Chapter Text
“Fyodor? Fyodor! Fyodor! ”
“Fyodor?”
“Oh Fyodor..”
“...Mama.”
“..Mama..”
That name seemed to slip from his mouth as Fyodor was lost in thought. His eyes were fixated on the car seat in front of him, while his thoughts hopped and skipped through his past memories. Fyodor stayed that way for most of the ride, although he was starting to get extremely tired from how late it’d gotten. It was almost midnight, from what one could observe, considering that the moon was now - seemingly - on top of the Earth, glaring down at the slumbering life below its gaze. Fyodor blinked a little bit, starting to snap out of his trance. He turned his head to stare out the window, which was covered in fingerprints and stains left by water droplets. It was clear that this car had not been washed in quite a long time, creating a foggy view of the outside world. Fyodor felt quite annoyed by this. It’s too dirty. It feels impossible now to even glance outside without being distracted by the handprints made by idiot children who place their greasy, sweating palms all over whatever they see. And it just made the world seem so…out of focus. It was really, really , irritating. Fyodor imagined he could just shatter the glass with his small fist if he wanted. The only thing stopping him was that driver. The man who took him into his car. The man who promised him a new home.The man that is watching him through the mirror. Fyodor swiveled his head and caught the man’s dark eyes staring at him again. He quickly averted his gaze, but Fyodor knew he’d caught him.
“Ah, I’m surprised you’re able to stay awake for so long kiddo.”
“Although..maybe witnessing the tragedy of your parents death might’ve sucked the exhaustion outta ya.” The man chuckled to himself after that remark. Fyodor only stared at him - or really the chair in front of him - with a slight furrow in his tiny brows. “Not funny? Hm..I suppose that’s my bad. Probably shouldn’t be bringing that one up huh..?” He muttered, turning to glance at Fyodor directly. Fyodor looked away as he did, instead placing his gaze on the leather bag next to him. It was another reminder of what happened. Another bell ringing in his head, another screaming child shouting the images of the limp bodies that were sprawled out on the floor. It was almost picture perfect, yet still blurred and covered in an attempt to stash it away. But is that right? Or was this child brain too incompetent to do its job? Fyodor’s mind began to walk down a new route before suddenly the man slammed his foot on the brakes, stopping the car and almost Fyodor’s heartbeat. The man unbuckled his seatbelt, and fully turned around to where Fyodor sat. “Hey- We’re here. Don’t you forget that bag,” The man said. Fyodor was already in the process of taking off his seatbelt, and so when the man had said his words and turned back around, he grabbed the stained bag and opened the car door. Fyodor slid out, and saw that the man was waiting for him.
“Let’s go, kiddo.”
The two walked into the building, which, although hard to see in the dead of night, was already very broken down in appearance. The little playground - or what was supposed to be a playground - that lay next to the concrete building was literally in pieces. All that stood was a rusty merry-go-round that spun a little in the breeze, making small creaking sounds that might scare any lonely traveler in the night. The building itself looked alright, although the wooden doors in front were quite scratched up, and the windows cracking all over. Fyodor wasn’t exactly used to these conditions, causing him to feel slightly unsafe as they approached said building. There was a motion detecting light that suddenly lit up, blinding him for a second.
“Ah..sorry kid..it happens to all of us!” The man spoke with a chuckle in between his pauses. Fyodor regained his vision and looked at the man, who had already turned around. He quickened his pace to keep up with the man that was already at the front doors. The man rang the doorbell, which didn’t even ring out, only spat up a noise that could be heard from a dying cicada, probably. The two waited for what felt to be a good minute. Nothing seemed to happen in that minute, so the man banged on the door with his fist, quite loudly. The man stood back again, mumbling to himself with a frustrated expression. Suddenly there was a noise coming from behind the doors, something that must’ve meant it was unlocking, Fyodor hoped. The large wooden doors slowly opened with a loud creaking noise, with an old woman emerging from the darkness behind them. She was very tall, and it was easy to tell just by the fact that the patchy red dress she wore stopped an inch away from her knees. Her silver hair glowed a little in the moonlight, and her piercing blue eyes were equally glowing. The old woman glanced at Fyodor with a condescending glare before shifting her eyes to the man beside him.
