Chapter Text
Rage.
Rage is cultivated--brought from the string that follows grief and detachment from what is sad and what is below happiness.
Nikolai is a sane man,
he is aware of who is he is, what he does.
In the heat of what cries in unfairness is Fyodor's corpse.
No--his arm.
The only thing that was left other than the organs that piled out of him with the explosion that granted his death.
Pain.
Nikolai imagines pain when Fyodor died.
Impalement.
-
Fyodor's face shun under the sun--his hair's colour accentuated as a deep violet.
The pair were sitting outside a cathedral, the sound of the gospel being sung echoed through the outside villa of sorts.
A fountain spat out water from a small opening.
It was a hot day--much different from any type of weather Fyodor and Nikolai were usually accustomed to.
"Fyodor, what country are we in right now?"
The raven-haired man chuckled, bringing a hand to his mouth as he looked at Nikolai with amusement.
"We're in Croatia, more specifically Dakovo."
Nikolai groaned from the unfamiliar heat and swung his body over to the structure of a cathedral behind him.
"Are we not going inside the cathedral? It's so big--I thought you were into the whole God thing."
Fyodor smiled.
Nikolai knew that Fyodor was strange--he was so very strange, his presence was enough to tell that he was someone beautiful but a demon who wore the veil of an angel.
Fyodor was not human--in Nikolai's eyes, Fyodor was above God.
"I don't wish to go inside because going inside of that cathedral is simply terrifying. It is loud and feverish to be in there--the outside is much more comforting, and as stupid as it sounds I wish to see the sky today."
Ah.
Fyodor was smiling as he said this, a hand propped on his chin as he sat on the bench dazed--as if he were to fall asleep within a moments time.
Nikolai watched the other man slowly shut his eyes--it looked as though heaven kissed Fyodor in his sleep as his body shouldered the sun from Nikolai's view.
"What a strange man, Fedya is so strange."
A revelation circled itself in the outline of Nikolai's skull, piercing all of his thoughts that displayed itself in remnants rather than articulate thinking.
Fyodor was not more than God.
He was human--a warm, beautiful human.
-
Consolidation.
To be consoled, to be spared of harm and unhappiness.
Nothing can console Nikolai while Fyodor's hand graces his.
Witness-less, nothing can re-enact the sun that punctured Fyodor's face--nothing can re-enact Fyodor's cold gaze that filled Nikolai with the warmth of his familiarity.
Holding the only warmth left of Fyodor,
is so very lonely.
Nikolai sat in silence until he turned to see the Japanese man--Dazai looking in utter respect towards Nikolai.
It was strange--unbelievably so.
Dazai sighed as he rested on the shorter redheaded male next to him.
"In three days, come back to this place and watch the destruction of this prison. Do not tell anyone your name or why you are here."
Nikolai only sat, his eyes devoid of anything--as if he was not listening to what the other man had to say.
The brunet spoke up once more, this time he spoke more strained.
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Recollect yourself, Nikolai."
Recollect yourself, Nikolai.
Nikolai's eyes went wide, all the tact that he had kept from becoming undone as though a string was untying itself from a knot that kept Nikolai together was now undone.
Death.
It is irks you.
It rushes,
It pulses until you cannot see what is ahead of you.
Death is the blood that runs bitterly--it is what cries out when you cannot think without a hand settling on your shoulder,
asking you,
writhing in pain for you,
To run.
To run and run until your shoes are undone and your feet blister.
"Fyodor is alive."
Nikolai grinned.
Nikolai grinned as he stared to the night sky--the stars gleamed.
Fyodor is alive.
He has to be.
-
Lie.
There are so many cruel lies.
Lies that paint themselves in blood against white cloth.
More then three days had passed since Fyodor was pronounced dead by Nikolai's eyes.
Nothing happened.
Nothing waited for Nikolai.
But,
though his eyes told Nikolai that Fyodor was dead, his heart told him different.
So he ran.
He ran and ran.