Archive of Our Own

The night had been incredibly boring so far, which was exactly why Nikolai had resorted to making it more fun by drawing attention to his one – and technically only, but that was irrelevant – friend who didn’t want it.

When Sigma joined him again after having been dragged to dance by yet another gentleman, he shot Nikolai a glare. The latter only doubled over in a fit of laughter which would be considered most improper by the court in response.

“Why,” Sigma started, the corners of his mouth pulled into a small frown, “do I even still converse with you?”

Nikolai took in a deep breath and wiped his uncovered eye with a grin. “Becaaaause you still prefer it over awkwardly standing in the corner without anyone to keep you company except all those eager pursuers.”

Besides, it would be hard for Sigma to not converse with him, considering that they lived in the same house – even if it was quite the big house. Fukuchi had taken Nikolai in when he was still a boy, and a few years later, he had taken to Sigma as well. It almost made them childhood friends, and, truthfully, they preferred each other’s company one hundred times over Fukuchi’s.

That’s why they had known each other long enough for Nikolai to be able to translate Sigma’s scowl. He guessed that it meant something akin to I need new friends. Though he wasn’t being serious. Probably. And even in the unlikely case of Sigma abandoning him to find someone less… energetic to spend time with, Nikolai could still just resort to pestering him relentlessly until he complied to any and all of his shenanigans.

But it really wasn’t Nikolai’s fault that so many people wanted to dance with Sigma. Just to clear things up: He really wasn’t into his friend, he’d rather behave seriously and properly for a day than that. But even he could admit that, objectively, Sigma was attractive. Plus, if he was going to wear such an unusual, yet pretty attire, of course he was gonna attract attention to himself.

Over the standard white linen shirt and a gray waistcoat, Sigma wore a rather long, white cut-away coat with a star-like pattern on its darker inside. Additionally, his black trousers were tailored in a way that made them flow around him almost like a skirt, making him appear somewhat androgynous. His two earrings really sold it.

Now, in comparison, it wasn’t like Nikolai’s choice for tonight’s clothing was any more typical; even less so. His exceedingly long overcoat, striped trousers, strange hat, dark-reddish gloves, and generally curious use of a black-and-white color scheme sent quite a lot of court members screaming – at least in a figure of speech, that is. Not to forget, the card-themed patch over his right eye was deemed entirely unfitting for a revel that wasn’t a masquerade ball.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive - the difference was that simply nobody would dare approach Nikolai, as he had a reputation for being crazy. Not that it bothered him; if he wanted someone’s attention, he could still simply go ahead and bother them. That method had yet to fail him.

Unfortunately for his friend, Nikolai’s reputation hadn’t caught up to Sigma yet, meaning he’d continue to attract attention for the time being. The only reason why Sigma wasn’t outcasted from the court yet was probably because he tried his best to make it look like he was merely a poor prisoner forced to interact with Nikolai. Which perhaps, he was sometimes.

Nikolai let out a long sigh. Sigma had yet to see that it would be so much easier if he’d just embrace it and let himself be associated with him.

But since that wasn’t the case, he’d have to deal with any admirers approaching. “Not being interested in romance and just wanting some peace and quiet”, as Sigma put it, wasn’t much of an option in their world, especially not at a ball.

Well, theoretically, Nikolai could surely chase them away with his charming grin and delightful personality, but it was obvious that Sigma didn’t want to make a spectacle of himself. Besides, watching his friend unintentionally dazzling the room – while quietly despairing at the same time – was just way too entertaining to interfere.

Speaking of admirers, a tall man with dark brown hair and eyes was heading their way, and Nikolai saw Sigma slightly stiffening in his peripheral vision.

Nikolai welcomed the newcomer with a grin. “Ah, Dazai!”

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he greeted them in response, expression mostly neutral, although with the slightest trace of a smirk. He wore a formal, black coat, and was generally dressed properly, aside from the bandages visible on his hands and neck. Not that it was surprising. Mori didn’t seem to care much about what his adoptive son did in his free time, but he did want his heir to present himself appropriately at formal events.

Sigma made a quick bow that Nikolai hadn’t bothered to give. “Prince Dazai.”

“With what do we deserve the honor?,” Nikolai asked, now do bothering to give a bow, even if somewhat late and overly histrionic.

“Oh, I’m merely looking to strike up a somewhat interesting conversation.” He sighs. “You especially will surely understand that these kinds of events can be incredibly monotone.”

Suddenly, Dazai’s head snapped to some point behind them, eyes seemingly fixed on something high above, an excited glint sparkling in them. “That chandelier would be absolutely perfect for hanging myself!,” he announced with a loud gasp.

