Viktor didn’t come visit me once every two nights. There’s just so many others who are richer than him.” She giggles and you sheepishly chuckle too. You think Nastasya’s little laughs are somewhat adorable—a contrast to her usual bold appearance, always black and red.

“Ooh~ what are you girls gossiping about?” Viktor suddenly appears from the kitchen entrance. He happily makes his way to Nastasya, hugs the woman from behind and kisses her head with a loud, shameless smooch. Nastasya smiles warmly, tilting her face up towards Viktor before her smile drops almost instantly. Her hands quickly cup his face, puckering his lips.

“What happened to your lips?”

You look at Viktor’s face a little more carefully, finally realising a faint reddish bruise on the corner of Viktor’s lips. There seems to be a tiny cut of dried blood on them too. But the man is just calm and nonchalant about it.

“Oh! Don’t get angry, Nastyushka, but Kolya just smacked the brat out of me.” He winks as if it is the most casual thing that happened to him. Nastasya almost jumps out of her seat before Viktor holds her by her shoulders. “Woah, woah, it’s okay! It doesn’t hurt!”

“I wish it freaking does.” Nikolai steps into the kitchen.

“Grumpy. Consider kissing a very very cute baby blue girl— Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Viktor jerks back defensively and hugs Nastasya tightly. He whines at her, “Poor me, poor me,” he says.

“You’re such an ass…” Nikolai shakes his head before he takes a seat on the empty chair beside you. His sharpened, angry eyes soften when you shake his arm, trying to get his attention. It works almost instantly as a small smile flashes on his face when he turns to you. “Yeah?” He asks, softly.

“Kolya, I gotta go to Olga’s diner in an hour. She told me yesterday to come help out today.” You say. “There’s a football match tonight.”

“Ah, right. Hm, that means you’re gonna finish your shift late, right?” Nikolai asks. You nod before you lean closer—he does not pull away from your closeness—and your eyes are shining with expectation.

“Will you wait for me until I finish my shift?”

Nikolai scoffs. “Are you dumb? No, I won't spend my time in her restaurant. And I have some things to do with my car and apartment anyway.”

“I thought there’s nothing left to do with the apartment.” You mutter.

“Yeah, but apparently I owed the landlord about forty thousand rubles.” He says, his tone sounds like he is also confused by the amount of debt on his name. “He must be fucking with me…” He murmurs, pouting as he sulkily takes a piece of wheat cracker from the plate on the table.

“What? How can there be so much?” You ask.

“See, I don’t understand it either. I made my calculations when I rented this apartment and I should not have that much debt. I think the landlord is messing with me because he knows I’m leaving.” Nikolai says. He eyes your hot chocolate and deliberately takes the mug. And you can only watch dejectedly as he drinks half of your hot chocolate.

“Marking up prices, what’s new?” Viktor replies. “I’m sure he’s going to bring up the fact that you have your unregistered girlfriend residing together.”

You gulp and look away shyly. “I’m n-not his girlfriend…” Your body shrinks as you are engulfed with embarrassment. “Not…” your voice falters, “… yet.”

“Pull yourself together,” Nastasya says sharply.

Swallowing nervously, Nikolai tries hard to pretend he does not hear your personal whisper despite the shit-eating grin on Viktor’s face. He coughs awkwardly, “Ahem— He, uh, he probably would try to blackmail me about the fact that there’s another unregistered resident over here. But it’s fine. I’ll see him later in his unit after I send her to Olga’s. We’re gonna have some chit-chat.” He looks at Viktor, wiggling his index finger at him. “And you’re gonna guard the door, alright?”

Viktor’s grin falls. “… Dude, please don’t kill people today. I’m not cleaning your mess.”

“Are you guys really leaving me alone?” Nastasya grumbles, glaring at Nikolai and you. “You’re going to work—” She points at you and then turns to Nikolai. “—and you two are going to kill people. Am I really going to be here alone?”

“Nobody’s getting killed. Not even the landlord,” Viktor rolls his eyes.

You lean forward slightly, smiling at Nastasya. “Or~ you can come with me to Olga—”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Fine.” You huff but your little attitude does not last long when you hear a breathy chuckle from the man beside you. When you look at him, his chuckle halts immediately and his eyes immediately wander away from you.

He feigns another awkward cough as he fiddles with your hot chocolate that somehow has become his. “I think you should get ready to leave now. Olga’s probably waiting for you already.”

