Chapter Text
Anya huffed in annoyance, pushing away from her desk and letting the various pens and pencils roll across the blueprint in front of her. She leaned forward in her chair, head in her hands and throat tight in an effort to avoid the stress-related tears that she only lets out in the silence of her apartment's kitchen. Her newest project was more than she had bargained for when she offered to undertake it. After all, it seemed to be a generic townhome design for the new compound that they were adding only a few blocks over from her own apartment.
Yet, five days in, she had yet to get farther than a few meager sketches. Everything that could go wrong seemed to, whether that be landscaping issues of her insufferable boss, Gleb, deciding to heighten his demands for the firm's staff. Anya knew that she could--and would--make the homes beautiful. She loved her job and the creativity that she was allowed to put onto paper, so she knew that this was just a small detour on this project.
Anya knew, however deep in the back of her mind it was at the moment, that her stress was not stemming solely from her job. Instead, she had been trying to juggle more than her hands could hold as Christmas neared--decorating her home, getting work finished before her office closed for its annual week-long holiday, getting gifts, preparing herself for another holiday that her family wouldn't be around for. It was all too much to handle, especially at 5:30 on a Friday evening.
Anya sighed, rolling up her sketches before gathering her things and making a beeline for the elevator. The 12-story ride to her firm's main level was cramped, sweaty and uncomfortable even in the New York winter. Lily, a women ten years her senior and a work accomplice turned close friend, met her in the lobby. Anya rolled her eyes as she noticed that her friend was, once again, flirting noticeably with a marketer from across the street. Vlad, she vaguely remembered Lily saying his name was. To Anya's surprise, though, Vlad bent down in order to place a soft kiss against Lily's cheek, the pair both red in the face.
The blonde raised one of her eyebrows in question as her friend walked toward her, all wild curls and pink cheeks. Lily only replies with a shrug and a cheeky, looping her arm through Anya's before the pair lead through the font entrance of the firm. They had barely made it out onto the snow-covered street before Lily burst with information.
"He asked me on a date!" she exclaimed, jumping slightly before realizing that the ice made that seem like a worse idea than usual. Anya was immediately attracted to Lily's youthful and carefree nature, as if she reinstalled those parts of herself into Anya when she felt as if she was loosing them.
Anya rolled her eyes but laughed, squeezing her friend's arm. "It's about time," she said playfully. "You two have been eye-fucking each other since September." It was true, and Lily turned from pink to red in a matter of seconds.
"Well," her friend replied haughtily, "if everything goes to plan tonight, we won't have to use our eyes. Speaking of, you should get out there, find someone to spend the holidays with. Ooh, go to one of those fancy bars inside of the hotels and sit in a dress, nursing a martini, and wait for a corporate millionaire to come find you, instead!" Her friend had begun to use her hands while speaking, which Anya knew signified that she had created an in-depth, completely fictitious plan for Anya's night. A plan, she might add, that would not come to fruition.
Anya adjusted her scarf around her turtleneck before tucking the ends into her coat. Jesus, she thought, why haven't I moved somewhere warmer yet?
She knew the answer, though. "Actually, Lily, I do have plans tonight."
Her friend shook her head in understanding, pretending to be bored when she says, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Dinner with Dimitry, maybe a glass of red wine, and in bed by 8:30. What an old woman you've become, Anya, seriously."
It did sound rather boring hearing it from someone other than herself, but she didn't mind. Wine with her best friend after a long day at the office sounded much better than pretending to be a Gossip Girl socialite by waiting for a man in a bar on the Upper East Side. No, Thai food and New Girl reruns sounded much better.
"When he is going to grow some balls and ask you out already, anyway?" Anya was snapped out of her thoughts by Lily's crude question, but not surprised by it. She had always sworn that Anya and Dimitry were more than friends, their constant hang-outs actually being romantic nights spent together. No matter how many times Anya argued, Lily still maintained her suspicions.
"Lily, I've told you," she began, sighing because she knew that nothing would come of her explanations, "Dimitry and I are just friend. Best friends, at that, but nothing more. Besides, I think that he's dating Alina Belsky."
Both Anya and Lily knew Alina Belsky. She's a ridiculously tall brunette that worked as an editor only a few blocks from the pair's office, and Anya hates her. Not because she's more successful or beautiful or funny, and definitely not simply because she and Dimitry had most definitely been sleeping together over the past few weeks. No, maybe it was because their late nights together were slowly turning into breakfasts and quick lunch dates on their work breaks, and that meant that Anya was no longer able to simply assume that she and Dimitry had plans each day.