“Well? Come on, I haven’t got all night for this Peter! I want to sleep!” The old woman exclaimed. She spoke with a bit of an accent, but he couldn’t really tell which one exactly. Fyodor looked up at Peter, who shot a glance at Fyodor before returning his gaze to the old woman, who had turned to head back inside “Right..let’s go, kid.” Peter motioned for Fyodor to walk in before him, and so he followed after him. As Fyodor walked in he found it hard to see where he was going, and tripped over something hard. “Granny! Why don’t you turn on the light or something?” Peter shouted to the old woman, his voice reverberating in the large hallway. “Just keep moving forward! And keep your voice down!” Granny loudly whispered back to Peter. Peter let out a noise that sounded close to a scoff and a groan. Fyodor tried not to turn his head in any direction in fear of running into anything, and made his steps smaller and smaller in order to not trip (again). After a while of walking, Fyodor eventually found himself walking into the old woman’s legs, and he jumped back quickly. Granny didn’t say anything, but Fyodor knew she must have given him another one of her patronizing glances.
The old woman seemed to be unlocking a door, just from the sound of it. Fyodor clutched the strap of his bag, suddenly feeling the strange sensation of nervousness. He didn’t know why he felt that way, but he knew there had to be a reason. Right now wouldn’t be the time to deduce that reason, as now the door had finally been opened by Granny. She stepped in first and turned on the light, which had again almost blinded Fyodor completely.
After blinking a couple times to adjust to the new lighting, he found himself in what looked to be his new bedroom. It was small, and its walls were covered in stained blue wallpaper with small flower details all over. There were two beds on each side of the room, a small wooden desk in between. On the right side of the room, there was a young boy who awoke to the sudden light of the room, sitting up and rubbing his eye. “Nikolai! Go to sleep!” The old woman snapped at the white-haired child, who glanced between her, Fyodor, and Peter, before laying down again, pulling the thin blanket up higher. “Come on, child. Take your shoes off and sleep. I will give you clothes by morning.” Granny said to Fyodor, motioning for him to lay in the other bed. Fyodor kicked off his shoes and placed them on the floor by the end of his bed. He took off the leather bag and hung it on the bed’s metal railing, before crawling onto it and finally allowing his body to relax after a long time of sitting in that car. Fyodor looked over his shoulder to see what Peter was doing, but the man had already left. “Go to sleep!” Granny spoke one last time before turning off the light and shutting the white door closed behind her.
“Psst…”
“…”
“..Heyyy..”
“…”
“Oi….!!!”
Fyodor continued to ignore the voice, even as it grew closer and closer to his bed. But once he could feel the boy’s hot breath on his back, he knew he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Fyodor turned to lay on his back, his head facing the other boy that loomed over him. He couldn’t see much in the pitch-black room, but he could tell that the other boy must be smiling eagerly at him. “Hiiiiiiii!” The other boy said with a giggle. Fyodor didn’t say anything back. “Oh c’monn..I know you’re not asleep already!!” Fyodor found it a little bit amusing to keep him on edge, so he kept his mouth shut and closed his eyes. After a while the other boy went back to his bed, scoffing and mumbling to himself before going back to sleep. Fyodor opened his eyes again, and shifted his gaze to what he hoped was the ceiling. He still hadn’t been able to process everything that happened prior to his arrival at this orphanage. He felt like he’d even forgotten where he was, and what he was now that they were dead and gone. It felt so odd, out of place even, for him to be here like this. Just a day ago he would’ve been tucked in by his nanny, in a bed that wouldn’t squeak and had thick, weighted blankets to keep him warm and comfortable during the night. Just a day ago he would’ve been sitting in a room with living parents. Maybe they wouldn’t glance at him once, maybe they wouldn’t even care for his existence, but at least they were there. Now there is no one that has the same blood as what runs through his veins, as it was now being scrubbed off the walls.
Maybe this is better. Maybe someone will care. Maybe I should just sleep.
