Work Text:
2 months and 12 days.
Since anyone heard anything about Dostoevsky.
There’s no light in the house. It looks abandoned, but it’s incorrect.
If you go deeper you will hear someone humming a simple tune.
Fyodor is sitting in front of his multiple monitors, monitoring how different programs work, checks code lines on his phone, writes notes in a beige journal.
Someone would say that he looks sick. That he needs to go outside and have a walk. Or at least a little break.
But there's no one here to do so..
"Why am I being punished this way?"
Fyodor sighed. He couldn't find any reason on why he wouldn't be able to do something so simple as.. going outside.
Light knocks could be heard from behind the door. Someone decided to visit our dear Demon Fyodor?
"Hey Dos-kus! Open the door you dummy! – it's that clown again. – Open the door or I will break it! It has been three months already! Let's go somewhere!"
Dostoevsky stood up and eased his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. When he got to the door, he didn't try to open it. Fyodor just stared at the door handle with half-closed eyes. After a yellow portal appeared he hummed and started walking back to his workplace.
"Oh my goodness, how impolite of you it was to ignore my calls! – Nikolai stated while appearing out of nowhere. – How could you do.."
Clown stared at the Russian woefully.
"What have you done to yourself? I never would have thought that you could look worse than you did before.. but somehow you still did it. – Gogol giggled and applauded. – Well, yay! You did it!"
Dostoevsky looked blankly at Nikolai, as if staring through him. He looked as if he had already completely forgotten the meaning of the word sleep. The movements, similarly to the eyes, looked just as dead. Forced. Unnatural.
"I want to be left alone. – could be heard from the shorter man – Leave me in peace. I don't want you around me."
Nikolai smiled. Soon the smile turned into laughter, the laughter turned into a full on tantrum.
"Haha, I'm glad to know that your sense of humor hasn't had time to atrophy yet. – after calming down, Nikolai continued. – Sorry not sorry Dos-kun, but I can't do that. hehe. You surely know that."
Fyodor stayed silent while swaying in one place. He looked like he would pass out any moment.
"So.. What should we do now? Hmm, Fedya? Any ideas, suggestions?"
"Well, if this piques your interest, allow me to share an idea with you. In my opinion, this will excite your curiosity. – russian smiled. – Pardon me for a moment, but I will return soon. Would you mind waiting for me here?"
Gogol looked happily: "Of course I'll wait for my dear friend. I would never leave you like that!"
While Dostoevsky went to fetch something, Nikolai decided to sit on his red couch. He could hear the raindrops begin to hit the roof of the house.
And then..
There was a loud roaring noise.
"What in the world?! – Nikolai suddenly stood up and looked back. – Fyodor, what's gotten into you?!"
There was a chainsaw in Fyodor's hands. In the light that somehow passed through the half-closed windows, his eyes seemed glazed. His sickly face was pale and empty.
Nikolai looked at him scared: "Fyodor? What are you.." He was interrupted by a sharp swing of the chainsaw in his direction. There's no sign of doubt in his eyes.
He didn't look like he enjoyed it or actually wanted to hurt someone.
Dostoevsky looked like he didn't have any other choice, but to force everyone and everything to complete silence. No matter the cost.
Everything else happened as if in slow motion. Fyodor continued swinging his chainsaw, while Gogol continued teleporting from one side to another just before being hit.
Nikolai tried to stop Fyodor, but he couldn't even get close to him with how violent his moves were.
So.. he decided to give up.
"Okay Dostoevsky. If you didn't want me here this bad. You should've told me so from the very beginning. – Nikolai looked one last time at Fyodor who froze in one spot. Staring. – Why would I even try.."
Then.. then before Clown could do anything, Fyodor dropped the chainsaw and grabbed Nikolai's hand.
Nikolai looked confused: "Fedya? What's wrong?"
Fyodor couldn't mutter a single word, but continued looking in Clown's eyes.
"I need you to talk to me if you want my help. – Nikolai laughed lightly. – Never thought that you're into quizzes."
Fyodor smiled a little and said quietly: "What a laughable situation I have created."
Gogol laughed at him: "And this is what you will say after trying to split me in half? It looks like you have actually gone mad."
Nikolai came up to Fyodor and asked: "Fedya? What was that? I never would have guessed that someone like you could be able to swing a chainsaw so easily"
Fyodor looked at him confused.
"I mean.. have you seen yourself? You look so weak and fragile. How did you have any energy to do this?" – Nikolai tried to explain.
Fyodor went to the mirror on the wall and rambled: "You may very well be correct."
"So you are mad? – Fyodor abruptly turned to Nikolai – I'm just kidding! Jeez, what's up with you?"
"Can you please elaborate?" – Fyodor asked calmly.
…
Nikolai stayed silent. He just looked at Dostoevsky.. with.. discomfort?
Was he actually or it was just Fyodor's mind playing tricks with him.
"Fedya. What's going on?" – Nikolai cupped Fyodor's face – I can see that something is worrying you. You know you can talk to me, right?"
Dostoevsky couldn't comprehend the possibility of someone like Nikolai.. caring for him.
It surprised him to the bottom of his stale heart.
"I cannot believe that you would say that."
"Say what?"
Fyodor looked down, staring at the chainsaw that was left abandoned on the floor: "Nothing. Worrying is unproductive and you shouldn't waste your time on such trivial matters."
Nikolai sighed: "Is this your fancy way of saying: "I'm useless for you, so stop thinking about me?""
Nikolai took Fyodor's hands: "Fedya, look at me. C'mon. Do it."
They're eyes met.
Dostoevsky didn't have any other choice than to nod.
"Haha, so I'm right after all? – a laugh could be heard from the taller man. – You can’t hide anything from me Dos-kun"
A smile creeped on Nikolai's face.
Fyodor chuckled: "When did you begin to dislike the way I carry myself? I've never gotten that impression from you before."
"O my god stop! Fedya! You know what I mean! – he said with sarcasm. – But seriously, what's wrong? You did give me a scare with your chainsaw and when did you even get it?"
Dostoevsky looked at his hands, glowing as they always did, and took a deep breath.
"It seems that I am quite exhausted, I must admit. – Fyodor’s eyes started closing. – I would greatly appreciate, if you could stay here while I take a break. I must keep an eye on my programs."
Nikolai chuckled: “Haha, always so formal. Relax. I am going to kill you, but not right now.”
“Pray tell, what is the reason for this?” – Dostoevsky smiled, while starting to slide down on the floor.
“Because I’m still your friend and I’m worried about you right now. We can continue this talk after you feel better. – Nikolai sat next to Fyodor and added. – We shall, if that is your want."
Fyodor dismissed Nikolai's attempt to mock him.
"Please ensure that everything goes accordingly while I am asleep." – Fyodor closed his eyes.
Nikolai smiled.
“Of course, my dear friend.”