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He was plunged into darkness. He felt paralyzed; no matter what he tried, his limbs wouldn’t obey and refused to move. He was completely alone and vulnerable in a realm where light couldn’t enter.
The only thing he could feel was the painful palpitations of his heart beating loudly in his ears. His throat hurt, and his lungs were burning as he tried to fill them with oxygen that seemed to be getting further and further away from him.
His trembling fingers gripped his clothes. Fear kept growing in him, and never as much as before had he wished someone was there with him. He wanted to be reassured, that someone would tell him everything would be fine.
Si… Ma… San…
Through the panic, he managed to hear a sound. He focused on it, and tried to recognize what it was.
Sigma-san.
It was a voice. Someone was calling his name. He then felt warmth on his shoulder and his fingers loosened on his sleeves. His heart resumed to a normal rate as a feeling of soothing slowly enveloped him, and breathing became easier.
Once the fright had subsided, Sigma opened his eyes. He first saw a white shirt with purple buttons that he recognized instantly. Raising his head up, he met with a pair of cold, violet eyes staring deeply at him. Sigma stared back at the man, dumbfounded. Fyodor was the one calling for him?
Fyodor’s lips curled into a soft smile. He seemed reassured. “You came back to yourself. You had me worried.”
Sigma blinked. He was worried for him? Coming from him, that was strange, to say the least. “Oh, um… I’m sorry…” Those were the only words he managed to say.
He began to check his surroundings, only to see that he was in one of the guest rooms of the Sky Casino. His memories came back to him and he remembered that, in the middle of a meeting with the Decay of Angels, he had to retreat because his heart had started to beat at an unusual rate. Somehow, he had reached the guest room hall and had entered the first, unoccupied one he had found. Then, his mind was trapped in a fog of fright and Fyodor had managed to get him out of it.
Now that he thought of it, if Fyodor knew in which room to find him, did this mean he had followed him? Had he been observing him during the meeting and noticed his distress?
“Don’t be,” Fyodor said softly, and held out his hand to his colleague. Sigma only stared at it, visibly hesitating to take it. Fyodor chuckled. “You’re not going to stay curled up like a cornered animal, are you?”
Sigma looked back at Fyodor, a bit annoyed by the words he used to describe him. He then accepted his help, and got up from the corner despite his trembling legs.
Not letting his hand go, Fyodor guided Sigma to the bed. “You should get some rest. Your chest must hurt, doesn’t it?”
“You experienced this before?” Sigma asked, sitting down on the mattress.
“No. I only researched on anxiety.”
He sat down beside him and Sigma followed him with his gaze. Repressing another chuckle at Sigma’s confused look, Fyodor explained himself.
“I noticed you tend to get agitated. I was worried that you might have a panic attack one day, so I inquired about what I could do to help you.”
“A… panic attack?”
Fyodor nodded. “That is what happened to you just now.”
“I see…”
Sigma didn’t comprehend why Fyodor was so nice to him right now. Fyodor was a cold and devious man with extraordinary intelligence. For the short time he had known him, Fyodor didn’t appear to see people as human beings. His subordinates were like puppets that he controlled from his fingertips.
And yet, it seemed that Fyodor had a lot of respect for him. Sigma couldn’t help but wonder why. He was just an ordinary man, with nothing but the Sky Casino. What did Fyodor see in him that made him so fascinating?
Sigma was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt delicate fingers run through his locks. He turned his head to face Fyodor, shocked by the sudden gesture.
“Do you mind?” Fyodor asked.
“No!” Sigma responded quickly. “This is fine…”
Fyodor smiled, delighted. He stroked the lilac locks again, enjoying how soft they felt in his palm. His other hand went to take the white locks and let them slip through his long digits. Sigma’s hair was as fluffy as the fur of his ushanka.
“Your hair is so beautiful, Sigma-san…” he murmured, as if mesmerized by the bicolor hair he was touching. “Could you turn around, please?”
Sigma, his cheeks flushed by the compliment, obeyed and turned around. Fyodor gathered the thick mane into his hands and continued to stroke it, watching the locks falling from his fingers. He began to wonder what Sigma’s hair would look like if they were braided.
“Fyodor-san?” Sigma broke the silence.
“What is it?”
“Did you come to find me just to play with my hair?”
“No, Sigma-san. I was truly worried for you.” He patted the top of his head. “This is just my way of comforting you.”
Sigma frowned, not convinced by what he said.
Fyodor smirked. “However, I would be very pleased if you would let me play your hair sometimes.”
There we go…, Sigma thought.
“I’ll think about it,” he simply responded.
“Good,” Fyodor seemed satisfied with this response.
As Fyodor continued to stroke his hair gently, Sigma’s eyes shut slowly, and he began to genuinely appreciate the gentle caresses of Fyodor’s fingers.
Maybe he could get used to that special treatment from Fyodor.