“Oh! Alright.” You nod and excuse yourself from the dining table. Nikolai only watches your figure disappear into the bedroom. His hand is holding the mug and he drinks the rest of it—he does not care if this is yours to begin with. It was his money that bought the chocolate powder in the first place.

“Hey, Nikolai,” Viktor says and Nikolai’s heart is already uneasy with whatever stunt Viktor wants to pull. His friend giggles. “Hee hee hee, your lips were on the spot where her lips were.”

— ♡

“Alright, here we are.”

The car stops by the street and across the road is Olga’s diner. There is no parking directly in front of the restaurant, so Nikolai has to park by the street. It is not like it will take long as he just wanted to send you off. You look out of the window, seeing the hazy weather above. The snowfall is light today. Sun peeks between the clouds occasionally, just enough to shine its existence for a minute or two.

“You’ll finish late, right?” Nikolai asks, making sure. You turn to him and nod. “Hm, in that case, tell Olga to call me when you’re done. I’ll come to pick you up.”

“Will your business today take that long to be done? Can’t you just come at like… ten or eleven?” You lean closer to him, beaming. He scoffs, tugging a strand of your hair. And you let out a tiny whine as you swat his bullying hand like flies. He laughs shortly before he retracts his hand and shakes his head.

“Yeah, no. I think even my business will finish later than usual because I also have a small… job to do. Just some extra cash.” He winks and you do not dare to pry more because whatever job he is about to do is probably something bloody and dangerous. You know he commits crimes—a shitload of it. And somehow you find it amusing to see a former inmate be so brave to break the law again and again. You wonder if the justice system is that flawed and damned—is money truly the god of it all?

“Okay… Be careful.” You say. Nikolai scoffs, finding your words to be ridiculous.

“I think that’s not what you should say to an ex-terrorist, love.”

“Still, I don’t want you to get hurt or anything.” You reply, your tone is firm as you poke his chest. “You don’t want to get into prison again, right?”

Nikolai laughs, lifting both his hands in a surrendering manner. “You got me there.” He then holds your wrist, pulling it away slightly. “You don’t have to worry about me so much, you know? Worry about yourself.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, and it makes him nervous. Sometimes your staring would take away the sparkles in your eyes and he is left with deep questioning on what kind of thoughts are spiralling inside your head. When you look away, your attention is fixated on your lap instead.

“I love you, Nikolai. That’s why I care and worry about you…”

“… I know.”

God damn it—Nikolai curses to himself when you look at him with those eyes, akin to a lost puppy. He turns his head away, refusing to return your gaze, for he knows that his self-control is already struggling. He already begins to feel the cold mask that he puts on thawing—perhaps it already melted and the shield he puts up is no longer. His heart flutters when he feels a tiny tug on his arm—a habit he is no stranger to. It is as if you are constantly begging him to pay attention to you—look at me, listen to me, love me, love me, love me.

He despises it. He knows many strings of his have attached themselves to you—tightened their knots the longer you stay with him. He needs to sever the ties—he does not need more people to be concerned about. He only has himself and his focus should be on his former friend who truly understood him—that is all there is. Relationships, human connections, emotions are all controls—and he is damned with them.

He left prison for one reason only—to kill Dostoyevsky and do what he was supposed to do back in Meursault.

He does not want to care too much. One wrong move and he will drown again in the cage he fights so hard to stay out of. One wrong move and the care will turn to love—that will not do, that shall not happen. He must keep it withered, watch it perish slowly.

He needs you to learn to unlove him. He already did so much to get rid of you in the nicest way possible—got you a nice working place, a nice house to live in, nice people to befriend with. It is just your dependency that is the main problem.

“Nikolai…”

God damn you.

“Listen,” Nikolai hesitantly looks at you. “I don’t hate you, alright? But I can’t just let go of… what I’m trying to pursue. I don’t hate you, I really don’t.”

“I know you don’t hate me. But do you like me?”

He holds himself back from lashing out mean words at you—not because he is angry, but really, he just does not want the knots to tighten. He sighs internally and shrugs. “Of course I do.” He murmurs and as much as he wants to deny it again, the little shine of hope in your face does soften his heart enough for him to not hurt your feelings.

“I like you too. I like you a lot.” You smile at him—adorable little flowers planting their seeds in his heart. He feels his chest tightens before he smirks faintly. Loving him is extreme and he is content enough if you just like him—as long as you are not hating him. He knows it is better if you hate him, but he does not want to be the one who is pushed away. Let it be him who pushes you away, out of his sight, out of his life.

Selfish, yes. But perhaps it hurts less.