Amused, Nikolai watched how Sigma looked at the prince, visibly both a little awkward and trying to behave appropriately at the same time. That wasn’t easy, considering that he didn’t have a lot of patience for Dazai’s demeanor and was evidently already done with it – in general, his attitude was more of a no-nonsense one.

It was adjacent to a miracle that Nikolai was his best friend.

While Dazai was still gushing about his suicidal fantasies, he detected movement at the ballroom entrance out of the corner of his eye.

He turned his head just in time to see a slim, young man who was presumably his age entering the hall. Although he was looking around, it seemed to be entirely without any actual interest of his surroundings, but not inattentive either.

From what Nikolai could make out from a distance, the man’s deep black hair was about shoulder-length or a little shorter. It fell around his pale face slightly tousled, yet not unkempt. The way it was hit by the warm candle light made it appear soft.

And perhaps it is, he realized as he suddenly felt the urge to walk up to the other and run his hand through it. While it wasn’t uncommon for him to do the most unhinged things simply for fun or out of pure curiosity, there was something about the simple idea that made his pulse quicken.

As everyone was either talking, dancing or dining – or involuntarily learning about different methods of suicide, in Sigma’s case –, Nikolai could slowly hear the music fade into mere background noise, his head suddenly reeling just from watching the strange man.

He wore formal clothes, completely appropriate for an event like this. He didn’t look pretty in a strange way like Sigma did, or eccentric and over-the-top like Nikolai. He didn’t even appear to be outgoing, judging by the way he didn’t immediately stride up to anyone to start a conversation. Quite the opposite, even; if Nikolai had to guess, he’d say he’s more of the quiet type, although perhaps not in the same, reserved way Sigma usually was.

Somehow, he stood out.

He had caught his attention – his genuine attention, not the invasive one he gave to anyone who was – or wasn’t – willing. Strangely, he found he couldn’t tear his eyes off of him.

This was crazy. Not that that was an uncommon occurrence for him or some big revelation in itself, but he hadn’t known himself to be this type of crazy. For somebody else.

Fortunately for him, he wasn’t afraid of being any type of crazy, even if it startled himself for a short moment at first. It actually had the upside of keeping the people that couldn’t stand his true self away. What was the purpose of performing for a society he wasn’t even fond of, anyway? He might as well be his true self, and everyone would have to deal with it – even if he only had a single friend as a result, and even if that friend was often endlessly tired because of him, he could be completely sure that that friend was a true friend. Sigma was a true friend.

Exactly because of those reasons, Nikolai gripped Sigma’s arm tightly as soon as he could think more clearly again, all without turning his gaze away from the man across the room. “This one’s mine,” he whispered more or less quietly, tone confidently urgent as he nodded in the direction of the stranger that had caught his eye.

He would go over there and talk to him. Be his charming self.

Sigma scowled. “Nikolai, you can’t be serious–”

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by Dazai chuckling next to them; Nikolai hadn’t even noticed that the prince had stopped talking. Perhaps, he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought he was being.

Without another word, Dazai made his way across the room to the man. His man. He had already claimed him as his after all, hadn’t he?

While Sigma was watching everything in silence, Nikolai’s face had pure horror written on it when Dazai approached the man, who turned around and looked at him with what appeared to be an empty expression.

But the last straw was when, mid-conversation, Dazai casually laid his hand on top of the other’s arm. Nikolai’s grasp on Sigma’s arm tightened impossibly, fingers gripping into his flesh.

Sigma tried to free himself with a whine. “Ow, that hurts–”

But Nikolai ignored him. “I’m gonna go over there,” he promised with a hiss. “I’m gonna go over there and–”

At that moment, Dazai said something and the man’s head turned. Suddenly, he was looking back at Nikolai.

Despite being multiple meters away, he believed to now see that the color of his eyes was a shade of purple or pink. Violet or indigo, perhaps even magenta. No matter what it was, it was piercing and electric all the same, making him flinch at the feeling of being seen through in a single second, a single look.

To put it quite frankly, he had never felt this way before. His head started to reel again, and his heart beat in an unsteady rhythm, blood rushing through his veins, legs feeling slightly wobbly. And yet, he also felt light, as if the sky’s the limit. In short, he felt, perhaps for the first time in his life, utterly helpless.

Since Sigma stopped complaining, Nikolai guessed that he had noticed it, too.

He barely had time to calm down again before he registered that Dazai was now leading the man towards them by the arm; just seconds later, they were there.

