Archive of Our Own

     It is 2:00AM, the night is a chilly one. Under the blanket of darkness that wraps the dimly lit train station, there were not many people this time around. A man is sitting alone on a bench that is glistening with a thin sheet of ice. February is a brutal month, yet a perfect time of the year if one doesn’t like big crowds.

     And that just so happens to be the case for him as well.

       His name holds much weight, being a former priest at a local orthodox Christian church. Key word, former.  Fyodor Dostoyevsky is the name of this ‘batyushka,’ who is now trying to catch the last train to his home town.

     His departure from the church was unexpected, even he himself was unable to predict such an event. The mayor of this small city-village was put under pressure from all the debt and corruption, thus announcing that he will be forcefully enticing a mass private church disbanding. The only place where people of the area were now able to pray is the capital - funded cathedral at the heart of the city, far superior to all the private religious establishments. Thus, a priest of many years with a reputation as respectable as that of god, was forced to pack up his things and head home.

     Fyodor was not entirely lost, though. Whatever family he had left home would welcome him home with opens arms, and he had saved up a fair amount of money in his emergency savings. There was a gleam of light, hope, at the end of this dark and unpredictable tunnel.

                           ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙.*⋆‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

     The train station guide has announced the boarding of the next train to a desired destination at about 2:23AM. Fyodor gathered his bags in his stiff, frost bitten hands. The gloves he had on were not doing much to keep the body heat inside, instead releasing it into the harsh winter air. He looked up at the train arrival board and took a double take at the train number he was supposed to board. With a single release of his precious hot breath, he went ahead and got in line.

     It wasn’t long until he got aboard the train. The line moved quickly as the people rushed to get inside and warm up. Many elderly people needed rest, mothers desired to feed their sick with cold children. An average night in this (former) town of his. The train hall extended on forever; yellow lights illuminating the aged, wood lining of the walls and the stained, red walkway carpet that he knew oh so well. Fyodor turned in the tight space to his left and looked at the door number. It was an economy version, usually with 4 beds meant for 4 people. He was not excited to spend the night in a crammed space with strangers, but exhaustion was biting at his mind and he no longer had any care left.

     As soon as he opened the sliding door (which took a good 3 pushes from himself) a whiff of mildew and old faux leather hit his nose.

      How nostalgic, he thought.

    The cabin was fairly dark, it seemed that the cheap light above the window was long broken. He did not look around at the beds, instead sat down at the first available one to his left and packed away the bags. This late at night, formalities and greetings at strangers you won’t see in the morning were not necessary. After he was done taking off his winter boots and put on a pair of prickly wool socks, he moved his tired legs onto the bed and went to lay down.

     However instead of a cheap, flea filled pillow, his head and shoulders ended up laying atop another person.

     …

     Lord, help me live another day.

    More annoyed than surprised, if anything, Fyodor rapidly sat back up and glared at the corner full of darkness where his pillow  was supposed to be. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he vaguely made out a curled up human figure.

     Of course, he thought to himself. What are the chances of this night going peacefully. All he wants is some rest; he’s freezing, starving, and exhausted.

    The person on in corner of the bed does not awaken, so Fyodor had no other choice but to trouble their sleep. He stretched out his arm and shook them by the shoulder. Even after a few strong shakes, the person did not budge into consciousness. All that changed is that their head rolled over from leaning against the wall to hanging down in the front.

     At first glance, he thought it was a woman. But after taking a better look, he realised it was simply a man with long, white hair. His hair seemed to be originally in a long braid, but was now a just loose mess.

    Fyodor was surprised to meet such a person. It was uncommon for men in the area to have long hair, let alone have such a pure colour of white. For a brief moment he was so caught up in the scene in front of him that he didn’t even notice that the other opened his eyes and was staring right back at him.

    A good minute has passed as the two passengers were staring each other down with either curiosity or confusion. Or both.

    “O-oh.” is all that Fyodor spoke in that moment. He was unsure of what to do in such situation, he hoped that it would just resolve on its own. He was too tired for this.

    The mystic beauty stared at him blankly, as if awaiting a better response. Eventually he spoke, seeing that this was heading no where.

    “Young Man, you are currently occupying my bed. Would you please kindly choose a different one?”

   What was intended to come out courteous ended up sounding more annoyed than anything. But the speaker didn’t care to change his first impression.

   Fyodor looked around awkwardly and stood up. He himself was fairly tall with the top of his head almost reaching the ceiling of the train cabin. As he looked around at the beds,  he saw that all were surprisingly un occupied. It was very rare to be this lucky, so he decided on choosing the bottom one, across from the one he originally settled on, out of convenience. Without saying much, Fyodor moved his bags under his new bed, settled in, and laid down to go to sleep.