Nikolai swallows nervously before he nudges his chin towards Olga’s diner across the road. “I think you should go already.” He says. You turn your head to look at the building before you sigh to yourself softly. Truthfully, you feel reluctant to even leave Nikolai’s side—especially knowing that you only have five days left with him. You want to make every second count but even the man himself is getting busier each day approaching.

Well, at least he does sleep on the same bed as you every night. Except you wonder if he leaves right after you totally black out because every time you wake up the next morning, he is already gone.

With half enthusiasm in your heart, you take off the seatbelt and gather your belongings—it is just only your purse, really. You take out your lip gloss and hastily apply it to your lips. Smacking your lips lightly a couple times, you tidy up your hair and clothes. Then you turn your head towards Nikolai to bid farewell, but you find him to be staring at you.

And upon realising that he has been caught, his eyes divert away little by little until he fully looks straight ahead.

“You stare a lot—”

“Get out of my car already, geez.” He cuts you off. Without even looking at you, he pushes your shoulder a few times, as if to urge you to leave.

“Okay, okay! I’m leaving! Hmph, I can’t even be cute.” You protest and open the car door before you take a step out. Nikolai presses the button at the console on the side of his door and the window to your door rolls down. You close the door but it is a weak push that does not shut the door perfectly.

“Close the door again.” He says right before you take a step to cross the road. You huff and pull the door again, only to slam it as hard as you can—perhaps it is too hard as Nikolai even flinches at the banging noise.

“Heyyy, be gentle! Broken car won’t sell nice.”

“I did be gentle.” You retort, unsatisfied with his complaints. Nikolai huffs, waving his hand to shoo you off. You stick out your tongue and turn around to leave.

“Look both ways.” He says—his words are just a casual, breezing advice but from the corner of his eyes, he sees you turn your head left and right at the very empty road. You look at him one last time and wave your hand.

“I’ll see you later tonight. Bye-bye. Love you.”

The giggles that follow you when you jog away to the restaurant only make the butterflies in his stomach wilder. Those two words are just as casual as his breezing advice and yet the knots tighten. Nikolai taps his own chest, face blushing when he realises how fast his heart is beating.

He watches you until you are safely inside the restaurant.

“… Love… you…. too…”

He whispers. It sounds foreign, strange—should not be uttered, should be buried, concealed, confined.

But it feels right. His heart delights.

— ♡

“Are the stars out tonight?”

“I don't know if it's cloudy or bright,”

“I only have eyes for you, dear.”

“Olga, can we change the radio already?” Vasily complains as he arranges the washed dishes. You two have been taking turns washing the dishes and it is your turn to soak both of your forearms in the sink.

Your shift supposedly ends at eleven but you decide to stick around to help for closing. The football match went horrible, you think. Some people left the restaurant even before the game ended. Apparently, the team the majority were rooting for was on the losing side and there was little to no hope left to get back in the game.

At the end, when the match ended, people were rushing to make payments to leave. You remember Vasily’s panicked face because he had to take over the cashier at the moment. He did call you over to take over the machine as he needed to leave for a moment.

Despite Olga’s advice to not work too upfront with the customers, you had to do it because the diner was lacking the necessary staff. The kitchen staff were busy with dirty dishes. The bartender only cared about the cups and glasses returned to him.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of some old song, Vasya?” A kitchen staff member who is still around replies. You do not know his name. He is a little taller than Vasily. He has dirty blonde hair and a light moustache and goatee. He seems to be only working on the evening shift.

“I’m not scared but might as well put up some songs other than old jazz in the middle of late night.” Vasily rolls his eyes. Olga cackles before she intentionally twists the volume knob on the old radio to increase it. Although the jazz is quite creepy, it pleases you to learn that Olga likes jazz—old classic ones. Does Nikolai like jazz too? Or perhaps he prefers some opera since you have seen him watching a recording of a play before?

“Yeah, you definitely are not scared, although your legs are trembling. And that’s not jazz, that’s… R&B or something.” The kitchen staff says.

“I’m not trembling!” Vasily bickers back. “Jazz, R&B, country, they’re all jazz if they’re released before the 1960s, alright?” He adds. The man lets out a mocking laugh before he pats Vasily’s back.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Vasya.” He says. “Hey, Olya! Thanks for the dinner. I’m sooo gonna enjoy it.” The man waves to Olga before he takes his backpack from the counter. Olga nods and waves back with a warm smile on her face.

“Be careful on the road.” She says.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, ‘mum’.” He replies jokingly before he walks past you who are standing at the sink. But he stops behind you and seeing his shadow looming over you, you slowly turn around with a plate in your hands.

