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“Our father who art in heaven . . . hallowed be thy name . . .”
It was two in the morning.
Dazai was barely awake. He’d been trying to doze off for the past hour or so, sandwiched between the two nuisances in his bed with only the ticking of the clock on the wall to keep him sane. Really, this was a nightly occurrence . . .
What wasn’t a nightly occurrence was Fyodor abruptly mumbling the beginning to a prayer.
“Fedya?” Dazai asked incredulously.
“Hm?” Fyodor said, before continuing, “Thy kingdom come . . . thy will be done . . .”
“It’s two in the . . .” started Dazai, before abruptly realising— “Oh my god. He’s sleeptalking.”
“On earth as it is in heaven . . .”
This was a once-in-a-blue-moon sort of thing. As in, a wake-Nikolai-and-come-up-with-creative-ways-to-bully-Fyodor sort of thing.
“Give us this day our daily bread . . .”
Grinning wickedly, Dazai poked Nikolai in the shoulder. “Kolya. Kolya.”
Nikolai stirred. “Hhhuh?”
“He’s sleeptalking.”
“Huhwhat?” Nikolai said, not entirely coherent. He attempted to blink away the blur in his eyes. “Who?”
Dazai turned to stare at him. “Why, Rodya the rat,” he deadpanned. “Fedya is, you idiot.”
Nikolai rubbed his eyes. “Oh.”
“. . . And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who . . . hhhhmmmnm . . .”
“Trespass against us?” said Dazai.
At that, Fyodor’s facial muscles twitched into a cute frown. (Thank God for the light of Dazai’s phone screen to illuminate the spectacle.) “That’s what I said . . .”
Dazai snorted. “Oh, this is so good.”
Feeling a little more awake, Nikolai propped himself up onto an elbow. “Fedya?”
“Yes? Lead us not into temptation . . .” Fyodor said with no pause.
“You’re not at church.”
Fyodor seemed to hesitate. “Am I not?”
Nikolai had to muffle his laugh into his sleeve. Usually, the word he would have used to describe Fyodor’s sleeping habits would have been paranoid—the times he fell into a sleep deep enough to call upon his tendency to sleeptalk were to be treasured. “You’re not, darling.”
“Oh.”
“How are you feeling?” asked Dazai.
A long sigh. “Tired . . .” then, “. . . oh . . . and deliver us from evil . . .”
Dazai tried not to start giggling. “Fedya, you’re still not at church.”
“Hhmmnmm . . . amen . . .”
Nudging Dazai’s arm, Nikolai whispered, “Can you think of any funny questions?”
Dazai thought for a moment. Then, a grin came across his face. “Fedya, how do you feel about cats?”
Fyodor’s face twisted into disgust. “Wretched things . . .”
(Dazai smothered his laugh into Nikolai’s shoulder.)
“And . . . rats?” he said, once he could manage to keep his voice even.
“Little mice . . .” Upon speaking, it was like Fyodor realised something. “Ah . . . yes . . . little mouse . . . Rodya?” He clicked his tongue a few times. “Rodya, little mouse . . .”
Nikolai smiled to contrast Dazai’s groan as the rat stirred where he’d been buried in the bedding of his open cage on the bedside table. “A bond that transcends species . . .” Rodya scampered down onto Fyodor’s shoulder. “Oh, just look at them.”
“He has the thing trained like a dog.”
“I think it’s cute.”
Dazai wrinkled his nose up a little before turning to Fyodor. “How about actual mice, Fedya?”
“Little . . .” Fyodor started. He paused for a second. “They are tiny little mice, I think.”
Nikolai sighed, lovestruck.
Rodya had nestled himself on Fyodor’s neck. Fyodor seemed content now, lying completely still where he was tucked under the duvet.
An idea having struck him, Dazai smiled fondly before saying, “Do you love me?”
“Mm . . . yes, I love you . . .”
“And do you love Kolya?”
“Kolya . . . yes . . .” Fyodor murmured. “Kolya . . . he is pretty . . .”
With a little gasp, Nikolai leaned down to kiss Fyodor on the cheekbone. “Oh, look who’s speaking . . .”
“And who do you love more?” Dazai said immediately, only to get jabbed in the ribs.
“Oi,” hissed Nikolai.
Dazai snickered. “What?”
Readjusting a little, Fyodor murmured something incoherent. Rodya stirred and nipped at his jaw gently.
“What was that?” Nikolai prompted.
“I love . . .” Fyodor started—then, “hmmnmm . . .”
“Hm?”
“Rodya . . .”
Both Nikolai and Dazai had to hide their laughter in their pillows.
Fyodor awoke to his half seven alarm with Dazai’s hair in his face.
When realisation kicked in that it was Sunday, he yawned, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. He’d actually slept quite well. Rodya was somewhat burrowed within the bedding in his cage, but there was a tiny little trail of it on the edge of the table where he must have crept out in the night. Nikolai was starfished out over about three-quarters of the mattress.
“Osamu,” Fyodor said, running his fingers through Dazai’s hair. “Darling, let me go . . .”
Dazai only tightened his arms around him. “Mm . . .”
Fyodor sighed. “I have to go to church.” (His weekly leaving of the house. The walk there was becoming his only source of vitamin D.)
At that, Dazai sniggered against his collarbone. “Ha. You already did.”
“What?”
He didn’t answer.
Fyodor blinked, furrowing his brows, but decided against prying further.
Maybe Dazai was just sleeptalking.