Chapter Text
Mikhail finds himself in the same dream once again.
He’s stuck in the walls of his usual home, suffocating and lifeless. The floral wallpaper that his mother had decorated no longer brought the same warmth it once had. The house is unusually empty. There were no whispers or footsteps when he approached the rooms. This time he was alone.
Face to face with the front door, Mikhail looks to the side and down at where a small ginger feline sat and yawned.
Well, except for the cat.
He leans down and reaches out a hand to pet between the feline’s ears and smiles when the cat leans into his palm. It reminds him of his childhood cat…but with actual fur.
He takes in his surroundings this time. The smell of chlorine and death is intoxicating. He raises his hand to his face. It’s calloused and bigger, as if he were older. He shifts toward the window near the coat rack.
The lack of lighting indicates it’s night and a loud knocking grows louder on the wooden door. He’s used to it by now.
Mikhail’s reflection is visible. He has wrinkles like his old man and a grown out buzz cut. On his finger is a ring, one that he doesn’t have in real life. This…wasn’t there last time?
His father’s shotgun is slung behind him. Mikhail fidgets with the strap as the knocking repeats itself. This time harder.
The gun shifts with him as he gets up and stands in front of the door. Mikhail takes the gun into his hands, adjusting it until he gets a good grip. God he hadn’t used it in ages. The last time he’d used it was when he went out hunting and that was years ago. But that didn’t matter now, did it?
Mikhail takes a deep breath, his heartbeat pounding in his chest as his eye approaches the peephole in the door.
A man, as pale as death itself, stands on his porch. His hands are held together in such a polite manner that it feels mocking for someone who had threatened him with death so many times. His arms are as thin as sticks and stained with dirt. It gets lighter the higher Mikhail’s gaze trails up his body.
His skin dragged downward in every way possible. It was almost as if it belonged to someone else. It didn’t fit him. It was sickening, it was grotesque, it was—
"See something you like, hermit?" Perfect white teeth uncovered themselves in a wide smile until bleeding gums began to show.
How did he…? Fuck, he had no time to think about this now.
"If you mean imagining how I could shoot your fucking brains out, then yeah, possibly so." Mikhail spat out.
The pale man’s smile widened as he fanned himself like Mikhail had just praised him. What the…what the fuck? Was he into this?
"I didn’t imagine you to be suuuch a flirter. My…my, straightforward, are we?" The visitor clasped his hands together again and leaned closer to the door.
Mikhail furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What? He clutched his gun tighter at his side. "I’m not letting you in."
The smile the pale man carried morphed into a thin line of disappointment. "Boooring…" He dragged out as he leaned back from the door. "Although I am not shocked. Change is not for everyone…"
Clearly we have two different meanings of change.
"You do remember our last visit, do you not?" the visitor continued, seeming unphased by what had just happened seconds ago.
Right. The last visit where a beheaded soldier’s head had ended up in the back of his yard. A silent warning after he had once again refused to take the visitor’s wise words into consideration.
"This… this isn’t real anyway. I’ll get out somehow and it’ll soon be over with—"
"You’re mistaken. My meetings are never without reason," The pale man said uninterestedly. "I see my words have gone under your gaze, but have you truly acted upon them?"
If acting upon it meant that he’d been avoiding Dmitry like crazy, then yeah, maybe. All of this seemed crazy to him.
"No."
The pale man let out a defeated sigh. "She makes no mistakes when giving orders. These orders are given with use and precision that I must obey, and you must obey as well. Although this act of yours, one that I would usually find enjoyable to witness, is starting to become quite irritating."
Mikhail was offended. Was he seriously complaining?
"Then leave. I was fine before this—this shit started bothering me every week! Do you know how many good nights of sleep I’ve gotten these days?"
The silence was far too loud for him.
"None!" Mikhail yelled.
The visitor ignored Mikhail’s frustration and deadpanned. "I can’t just leave whenever I want. It would be defying her wishes."
Mikhail raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. There he goes again. "For fuck’s sake, who’s her? I don’t get anything!"