Instead, she had to shoot a message his way or call him when she wasn't busy to make sure that he was free, much like she found herself doing while Lily prattled on about how Alina Belsky is easily one of the most unbearable people in New York to be around.
Anya: Dinner tonight? My treat :)
"-and she's just so rude! Like, yes, you make more money than me, but I am not beneath you." Lily grumbled as Anya looked up from her phone.
"Well, technically you are, considering she's at least 5'10", and you're most definitely not," Anya said in an attempt to lighten the mood, bumping her friend's shoulder playfully. Lily sneered before punching Anya's arm lightly. Before Lily could reply, though, Anya's phone lit up in her hands, a new message waiting on her screen.
Dimitry: For sure. Thai?
Anya: Already two steps ahead of you, as usual.
"Dimitry?" Lily asked, already knowing the answer. Anya didn't text many people other than Dimitry and Lily and the occasional work colleague. "Did you get permission to hang out with him tonight?" She added bitterly.
"Oh come on, Lils, it's not that bad. I'm the best friend, not the girlfriend. Plus, I've had him to myself for a while now, maybe it's Alina's turn," Anya shrugged, attempting to believe her own words.
"Whatever," Lily replied, pulling Anya down slightly to kiss her cheek. "Have fun, and call me later. We're getting drinks at some point even if it means that I have to drag you out of your apartment by your ears."
Anya grinned and saluted her friend. "Of course, I'll call you later, 'kay?"
"Mmhm," Lily said, before turning and heading to her apartment.
Anya sighed and adjusted the purse on her shoulder, making sure that it wouldn't slip with her hands tucked deep into her coat pocket, before heading toward the local Thai restaurant.
Dimitry was nowhere to be found when Anya bustled into his apartment, hands full of take-out bags and cheap bottles of red wine. This was routine, though. It was not a rarity for Anya to let herself into the apartment only to find her best friend not there at all. She hasn't shown up without permission since he and Alina became involved, though.
Anya began to unpack the food, setting the myriad of boxes onto the coffee table before pouring two glasses of wine that were much too full to be considered classy. God knows that she needed it after her work week, though.
Just as she had made herself comfortable on the couch, she heard a door open at the end of the hallway that led to Dimitry's bedroom. Turning around, she saw him in nothing more than a pair of grey sweatpants, his hair wet from a shower.
"It's about time," he said playfully. "I almost set a search party out on you."
Anya scoffed but couldn't hold back her smile. "Yeah, well next time it's your turn to wait in line for dinner. That place is a nightmare on Friday nights, I swear."
Dimitry hummed as he placed himself on the cushion next to her, stealing half of the blanket while doing so.
"Hey, asshole, get your own," Anya said, unsuccessfully tugging the blanket back toward herself. The man next to her only laughed, reaching for his food before turning his T.V. on. He didn't have to ask what Anya wanted to watch, instead immediately turning on her designated stress-show. He lowered the volume before turning toward the blonde next to him.
"So," he started, "more than one bottle of wine, red wine at that, you look like you could pass out, and you've been biting your thumb nails since I walked in. Rough day?"
Anya hadn't even noticed that she had been biting her nail, or that she apparently looked like a wreck. But, of course, Dimitry had. He had always read her so easily, since they met immediately after she had moved to the city. At first, it had slightly scared her. No one had ever been able to just know exactly what she was thinking, or what she wanted. But after the initial shock, Anya realized that it was because Dimitry watched, and listened, and genuinely cared. As tough an exterior as he may seem to have, Anya had eventually broken past it, and Dimitry had let her. The thought made her slightly emotional.
She put her head in her hands before running them down her face. "I'm just in a rut, I guess. I can't get anywhere on the project I started, and Gleb is being more of a douche than normal. And then there's all of the Christmas stuff that I'm behind on, and I'm just stressed, Dima." Anya shrugged, not one to complain if she can help it.
Dimitry knocked his shoulder into hers before giving her a small smile. "This isn't the first time this has happened to you, you know. I'm pretty sure you said that exact same thing to me, like, six months ago. But you got through it, and now there's an awesome hotel with your name written in the design team. You're good at what you do, Anyok, this time is no different."
