Work Text:
——
[ ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posy, ashes, ashes- ]
————
They sat, waiting, listening, words that Nikolai couldn't catch ricocheting off the glass-stained windows around the both of them. Nikolai glanced subtly at Dos-kun beside him. Dead-concentrated eyes staring up ahead at the pastor who drawled on and on and on and on and-
Nikolai stifled a yawn. He would've much preferred sleeping in instead of waking up at the crack of dawn to attend a church that lost his attention from the moment he stepped inside. Alas, he could never say no to his friend, who insisted and insisted on attending early masses every Sunday.
The uncomfortable humidity of the air around them strangled Nikolai, small raindrops lingering on his white strands of hair. Brighter was his hair than the church they had entered moments prior when escaping from the outpour, the decrepit building having lost its shine long ago, graffitied paint peeling from roughened walls. The bleeding sun had greeted them before they entered, late.
Was there any real purpose in attending church? If God was truly out there, would he even forgive them? Him and his friend, Dos-kun, living incorporations of sin?
And even just living, even just avoiding death from day to day guaranteed sin. Was this why he trapped human beings inside flesh and bone? As punishment for the grave sin of merely existing?
And soon they would head up to the pastor to receive their sacramental bread, and the pastor would hand it to them simply, having no idea that the two peculiar men standing before him were horrible sinners – horrible even above the rest, because they were killers. They killed to survive before they even knew it was wrong, but now they just killed . Was somebody like them really cleared for forgiveness just because they showed up to church every week?
A hand roughly grabbed the back of his head and pushed forward, forcing it into a bow as his body was pushed on its knees. He belatedly realized after his friend let go of his hair that the few other people in the church were all on their knees with their heads down, Dos-kun alongside them. He whispered a brief apology to his friend, whose eyes were closed in a manner that just seemed terribly exhausted, and yet he looked so, so pretty…
He had seen that same pretty face covered in the murky blood of others, blood spilt after he'd punished them.
And Nikolai's own coat rested heavy upon his shoulders.
They were sinners.
Because they lived.
Because they killed.
Because they had what others didn't – power.
But Nikolai felt unafraid while he was beside his dear friend. Even if he ended up in Hell, even if he was rejected by God, he'd still have Dos-kun. Dos-kun would join him, he knew. Where else would he belong?
Yes, his friend was a demon unrivaled by others.
But that same demon had given Nikolai the hope for miracles, so for that, he had faith.
————
Fragile soap bubbles cluttered around his hands as they washed a plate, wipe, wipe, wipe . Nikolai hunched over by the sink in their moldy excuse for an apartment. Dos-kun wasn't home yet, being out doing who-knows-what.
Recently, he'd been having some peculiar thoughts about his friend. A desire to see him squirming and pale underneath him, neck trapped by clenched hands, gasping desperately for air that would never quite reach his lungs and-
No, that wouldn't do… something a little more spectacular…
His hands fished around in the sink full of dull bubbles and water, wrinkled hands coming into contact with a hilt. His smile as he pulled out a large steak knife gleaned bleakly in comparison to the shine it showed him under yellow lights.
Now this, this would make things much more exciting!
He swirled around, knife in hand, water droplets shooting in every which direction. He branded the knife proudly with a content sigh as his imagination ran wild.
To slice his beautiful friend open, would that not be the ultimate way to achieve that which Nikolai so longed for?
Freedom .
To see his Dos-kun heaving for breath while the deep red blood poured out of his body? Nikolai felt so elevated just thinking about it. How he'd love to slice his friend open, maybe his slender neck? Perhaps he'd cut him in half? Or he could take his time dragging the blade against pale skin in no particular place until his dear Dos-kun died of blood loss. The endless possibilities!
But Nikolai would stay away from his face, of course! He would never want to miss the look of utter fury his friend's eyes would pierce him with, or perhaps bloodlust. Nikolai paused, staring at a rapidly forming puddle on the floor by his feet from the dripping steel. The time for the grand finale was not now. Now was the time for finishing up the dishes like Dos-kun asked him to before he got home.
His reflection from the water stared back at him. What did he see, one may ask? He saw a young man, smiling wide and toothy, a smile no ordinary person would ever think to see on themselves. He knew too much.
And that's why he knew that Dos-kun would be his key to freedom.