"A force greater than all of mankind. Haven’t you listened? Your little guests of yours come crawling for salvation and mutter about how her presence seems to favor your house." The visitor from the other side of the door smiled. Eavesdropping on his conversations? A new low, really.
"Take a look around. The fires, the floods, elements natural to the earth’s core, used amongst humans since the dawn of history, yet so deadly. Used to cremate the bodies of the dead, for human sacrifices, to light up the buildings in the city where people still reside. From the living to the dead, she exerts herself everywhere." the pale man said, unbothered.
"I…" Mikhail swallowed. "But why me and why now?"
"Don’t you wish for your deepest desires to finally come true? Have you ever wondered what would happen if you reject, oppose, and isolate?"
Mikhail lowered his gun.
The smile vanished from the pale man’s face. "You haven’t. I’m not surprised. Your stubbornness will be your doom one day."
The pale man let an audible sigh. "Time is tickiiinng, dear homeowner. It’s only a matter of time before he ends up like this."
"Before he ends up like…"
"You…" Mikhail muttered, reality hitting him all at once.
What stood in front of him wasn’t just a random stranger trying to enter his house through threats and unease.
It…it was his best friend.
Dmitry.
How hadn’t he noticed sooner? The similarities were painfully obvious now. Black hair always styled neatly, even at the end of the world. Typical Dmitry. The white teeth—no, that part belonged to the visitor signs constantly broadcasted on the TV. And the height. Taller than usual, yet still familiar enough to make his stomach twist.
How could he have been so dense? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
"Enough with the formalities! My time here is done. I’ve come here to do my final duty."
Final?
"Are you alone?"
"I’m…" No one was here tonight. No voices, no mutters, no footsteps. Nothing. But if he were to lie, would he finally be free from the pale man’s annoying disturbances of the peace?
Mikhail shifted the shotgun in his grip, unsure of what to do. He wouldn’t notice if he lied, would he? It’s just a dream after all.
"I’m not alone." Mikhail said quietly, the small bit of confidence leaving him almost immediately as panic settled in.
The silence returned for a third time that night. Mikhail observed the pale man gazing directly into his eye instead of at the door. The big wide grin he carried slowly morphed into his usual frown.
For a second, Mikhail thought he was safe. That this so called death deity had taken pity on him. That he would never have to question all these feelings in just one night. That it would finally stop forever.
But he was so incredibly wrong.
The glare the pale man carried darkened. His eyes retreated deeper into their sockets until they disappeared completely. Mikhail mentally gagged at the sound of the visitor’s joints popping and his neck snapping forward as he leaned toward the door.
A giggle turned into a snicker, then into manic laughter.
"I know you’re alone." The pale man tapped his finger against the door as if he were testing how sturdy it was.
The tapping stopped. "I just wanted to see if you’d lie or not…"
Mikhail gulped.
He was fucked.
"I’ll let myself in!"
As if he were a deer caught in headlights, he froze. The cat, who had seemed so calm before the visitor’s arrival, darted off toward the homeowner’s bedroom. The nights where he had received no attacks meant nothing at this point. The cat’s protection was now gone.
Death had given up on him.
A harsh hit against the door sent splinters flying toward the homeowner’s feet. Was he really going to accept his fate like this? Had all of this ended up being a waste of time? He refused to go out without a fight. He refused to die by the intruder’s hand.
He refused to be weak.
The door went flying open. The harsh shadows beneath the porch revealed the visitor. He was eerily tall, his frame barely fitting inside the doorway.
The homeowner made sure his grip on the gun was firm and lifted it toward where the pale man stood.
His father’s words rang through his mind. Countless practices during harsh winters when he went hunting as a child. Finger on the trigger. Cheek pressed tightly against the stock. Barrel pointed. One…two…and…
A loud bang rang in his ears.
The homeowner lowered the gun and stared wide eyed. Was it finally over? Why wasn’t he waking up?
"Not bad."
"I knew you wouldn’t give up on me, Mikhail."