He acted as if what he had said was no big deal, grabbing his too-full glass of wine and taking a drink. Anya was slightly bewildered for a moment, mouth hanging slightly open. "Since when did you get all sappy?" she asked incredulously.
Dimitry shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm a taken man now, Anya. Can't be stone-cold forever, can I?"
Anya didn't like nor understand the feeling that washed over her at that. It was as if her day had gotten ten times worse than it already was, and she felt guilty for it. Dimitry deserved to be happy, and it wasn't fair for her to wish anything else for him simply because she didn't have her name automatically written within his schedule openings anymore.
"I guess not," she grumbled despite herself. She felt Dimitry look at her with slight confusion on his face, but she kept her eyes turned toward the television screen, despite the lack of volume. After a moment, she saw Dimitry look away from her peripheral vision, and she felt herself settle back into the couch cushions as if on instinct.
The pair focused intently on the screen, neither actually watching what was playing before them. Eventually the episodes morphed into one another, and Anya felt her eyes grow heavy. She made no effort to get up, though, used to crashing on Dimitry's couch on late nights. But before she could allow her eyes to close, she heard his front door open loudly.
Both Anya and Dimitry turned toward his apartment's entrance before seeing Alina casually walk inside. Anya immediately noticed her attire, a matching workout set that would not have flattered the petite blonde in the way that it did Alina. Anya's cheeks turned pink in embarrassment, though she was not sure why.
"Dimitry!" Alina squealed, dropping her belongings before hauling herself into his lap. Anya felt Alina's feet kick into her thigh, but simply scooted to the edge of the couch rather than mention it. "Oh," Alina said in surprise, seeming to finally notice the other person in the room. "Hello.." she trailed off in question.
"Anya," she replied. "We've met, multiple times actually." Anya didn't look at Dimitry, already feeling his slightly warning stare in her direction. Don't fuck this up for me, Anya, he seemed to be thinking.
"Oh yeah, Anya. I'm sure we have, I just meet so many people, you know?" Anya bit back a scoff. "It gets hard to keep up with names."
She felt Dimitry's expression change into one of apology rather than warning. At least he's not completely oblivious to it, she thought. Just complicit.
"Yeah, well," Anya said, hauling herself off of the couch. "I should get going." Dimitry actually spoke at this.
"Do you need me to walk you home?" he asked. "It's almost one in the morning."
Before Anya could respond, though, Alina did. "Oh, Dima, I'm sure that she'll be fine. You can get a cab, can't you, Anna?" Anya had to admit, Alina could act.
"Anya," she replied tersely, "and no, I don't need you to walk me home. You're busy, anyway." Anya grabbed her things before walking to the door, turning around before stepping over the threshold. "I'll talk to you later, Dimitry. Nice seeing you, Alina."
Over the next week, Anya and Dimitry spoke only over the phone, never spending time together in person. Dimitry had apologized for Alina barging in and for being as rude as she was, claiming that she was just worried that he was losing interest in her.
Please, Anya thought, I'm sure that's it.
Anya threw herself into the upcoming holiday rather than dwelling on whatever happened with Dimitry. She honestly didn't know, but she knew that she was probably been unfair. Dimitry can't control how Alina acts, Anya knows that, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.
Anya had spent the day after the incident with Lily, touching up the decorations in her apartment and doing some last minute gift shopping. Lily had asked about Dimitry, claiming that it was weird that he and Anya weren't together on a day off, but didn't press any further when she noticed Anya's smile slip off of her face. Rather than ask any more questions, Lily dragged Anya into a bar, claiming that she needed to let loose before her last few days of work before her break began. Anya rolled her eyes but didn't argue.
When Monday rolled around, Anya turned her phone's notifications off and became engrossed in her work. She found herself pacing around her office more than once, listening to every "thought provoking" Spotify playlist she could find. None of it was working. Her design board was full, but nothing sparked an idea.
Anya groaned, raking her palms down her face. She felt tears well in her eyes but blinked them back before they could fall. She wouldn't cry, not here. That was reserved for glasses of wine on her couch.
She pushed away from her desk, grabbing her purse before leaving for lunch. She made her way to a small bakery across the street, finding her place in line before unlocking her phone. She scrolled through her social media, smiling at a picture that Lily had posted of her dinner with Vlad. She made a mental note to get the details about that particular situation later. After her thumb had begun to cramp from scrolling through her various feeds, she opened up her text messages.
Lily: Have you found your dress for the gala yet?