“H-Hi…?” You say with a small voice.

“You’ve been here for a while and I still don’t know your name,” He says before he offers his hand. “Name’s Cherevyk. I’m the chef.”

You hastily wipe your right hand on the apron you are wearing before taking his hand. His grip is rigid and you frown slightly when he seems to still insist on holding your hand despite a little pull from you to break the handshake. Knowing it is not wise to tell him your full name, you just give him your shortest nickname.

“You kinda look familiar, not gonna lie.” Cherevyk grins. “Seems like we’re going to work together for a long time, eh?”

“I-I suppose so.” You glance at your linked hands and finally manage to pry away your hand from him.

“Hey, since you’re working more in the kitchen, you wanna exchange numbers? I’m not trying to brag but I’m pretty darn good at my job, you know? Maybe someday you can upgrade yourself to a chef like me too instead of sticking around with Vasya here and there.” He smirks before taking out his phone. You want to refuse the idea since your phone is still dead. But before you can politely decline, Vasily quickly appears right beside Cherevyk, with his hand behind the chef’s back.

“She has a man, dude,” Vasily says. Cherevyk’s eyebrow buck up as he looks at Vasily confused.

“You? That’s a quick move-on from your last heartbreak. I remember seeing you sit under the rain—”

“Fuck you.” Vasily cusses him out. “Not me, asshat.” He sighs before he gently pulls Cherevyk away from your personal space. You finally let out a long exhale before you watch the two of them, blinking bemusedly at what Vasily is going to do to defend you. You can definitely speak for yourself but you do enjoy the feeling of having someone get you covered.

“Yeah, as if I’ll believe that.” Cherevyk scoffs before he turns to you. “I’ll trust the cutie pie herself. You have a boyfriend?”

“Err…”

Vasily sighs loudly before he uses his whole body to steer Cherevyk away from you even further. Cherevyk is protesting, cursing at Vasily to move and let him have his chance on you. You purse your lips and turn to Olga, trying to ask her for help but she is just packing up some leftover food for you and Vasily while humming over the same song she has put on a loop—or maybe it is just the way the old radio works.

“You are here and so am I,

“Maybe millions of people go by,

“But they all disappear from view,

“And I only have eyes for you.”

She serenades to herself.

“Cherevyk, you gotta trust me, you won’t have a chance at all with her. I’m telling you, her man is not someone you’d mess with.” You look at Vasily and Cherevyk—they are speaking to each other in hushed voices but it does not seem like they even bother to be secretive because you can still hear their conversation. And they are not that far anyway.

“Huh? What kind of man is he? A freaking police or something?” Cherevyk sneers, snorting scornfully.

“It’s Nikolai,” Vasily grumbles.

“Who’s that?”

Your friend’s sigh turns louder. “You know the guy with the white hair? The one whose hair is often braided with a red fluffy thing?”

“… Gogol?” Cherevyk asks, his voice is loud and surprised. His head quickly snaps towards you as his face is ashen. Trying to ease the tension growing between them, your lips curve into a sweet smile and Cherevyk turns away. “Oh, fuck…”

“Yeah, you’re fucked. Deep fucked. In the ass too and it’s not pleasant. What if he knows, huh? He tried to box me up and throw me in the trash the other day for no reason too.” Vasily says. He clearly purposefully tries to make his tone spookier, instilling fear in Cherevyk.

“Nikolai was just kidding. He wasn’t trying to harm you.” You chime in, not liking how they speak of him negatively. He might be a little scary but he is a sweet person… sometimes.

“See?” Vasily gestures to you. “So you better give up, dude. Really, for your own good. Now go home and find another girl, okay?” He pats Cherevyk’s back and leads him to the pantry at the back, where the back door is also located nearby. Before Cherevyk leaves, he glances at you one last time, a little regret in his eyes for flirting with you.

“Hmph,” You pout before you arrange your final cleaned plates on the rack before approaching Olga. As you walk closer, you hear the jazz louder. As you take a look at the old radio, you see the jazz CD spinning on its port.

“First time seeing an old radio?” Olga suddenly says. You grin, shaking your head.

“I have seen my fair share of antique stuff.” You reply. “But this radio is certainly working nicely for this kind of model…” You murmur, hand curiously inspecting the radio. “Don’t you think it would be romantic to listen to a song with your lover like this?”

Olga chuckles to herself. “What I’m hearing is, ‘Can I borrow this radio so I can show it and play it to Kolya?’. Do I get that right, sweetie?”