The homeowner gasped at the sudden name. He was messing with his brain, that’s it.
The bastard in front of him wasn’t human.
He wasn’t his Dmitry.
"Although, your aim needs a bit more training." And there he was. The pale bastard in all his glory with a hole in his chest, exactly where his heart was supposed to be. Who was he kidding? They were dead. They didn’t have heartbeats. Idiot, idiot , idiot. Mikhail mentally slapped himself.
The visitor took small agonizing steps forward, taunting him to aim once more. The open wound on his chest was now nothing more than a small dot. Of course the gun would be useless. He had taken out armed military soldiers before. God, everything was crashing down on him right now.
Mikhail didn’t back down. He raised the shotgun once more and stepped backward as the pale man approached closer. He smelled like rot and death.
"No one’s been able to lay a bullet on me before. I’m impressseeed."
That wasn’t a compliment. That bastard was letting him shoot on purpose. He was mocking him. Testing him. Was he fucking serious? Mikhail could easily play that game too. And by doing that, he’d do the exact opposite of what the visitor expected. Boom. Element of surprise.
The homeowner gripped the shotgun in both hands, barrel pointed downward as he stepped forward. He ignored his instincts telling him to run, to hide.
The visitor paused for a second and let his manic grin widen, if that was even possible. "Booold… are we?"
The walls seemed narrower than usual. His jumper sat uncomfortably against his skin and the grip on the shotgun begged to slip from his hands. "Isn’t this what you wanted?" Mikhail spat out.
"I’ve been wanting to pound your sorry ass into the floor for a long time." Mikhail said, stepping closer once more.
The pale man hunched lower than before to meet his gaze. Dark eyes meeting olive green ones.
"Don’t think I’m gonna fill your twisted fantasies by acting all scared." He continued. His heartbeat pounded so hard he could feel it in his ears, and he was pretty sure the pale man could sense the uncertainty too. "I know you’re going soft on me, bastard."
"What? Think I can’t handle it?" Stop.
Mikhail was playing a dangerous game. "So come on."
The hermit shoved the weapon downward and kicked it out of arm’s reach. The visitor’s eyes followed his movements.
"Give me all you got." Stop it.
And as if that was the confirmation the visitor needed, he immediately grabbed the homeowner by his collar and shoved him upward, straight against the wall.
"Fuck!"
"Can’t take itttt?" the visitor mocked as he used his free hand to deliver a hard blow to his stomach. Mikhail heaved.
"All bark… no bite. What a shaaame. You had me all convinced too…"
"I-is that s-so?" Mikhail grunted out. "At least I can be real, y-you—"
A harsh blow interrupted him.
"Hah… you went all shy on me." The homeowner’s hands scrambled onto the visitor’s wrist, nails scratching against long dirt stained fingers.
"Ironic for someone like you. Have you yet forgotten what I’m here for?"
"Obeying orders like the mutt you are, that’s w-why you’re here." Mikhail scoffed.
The pale man stilled for a second, mouth slightly agape. His grip on Mikhail weakened. The hermit took that chance and made a run toward the broken entrance until a long slender hand grabbed his arm.
"Let go!" Mikhail yelled as he turned and lifted his fist, shoving it right into the visitor’s face. Mikhail let out a pained scream as sharp pain and a loud crack settled into his knuckles. What is he made out of?!?! Steel?
"You…" The pale man lifted a finger to where thick, nearly black blood slowly ran down to his lips. Mikhail’s eyes widened, adrenaline rushing through his veins.
The visitor wiped the blood off his face and looked down at his fingers until a gaze, dark as can be, settled on Mikhail.
"How dirty."
Mikhail heaved as he was flung across the window. The glass shattered behind him as he slid downward. The impact left his back aching.
He coughed into his hand and gasped when he saw specks of red splattered across his palm.
"Running away from your problems? Typicaaal." The pale man crouched onto one knee and took Mikhail’s cheek into his hand. They didn’t carry the warmth nor softness they once did.
