Chapter Text
The club was loud, something Fyodor did not appreciate. He would’ve never gone here on his own terms. It was crowded with drunk young adults and sweating teens who had fake IDs. The atmosphere was hot and heavy it was hard to breathe; you could only hear high pitched laughter and the bass heavy music. The ground was scattered with empty beer cans and bottle caps. It was dark enough that you couldn’t see your own feet, yet you could see the DJ. The neon lights were blinding, as if you couldn’t see already. Fyodor stepped around a puddle of vomit and through a noisy clump of people to a person on a bar chair. Fyodor was promised information if he came here, but now he was regretting accepting this offer. He sat down next to the man.
“You actually came.” The man laughed. He slid a document to Fyodor and turned so his back was on the edge of the counter. He nodded to Fyodor, “That should have all the info you need.”
Fyodor picked up the document and started to look through it. He closed it and looked at the man, “Why did you insist on coming here?”
“Shouldn’t it be obvious? There’s so many people here that nobody will notice this exchange, plus everyone is too drunk to care.” The man smirked.
Fyodor hummed and looked around, scanning the room. No one was looking at them, no one cared. Fyodor trurned and stared at the grain of the counter in front of him, running his fingers on the rough edges. He sighed and stood up, giving a nod to the man that had given him information and looked around the room one more time. But then, he saw a familiar face.
Nikolai Gogol.
Standing against a wall, whisky in hand. He looked a little drunk, but definitely still was at least somewhat aware of his surroundings. He was talking to a person, nodding along to whatever he was saying. Nikolai looked at ease, or at least he did until he started coughing again. He covered his mouth and cleared his throat before apologizing and continuing to listen to the man in front of him. Fyodor raised an eyebrow and continued to watch closer examination, Nikolai seemed bored, a sharp contrast to the person he was talking to. He had a tight grip on his drink, only taking small concentrated sips. He looked away frequently, like he was trying not to admit to a crime. He was tapping his foot on the ground, not to the beat of the music of the music; faster than that. But he definitely wasn't distressed at all, just a little on edge.
Fyodor rolled his eyes and decided it wasn't his responsibility to police Nikolai on what he did in his free time. Fyodor started walking to the exit, he definitely wanted to get out of here as fast as possible. He shot another look at Nikolai, this time his gaze stayed.
The man Nikolai was talking to now was leaning his arm on the wall, using his other hand to gently graze Nikolai's thigh. He kept making the touch last longer, his hand lowly gagging on Nikolai. Fyodor stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes on the two men. Nikolai slightly finches and tensed at every second of the moment. He didn't push the man away though, he just continued to squirm and squeeze at every lustful look from the man he was talking to.
Fyodor reminded himself that this wasn't his issue. Nikolai could deal with this on his own. So why was he taking small steps to Nikolai's direction? He stopped every few steps, almost turning back, the exit was right there. He didn't need to drag on the night for any longer, he has gotten what he came here for. And yet, his heart ached, it felt wrong. Maybe he should just go say hi, and make sure he was okay.
No, he couldn’t let anyone, not even Nikolai, know that he was here.
He walked a little faster to the exit, not looking to Nikolai. If he left now, everything would be fine, nothing would happen to Nikolai, nothing- no one would be at risk. Fyodor squeezed through crowds and a way to loud heartbeat of his own. The exit seemed a lot father away than he remembered, like the room was stretching in order to prevent Fyodor from leaving. He finally found himself in front the door.
He took one more glance at Nikolai- a terrible decision. The man he was taking to was now pretty much breathing down Nikolai’s neck, his lips way too close to the edge of his ear. Nikolai was looking away, holding an empty glass that looked like it was going to break. Nikolai looked like a bunch of bugs were squirming under his skin, trying to break out and bite the man beside him. But the bugs never escaped- they were choosing not to. Nikolai’s eyes dropped and rolled around in his skull, seeking something, anything. Why wasn’t he denying this predator next to him?
Fyodor wished he could climb into Nikolai’s brain and rearrange his thoughts to think clearly. Fyodor’s feet wouldn’t move, his hands would not relax. The music was too loud, his neck felt hot, and he couldn’t find air in his lungs. Fyodor scoffed and grabbed the door handle, this was definitely the last time he would come here. It was fine- Nikolai was an adult, he couldn’t let anyone handle himself.
Nikolai didn’t arrive at work the next day.
— — —
Sunday, the day of worship.