“N-No, I don’t mean that!” You deny quickly, ironically with your hands in front of you as if you are guilty. She laughs before she pushes one of the packed food towards you.

“A way to a man’s heart is by food. Give one to Kolya, will you?”

“O-Of course!” You say before you take two packed food—one for you, one for Nikolai. “Uhm, do I go home now? It doesn’t look like you’re going to close just yet…”

“Ah right, you did tell me to call Kolya to pick you up, didn’t you?” She murmurs. “You can go home, dear. Vasily and I are staying a bit. I have some food supplies to retrieve and stock up.”

“I can stick around and help.” You say. “I thought Cherevyk would stay around but he’s been more than eager to leave.”

“Of course he would when Vasya does not stop fear-mongering him. What’s sooo scary about Kolya anyway? He’s just… quirky, sometimes.”

Bam! “I know, right?” Your palm slams the counter, accidentally hard, and it makes Olga jump at the sudden wham at the impact. “I mean, he can get nerve-wracking but he is not scary. Mm-hm, I’m glad we think the same, Olga.” Your lips jut outward as you rest your head on Olga’s head. “Nikolai is not scary…”

“Yeah, he’s not 'scary'. That bastard is madly terrifying.”

— ♡

“My love must be a kind of blind love… I can't see anyone but you…Sha bop, sha bop… Hm, maybe this is why I don’t go to karaoke…” You mumble self-consciously at your attempt to voice out the melody that has stuck itself vigorously in your mind. You have no one but Olga to blame for this. She has been tuning in old songs in the diner to fill in the silence instead of turning on the TV. You sigh before that sigh turns into a yawn.

It is already eleven forty-three.

It was an exhausting day. But it does not end yet as Olga told you to wait for Vasily at the back to move some new food supplies for the restaurant. So, at 11:43 PM, basking in the winterly night, you are waiting for your friend by yourself. You do not blame Olga for this though because you did agree to help and she has been nothing but a kind person for you all this time.

However, it is weird that some food supplies are arriving at this hour. Is the supplier really that busy to not be able to send the items when the sun is still out? Why now, when the moon is barely reflecting its glamour? You wish Nikolai was here to accompany you or something. You did tell Olga to call him to come pick you up later on.

Five minutes later, you are already shivering in the cold. Your exhale of breaths is emitting faint tiny clouds. You are about to get inside again, to complain about Vasily’s lateness to Olga, but that idea is halted when you see a car approaching the back of the building.

Your hand on the doorknob, you watch in suspicion as the car stops in front of you. Then it parks before Vasily gets out from the driver’s side. The wariness in you dissipates as you sigh in relief. But not so long when you berate him immediately after.

“You’re so late!” You say. Vasily scratches his head, looking fairly guilty.

“I got lost…”

“You lived here longer than me.” You cross your arms, pouting.

Vasily rolls his eyes. “Girl, you cannot even afford a driving licence. You don’t have the right to get mad at me.” He says and you could only smack his shoulder lightly as a response—because he is right… in a way.

“Here, come help me. Jesus, I don’t even know why Olga has to receive these supplies right at this hour as if tomorrow won’t be.” He grumbles as he opens the trunk. There are four polystyrene foam boxes. Out of curiosity, you lift each lid of the boxes one by one. There are some frozen seafood, frozen vegetables and suspicious packages containing white powder.

“Urm, Vasya…? I don’t think these are… food supplies.”

Vasily takes a peek at one of the boxes. He swallows nervously before he gently pushes your hand to close the box back. As if to reassure you, he pats your hand. “Well, that is… something. I don’t even know about that.”

“Are these… what I think they are?” You ask, your voice hushed. Vasily nods awkwardly.

“Yes…? I hope not but… yes, it is.” He rubs his face. “Damn, I’m an accidental smuggler. This won’t look good in my records.”

“Are we going to erm… smuggle… these? That’s a crime.” You shake his arm, hesitant to even think about carrying the box into the restaurant and place it somewhere hidden. You know once you carry it into the restaurant, you are complicit. Vasily’s eyebrow jerks up when he looks at you.

“You’re a kidnapped victim… who refused the police… and stayed… with a man who kills for money… I think you should put that worry somewhere else.” Vasily shakes his head. You frown, pinching his side in protest. He yelps and slaps your hand away.

“Nikolai does those things for a reason.”

“For money.”

“… Two reasons.”

Vasily scoffs before he pulls the boxes containing frozen seafood and frozen vegetables closer. “Whatever. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s scary. He looks like he will lock you up if you push a certain button.” You glare at him. Maybe he is a pussy after all. You say nothing other than a tiny huff of disagreement.