Shit, thought Anya. Another thing I need to fit in before Friday.Her firm's annual Christmas gala was a total bore, but Dimitry coming as her "date" and Lily working for the company made it a little more bearable every year. Despite the terse attitudes that Dimitry and Anya had exchanged, she knew that he wouldn't blow her off.
Anya: Hadn't even thought about it. I'm off on Friday, I'll go look then.
Anya clicked out of her messages with Lily, instead opting to look through Dimitry's messages that she hadn't opened since the night before.
Dimitry: Dinner sometime this week?
Dimitry: There's a new Thai place that I thought we could try, pretty good reviews from what I'm seeing.
Dimitry: Hey, I know Alina wasn't the nicest. I'm working on it. You're my #1, Anyok.
Anya felt her tears return at that, but kept scrolling nonetheless.
Dimitry: Attachment: 1 Image
Dimitry: Saw this and thought of you.
She studied the picture. It was photo of an authentic Georgian townhouse, seemingly from the early eighteenth century, added at the bottom of an article. Anya's eyes went wide after a moment, the one idea she needed finally coming to her. She could do something with this, she could modernize it and revive it. She turned on her heel, rushing through the bakery doors and jogging back to her office.
Anya couldn't stop her foot from tapping on the too-long elevator ride up to her office, her impatience growing by the second. When the elevator doors slid open, she pushed her way to the front, whispering "excuse me" and "sorry" as she did so. She could barely stop herself from sprinting down the hallway, and when she finally reached her door she opened it with slightly too much force.
She dropped her bag into the chair in front of her desk before sliding into her desk chair. Anya immediately reached for her supplies, getting to work as fast as she could. For the next four days, Anya thought of little other than the work at hand, more focused than she had been in months.
By Thursday evening, her plans were finished. Anya felt a weight lift off of her shoulders, as if she could finally breathe after months held under water.
It was dark by the time she looked up from her sketches. The hallway outside of her door was dim, meaning that the rest of her coworkers had already headed home for the night. Anya stretched her arms over her head before grabbing her phone. Unlocking it, she was met with the same message screen that she had seen before sprinting to her office building.
Anya: Thank you. Helped more than you know.
Anya: Might even have to add your name to the design team at this point.
It didn't take long to see the three dots that signified that Dimitry was typing.
Dimitry: I'll hold you to that.
Anya smiled, but it was wiped off nearly as quickly as it appeared.
She was in love with Dimitry. There was no romantic realization, no profession of love from one to the other, no kissing in the middle of a rainstorm. No, it was just Anya sitting alone in her office, while the man she loved was probably drunk on a tall brunette that Anya would never compare to. This time, she wasn't quick enough to wipe the tears that fell from her eyes. Rather than berating herself as she normally would, though, she allowed the tears to stream down her cheeks, her face sticky and hot.
Once she noticed her computer's clock switch to half past eight, she sighed, sniffling and drying her eyes. Anya rose out of her seat, grabbing her purse and her plans before walking to Gleb's office, empty due to the late house, and laid the papers in the center of his desk. She didn't look back, didn't go for one more chance to scrutinize her work. Instead, she turned on her heel and kept walking until she reached the bar only a block from her apartment complex.
An hour later, she found herself more than her fair share of dirty martinis deep. Her thoughts kept jumping from one topic to another, but each concerned the one thing that she wanted to forget for even a moment: Dimitry.
What was Dimitry doing? Was Dimitry angry with her? Was he with Alina, thinking about anything but Anya?
Anya felt like she was going to be sick. She heaved herself off of the barstool and stumbled her way across the street, somehow managing to only be honked at by on cab. When she finally managed to find her way into her apartment, she threw herself onto her bed, dressed in her work clothes and makeup. She felt her eyes getting heavy almost instantly, but reached for her phone before she could fall asleep. She clumsily opened her messages, typing faster than she was thinking.
Anya: Im tired. Im in love withy ou Dima. Im sorry
Her eyes shut almost as soon as she hit 'send.'
Along with Friday morning came a headache that almost stopped Anya from leaving her bed at all. After wallowing in the darkness provided by her comforter over her eyes, Anya managed to pull herself off of her mattress and into her bathroom, where she downed more milligrams of Ibuprofen than advised on the bottle.
Anya pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans and covered her hair in a baseball cap that she was fairly certain didn't belong to her. Rather than walking, she hailed a cab to the dress shop Lily had sent her a few days earlier. She met her friend at the street corner and attempted to look better than she felt.