Up close, Nikolai could now see that the other’s eyes were indeed of a purplish magenta, berry color. But aside from his heart skipping a beat at the sight, nerves tickling as if they had been electrified, his gaze also radiated a certain calmness that almost made him feel uneasy. But only almost.

And that wasn’t even all. Despite appearing to be somewhat tired, he also seemed very observant and attentive in a way most people weren’t.

Dazai looked a little smug as they both came to a stop right in front of him and Sigma. “Look at who’s acquaintance I made,” he grinned. “This is–”

“I can introduce myself very well, thank you,” the stranger spoke with an accent, lips curling around a small frown. An accent! “My name is Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

The rushing in his ears didn’t slow in the slightest, yet he grinned at the man who he finally knew the name of. Fyodor. He’d have to deal with being called by his first name.

“I’m Nikolai,” he introduced himself, giving a bow much similar to the dramatic one he had given Dazai earlier. “Nikolai Gogol. It’s truly a pleasure to be meeting you, Fyodor, quite a pleasure.”

“I’m Sigma,” said Sigma.

Fyodor cast him a short, expressionless glance, blinking once before turning his attention back to Nikolai, who giggled at his friend’s scowl. Perhaps he even felt a little triumphant, he wasn’t quite sure. Either way, Dazai also made no effort to conceal his laughter.

“Your… friend here wanted me to make your acquaintance,” Fyodor explained.

Nikolai laughed heartedly. “Dazai said that?” He then turned to the man with a wide grin and wiped his eye. “You called me your friend? I feel truly honored.”

Dazai’s bright smile was obviously fake. “Acquaintance may be more accurate.”

“Tragic,” Nikolai noted before looking at Fyodor again. “I really don’t know how my acquaintance had the idea to have us meet, but since we’re here now, that must mean that fate has brought us together.”

He felt Sigma cringe beside him, but that was easily ignorable. Especially when a way more interesting, small smile now played at the corner of Fyodor’s mouth and he let out a soft, amused huff. “You have a lively voice.”

Nikolai’s eyes widened slightly, his heart beating louder as the other continued, “And I see you do not seem to care about what others think as extensively as most people.”

Fyodor now looked at him calmly again almost expectantly, with those keen, intelligent eyes, as if he was saying Your turn. Once again, he felt thoroughly seen through, like a book being read. The vulnerability was both terrifying and thrilling at the same time. Despite them being in a safe room, surrounded by people, there was something dangerous about it.

And it was well-known by anyone who knew Nikolai, even merely superficially, that he had a preference for dangerous.

“Maybe we should leave them to it,” Dazai suddenly suggested calmly. Then, he whirled around and grinned at Sigma radiantly. The latter tensed immediately, fearing the worst.

That fear was proven right moments later when Dazai offered his hand to Sigma, smirking. “So, shall we dance?”

Sigma looked at the offered hand as if he might catch a disease, should he decide to take it. He was, however, not given any time to decide, as Dazai just grabbed his hand so smoothly that you would think the other had taken it deliberately. In the blink of an eye, the prince had pulled Sigma – who made an offended sound in pure horror – onto the dance floor.

Nikolai couldn’t control his laughter as he watched his helpless friend being swirled around by Dazai, of all people. Not that it came as much of a surprise.

When he had finally caught his breath again, he looked over at Fyodor and smiled, feeling light. The other had the same small frown on his lips that he had already shown when interacting with Dazai earlier.

Even though Nikolai felt as if there was no breath in his lungs left, he still couldn’t help but laugh a little at the man’s expression. It was kind of cute, really.

“What’s so funny?,” Fyodor asked seriously, expression neutral, in a thick accent that made Nikolai let out a low chuckle.

“You’re just really not what I was expecting tonight,” he admitted.

Fyodor looked at him calmly, but he didn’t ask what he was expecting, causing Nikolai to get the feeling he already knew; the typical, boring conventions of higher society, perhaps laughing at Sigma once or twice. While all those expectations had been fulfilled, they’d also been surpassed by far.

“Shall we join them?,” Fyodor asked out of nowhere, steadily watching him.

Nikolai was surprised for a second, which was rarely the case, causing him to internally startle before the line of his mouth turned into a wide, genuine grin. “With pleasure.”

For the last two months, Nikolai had been writing a letter to Fyodor almost nightly; the only exceptions were when he was almost quite literally dragged away from his desk. (Even though it was bold to assume that he needed a desk to write.) Most of the time, it was Sigma who reminded him of his duties oh so kindly, being ever the responsible friend. Although in some cases, it was his guardian Fukuchi who interfered instead.

He had found out a lot of things about him in the process. For example, that Fyodor worked for his adoptive father Fukuchi; that he was quite religious; that he suffered from anemia; even that he hadn’t come from much, but was now gaining a stable income – although Nikolai couldn’t care less about the latter.