“Anyway, let’s get this done so both of us can go home.” He says. “We’re going to carry the food first. Okay?”

“Okay!” You salute him and take the box with frozen seafood. But finding it to be heavier, you switch to the vegetable one. You grin cheekily at Vasily as you watch him slightly struggling to carry the seafood box. That is not to say yours is not heavy but the weight is something you can manage.

You follow Vasily to the door. He presses the foot pedal at the bottom of the door and uses his whole body to open it. He lets you step inside first before moving aside to let the door close by itself.

“Where do we put these?” You ask. You are in an empty space where empty boxes are placed. Two metres ahead, there is a doorway to the pantry, and the door frame is only covered with some plastic curtain strips.

“Freezer room,” Vasily says. “Come on, follow me.” He walks ahead first.

You are about to follow Vasily before he abruptly stops. “Wait.” He says. He looks around, eyes sharp. Then, with a whispering voice, he asks you, “Did you turn on the TV again?”

“No? I don’t even know where the remote is.” You say. “It was off when I left to wait outside.”

“… Where’s Olga?” Vasily asks again.

“She was cleaning the stoves,” You reply before you scoot closer, finding Vasily’s apprehension to be concerning. He looks scared and nervous. And you are easily influenced by his manner right now. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Didn’t you hear that loud ass TV? The radio was already loud and you could barely hear it. Olga would not turn the TV back on. She isn’t one to watch late-night stuff…” He says. Clicking his tongue, Vasily turns his body and places the box in his arms on the floor.

“Hey, Vasya… You’re making me scared.” You murmur shakily. “M-Maybe Olga just wanted to watch the midnight news or something.”

Vasily glances at you. “Maybe.” He agrees. “But let me just check first, okay? I mean, nobody in this town wants shit to do with Olga. And I’m directly acquainted with her. But not you. You stay here.”

You shake your head, gripping his shirt. “Wait, let me just come with you.” You insist. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“Well, if something happens to you, your boyfriend is going to kill me and Olga and nobody in this town will be pleased by that.”

“Don’t speak of Nikolai like that… He’s not reckless…”

Vasily groans, slightly irritated by your never-ending defence towards Nikolai. You are a fun person to befriend with and he really does want to keep in touch with you, considering that you two are going to be housemates. But your behaviour can be very confusing. He wonders what really goes on in your mind to stay with someone like that, even loving them a little too much. Vasily knows Olga adores Nikolai because they are long-time acquaintances. She has known him for years. But you? You are just a girl who had to be kidnapped and objectified as a bargaining chip—which apparently failed very horribly. And even so, fight does not come through your mind at all, as if your sense of danger is thrown out of the way when it comes to Nikolai.

He sighs. “Ergh, you know what? Whatever. Point is, you are better off staying here. I’ll just check if Olga is around. She’s probably having a deal with some shady men again because we are literally going to smuggle some cocaine and if that’s the case, you can’t be seen, alright?” He says before he pats your shoulder.

Your frown grows deeper but you know he is right anyway. You do not even know the extent of Olga’s shady business and if there is anyone who can be your middle man, it is Vasily. And from the look of it, it seems like he will insist you stay there regardless. You relent, half-heartedly.

“Okay… I’ll wait.”

Vasily smiles before he leaves you alone. Already feeling cramped in your arms, you place the frozen vegetable box in your hands on top of Vasily’s box. You sigh in relief as you stretch your arms, easing up your tense muscles.

You crouch right beside the foam boxes, taking a rest after standing for so long. You did not even sit when you were waiting outside earlier. Gladly the shoes you are wearing still feel comfortable—you remember you asked Nikolai to buy you a pair of shoes that are suitable for working in a restaurant. He was reluctant at first, making up horrible excuses.

“What? Why should I buy it? Use your money!”

“I don’t get paid yet…”

“Are you in a slavery contract or something? Ask Olga to buy the shoes. I’m not responsible for that.”

“Please, Nikolai, please? Pretty please~?”

And as you expected, Nikolai came back home with a box of a new pair of shoes. You do not even know how he got your size somewhat right. Hopefully he referred to the current boots you always wear.

You know you have been leeching off him a lot these days. You try to think about things you could return his (questionable) kindness with. You do cook for him—with the groceries he paid for. You do his laundry—with the coin tokens he paid for. You do clean the house—with the detergents he paid for.