    As he was drowsing off, he heard the other man speak.

     “You know, it’s rare to meet such a person like yourself. Where are you heading, mister?” He spoke with curiosity, no longer having any hint of annoyance in his tone.

   It is almost 3 in the morning, does this guy not have any common sense?!

    Fyodor reluctantly opened his eyes and answered back in a tired voice.

    “What’s so special about me to you? I’m simply heading home. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

    His cabin mate registered this response, but said nothing. Instead he focused on taking apart his tangled braid and brushing it through. Fyodor was confused by the lack of response and turned to look at him. 

     The mystery has noticed this and returned the gesture.

“Oh yeah, my name is Nikolai. Nice to meet you, travel mate,” he said with a genuine smile. Not a single hint of deceit in his expression.

     Fyodor stared blankly at his face, then abruptly turned around and ignored him.

    “Hey! You sure are one mannered man. Fine, fine. I’ll reveal the secret. I recognised the hat you’ve brought with you. I visited your church quite a few times, but we never spoke directly. I must say, I’m quite fond of your sermons. You could call me a fan, even. What do you say to that?” Nikolai leaned over the pull out table and awaited a response from the other.

     Fyodor groaned in annoyance and pushed his body up to a half sitting position, still leaning on his arms as support. “I’m happy to please, however I’ll have to disappoint my devotee. The church is closed and I’m leaving town for good. Now please, let me sleep this final night here.” he said in a grouchy, snarky tone.

    Nikolai half laughed half huffed at that response, seeming dissatisfied with the response. Unexpectedly, he got up from his bed and slid across to sit at the edge of Fyodor’s, clearly not wanting to let this conversation end.

     What a persistent guy,  Fyodor thought with annoyance, being even amused at this point. With a long sigh, he fully sat up and stared at his new friend, apparently. “What would you like to talk about, since you’re not letting me rest in peace.”

    Nikolai smiled and leaned in closely. Extremely closely, too close for the other’s liking.

      Fyodor was about to say something in panic, not knowing what would happen next, when suddenly Nikolai pulls out a small book from behind himself and slides it directly in front of Fyodor’s face.

   “Crosswords,” he said while smiling.

    Of course it’s crosswords. What’s a train ride without one of those.

   Amused, Fyodor replied “Fine, yes, let’s do crosswords. Guess there’s no escape from you, mysterious Nikolai.”

    The other hopped back to his own bed and settled in front of the grimy table top. They laid out the crossword page in front of them and took turns poking at the hints and boxes together under the glistening moonlight.

   Such was the beginning of their friendship.

    Thirty minutes to about an hour passed by, the two had discussed different things from their lives: hobbies, interests, and brief talks about their families. Anything and everything you’d talk about when forming a bond with a person.

     “By the way, Fyodor, do you happen to have a spare blanket? This train only provides cotton sheets and no warm enough cover, how cruel!“ said Nikolai, frustrated.

    Fyodor wondered how this guy has survived life with his unprepared approach. He sighed and answered.

   “I do not have a spare blanket, but if you’d like you can use the other end of this one. Is that alright with you?”

   Nikolai lit up with joy dramatically, thanking Fyodor over and over as if he saved his life somehow. The man once again moved over to the other side of the cabin and settled at Fyodor’s bed’s end.

     However, he was not satisfied yet. It was not warm enough for him; maybe fyodor got enough insulation from this worn out blanket, but Nikolai did not hold a thin frame like the other. Unexpectedly to Fyodor, Nikolai scooted over in the tight space between the wall and the man himself.

    Fyodor’s eyes were wide open in surprise, “what are you doing,” he asked him.

   “I’m sorry my friend, it seems that I may need the combination of your body heat and the blanket together to warm myself up,” Nikolai says non challantly.

   …

      “So you’re asking me to snuggle up, is that what you’re implying?” Fyodor asks hesitantly, even amused at how bold the other is.

   “Maybe so, it is a cold night after all.”

     Fyodor sighs and scoots over, giving more room for Nikolai to lay comfortably. He wraps them both in the blanket without saying anything.

     The two lay silently on a one person width bed. They may have met only an hour and a half ago, yet their souls felt like they’ve known each other for much longer. Nothing else needed to be said about that.

      Fyodor’s back faced Nikolai as the two wallowed in the warmth of each other’s presence. Many thoughts raced through the brunettes mind, and he payed no attention to any of them. This was allowed, this was right. This, was fate.