————
Nikolai shook under the hand of his Dos-kun. His breath frantically wavered, deep breath in, deep breath out, deep breath in, deep breath out…
His head was poised on his friend's lap, the man having strolled over to Nikolai's side of the room to support him, finding a place to sit on his rickety bed. His friend pulled a thin blanket over his trembling body. It was an old blanket, withering at the edges, its fabric being stretched thin by existence alone. Holes dotted its surface like Swiss cheese, something neither of them had ever gotten the chance to try. Still, it warmed Nikolai.
It warmed him that Dos-kun was there to help him. Nikolai was just a regular man with a bit too much power. His coat had always been a companion of his, even if it was as shoddy as the blanket draped on him, but sometimes it felt as if hands from the depths of Hell itself shot out of its confines, grabbing at his face and his neck and his chest and all of him, grabbing all of him to drag him down to join them because what had he done what had he done-
" Shhhh ." Perhaps the man stroking his hair was a mind reader, always interrupting his thoughts as they reached their climax. A forced chuckle wormed its way out between Nikolai's teeth.
If only he could fall asleep like this, Dos-kun stroking his hair thoroughly while quietly humming some children's tune both had heard while passing by small girls in the street alleys not long ago. It had a pleasing ring to it, and had seemed fun enough when he'd seen the grime-covered children playing it. An English-looking girl had been teaching it to her friends, singing aloud lyrics that he didn't know the meaning of.
The song unnerved him in some way, like the jolly little melody had some ulterior meaning.
Perhaps it was the way that at the end of the song, after the children had spun around in a circle while holding hands merrily, they all dropped. Played dead for a long moment, silence having deafened even Nikolai, the onlooker. Then they'd spring right back up and laugh.
But was that not much like Nikolai himself? Defeated by momentary battles, only to rise back up and laugh, laugh, laugh , like a jester cracking jokes to his one and only king, like the ringleader of a circus utterly in love with his every flabbergasted crowd, like some evil tyrant reigning over his poor citizens, and wow, that got dark super fast!
He laughed a little more, voice less strained, and he didn't have to look, because he knew that above him, Dos-kun shared his smile. His precious friend, always knowing what Nikolai needed to feel better. Nikolai shut his eyes and snuggled into the man's thighs, relishing the calming humming a touch more.
Truly, Dos-kun was his intimate friend, the only one who understood how the chaotic clusterfuck that was Nikolai Gogol's mind worked. Even if he knew that his friend would never think of Nikolai as he thought of him, that's splendidly alright. He would rejoice in this time with Dos-kun for as long as was possible. He felt reborn, in a way. Every experience with his friend was exhilarating, like a breath of fresh air after living a life in slums full of nothing but trash, the metallic smell of blood, and urine.
…No, that wasn't right.
No, Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky was not a breath of fresh air. He was the smoky haze of nicotine, a mysterious drug that rotted him from the inside out until his body withered, weak. He was the poison that clenched his heart and squeezed until both love and blood alike poured out, the poison that burned like wildfire in the trees and branches of his lungs, spreading and spreading until nothing was left to consume. The poison of which he willingly took in order to feel the sharp sting of passion it ignited, drunk on both cheap whiskey and adoration. The poison that gave him a convincing front of choice, but stripped him of free will the moment he got a taste.
Nikolai could've never even fathomed going without it.
Truly, Dos-kun was a saviour, however unconventional.
————
He exhaled and watched the grey, misty smoke puff out and rise into the starless night sky. The pitch black above him was a perfect match to the dingy roof of his apartment building where he sat. He lowered his cheap cigarette and stared at the tiny corpse in front of him, on the verge of falling over onto the unsuspecting pavement below, just as he heard faint footsteps behind him. His dear friend, the dearest of them all, and, well– he was also his only friend, but no need to get into the details.
His eyes, having long adjusted to the lack of light, observed as Dos-kun sat down beside him, humming slightly as he saw the tiny corpse. Perhaps his eyes had adjusted to the dark so quickly due to having lived a life in the underbelly of the world, a darkness void of hope, void of life. Perhaps he just had good eyes.
He looked back at Nikolai, a question clear in his eyes.
"Dear me, Dos-kun ," He spoke just above a whisper, "It wasn't me that killed that poor bird! How could you accuse me of such a thing?"
He received only a huff in return, along with a raised, disbelieving eyebrow. His accusation made sense. Nikolai was oh so fond of birds, admiring their ability to fly and defy. With their feathers and their wings, they could soar! Glide! Live! With just a few flaps , they could achieve a freedom Nikolai could only ever dream of! The worst thing one could do to them was to put them in a cage, where they were doomed to live forever, because not even the power of flight could force one through metal bars.