You could not really think of other possible ways. However, you do subconsciously treat him like the customers in the club sometimes—they will pay for your drinks and buy you pretty stuff, and all you have to do is look cute and desirable.

But living with Nikolai makes you lazier. Sometimes you do not even bother to look pretty. He has seen your sleeping faces. That is another level of vulnerability if you say so yourself. You rest your face in your hands, humming the melody that is still gnawing your mind.

“The moon may be high… But I can't see a thing in the sky…”

Bang!

You flinch and you immediately stand on your feet once you hear a very short yet loud banging. It sounds like something bumped into a hard surface. You look at the doorway but you cannot really get any view of the other side because it is just too obscured with the curtain strips.

“V-Vasya?” You try to ask but your voice comes out slow. “V-Vasily?” You try again, this time louder.

No answer. Your gut is churning as it is telling you that something is horribly wrong. Your feet are fidgeting, not knowing whether to step into the pantry or leave through the back door. Your purse is still in the staff locker and the restaurant’s phone is at the register.

You do not even know Nikolai’s number…

You do not think that it is wise to even move. But you have to do something. You need to find Olga or Vasily or just anyone nearby. Screw your supposedly-hidden identity. You need Nikolai to be here right now.

You turn around to leave through the back door. However, once you try to twist the knob, the door feels too heavy than usual for you to push. It is as if something is blocking it from the outside. You hear the clanking noise of metals as you shove your weight against the heavy door.

“Oh no,” You suck your breath in sharp as sweat starts to form on your palms. You look behind you. It is the only path to exit now—the doorway to the pantry and then to the kitchen and then to the bar and then to the entrance and home, home, home.

You try to find something that you can use to defend yourself. There is a toolbox and you immediately open it. Not a lot of tools in there except for various sizes of wrenches and screwdrivers. You take the biggest screwdriver and clutch it tightly in your shaky hand. With slow and steady steps, you embark into the pantry.

There is only the faint noise from the television that accompanies you. You look around, whispering “Vasily” and “Olga”, gripping to the feeble hope that they are still around. The pantry is empty so you walk slowly to the kitchen connected to it.

You take a peek at the kitchen and your eyes widen when you see someone lying on the floor. You cannot see who exactly it is as your whole view is blocked by the kitchen counter. You see the person is wearing white pants and black shoes—which could be anyone who worked tonight.

You take a deep breath—and it is hard, as you have been shaking so terribly that you find it a miracle that you are still standing. You make your way quickly to the kitchen to help the lying person—wake them up, hide with them, help them, get them to call Nikolai and everything will be fine.

Everything will be fine.

Everything

will

I only have eyes for you

“… O-Olga?”

Your voice comes out hoarse. Your eyes are stinging as you let out a terrified scream. “Olga! Olga, Olga, no, no, no!” You shriek, pulling your hair in frustration as your feet unhelpingly rush towards her.

Olga’s eyes are bulging wide, her skin is unnaturally pale, cold and still. You are already wailing and crying, trying to pull her to lay her head on your lap. “It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ll help, I’ll find someone, you’re gonna be safe,” You reassure her, despite your wavering voice. You just want her to hear you, so she would not be scared and believe help will come, help will arrive. Your hands are shaking that it hurts when you try to even hold her shoulder, to drag her close to you as you try to pacify her directly in her ears—despite there being so much blood beneath her, so much, too much, red red red.

Breath hitching, you stare at your bloody palms and between the searing tears, you finally catch the big gash directly on her head—her grey hair is smeared with crimson.

“O-Olga, wake up, please… I’m scared…” You whimper, shaking her body hopelessly. Your chest is heaving fast and your shortness of breath is just getting more rapid each second passes, as Olga’s blood seeps deep into your skin.

“Vasily! Vasily, please help! Anyone—”

“There you are.”

You gasp and look behind you. Your vision is blurry because of the tears streaming down your face and yet his face is familiar enough for you to panickedly get up and try to run.

“… you have to tell me.”

“… if you ever see him, tell me.”

“… still come to the diner?”

“Don’t be scared, little dove.”

“You are going to be fine.”

“People here love you lots, you know?”

“A-Ah!” You yelp when Elvir’s hand manages to reach your shirt. He grips it hard and you scream, hand clutching on the metallic edge of the kitchen counter as your whole body is yanked back. “Get off! Get off get off get off!” You plead. Panic, fear and terror are boiling inside you. You can hear your fucking heartbeat as your body trembles horribly.