      Nikolai pressed his forehead onto the back of Fyodor’s head and slowly inhaled the scent of his hair. It was enjoyable, he even subconsciously approved of the shampoo brand the man used. Not the worst, but still expressed the kind of character he has.

    The other noticed this act; who wouldn’t, really. He closed his eyes and exhaled a sigh through his nose. His expression was relaxed, pleased even. Fyodor outstretched his left arm behind himself and placed it on the nape of Nikolai’s neck, enveloping it in the soft, white hair. He squeezed on it gently and then gave a few light strokes. A simple gesture of intimate affection.

     Nikolai smiled into Fyodor’s hair. In the next moment, he was softly reaching out and grabbing the other’s jaw, turning Fyodor to face him. Their eyes locked in the darkness illuminated by the moonlight through the window and whatever hallway light that seeped through the air vent cracks in the door.

     Fyodor brought Nikolai closer to his own face by the back of his neck. The two of them were so close together that a single word spoken would cause their lips to connect.

      …

    “..go ahead.”

     As soon as the words left Fyodor’s mouth, Nikolai sealed the distance with their lips. The kiss was gentle, soft, tender. Genuine, compassionate, even loving. One wouldn’t believe the two were strangers if they saw them.

                            ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙.*⋆‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

     The night was bright and their faces flushed with impure heat. Fyodor’s fingers tangled their way into Nikolai’s and squeezed hard. What does a priest have to do with a man whom seemed to be sent from above? Everything proper,  he’d say to such a rhetorical question.

    Nikolai did not back away from him. With every breath, his lips became more and more aggressive atop Fyodor’s own. He bit down mid kiss to get the other’s mouth opened, it worked. Fyodor angled his head in accordance to his partner’s movements, allowing their tongues to intertwine with one another. He felt his chest heating up and his breathing growing harsher from arousal. For a moment, Fyodor felt extremely self aware of how loud it was. Thankfully the clanking of the train against the railroad tracks covered all and any noise that might secretly slip out from the cabin.

     Oh no, no. This won’t do,  thought Fyodor as he fell further into submission under the enticing kiss. He jerkingly sprung up into a sitting position, forcing Nikolai to move back under the sudden change in behaviour. Fyodor grabbed the lower back end of his hair and  proceeded to yank on it, forcing the angel’s head to tilt backwards. He once again wrapped his arm around the back of Nikolai’s neck and kissed at his lips from above. With every movement, the kiss got sloppier, heavier. Their mouths were practically fully open into each other, teeth scraping and clanking, tongues pushing and swirling.

     Nikolai’s hands grabbed at Fyodor’s ribcage at the sides and pushed his chest into his own. Amidst the making out the hands ended up slipping lower and lower, holding Fyodor’s waist, hips, then ass. It was a move of possession, an attempt to regain control.

     Fyodor allowed him to do so, but that did not mean he would back down. With another tug at Nikolai’s hair, Fyodor took this opportunity to start kissing the side of his mouth, making his way down to his chin and jawline. Each kiss turned into a bite, a suckling of a hickey, a sexual lick at any untouched area.

      As he started to kiss and mark his way around his neck, Fyodor started to unbutton the other man’s shirt. Nikolai smirked at the act and laughed from the depths of his chest. He decided to follow along and slid both of his hands up Fyodor’s back under the already loose shirt. Nikolai’s nails were not short and intentionally sharpened into a pointy finish. The slight scraping sensation had Fyodor feeling a shiver on the inside. Every act felt intimate, was intimate.

     “Didn’t know a saint like yourself was so knowledgeable in these acts, your venerable honour.”

     This got a slight chuckle out of Fyodor, and he teasingly bit at the other’s lip. “Be a good boy and follow my lead, didn’t you yourself say you’re a fan of mine, hm?” he finally slid the shirt off of Nikolai’s torso entirely and threw it across the cabin, onto the other bed.

      Nikolai suddenly stopped everything and looked at Fyodor in confusion. This puzzled Fyodor and he was about to speak to ask if something was wrong, when suddenly he was picked up and pressed onto the bed underneath him as if he weighed no more than a feather. When he opened his eyes, he saw the other staring at him, amused.

      Nikolai brought his hand towards Fyodor’s face and gently traced a line from his cheek to his lips using his thumb. “Hm, hm, hmm.”

     He stopped the movement.

      “I’d like to think of you as a respectable, honourable man. Your words give light to people’s grim lives, they instil hope in their fragile hearts. I won’t lie, even I myself may have been moved. After all, I’m your devotee,” Nikolai started, his eyes striking with seriousness.