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He hummed as he did it — washing the blood off of his hands. It must have soaked through his gloves — he’d have to get a new pair, but that wouldn’t be an issue. He wished it were as easy to replace his hands, though; he couldn’t seem to clean the blood from under his fingernails. He continued to try, however, knowing if all else failed, his gloves would cover the stains regardless. It didn’t matter if the blood never left him. He felt it almost should never leave him — part of who he’d become. It was almost symbolic in a way. The thought made him laugh to himself a little.
With that smile, he lifted his eyes to look in the mirror. He hadn’t done so since he’d entered the bathroom. Upon inspecting his face, he noticed something fall down his cheek and drip into the basin. And then another one. And another. Naturally, it should have been blood — it wasn’t as if he’d somehow managed to spare his face from the splatter. But it wasn’t. It was clear. Thinner. A lot thinner than blood was. His smile didn’t fall but he tilted his head as he looked at himself as if he almost didn’t recognise his reflection. The drops continued to roll down his cheek, more frequent the more he watched them. They blurred his vision on occasion, clearing up as they were released, staining his cheeks as the blood stained his hands. He approached cautiously, fingers notably shaking as they reached for the droplets. He touched them. Slow. The blood from under his fingernails got pulled out and bled onto his cheeks. The droplets were no longer pure and clear. They were stained like the rest of him. While they began clear, they’d eventually collect the blood smeared on his face and become dirtied. Every time. Nikolai watched in fascination as they continued to fall and drown in red. It was nothing but bizarre to witness. He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt like this before. Maybe he had felt it but he had forgotten. He didn’t know.
“Kolya?” a soft voice intruded upon his thoughts.
He turned to it with a wide smile, “Dostoy! My dear friend!”
“I didn’t realise you’d arrived back.”
“Yep! Did you see my work?! Wasn’t it beautiful!” Nikolai cheered.
Fyodor gave a single nod.
“You know me better than I know myself Dos-kun! This was just what I needed! When’s the next one — God, I hope it’s soon!” Nikolai added.
“Mm… Yes. It’s soon.”
“Wonderful! That’s so wonderful!”
“Is it?”
Nikolai nodded, “I’ve never felt so alive as I did when I took someone else's life! I can still hear the screaming — it was so horrific, Dostoy, you should have heard it!”
“Hmm…”
“What’s wrong, dear Dos-kun? You’re being quiet!”
“Are you sure I’ve given you the right mission?” he asked.
“Huh?! But, of course, you have! No job has ever been more right!”
“Then why are you crying?”
Nikolai halted for a moment. Crying. That must have been the droplets. The things falling from his eyes must have been tears. But Nikolai hadn’t cried since he were a child. He had no reason to do so. He didn’t have any more reason to be crying now than he had in the past however long. He reached up to his face again and rubbed it. But the tears returned. He wiped again. But they came back. Every time he tried to erase this strange part of him, it returned with the same, if not more strength than before.
“That’s quite strange, isn’t it?” he said.
“I thought you wanted this…” Fyodor said, softly.
“I do! I really really do! There’s no exercise of free will more clear than claiming the lives of others in atrocious manners! No greater demonstration of autonomy than reducing one’s humanity to a heartless monster!”
“Heartless monsters do not cry, Kolya…”
“I don’t cry!” Nikolai exclaimed, voice breaking. He covered his mouth with his hand, distrusting what he’d just heard come out of it. The tears pooled in between his fingers and his cheeks, however, and the feeling of it only cemented the fact that he was lying. He did cry. And he was crying.
“It isn’t wrong to feel you’ve done wrong. You know that?”
“Of course, I do. But I’ve done right by me, shouldn’t I recognise that— I
do
recognise that! I have done right by my self, that’s all I could want.”
“The screams… You said they were horrific, no?”
“Yes! Horrific, meaning they weren’t called for! I was free. Nothing could stop me…”
“Nothing can stop you, no. You’re a vessel for evil. But perhaps that evil festers within you in a way that ultimately is displeasing…”
“That’s simply not true!” Nikolai returned to a grin, “Good and evil don’t exist — it’s merely those who are free and those who are not! I am free, Fedya. You see that, don’t you?!”
“Are you really free when you’re caged by the burden of your own guilt?”
Nikolai refused to hesitate anymore, instead, letting out a long laugh. “My heart cannot cage itself! The guilt I allegedly feel will fall away the second I taste that freedom again. It almost sounds like you’re worried about me, Dostoy! We can’t have that now, can we? Love might be the one thing that holds me back… My entire body would ache if it knew love held you back too.”
“Do not worry yourself over me either. Instead, consider whether you’re capable of undertaking your mission.”
“Don’t start doubting me now,” Nikolai grinned, “I’m nowhere near done yet…”
Fyodor gave a nod. “Okay.”
“Thank you, Dos-kun…”
“For what?”
“Giving me exactly what I need.”
Nikolai’s smile was unlike anything Fyodor had ever seen him wear. There was never any doubt that he was the man for this job until this moment. His eyes had become red and puffy due to the incessant leakage of tears. As much as Nikolai was well practised in smiling, it didn’t reach his eyes the same as it usually did. There was a blankness behind them. The blankness was his humanity bleeding through into the clownish expression he had grown so comfortable in. Nikolai wasn’t a monster. He sure wished he was but anyone looking down at him now could tell that he was not. Fyodor was sure Nikolai was out of surprises for him by now but he stood corrected. The one thing he had never expected the clown to do was look so human. He’d seen plenty of human vulnerability and fragility in his time, he had just never expected it from his friend. He was too dumbstruck to know what to do with him. He didn’t know how he was meant to assist or if he even had the ability or responsibility to do so. And he also could guess that Nikolai didn’t even want his help as he insisted there was nothing wrong at all. Regardless, one more mission wouldn’t kill him. The clown was awfully resilient. He’d monitor it, however. It was all he could find to do.
“Of course…” he said, “Well, let me know when you’re finished cleaning.”
“Soon, soon, don’t worry! I’ll be out before you can even miss me.”
Fyodor gave a nod and exited, unsure of how long a time frame Nikolai actually intended to measure with that. He didn’t know how long it took him to miss him. He didn’t know if he always did or never did. He felt he would miss the part of him he saw today though. He couldn’t tell if it was some sadistic obsession with his friend’s pain or something else. Alas, he felt something as he exited. And he was sure it would bug him for a while longer.
Nikolai did not return to Fyodor that night. Nor did his tears ever cease. Nor did his smile fade. This was what he wanted. No amount of tears would change that. He’d cry until his heart stopped aching if it meant he could continue without it ever having to ache again. He cried until he couldn’t breathe and he thought he was going to die. And he did the best he could to quiet the voice in his head that told him he deserved it. That he deserved this pain. And that, if he did end up giving his life like the ones he’d killed had, he deserved to die.