Up until this day, he had never found much joy in writing before. That was, until he had met Fyodor and danced with him at the ball. It had felt so right, and it was nice to feel known and understood for once, even if a little scary nonetheless. And since Fyodor was a busy man, they rarely had the chance to meet up, despite not living far away from each other. So if corresponding was their best option, he’d gladly embrace it.

They had met up a few times, though, whenever they both had the time, usually going for a walk together. Fyodor wasn’t a man of many words, but a good listener, and Nikolai loved talking. Even though he found it a little funny how, ironically, when he was with Fyodor, he sometimes felt as if he didn’t even need to speak at all. With him, he could just be, which was a welcomed change. It wasn’t unusual for them to stop talking at some point and just stare at nothing in particular, or, in Nikolai’s case, he often ended up studying the other’s soft features and beautiful eyes. He didn’t know why, but they seemed to have a depth he could lose himself and drown in.

In general, a lot of things in his life had changed since he met Fyodor. For example, he had never been an avid reader up until recently, either. But the man had a way with words that truly impressed him, skillfully building what felt like palaces out of paragraphs. For goodness’ sake, his wording was really rubbing off on him, and it showed.

But it wasn’t even just the content. Fyodor prided himself in knowing cursive, but not the rushed, unsightly kind – the kind that looked like a painting, yet was perfectly legible.

All that mixed with the general rhythm of his words and structure of his sentences, he couldn’t help but await every response with visible enthusiasm. Fortunately, he wasn’t one to get embarrassed quickly, even about this, since usually, it was him embarrassing practically everyone else.

Right now, it felt as if his life got better with every single letter Fyodor wrote him.

Last night, Nikolai had tried something bolder, and frankly untypical for him. Basing off of Fyodor’s formal writing style, he had written “My dearest, Fedya,” as a salutation. Aside from the obvious nickname he’d never used before, he’d also intentionally snuck in a more subtle, second comma in front of the “Fedya”.

It changed the meaning of it entirely. If he had simply written “My dearest Fedya,” it would have been a normal opening – well, aside from the diminutive of Fyodor’s name, of course. However, with a single stroke of a pen, by adding just a tiny comma before the name, he was implying that the person he was addressing – Fyodor – was the dearest in the world to him.

He was sure that the other would catch it – there was no way he wouldn’t. His Fyodor was too intelligent not to notice. But would he even address it at all? Would he embrace or reject it?

To keep himself from spiraling and to downplay the situation, mainly to cool his own nerves, he had ended the letter in a way that sounded more like himself, signing:

“Most cheerfully, you know my name.”

Ever since then, he’d been awaiting his response eagerly, and even somewhat nervously, to speak the truth. Sigma had to witness him pacing around the house restlessly, deflecting by bothering everyone he crossed paths with – Sigma himself included, of course.

As the night approached, a servant handed him an envelope. Nikolai yanked it out of his hands with an excited gasp, and then promptly turned around without further ado, dashing down the hall all the way to his room.

He flopped onto his bed, already making quick work of the envelope with his hands, almost tearing the paper completely apart in the process. His heart beat in his chest as he unfolded the letter more or less carefully, eyes immediately falling onto the first line.

My dearest, Kolya,

of course I know your name.

The first thing he saw was the nickname, causing him to let out an excited squeal. Then, his eyes fell on the comma, his mouth now brining out not a single sound, his lips merely forming around a silent intake of breath.

He couldn’t help but smile, and he couldn’t care less about whether he looked like an idiot right now, which he most likely did. It was of way more importance that Fyodor had reciprocated both the nickname and the phrasing. Plus, he’d treated the diminutive form so casually, as if it was indeed his name, smartly connecting to the closing of Nikolai’s last letter. In truth, he couldn’t help but feel dizzy.

Impatiently, he read the rest of the letter, eyes flying over the lines. It was beautifully written, just like he had expected from Fyodor – he retold even the most simple events of his day captivatingly. To add to that, he also spoke of Nikolai and how he was excited to meet him again, emphasizing how he always enjoyed his company, both their conversations as well as the time they spent silently together. It was good to know that Fyodor seemed to feel the same as him, even if he was more indirect and less vocal about his affections in comparison to Nikolai.

Finally, he made it to the end of the letter, and was caused to startle once again. There, at the very bottom of the page, was written:

From the depths of my heart and with a profound fondness,

Fedya

Fyodor ended almost every single letter differently, never seeming to cease new ideas of how to phrase the final line, but this version was surely the most vulnerable and openly affectionate one yet.