"Jesus," Lily whistled, "you look like shit, babe." Anya rolled her eyes in response. "I mean, seriously. What happened to you?"
"Late night," Anya said. "I went to Ed's after work."
Lily raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. "Ed's, as in the bar? Since when do you go to bars without me?" Anya knew that she wasn't being judgmental, only genuinely concerned.
"Yeah, well, I finished that townhouse project, so I thought I would stop by on my way home," Anya shrugged. "I guess I lost track of time and had a little bit too much. I'm alright, though, my head only slightly feels like it could explode now."
Her friend scoffed but didn't press further, instead choosing to swing her arm around Anya's shoulders and steer her inside.
Two hours and multiple "no"s from Lily later, Anya finally made her way home with a far too expensive dress in her hands. She hadn't paid much attention to her selection, instead gaining the approval of Lily rather than looking in the large mirrors at the front of the store. When it finally came time to get dressed for the gala, though, she was surprised by her reflection.
The dress was made of green silk that formed to her body, the thin straps somehow holding the material up. A slit ran from the bottom hem to her thigh, and the color accentuated the blonde curls that fell down her back. Her eyes were brightened by the amateurly-done makeup, but even she couldn't deny that she looked beautiful.
Anya strapped on her heels before walking to her apartment complex's lobby and hailing a cab. The ride to her firm's event center was quiet, with no words exchanged between Anya and the driver other than the address. Anya rested her head against the window and watched as the city blurred past, the myriad of Christmas lights casting a light glow over her cheeks.
She had always loved the city in the winter. Despite the bitter cold, the constant snow made Anya feel as if she were trapped in a constant rerun of Eliose at Christmastime. She lived for the smell of her live tree in her small living room, for the candles and twinkling lights and decorations. For the time she spent with Dimitry under a blanket in one of their apartments.
Anya sighed quietly. She knew that it wasn't fair to be upset with him. He didn't know how she felt, and he was perfectly happy with Alina, no matter how obnoxious she may be. She could be mature, at least for tonight. They would have fun like the did every year, and Lily could formally introduce both Anya and Dimitry to Vlad. It would be fine--fun, even.
No matter how many times she repeated this mantra to herself, she couldn't stop fidgeting with the thin material of her dress, and she couldn't push back the thought that, eventually, her feelings could become too much to bear, and her friendship with Dimitry would be compromised.
No, she thought to herself, that won't happen. It can't.
She didn't think that she could bear losing him. Perhaps not having him in the way that she wanted was better than never having him at all, even if that meant standing idle as he got married, had children, grew old, all without her. Her eyes stung at the thought, but the cab pulled to the curb outside of the large hotel that her firm's banquet was held at every year before the tears could show themselves.
Anya composed herself before paying the driver and stepping onto the sidewalk. She knew that she was running late, and the music playing from inside only confirmed her thoughts. She hadn't thought to look at her phone since the night before, so she quickly switched it on and looked at her lock screen.
9:14 glared back at her, and one new text message shone from the screen.
Lily: Girl, where are you? We're inside, head straight back from the entrance and we're at a table on the left.
Anya sighed in relief, though slightly guilty that she had left Lily and Dimitry waiting for her. She walked inside, following Lily's directions until she noticed a mop of curly hair seated only a few feet away. She steered herself in that direction before finally seating herself next to Lily.
Lily whistled, low and long, before raising her eyebrows. "Damn, Anya, you look hot as hell. You should dress like this more often."
"Do you meant that I should let you dress me more often?" Anya asked incredulously.
Lily laughed loudly, her head thrown back. "Clearly."
Anya looked around, noticing that the table was empty besides the two women. "Where are Vlad and Dimitry?" she asked.
Lily looked confused, though Anya didn't know why. "Vlad is in the restroom, but he should be back any minute, and I assumed you and Dimitry rode here together."
"No," Anya shook her head. "We agreed to come separately so that we wouldn't be in a rush. Maybe he's running late, too." Lily shrugged in response, assuming that Anya would know best. Anya, on the other hand, was slightly worried. Dimitry was never late, and he never missed a chance to chastise the fact that she was.
Anya unlocked her phone, opening her messages with Dimitry before blanching. Drunken typing stared back at her, basking in her embarrassment.
Anya: Im tired. Im in love withy ou Dima. Im sorry
He had read it, she knew. He refused to turn his read receipts off simply because Anya believed it odd.
