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Nikolai woke up to the sound of screaming. He was the one screaming, tearing his own throat apart. But he could not escape. He was cornered, struggling, but there was no escape.
No escape.
He opened his eyes, still screaming. He didn't know they were open at first: it was dark, and it just felt like waking up inside another, darker nightmare, about to fall deeper and deeper without being able to get a glimpse of the bottom. He braced himself, still panting, but nothing broke his fall.
Then a light came on.
And he realized. He was not falling, and he was lying on something soft. And the sudden light let him see his surroundings.
- Kolya?
Fyodor's voice was familiar, and yet it felt like it was coming from somewhere far away. Nikolai turned to look at him, fearing for a moment that he wouldn't be there; that he would be there and then melt into something horrifying, something like the shadows that had been chasing him up until a moment ago, still lurking behind the corners of his vision. But Fyodor – his Fyodor – was there, even after Nikolai blinked several times. And he stayed there, brows furrowed and eyes fixed on him. His gaze was able to cut through the haze that seemed to surround Nikolai, offering him something to hold onto. Nikolai's breathing was still frantic, his mind still racing, yet he narrowed his focus down to Fyodor, locking eyes with him. Slowly, ever so slowly, Nikolai extended a hand towards him.
He touched Fyodor’s arm, and everything started to become more real. Background sensations: the weight of the covers wrapping around them, his shirt sticking to his sweaty back, his undone hair to his face; the salty streaks burning on his cheeks; the bedside light casting soft yellowish shades on the folds of fabric. And at the center of it all, Fyodor. Fedya.
He was still and silent as groundwater, the light marking the contrast between his wax-like skin and the dark circles under his eyes: and yet those eyes looked untouched by sleep and wouldn’t leave Nikolai for a second.
There was no need for words.
Under Nikolai’s hand, the skin of Fyodor’s wrist was warm. His hand was even warmer as he slowly laced his fingers with Nikolai’s. His other hand came to cover them both, gentle yet steady.
Nikolai lowered his gaze onto their joined hands and gathered all his thoughts around them. He could still feel Fyodor’s eyes on him as his own breathing began to steady.
The nightmare was still clinging onto him – pieces of it gnawing at the edges of his conscience like rats, fraying its fiber. He didn’t want to think about it – which only made the thought stronger, the bite sharper. But Nikolai was used to that kind of tug-of-war with himself. So he did his best to chase it all away, to rise above those things that had no right to occupy his psyche in the first place and focus on inhaling, then exhaling. Warmth still seeping into his hand.
He craved more of that warmth, but had to struggle to hold onto it.
Time had already stopped being a concern to him when Fyodor’s voice suddenly broke the silence.
- Nika?
His voice betrayed what his expression didn’t, raspy yet gentle like it almost never was. Fyodor’s eyes were still trained on Nikolai, even though his brows had relaxed.
Under normal conditions, Nikolai would have answered with teasing along the lines of, Two nicknames in one night? Who are you and what have you done with Fyodor Mikhailovich?
Right now, however, he didn’t have the energy.
So he simply looked up and answered in the same tone – or at least, in the one he could manage.
- Fedechka?
An uneasy smile found its way on his lips, mirrored by Fyodor’s – a smile so small and yet so precious, so private, a tiny votive candle lit by a lone worshipper.
Then Fyodor’s arm was on his shoulders, and once again there was no need for words. Nikolai leaned in, gave into the warmth and crawled his way onto Fyodor’s chest, until they were both lying down with Nikolai using him as a pillow.
His bony chest was anything but comfortable, but Nikolai didn’t care. As Fyodor wrapped his arms around him, Nikolai hugged him back and shifted his head until his ear was pressed right onto the other’s heart.
Everything else seemed to fade away as Fyodor’s pulse whispered its song into his ear. Nikolai felt like its rhythm was spreading throughout his whole body, until his own heartbeat matched it.
The nightmare was still there, but the rats’ gnawing had turned to nibbling. It was not over, and he knew. He knew that perfectly well. Yet, for a moment, he felt like he could forget about it. Ignore it for long enough to let his eyes fall closed.
Fyodor’s arms left him for a moment, before coming back with added weight, something like a corner pressing against Nikolai’s back before being moved again. Of course. A book. Just like every time. Not just a book – the Holy Book. Nikolai knew it without even needing to see it, but he ignored that, too. It didn’t matter. Right now, it didn’t matter. Not even God could reach him now – as long as he was wrapped up in this ordinary man’s halo.
The light would be staying on for quite a while, they both knew that. There was no need for words. Yet Nikolai fell asleep, without even noticing. The last thing he recognized was the ever-so-light brush of lips on the crown of his hair.