In short, he ended up letting out a single shriek and kicking his feet.

Just then, he heard a huff and turned his head to see Sigma standing in the doorway with that familiar, tired and slightly disapproving scowl of his. “I take it that Fyodor’s response was positive, then?”

Nikolai smirked at him. “What, jealous?”

Barely noticeably, Sigma stiffened. Nikolai knew for sure that Sigma, in fact, was not into Fyodor; he knew him well enough for that. But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t just simply so fun to see his offended expression, especially since he was simultaneously too awkward to respond anything for a moment. “I- you-”

Nikolai leaned back. “Don’t worry, take your time. After all, feelings can be so terribly hard to accept.”

That was all Sigma needed as a last push over the edge. “You know that’s not true, stop playing with me, Nikolai!,” he exclaimed loudly, mouth finally stringing coherent words together now.

“I knowwww,” he admitted, giggling. “I’m aware that you don’t hold any unseemly affections for my Fedya.” The sound turned into a low chuckle as he stood up and slowly got closer and closer, invading the other’s space. Sigma took a step back at first, then stood still as Nikolai leaned in and hissed in his ear, “Because if you did, I wouldn’t let that slide.”

When he pulled back, he was grinning happily at his friend again. The latter looked somewhat disturbed.

Nikolai just laughed and then went to sit at his desk and write a response to his dearest, Fedya.

It was just two weeks later when the both of them were leaning on the railing of a balcony, looking down into the gardens. Nikolai was looking at Fyodor every now and then, watching how the lukewarm evening spring breeze softly blew his deep black hair just out of his face. In this lighting, you could even see its pretty, purplish undertones.

Some birds flew past, perhaps to build a nest, or even bring food to their young already. Who knew.

He’d been thinking a lot recently. Ever since he met Fyodor, to be exact. While he had already been considering this and that quite regularly before, he felt as if only now, there was some sort of development in the conclusions he came to. A change. And a rather rapid one, at that. But what else could he do, with someone so completely different in his life like Fyodor?

“I’ve been thinking,” he suddenly heard himself say, which he ironically had not been thinking to say.

Fyodor merely glanced at him with a calm expression, prompting him to go on.

How was he going to go about this? While this hadn’t exactly not been his plan, it also hadn’t exactly been his plan. Nikolai had a reputation for being loud, energetic and whimsical – some people had even used the word crazy. Many would probably even say that he was too loud, too energetic, too whimsical and too crazy. Few knew that there was another side to him. A quieter, more thoughtful, less superficial one.

Both of them longed for freedom.

Neither side was fake; it was just that he usually chose to reveal the first one to people, considering that nearly no one would ever understand the second one, and truly no one would ever understand that they could coexist. It was easier for humans to criticize something based on what was easy to see than to understand its deeper, hidden layers – it made them confront their own struggles, and the minority was ready for that.

Sigma had known more about him than anyone else ever had, and yet, even he wasn’t able to grasp the full picture. Perhaps, it wasn’t even possible, since Nikolai hadn’t wanted him to get too close. It had felt too vulnerable, too much like an attachment. By not letting anyone see both sides of him, he kept a bit of control in his life, the ghost of a choice, a sliver of freedom.

All that had been, until Fyodor had come into his life. The other had seen right through him, reading him like a book, whether Nikolai wanted him to or not. It was both refreshing and scary at the same time, but his curiosity over who this strange, handsome man was had won quickly. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be standing here.

Fyodor was the only one in his life who’d ever understood. He could see it in the way he looked at him and in every interaction they shared. Against his better judgement, Nikolai had formed an attachment, one that made him fear for his freedom. Yet, he had told Fyodor about his philosophy before, mostly in correspondence.

But did he really have to choose? Was there no way to pursue both freedom and a future with him?

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally repeated, more quietly this time before looking up into Fyodor’s eyes, careful to not hide the emotions in his face. “And I want to marry you.”

“You do?,” Fyodor asked, genuinely appearing to be caught at least somewhat off-guard, his eyes widening in the slightest. In their letter exchange, Fyodor had stated multiple times – even if somewhat indirectly – that Nikolai was one of the few people who were capable of surprising him, causing his affections to go deeper than he’d like to admit. Besides that, he had also confessed to believing that he wasn’t sure whether anyone could love him, doubting that he was worthy of it in the first place.

Fyodor had to be the most intelligent person Nikolai had ever met, and yet, he firmly believed him to be false regarding the last part; and he would gladly prove him wrong over and over again, if it meant that Fyodor could just recognize his own value even in the slightest. Perhaps then, he would start watching out better for his health too, eating and sleeping more regularly.

