Chapter Text
Beautiful.
Fyodor thought. He loved that word, it was his most favoured out of any.
Ironically, He did not find many things beautiful.
Some of these few things was the originally abandoned, now renovated cathedral he called home, and the roses that adorned the outside of it.
The sound of rain on its roof.
A song he had been listening to which echoed through the interior of his office.
Fyodor thought of himself as some kind of angelic being.
He was superior in his eyes.
Sent down from the heavens by God himself.
Sent to correct the barbaric ways of Humanity.
He was above them, above it all.
Fools, they all were.
But he didn't even find himself beautiful.
Worthy?
Yes.
Predominant?
Yes.
Perfect?
His soul was,
but not his body. It was flawed, blemished.
It was human.
Being human was something Fyodor despised.
He felt as if he was cursed.
Cursed to be in this body that should be able to feel.
Ache.
Love.
However,
he himself could not feel, not like most.
Or maybe he just never learned how.
This made him fear and push away human emotion.
And this is why he struggled to maintain relationships with his 'peers'.
Even in these circumstances, he had one person. Another human, but a strange one.
The exact human that was opening Fyodor's office door, causing the mournful violin symphony he was playing on his cassette deck spill
out into the hall.
"Hello?" The man poked his head through the entrance. Fyodor jumped involuntarily, even though he recognized the voice coming from behind him.
He turned in his chair to face him.
"Ah, Nikolai." He spoke softly,
"What are you doing here so late?"
Nikolai smiled and closed the door politely, still standing near it.
"Well, I just wanted to give you some company! I know it can get quite lonely when you're on your own so-"
"Ohhh, i see. You missed me, didn't you?" Fyodor interrupted and grinned smugly.
Nikolai frowned. He nodded quickly and walked closer to Fyodor.
In the moonlit room, he was now fully visible.
His long waves of silver hair shined like glittering stars in a cold tide,
complimented by amber eyes.
He was perfect to Fyodor.
Nikolai made his heart murmur whenever he was in his sight,
an emotion not just any regular person could make Fyodor feel.
This both troubled and intrigued him,
causing him to take caution of Nikolai while also keeping him around out of curiosity.
Fyodor caught himself gazing at Nikolai and abruptly glanced back down at his desk. Nikolai sat on the edge and crossed his legs.
"Could you braid my hair?" Nikolai smiled softly.
"Hm? Ah- yes."
Fyodor began to brush Nikolai's hair gently, preparing to braid it. This was a common request from Nikolai.
"I really am wondering," Fyodor began to speak.
"Why don't you just.. cut it?"
Again, a common question from Fyodor, which was seldom answered. When it was, the answer was nonsensical and most definitely made up,
for the answer had changed each time.
'It reminds me of my mother!'
Nikolai had never met her.
'It's easy to take care of!'
This was simply a lie, he never took care of it,
leaving all the work to Fyodor.
'it just... looks pretty?'
This would make sense,
but the braid he constantly wore it in made it look like he didn't have long hair at all.
Nikolai looked Fyodor in the eye.
"I grow it out because I like having you braid it." He smiled genuinely.
Fyodor chuckled.
"Oh, I understand! I-" "And you find me pretty with my hair like this, don't you?"
Fyodor froze, he could tell this was the real answer. An answer that made his heart flutter a little more.
A dangerous feeling.
A feeling that could ignite a flame.
Perhaps it already has.
Judging by the look on the clown's face, he planned this would happen. He turned himself so that his back was no longer facing Fyodor.
Nikolai then subtly,
as softly as he could,
cupped Fyodor's usually pallid face, now flushed with a faint pink hue.
"Hm." Nikolai hummed and smiled warmly. A calm expression painted his face while Fyodor tried to maintain his usual demeanor.
"You are quite beautiful, Dostoy."
Fyodor's eyes widened.
'Beautiful'
The word echoed inside his mind, like a call out for help in an empty, abandoned church.
'Beautiful,
beautiful,
beautiful'
The other could have just been using his words of flattery to tease him, but he didn't care.
'Beautiful.'
This wasn't supposed to happen. Fyodor was not meant to feel human emotions.
So why was he now?
Nikolai kissed him, his lips dry— but tender. Fyodor closed his eyes, questioning thoughts still running through his head.
This was a sin,
a mistake,
this wasn't really happening,
was it?
Nikolai pulled away from the kiss, leaving Fyodor with a starstruck expression on his face.
one of fear?
of happiness?
of love?
Whatever it may be, he couldn't understand.
All he did know was that it wasn't right.
It wasn't..
was it?
It was wrong,
it was a sin.
It polluted his pure soul,
a soul free of imperfections.
But it now nearly matched his imperfect body.
Covered in blemishes and unwanted parts.
Nikolai carried Fyodor's diaphanous body to his bed, laying him down like a bouquet of delicate flowers on his grave, a grave surely to come,
now that he has sinned and rendered his soul impure. He leaned over Fyodor and began to adorn him with kisses along his neck and collarbone,
decorating it like stars decorate the ebony sky.
"N-nikolai, why are you doing this?" Fyodor tried to sound betrayed, but it was overlapped by his overwhelming want.
His want to feel,
to love.
Those feelings are like a chemical for him,
he had one taste and all he wants is more.
More.
More.
He felt an immense sense of disdain towards himself for thinking such things.
He was no longer a superior being.
Maybe he never was.
However,
he has always held himself to that standard— that title.
an angel.
But he does not want to be immortal anymore.
Not if this is what being human is like.
It was as if Nikolai had thrown a match onto a pile of books doused with gasoline, each page containing Fyodor's morals and ideals.
The fire was warm, inviting. If this was what being ablaze felt like, he would throw himself into the bonfire.
"You are perfect." Nikolai said softly. Fyodor didn't believe him.
"How could I be perfect to you.. In this... flawed body?" Nikolai found it amusing how Fyodor could think so high, but so, so low of himself at the same time.
An angel with flaws was ridiculous to him, like a bird with scales.
Even if Fyodor was never an angel, Nikolai viewed him as one.
A beautiful spirit sent from the heavens. He couldn't understand the divine being that stood before him, as flawless as a diamond even though it may not be polished, but he could admire him.
Nikolai put his hands on Fyodor's waist, he slid them down his hips and onto his thighs and smiled.
"You simply are. Is that not a good enough answer for you, Dostoy?" Fyodor swallowed thickly and sat up, his heart pounded in his chest.
Nikolai held his cheek reassuringly and Fyodor nestled into it subtly.
"I am not sure." He replied after closing his eyes.
"I am not sure of anything right now."
Fyodor opened his eyes and looked up at the high ceiling.
'Beautiful'
Maybe it would be best to let him think for now.