Mikhail scrambled backward even though his back was already pressed against the dented wall. The eyes he had adored for so long, no, loved, were filled with hatred and resentment.
The visitor cut him off before he could speak. "What a fool I was to believe a mere human like you could change. But I am not surprised. Lying is part of human natuuuure after all."
The pale man’s finger swiped across his cheek once more, mimicking the touch of a lover until a long sharp nail pressed down.
Mikhail winced at the pain and turned his head.
Beside them was a photo of a woman with a red headband in her luscious blonde hair, smiling goofily. The frame around her was shattered into pieces.
The visitor’s eyes followed his.
"Even while I’m right in front of your faceee, your gaze always wanders off to her…." The pale man spat as his grip tightened against the homeowner’s face.
Mikhail sucked in a breath as the visitor smiled maliciously.
"I don’t really blaaame you. She is attractive to the eye after alll."
Mikhail’s hand instinctively gripped the floor. It settled on a shard, big enough to grab and just sharp enough to shove into the intruder’s eye. It wouldn’t do much but it would buy him enough time to escape the house.
The pale man continued. "I just wished you hadn’t replaced me so fast after her arrival."
What? Mikhail then realized that the ring that had appeared on his broken finger was because he…he was married to her.
And in consequence, Dmitry had resented him for it.
But why would he care? Happiness was all Dmitry had ever wanted for Mikhail. So being upset would be defying his wishes. Unless they were…
No. No fucking way.
"I’m hurt," the pale man said in a fake wounded tone.
Mikhail furrowed his eyebrows as the gears in his brain turned. Now would be a good time to get away.
To run.
Mikhail lifted his arm with all his strength and jabbed the shard straight into the visitor’s eye.
"You—!" An animalistic groan echoed through the house as Mikhail’s hand scrambled for another piece of glass. Once his fingers closed around one, he dragged it across the visitor’s hand that was now gripping his cheek.
Mikhail rushed to his feet, grabbing the wall for support as he made his hurried escape outside.
Fucking maniac. He thought as he stumbled off the porch, the distorted wails of the visitor fading behind him.
The burnt grass crunched beneath his shoes as he ran. Where would he go? His eyes darted everywhere. Blood stained his sweater and shards clung to his palm. The city had long since been destroyed and he didn’t want to risk going there. It was crawling with visitors anyway. Shit where could he go?
Mikhail turned his head, watching the visitor still inside the house. If he had enough time and stamina, he could make it to…
The yard.
He grunted as each step felt like a kick to the chest. He stumbled and gagged when he felt something mushy under his foot. He refused to look down.
In the corner of his eye, something glinted beneath the dark moonlight. It was right beside his house. He narrowed his eyes and approached it.
A metal pipe.
Mikhail crouched and grabbed it, turning it over in his hands. It was light enough to carry and could deal enough damage if he landed a strong enough blow.
"I’m getting tired of this little game of youuurs…"
Mikhail jumped at the sound of the pale man’s voice behind him. He pushed himself to his feet and turned around, pipe in hand.
The visitor stood there, black blood running down his face, the shard and eye long gone. Did he…did he fucking pull it out?! Mikhail cringed looking at his face.
"You knooow the floods, the fire, the decay. We could’ve experienced the last days of humanity falling apart together." The pale man said as he approached him.
"But then she came along, didn’t she? Took you right off your feet. Got married. Hmm, what else?" The visitor stopped and tapped his chin, staring out into the dark sky.
"Right, something about kids. Something you desired my approval for. How rude, shoving it right into my face." The pale man said.
"Ever since Death offered me a new chance with this body of mine, I’ve been doing some thinking." He continued, laughing as if it was the most hilarious joke he’d ever told. "And I realized that if she were fair, she’d let me bear your kin."
The homeowner was fucking mortified on the other end.
"What a cruel betrayal you’ve done. To ward off Death, to ward off me. And to think you were any different…you’re just the same as any human. Immoral and selfish—"
"Shut up! Shut up!" the homeowner yelled as much as his vocal cords could tolerate and swung the pipe, striking the intruder straight in the waist.