“Mhm, I do,” he hummed to assure him and took Fyodor’s hand, who let him intertwine their fingers absentmindedly without protest.

The other chuckled. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m simply astonished that you are proposing right now, considering your repulsion toward the norms of the court and being chained down by them.”

Technically, he wasn’t wrong. But a lot had changed since they had met, after all. So he said, “Like I said, I’ve been thinking recently. It’s true that I’ve always hated the court, and how they want me to behave accordingly to the rules. It’s also true that I’ve always wanted freedom, to soar as independently as a bird!” He stretched out his free arm as his voice grew louder at the end, gesturing at the darkening sky. Talking about his dream often got him carried a little away.

Taking a breath, he continued much more quietly, “But I’ve come to see that birds have a partner, too. Often for life. That, perhaps… perhaps, having you close to me won’t be me clipping my wings carelessly. Perhaps, you might even help me to open them in the first place.” He was now softly tracing circles on the back of the hand Fyodor had intertwined with his. “Perhaps, I can belong with you, not to you; and the other way around, too.”

Fyodor gave a low chuckle yet again.

“What is it?”

“You like to use possessive words like ‘mine and ‘yours’ considerably often for saying we only belong with each other, not to each other,” Fyodor noted amused.

Nikolai made a tch-sound. “Why, obviously. I need everyone to know that you’re not to have, and neither am I.” After all, “mine” and “yours” were just simple, yet wonderful terms to showcase exclusivity and commitment. A choice of words in everyday interactions didn’t define their relationship, after all.

The other merely sighed. “You’re a jealous man.”

“How couldn’t I be, with you as my partner?,” he asked, studying his face with the trace of a grin. “After all, you’re beautiful, intelligent and charming, so everyone would want you in one way or another, depending on the person, no? How couldn’t I be jealous from time to time under these circumstances, especially when there are people like Dazai talking to you?”

Fyodor frowned slightly at the prince’s mention. “When he first talked to me, he was flirting.”

“I knew it!”

“But he wasn’t serious,” the other went on to explain. “Especially considering that he then went on to introduce you to me and dance with Sigma.”

Nikolai made a dismissive hand gesture and declared loudly, “Yeah, that’s already more than enough for me.” After a short pause, he leaned into his space, smiling. “But Fedya is a little possessive too, isn’t he?”

“I would rather not discuss it,” he just simply stated, expression neutral. Nikolai laughed. He definitely was.

Now that they were both quiet, he wasn’t sure what to say anymore, the silence growing between them until he decided to settle on a simple, casual yet sincere, “So?”

For a long moment, no response came. Perhaps the moment hadn’t even actually been that long, it might have been less than a minute – but to Nikolai, it felt like centuries.

“I’ll gladly marry you,” Fyodor finally said with yet another small smile on his lips.

The effect was immediate. In that moment, he didn’t care why Fyodor had said yes, all that mattered to him was that he had, and he wanted to do nothing but hold him. Nikolai then proceeded to do exactly that, pulling the other into a tight hug, squealing, “Fedyaaaa!”

For a moment, Fyodor stiffened, before he slowly exhaled and lightly settled his hands on Nikolai’s back, muttering a single word.

“Kolya.”

It carried no deeper meaning other than to simply show he was with him.

Nikolai then tangled his fingers in Fyodor’s soft hair, just breathing in the scent of him as long as he could and nuzzling his neck with a few soft, innocent kisses and giggles. He didn’t remember the last time he had felt so safe, so genuinely confident about something the last time in his life. But especially, he couldn’t recall having ever felt so understood and loved.

Two weeks later, him and Fyodor were dining with Fukuchi. Sigma was with them too, but not by choice - Fukuchi had to insist.

In general, Fukuchi hadn’t been too thrilled to find out that Nikolai wanted to marry Fyodor. He had quickly explained that he believed that the man was too manipulative and unreliable.

In reply, Nikolai had promptly responded that they would do what they want anyway, so Fukuchi should at least give it a shot. Begrudgingly, he’d agreed to it after Nikolai had bothered him about it the entire day, more or less casual threatening involved.

Overall, Nikolai didn’t really get why Fyodor wanted to get his fiancé’s adoptive father’s blessing, but for some reason, he had a strange habit of wanting to do things the proper way. Oddly, Nikolai had found he wasn’t even against it, even though he usually hated proper. Perhaps it was because Fyodor had promised him they could still marry if they didn’t get his blessing, but that he wanted to try it the “right way” first.

Now though, he felt uncharacteristically nervous as the evening didn’t seem to end. Fortunately, Fyodor was well at holding up a conversation with Fukuchi, talking about all different kinds of things – economy, politics, history, even literature and music.

