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Demon Fyodor Dostoevsky. The Heartless Monster. It was all stereotypes about Him. Only one can understand someone who's unpredictable.
𝐻𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑥 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑥 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓.
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It was a cold rainy night. Rain drops pattered against the pavement, blurring the streetlights into hazy pools of gold. And there was he, a pale figure sat still on an old-fashioned chair, engrossed in his little 90's novel. Smiling to himself like a madman everytime a new plot twist comes up.
The silence quickly faded when Fyodor's ears perked up at the sound of someone's heels clicking on the floor!
Fyodor didn't need to guess. It was his so called "best friend" Nikolai Gogol the clown. "Hey Fyodor! My dearest Fyodor! Guess what I had done to irritate you today!" Nikolai happily hopped towards Fyodor, tossing away his novel towards the fireplace. "That is the third book you have tossed into the fireplace, Nikolai." "Good! You keep track of them," The clown said happily, almost annoyingly.
Fyodor didn't let out a sigh, just massaged his forehead with his hand.
When he went to scratch his head, it didn't feel warm and fuzzy. His ushanka. His ushanka was 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦.
"𝘎𝘰𝘨𝘰𝘭." Fyodor cleared his throat. "My hat... Give it 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬."
Nikolai's eyes widened, taking note of the way Fyodor's pupils had almost faded. He felt, weird, or should he say, guilty.
He's no emotionless guy. He has feelings, he feels guilt and everything else normal human beings feel. Yet people still mistake him as a clown, not a human.
Quite sad isn't it? The fact that in everybody's eyes, you're just a joke in their life, but when it comes to 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦. Oh boy, do they admire you so much without saying a single word.
"Fine, fine! I'll give it back if you..." He thought for a good minute. When Fyodor tilted his head, Nikolai beamed. "You shall peck me on the cheek before I give you your priced possession!"
...
This time, Fyodor let out a contempted sigh. "Give me that." Fyodor snatched away his hat from Nikolai's hands, only to lose it again from Nikolai's ability. The Overcoat. "Ah, ah, ah, not so fast, Fedya. You and me, we are 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 to each other. So that means, our hat belongs to us both! Marriage logics you see," " Your reasoning is fundamentatally flawed." Fyodor scoffed. "Oh but you love me!" Nikolai paused. "You still love me, right?"
𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?