They’re still breathing. I can feel it. I can feel their thoughts. They’re anger is digging into my skin. My skin is breaking. I’m breaking. I can’t see. I don’t want to. I can feel the blood pour from the wound. I want to go home. I want my mother. I want my father. I want. I want. I want. I want.
I want to die.
Fyodor slowly opened his eyes. It was still dark. He wondered if he actually slept or if he was really just thinking deeply with his eyes closed. He didn’t feel all too tired anymore, so perhaps that was a sign of actual sleep having occurred. Fyodor sat up, but in that motion of sitting up he hit his head on something really hard . A small “ow!!” came from the hard object, and that was when Fyodor realized it actually wasn’t..an object..
It was Nikolai. And of course, Nikolai must also be rubbing his forehead in pain from the impact. Fyodor squinted a little, and his mind started to piece together some shapes in the room, and he could sort of spot Nikolai sitting a couple inches away from him.
“Nikolai..What are you doing..here?” Fyodor asked in a low voice. Nikolai’s bandaged head shifted to look at him in a quick manner. “I was just watching you!” He replied, bouncing a little and causing the bed to squeak. Fyodor furrowed his brow. What is he talking about..?? Watching me? I’m..I’m not sure about this guy.. Fyodor thought, watching Nikolai turn and lay down next to Fyodor on the edge of the bed. “What’s yer name by the way? ‘Cuz you already know mine so why don’t I know yours?” Nikolai asked. Fyodor lay back down next to him, staring at the one-eyed kid who seemed to be grinning widely at him. “I’m just..Fyodor now..” He muttered. Nikolai was quiet for a moment, before bursting into a series of giggles. Fyodor looked at him weirdly, confused and a little bit upset with his reaction. “Why…is this..funny to you..?” Fyodor murmured. Nikolai stopped laughing immediately. “No. I just wanted to laugh.” He replied, very briefly. Fyodor was again, really, really confused. He could still tell that Nikolai was still smiling at him, even in the dark.
Suddenly, the door unlocked, and there was the sound of a bell ringing outside it. Nikolai jumped out of bed, and headed to the wall to turn on the light, while Fyodor sat up and slowly got out of bed. Nikolai ran over to him and grabbed his hand, and dragged him out the room. Fyodor could sense fear radiating from Nikolai’s tight grip as the two ran down the brightly lit hallway alongside the other children.
Nikolai and Fyodor ran until they were able to reach the corner, and swerved around it, reaching two large red doors that were propped open before they came. Nikolai tightened his grip on Fyodor’s hand as they raced through the doorway, reaching a large room with many windows and two long, wooden tables that were probably on the verge of collapsing. Despite that, the children all came and sat down, all with panicked and nervous expressions on their faces. Nikolai and Fyodor sat down, panting heavily after that - seemingly - long run. Fyodor turned to say something to Nikolai, but Nikolai gave him a sharp look and shook his head. Fyodor slowly turned his head to face forward again, his gaze falling on a little brown-haired boy in front of him. The boy’s eyes were cloudy, but still contained some amount of anxiety in them. The sound of the bell ringing was still in the air, and from what Fyodor could see it was Peter who was ringing it whilst he circled the tables. Fyodor found it incredibly irritating, it made him feel a kind of anger that seemed to crawl through his skin in an uncomfortable manner. He was about to cover his ears, until he realized that Nikolai was still holding his hand. He glanced at Nikolai’s face, but the boy looked half-asleep. Fyodor swallowed harshly, trying to push the frustration away as he analyzed the room they were in. Just from the look of it, it might’ve been a church at some point, and considering the doors where they entered it seemed most likely to be true. There was another entrance at the other end of the room, where it led outside to the disheveled playground, and there were still remains of crushed wood on the floor. It had obviously been renovated quite a bit to suit the needs of an orphan home, but it was incredibly easy to tell what it was before all that.
At some point the bell finally stopped ringing - even though it felt like its sound was trapped in his mind - and Peter stood in between the two tables, digging into his pocket for something. He pulled out a small device, a flip phone, and flipped it open. He began tapping away with one hand, which Fyodor found very remarkable, considering how hard it would be to press all those buttons with just a finger. After a little bit Peter put the phone away and rang the bell a little more.