Or perhaps the worst thing to do would be to break their wings. Maybe cut them off. Take away the very thing that matters the most to them, the one thing that allows them to fly free. Even fated to die in a cage, a bird would perish proud, spreading out its wings in a final act of defiance before it dropped dead, knowing that even just a taste of true freedom would be more than its captor would ever experience. But to steal away the very pride of a bird, its wings, to steal away any hope of freedom again… now that would be true cruelty. No, jealousy .
Nikolai understood why his dear friend thought what he did. After all, Nikolai was the very pinnacle of jealousy towards the creatures.
But this hadn't been his doing.
The small creature's blood had long since dried around it, charcoal black surrounding its corpse. One of its feathered wings was twisted at an unnatural angle, likely having tried to fly with an injured wing only to plummet to its death on the top of a crumbling apartment building.
Dos-kun would've figured out as much by now, and yet Nikolai was nothing but a man who loved eccentricity, so-
"Quiz time," he whispered loudly as he passed his cigarette for his friend to try, noting his near-bleeding fingers – he'd been chewing his nails again. Taking off the flimsy coat wrapped around his shoulder, he wrapped it around his friend's. After all, his friend had a rather weak body, anemia and all, and Nikolai wouldn't want him getting sick in the chilly night air! Though the image of Dos-kun all sick and vulnerable was…
"What happened to this bird?" He finished off.
"Do you know the answer for certain yourself, or will you merely lead me on?" Dos-kun murmured back.
Nikolai was all sheepish grins as he giggled, "You caught me! But it wouldn't hurt to guess…"
A blanket of rare silence draped over them, eye contact snapping in half as they both looked ahead to an endless sky. The cigarette was passed back and forth slowly, fingers lingering on each other for a little longer than they needed to. Oh, how Nikolai loved, loved, loved dancing so intimately with death! The knowledge that Dos-kun could kill him at any one of these moments with a simple touch, the knowledge that he could do nothing himself to avoid it, and yet here they were, lighting another cigarette to taste the unsavoury flavour of tobacco more strongly. A lively limbo with the Grim Reaper! The very irony of it almost made him chuckle, but the silence that had befallen them was sobering, and just this once, he wanted to be properly awake to experience it all.
They watched together as the sun rose reluctantly, as if it had a rope tied around its neck, a collar, a leash, pulling it up and up and up.
First rose, then red, and now orange and yellow together were seeping through the horizon line.
Nikolai broke the silence first.
"What if it was rejected by its own? Like… kicked out of the sky? Kicked out-"
"Kicked out of heaven," Dos-kun had finished for him. They made eye contact once again, a smile slowly creeping, crawling up Nikolai's face as he nodded, an idea forming itself in his mind.
"A bird kicked out of heaven after having been corrupted by jealousy and pride, just like Lucifer! A fallen angel."
Both had sat in quiet contemplation once more, before Dos-kun spoke up once again.
"But its corruption was not sudden. No man, angel or not, can turn so evil and rotten at a moment's glance."
As his friend spoke, he looked directly at the half-sun, confidence in his conclusion etched into his every feature.
"Its corruption was extended over time, anger and hate quietly brewing in the back of his mind."
The showy light from the sun had contrasted against the shadow on Dos-kun's pale face nicely. His usually thin-looking hair was exposed, the meagre light provided bringing out the silkiness it held.
"He never even acknowledged it until it overtook his mind, draining out all his common sense, erasing his faith no matter how hard he tried to fight back, until even those around him began to notice ."
"Which is when he was banished."
"Indeed."
"So it was gradual, more like…" Nikolai racked his brain, squeezing his eyes shut to search for answers in even the darkest corners of his mind. It was only when he opened his eyes once more and glanced at the bird's corpse that he found the word he had been searching for.
"... Decay!"
"That's correct, Nikolai."
As a slow breeze wafted by them, brushing through the hair of both men, the sun bathed them in warm light, their cigarettes having been long forgotten on the pavement roof. Nikolai sat in a trance as he watched his friend's gaze shift from the sun to him, a soft smile having formed itself on Dos-kun's face, along with a bright glint in his eyes – a glint Nikolai had come to associate with a certain meaning.
" The decay of the angel ," his friend finished off lightly, and Nikolai sucked in a breath, entranced.
Only the bird's corpse had bore witness to what was soon to be the beginning of a new era.
————
And now, like drawing open heavy red curtains on a long-awaited play, the show would begin.
————
[ -we all fall down. ]
——