No wonder he's not here, she thought. I'll be lucky if he ever speaks to me again.
Her stomach lurched, and if she had felt up to eating anything throughout the day she was sure that it would have landed itself on the white tablecloth in front of her.
"I have to go, Lily. I'm sorry, tell Vlad that I would love to get dinner sometime to really get to know him. I love you, I'm so sorry," she rambled, kissing her friend's cheek before rushing toward the side exit of the room. She kept walking until she reached the expansive hotel bar, empty except for an older couple seated in the back corner.
Anya slid onto a barstool, immediately ordering a martini and praying that her tears wouldn't fall until she could regain her senses and be sure that her cries wouldn't turn into full-fledged sobs. Pain doesn't wait, though, and the tears fell despite her wishes.
The bartender must have thought that she looked positively pitiful because, when she looked up, two glasses were in front of her. She laughed humorously despite herself, embarrassed and angry at herself.
She wasn't sure how long she sat at the bar, only that it eventually cleared out completely and the music from the gala had quieted considerably. She was smarter than she was at Ed's, only nursing the two drinks rather than downing them one after another.
She felt a body slide into the seat next to her and slowly looked to her right. There, clad in a white button down and black suit pants, was Dimitry.
"Hey," he said lightly, as if he was testing the waters, unsure if she would drown in his presence. Maybe she would, but she wouldn't complain.
"Hi," she whispered in response, rather lamely. She wasn't sure what to say, though, wasn't sure why he was there at all.
Dimitry's lips quirked slightly, a small grin gracing his features. "How are you, Anyok?" he asked genuinely.
She didn't know. Truthfully, she felt as if she might die from embarrassment. He hadn't mentioned it yet, but she knew that he was thinking about the message that she had sent to him. It mortified her in the worst way and left her hands shaking in her lap.
After a moment too long, she replied, "I've been better. Much better, actually. When I finally figured out what I had said, I figured that I might have scared you off."
"Scared me, maybe, but not off. Never off," he said matter-of-factly.
"I was drunk, by the way," she added in an attempt to better her position. But when Dimitry's grin slowly slid away, she wasn't sure. Maybe he thought her pathetic, a grown woman drunkenly professing her love for her best friend as if she was a character in a coming of age movie. Anya felt her cheeks heat at the thought.
Dimitry looked to the side, clearing his throat. "So you didn't mean it?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Anya rolled her eyes, laughing humorously. "It doesn't matter if I meant it or not. You-"
"No, it does matter. Did you mean it Anya?" He seemed to be pleading with her, begging her to let her defenses down and tell the truth.
"Yes," she whispered, looking at her lap. She was sure that she looked as pathetic as she felt, mortified in front of her own best friend. "But you have Alina, and I know that. I never wanted to come between you guys, truly. I'm so sorry Dima." She shook her head at herself, disappointed and embarrassed and angry.
Dimitry rushed forward, pulling her toward him. His forehead fell against Anya's and she would feel his head shake back and forth. His hands were on her cheeks and she was certain that he could feel the streaks that her tears had left only moments before he arrived and the heat that was currently blooming underneath her skin.
"Alina and I are over, Anya. She was a pathetic attempt to forget how I felt, still feel, about you. She was pissed, and I'm pretty sure that she's going to smash my car windows in at some point, but I don't care." Anya felt the color drain from her face as she attempted to understand, attempted to prove to herself that she wasn't dreaming. "I don't care, because it's you. You're my number one, Anya, my home, if you'll have me." Dimity's eyes were frantic, searching her own for an answer, a confession, a single emotion that may prove to him that her feelings matched his.
"Dimitry," she whispered, unsure of how to continue. So rather than embarrass herself further, Anya wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him infinitely closer and smashing her lips against his. This time, she wasn't sure whose tears she felt, though she thought they may have been from both of them.
When they finally pulled back, Anya felt as if she had both aged and become younger in the same moment. She felt lighter than she had in months, as if Dimitry was specifically designed to drain her of worry.
"I love you, you know," he whispered against her lips, and her heart fluttered in her chest. "I fell in love with you the day that I met you, even if I didn't want to admit it. I knew that you'd be the death of me at some point."
Anya leaned into the hand he had placed on her cheek, certain that she had never felt so perfect. She turned her cheek, kissing the inside of Dimitry's palm. "I love you," she whispered, before kissing his fingertips.
"You're my home, Dima. Always."