Sometimes, Nikolai would throw in remarks or anecdotes, often lightly grabbing onto Fyodor’s arm in a way that was meant to clearly signalize to his father: Mine. Mine, and you can’t stop us.

Every now and then, Sigma tried to speak up, too, though the others talked over him – or, in the rare cases where they did listen, didn’t answer at all or only a monosyllabic one. While he did feel some kind of empathy toward his friend, it shouldn’t come to Sigma as a surprise. After all, this wasn’t about him, right? And not everyone could be as charismatic as the rest of them.

Finally, they were finished, and Fyodor said his goodbyes to Fukuchi, standing up. “Thank you for the meal. I assure you that I enjoyed our conversation thoroughly.”

Nikolai knew that that was a lie. Fyodor was an interesting man with many sides to him, a certain elegance and style, not to speak of his beautiful eyes, accent and general appearance… Fukuchi, meanwhile was… Well, he was just some lame, middle-aged man with strong opinions at best. But luckily, Fyodor was a good liar.

“Yes yes, of course,” Fukuchi said, standing up too now, but his expression resembled the one of a statue. He looked at Fyodor for a long moment, and Nikolai could feel his blood rush in his ears.

It really wouldn’t be an issue, should Fukuchi decide to send Fyodor away without his blessing – they didn’t legally require it to marry, after all. But Nikolai knew that Fyodor would prefer it this way, the one considered appropriate by the world. Yet, he would still do it the other way for his Kolya if he had to.

But Nikolai wanted them both to be happy with the decision. And although he believed that there was practically nothing that his fiancé’s mind couldn’t do, he still felt as if he was dying inside right now nonetheless.

After what felt like an eternity, Fukuchi crossed the room, stopping right in front of Fyodor. For a second, he could feel himself panic. They were through. They had to be. There was no way that his father would choose to allow them to-

“Be true.”

The sound of Fukuchi’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts forcefully. He was just barely able to register that he was shaking Fyodor’s hand, because the next thing he knew, Fyodor looked over his shoulder, smiling at him.

Nikolai couldn’t help himself as he found himself shooting a genuine grin back at him. Next thing he knew, he had somehow crossed the room and thrown himself at Fyodor, who, despite being far weaker physically speaking, securely caught him in his arms. Then, he pulled back just enough to see Fyodor still giving him that pretty smile, and suddenly, he couldn’t help but close the distance, giving him a heartfelt, yet soft kiss. It only lasted a couple of seconds, but they stayed close afterward nonetheless.

He had kissed Fyodor before, but not regularly, and they had talked little to none about it. In fact, the other seemed weirdly timid about it, even reminding Nikolai of propriety, since their engagement hadn’t been approved of up until just now. Perhaps that was the reason why he hadn’t seemed to mind kissing him now, despite of Fukuchi’s and Sigma’s presence.

The latter coughed awkwardly. “Congratulations, you two. I’m happy for you. Especially for you, Nikolai.”

Nikolai turned his head to look at his friend, beaming. “Thanks, Siggy.”

“I trust that you will plan the wedding and then just tell me when and where I have to be,” Fukuchi spoke up. “I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to put too much thought into this.”

We weren’t planning on including you, anyway, Nikolai thought, but didn’t say it aloud. Not because he had learned manners, goodness, no. There were simply more important things on his mind right now, and he couldn’t help but smirk. After all, they had a wedding to plan. But even then, the only thing on his mind right now was that, now, that man was truly his.

The next day, they were walking around the gardens, talking about this and that. Fyodor had stated he wanted a smaller wedding, and Nikolai had agreed without hesitation, much to Fyodor’s surprise. They yet had to discuss the details.

But right now, they were simply content with being engaged, Nikolai clinging to the other’s arm with his whole upper body, chin resting on his shoulder. They just continued to walk along like that, even if it must surely make a peculiar picture, with Nikolai looking up at him in a mix of adoration and mischief, while Fyodor remained completely calm and unbothered. Only a small smile revealed that he was comfortable.

“Nikolai,” Fyodor started, “I can’t offer you much.” He count on his fingers. “I’m not any wealthier than you, don’t have much honor, lack empathy toward most, my health is not the greatest at times, and I fail to respond enthusiastically to the things you love to talk about. One of the few things I believe to be of worth about me is my faith, though I know you do not share that sentiment.”

All these things were true. While Fyodor wasn’t poor by any means, he originally hadn’t come from much, not being part of a very rich or influential family. He was skilled at lying and didn’t hold many feelings for most people. He wasn’t very expressive, either, and he suffered from anemia and, occasionally, sleep deprivation. To add to that, Nikolai did not believe in God like Fyodor did.