Fyodor was at the church that he went to often. It was quiet and personal, the way he preferred. He was sitting on a pew near the back of the church, the stained glass windows casting a colorful aura around him. The place was cold, not cold enough to not feel your lips moving but cold enough that you couldn’t feel the tips of your fingers. Fyodor held both of his hands on the Bible on his lap, feeling the rough texture of the leather cover. He clasped his hands and leaned back on the pew, his body sinking into the cheap and itchy woolen cushion. There weren’t very many people around, for it was quite early before the service. The only sounds were echoing footsteps and mumbled voices.
Fyodor has tried to forget what happened that day. He kept overthinking the situation. If he helped him, he would’ve jeopardized his mission and alerted his plan to everyone there. Then again, Nikolai would’ve been fine, he would’ve shown up at work. Now, Fyodor had finished his work, but he hasn’t seen Nikolai since that night. It was a thought that was like a plague to Fyodor, keeping him up at night. It didn’t feel right, but all he could do is make up more reasons for why God had planned this for him.
Was it some sort of temptation? If it was, had he succeeded in upholding his values?
These thoughts drifted as he sat there, not moving, barely even blinking. He clenched his fists tightly and closed his eyes. Then he heard a voice.
“Fyodor, it’s great to see you is something one your mind?” The priest was now standing in front of Fyodor. He often did this before the service, going around and talking to everyone who was early.
Fyodor looked up, “I’m afraid so, on Friday I was doing some work and I’m sure the Lord was trying to test me that day. I’m not yet sure if I have made the right decision.”
The priest nodded and hummed answering in a soft tone, “Well, perhaps we could discuss what happened and come to a conclusion together.” He sat down next to Fyodor and put his hands in his lap.
“I was gathering some information on Friday night; I saw one of my colleagues clearly in distress. Of course, my first instinct was to help him, but if I were to do that I would be disturbing my plan to rid the world of it’s sin, as God has told me to do.” Fyodor sat up straight, his thoughts and stomach turning around in his worries.
“I see,” The priest shifted in the pew and thought for a moment before answering, “I believe you did the right thing. It was well of you to do as God intended instead of falling into sin.” He stood up, Fyodor’s eyes following him, “I’m proud of you, brother, you are so brave in the presence of sin.” The priest gave another nod to Fyodor and walked off, for the beginning hymn was about to start.
Fyodor pressed his lips into a line and sighed. His instincts were right, he should just let it go. Why did it feel so wrong though? It was sickening to think about.
The time had come for the church service to start. The choir opened their mouths and began singing, a beautiful song. No song could override Fyodor’s thoughts though.
He tried to focus, and it was half working. He closed his eyes, focusing on the young men singing in the front of the church. The harmonies invading his senses. As the song ended, he felt the seat sink next to him.
“You come to this place every week?” The man leaned and whispered to Fyodor, who recognized the voice instantly.
“Why are you here?” Fyodor sharply hissed back.
Nikolai gasped dramatically and chuckled a little to himself and continued to whisper, “Can’t a guy just sit with his friend?”
“No, I mean how did you know I go to this church? I’ve never told you.” Fyodor murmured.
“I just teleported to the nearest church.”
Fyodor hummed and mumbled, “Follow me, we should’t be disrespectful.”
Fyodor walked out the door to the church as quickly and quietly as he could. Nikolai trailed behind him, not caring if his step were heard or not. Once they were outside, Fyodor ran to the shade of a nearby tree, prompting Nikolai to lean against it.
Fyodor sighed and let the silence linger for a moment before saying, “Are you okay?”
“What?” Nikolai blinked a few times and crossed his arms and smirked, “I’m all~ good.”
“I’m serious, Nikolai. What happened on Friday night?”
Nikolai clenched his crossed arms to his chest and leaned harder on the tree. He looked away for a second and stared back at Fyodor. Nikolai finally responded, “What do you mean?”
“What. Happened. On. Friday. Night.”
“Nothing, just some guy was being a creep, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Fyodor huffed and looked down, keeping a stoic face. He turned around but then he heard Nikolai laugh, “Awh, is Fyeda worried? About little old me? I didn’t know you had that much empathy.” Nikolai said mockingly.
Fyodor grumbled without turning to look at Nikolai. He walked over back to the church’s door, but before he entered he heard another cough from Nikolai. Those coughs sounded husky and dry, like Nikolai’s lungs were a desperate desert. Fyodor furrowed his eyebrows before continuing to enter the church.
Nikolai stood against that tree for a while longer. How did Fyodor know about that night? He didn’t put it past him to know where he was, but how did he know that much? ‘Odd’ Nikolai thought, ultimately letting the thought go. Fyodor did care though, maybe there is a chance I can get these flowers out of my lungs’
It was a fleeting thought, but it brought warmth back into Nikolai’s ribs.