“Alright kids, err..today’s food is gonna have to wait ‘till lunch hour, okay? Yeah, yeah, I know..but Granny isn’t in a good mood right now, so why don’t we all just..hang out for a bit..?” Peter announced, clapping his hands together at the end. The kids didn’t make a single sound, but there was definitely a shift in the atmosphere after hearing there was no breakfast this morning. Fyodor looked back at Nikolai, who made a small sound, almost like a whimper, as he clutched his empty stomach. Fyodor nudged him, and Nikolai snapped his head towards his direction. “I have something in my bag..I’ll show you when we get back..” Fyodor whispered. As he said that Nikolai’s eye lit up, and his face twisted into a wide grin. “Does this mean we’re friends?” He whispered back, leaning in a little. Fyodor tilted his head. “I- I mean..I guess..?” He stammered, trying to move away from Nikolai’s close face. “..Really?!” Nikolai said with an audible gasp, but was quickly shushed by some of the kids at the table. Fyodor looked up and saw Peter staring right at him. He looked away immediately, casting his gaze back onto Nikolai, who was still smiling to himself. When Fyodor looked up again, Peter was gone, or so he’d thought.
“Fyodor, wasn’t it?”
Fyodor snapped his head around, as did Nikolai, and he saw the man had crouched down behind them. Peter glanced down at their hands, and Fyodor quickly pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry you had to end up here, kid. But I’m sure Nikolai here can tell you what you need to know so you don’t get beat on the first day, yeah?” Peter murmured, his eyes shifting from Fyodor to Nikolai as he spoke. Fyodor felt a little bit sick just by hearing the words “get beat”. It was all too familiar to him, but his mind was still fresh, and he still retained those memories. Of that house. Of that room. Of..them.
“I- So-Sorry, I must be scaring you, aren’t I?” Peter stammered, standing up again in a quick manner. “A-Anyways I- Uh..Shit..” Peter mumbled, glancing at the other kids in the room. He clapped his hands again, forcing a little smile to form on his face. “Alright then- Why don’t we all just head back to our rooms and I’ll see what we can do today?” He said, his eyes fluttering to each kid at the tables. Everyone began to stand up, and walked or ran back to the hallway. Nikolai grabbed Fyodor’s hand again and took him back to their room in a hurried fashion. After they were inside, Nikolai let go and quickly shut the door behind them. As he did that, Fyodor reached for his stained leather bag, opening it and reached for the small metal container inside. He took it out and snapped the lid open, with Nikolai running over to peer over his shoulder just from the sound of it opening. Inside was a small block of cheese and some bits of raw bacon. He had packed this meal long before his parents were even..dead..but it wasn’t really meant for him anyways. It was for a friend that's probably missing him right now, or was already killed by now. Nikolai snatched the box from his hands, and shoved the block of cheese into his mouth greedily. Fyodor watched him scarf down the small meal with a wild hunger in his eyes. It just made him feel worse about his new “home”.
It’s not like it was all that new to him. Other than the fact that these children were in literal rags, there wasn’t much difference from how it was when he was at home. Somehow he found himself almost longing for his old life, but at the same time would rather live in the present than in that damned house. Fyodor didn’t even want to think of that house. He didn’t want to remember it, and he didn’t want to talk about it and he just wants everyone to just shut up about it because I swear to god if I have to keep hearing about it and remembering it- I don’t want to feel this way! I don’t feel bad. I hated them. So why do I keep feeling all these- these things for the family that never cared about me?! They never loved me- And they wouldn’t blink if it was me instead. Not even my idiot brother cared, he just did it because he thought of himself as the true savior, when I was still there, suffering, and he didn’t even look at me. He didn’t even acknowledge I was there. It should’ve been me to do it. I should’ve killed them. They deserve it, for all the horrible things they did. Not just to me, but to all those people in that stupid house. And to all my friends. I should’ve been the one to do it, it was supposed to be ME! IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME!
Fyodor blinked. He looked up from his hands and realized that Nikolai was leaning against his shoulder, sound asleep. He must’ve been up for a while last night, possibly much longer than when Fyodor arrived.
It was probably the empty stomach.