Yet, Nikolai also knew another side of Fyodor. He knew he could be loving and caring. He saw it in the small smiles he gave him, and in how he let Nikolai always stick close to him and act affectionately, even if Fyodor himself didn’t initiate much of it. And while he may not talk much, he was a good listener – even if he didn’t care about what Nikolai always rambled about in itself, he cared about what he said still simply because Nikolai cared enough to tell him about it.

“I know,” was all that Nikolai answered, and even that hadn’t been a necessity – he knew that Fyodor knew he knew. For him, it was a way of saying that he was aware of and acknowledged all of these things, but still wanted to be with him anyway.

There were also things that Nikolai would always admire about Fyodor: His intelligence, his incredible beauty and, most importantly, the amount of understanding he had for Nikolai.

When Fyodor spoke again, his voice carried a level of sincerity to it that startled Nikolai. “I never had a family, or anyone particularly close to me. My mother died of sickness when I was still a boy.” He paused. “I know you have not had it all given to you, either, and… If you let me, I will ensure that nothing like that will ever happen again, as long as I’m alive.”

Nikolai took a deep breath, realizing what weight those words carried. “I’d like to promise the same.”

Fyodor shrugged with a small smile. ”My life is going to be fine, since you’ll be in it.”

Nikolai smiled back at him.

Their wedding was later that year, during early winter – they could have married sooner, but neither of them were in a rush, and they both loved the season.

Like they had agreed on, they didn’t celebrate too big a wedding. Sigma was invited, of course, taking on the role of Nikolai’s best man. Fukuchi was present as well, although they had invited him rather out of obligation than because they wanted to have him there.

Dazai had invited himself, also pronouncing himself Fyodor’s best man somewhere along their planning. Besides that, he had voiced the idea that his younger, adoptive sister Elise could be the flower girl; an idea they did actually go through with in the end.

Besides Elise and himself, Dazai had also invited Atsushi, his protégé, and Chuuya, who’s relationship with Dazai neither of them even dared to guess about. After that, King Mori had insisted that at that point, he might as well come himself, also dragging Akutagawa along, who was another one of his adoptive children. While Dazai had not been too particularly happy about the two coming as well, he’d have to deal with it. Know the consequences of your actions, Nikolai thought, laughing.

In fact, Fyodor had told him he was convinced that it had been Dazai’s intention from the start to make this wedding way bigger than it was supposed to, since most of their guests had been directly or indirectly invited by him. It wasn’t even just Elise, Atsushi, Akutagawa and Mori, but other people, too. Dazai seemed to be acquainted with the entire court and have a personal history with half of it, which, honestly, shouldn’t surprise Nikolai the way it did.

But when he was finally standing at the altar with Fyodor right in front of him, all thoughts of any- and everyone around him had faded into the back of his mind, then promptly disappeared completely. Never would he have guessed that it would really be like it was in all those stories about love that he used to ridicule.

“Do you, Nikolai Go-”

He didn’t have to think twice. He had patiently waited all these months, so why was this taking so long now?

“I do!,” he interrupted, excitement clear in his voice as he repeated it in an almost sing-songy voice. “I dooo~”

The officiant just looked at him with a tired face. Perhaps it meant something akin to, If you’re this sure, why do I even need to be here and endure this?

Across from him, Fyodor chuckled. When he was asked the same question as Nikolai, he let the officiant – who’s name he now believed to remember, something like Ango, or perhaps Mango, surely another friend of Dazai – finish. Nikolai honestly couldn’t tell whether the man was thankful for someone taking him seriously, or whether he’d rather been cut off again so that all this would be over sooner.

“I do,” Fyodor answered, way more calmly than Nikolai had, yet his voice was confident and he had said it without a trace of hesitation or insecurity.

Nikolai didn’t wait to be allowed to kiss Fyodor. After all, he was his husband now, whoever could make him wait or stop him from doing so? (Not that anyone could have stopped him while they were still engaged, either, or even before that.) The only person that he needed to be allowed by to kiss Fyodor was Fyodor himself – and right now, looking into those deep, beautiful eyes with seemingly no end to them, he could tell really well that he was allowed to.

Without wasting another second, he basically threw himself at his husband. His husband! He could never get tired of saying that. It was even better than “fiancé”, by far, even.

As he kissed him, he wasn’t sure whether people clapped or cheered. For Nikolai, the world was only him and his Fedya.

Overall, he felt much like he had when they first met, but in a warmer, more familiar way now – helpless.