With little to no thoughts, you grab anything your hands reach, throwing them behind you. Plates crashing, pans clattering, cutlery rattling. Even the radio does not escape your desperation, tossed as it sings, “You are here and so am I. Maybe millions of people go by,”

“Fuck! You bitch—”

Elvir grunts as he takes a wide step to catch up to you. You are trying to run out of the kitchen but you are forced to make a round at the counter because Olga’s body is blocking the shortest path.

“Get back here, stupid bitch!” He barks and a loud bang shoots right at the wall beside you. You let out a pitchy scream—so close to death you are. The shot surprised you enough for you to halt your steps and with both your arms covering your ears, you try to run.

Legs shaking, your vision breaking apart. You are soaked in sweat and tears. Your mouth can only cry out broken words of help that will not come. A farrago of names are uttered out in desperation—Vasily, Vasya, Cherevyk, Viktor, Nikolai, Nikolai, Nikolai,

mom

“Ahh!” You wail when Elvir grabs your arm. You flail helplessly, struggling against his larger figure. He hisses, grunts and snarls at you, and the horror intensifies within you when his shadow mimics your doomed past. You shriek, tears and saliva—you do not know what covers your face anymore.

He pulls you towards him, shouting at you to shut up, shut up, shut your mouth, I don’t want to ruin your face, you have plenty more to cry over.

You harden your footings as you try to elbow his stomach—adrenaline is rushing all over and you just want to leave and get the hell out. You part your mouth open beneath his palm, trying to bite his hand—fight, anything.

“Stop it, bitch!” Elvir groans and the hold he has on your arm loosens slightly. With a high rush, you pull yourself away from him. He curses—his face is red with anger and fury and his words begin to fumble in your mind. You do not process anything as you just try to move away from his grabbing hands. Your own hands are gripping anything they reach, holding and grasping to support yourself—if you stop, you are going to fall. If you stop running, you are going to die.

Elvir is raging and he shoots his bullets to the floor, to Olga’s cold body—anything to scare you to slow you down. And your cries are only getting louder and more desperate as you are ducking over nothing—just fear that you are going to be shot. He yells at you in his mother tongue, something you can barely understand. He strides towards you angrily, huffing and fuming.

“Get, back, here!” He reaches your head, grabbing a handful of your hair. You whimper, your hand thrashing on the counter by your side. You feel something like a handle within your grasp and without a second thought, you thrust your arm back, hoping it hits him.

“A-Ack—”

You peek behind you, eyes widen when you realise you just shoved a pair of kitchen scissors directly on his collarbone. Elvir groans in pain, palming the bleeding gash on his skin. He glares hard at you, grumbling curses and oaths to make your life hell. Despite his injury, he lunges at you, grabbing both of your arms. You both fall on the floor and you whimper when your body is slammed hard against the surface.

In complete desperation, only driven with adrenaline, you thrash wildly beneath him. Your grip on the scissors tightens hard, unyielding. You shut your eyes, swinging your arms against him as your legs try to kick him from below. Your thighs are sore, as well as your arms. Your body hurts all over and the more you move, the more painful everything is. Even your head is spinning and it feels like your insides are actually compressing as you even find it painful to breathe.

Elvir’s words are muffled, but you do not care to decipher his pain. All you do is just shove the scissors at him, whatever it jabs into, you do not care—even if his warm life is dripping down your arms, you do not care.

“F-Fuck—”

When his strength is fading, you finally open your eyes, panting frantically as you try to suck in the air. Your mouth parts, but no scream is leaving your lips other than a pathetic whimper when you realise how bloody your hands are. Elvir’s neck is covered with blood—when he tries to speak, blood spurts out from his throat. His eyes are bloodshot red, gawking wide at you.

You cry, shaking. Your legs are weak and you can only scoot yourself backwards when Elvir tries to crawl towards you while his blood-soaked hand is holding the rips in his skin.

“Go… away…! Go away go away go away!” You beg—your throat is hot as if your voice has to rake through and claw itself to your flesh to emerge. It hurts to even speak, it hurts to scream and breathe and beg and yell—

Bang!

You scream, terrified by the sudden gunshot. Instinctively you curl yourself, covering your head and ears. You are sick of the sound of gunshots—it rings the bells of death over and over and the echo will not stop. You scream louder, begging everything to stop shouting at you. Gunshots, the television, your screams, your cries, the song, they are all cluttered and they mangle into your brain—crushing.

But they all disappear from view

A hard thump gives you the tiniest courage to lift your irises. The first pair of eyes you see is Elvir’s bulging ones—he only had eyes for you.

And through your sorrowful weep, you see him.