The pale man dropped to his knees, hunching in on himself. This human was going to be the death of him. Legitimately.
The pale man raised his head, eyes twitching. "Why, you insolent little—"
Another blow, this time to the head.
The pale man’s body slumped to the side. Mikhail spat out the blood accumulating in his mouth as he approached, dragging the pipe behind him.
"You claim you know everything, but you know nothing about me." Mikhail hissed as he tightened his grip around the pipe.
He delivered a harsh kick to the pale man’s side. "Do you even know how lucky you are? How much I envy you?"
The visitor’s body shifted along with the ruthless kicks. "You have all these people present in your life. You complain about your sister, yet you two are inseparable."
Mikhail laughed bitterly before stopping.
"Remember when she won first place in that ice skating competition back when we were kids?"
"You cheered louder than everyone else and dragged me onto the skating floor. I warned you. Said it was too dangerous, but you didn’t listen. You never do."
"You held her up like she was some damn prize. Everyone stared, yet you didn’t care. You forgot how you left me behind on my own. Stupid as can be, I fell on the ice. My back hurt for days after that. I still resent you for it."
Mikhail threw his head back before dragging a hand down his face. He paced around aimlessly.
Then he stopped in front of the visitor and dropped to his knees, each one landing beside the visitor’s chest. "You… you’re surrounded by love. Even in this fucked up world, you still manage to stay connected to people."
He raised a fist into the air. "You’re the complete opposite of me."
"Loving, caring, enthusiastic." Mikhail continued.
"I don’t know why you even stick around me. I’m not interesting or anything. I hardly indulge in conversations." The hermit hesitated, unsure whether to punch him or not.
"I despise people. I hate them. I—for fuck’s sake, I used those guests for my survival, not because I wanted them to stay!" Mikhail lowered his fist.
He couldn’t do it anymore.
"You’re the only person I have, Dmitry."
"Even while shit is burning down and people are dying left and right, I—"
"I noticed."
"You’re always up for challenges even if it ends with me having broken ribs." He laughed bitterly.
"You’re as pushy as ever."
"Annoying too."
"And even when the whole world is fucking falling apart, you still find a way to be cheeky."
Mikhail lowered his head onto the visitor’s chest.
"Listen, I—"
"I don’t know what this version of me has done to you. I don’t know who that woman in the portrait was!"
"But this isn’t the person I…" Mikhail trailed off.
The man he knew? The one he had adored for so long? Or even loved?
The late nights he spent wandering outside with Dmitry because he needed a distraction from home. The way his chest always felt lighter whenever Dmitry spotted him in public and waved him over without hesitation. The way Dmitry would purposely leave conversations midway just to stand beside him.
The warmth spreading through him whenever Dmitry laughed at his dry remarks. The lingering glances he caught himself making without even realizing. His eyes always drifting toward Dmitry whenever he entered a room.
Dmitry was always grabbing his hands to show him something stupid or exciting, pulling him along without thinking twice. His hands were warm and soft against Mikhail’s rough calloused ones, and Mikhail had always noticed.
Friends didn’t think about those things, did they?
They didn’t feel their heartbeat stumble whenever they got too close.
Boys didn’t…
What was he even trying to say?
Mikhail buried his face in his hands, hiding away in shame.
He couldn’t be.
There was no way he—
He was in love with his best friend.
A tear fell onto the pale man’s chest. One, then two, then—
Mikhail broke into sobs.
"Who knew a heartfelt beating is what youuuu needed to truly change?" The visitor dryly laughed as Mikhail’s trembling body lay on top of him. His soft cries were like music to his ears.
The pale man’s bruised arms wrapped around the homeowner. One arm slung itself around his back while the other settled against his head. He rubbed the other’s scalp as if soothing a frail kitten.
Mikhail stilled at the sudden affection. "What are you—"
"A little silence would be nice." The visitor said, continuing the motion once more.
"Funny coming from you." Mikhail spat out, though he subconsciously relaxed in the man’s grip.
"You’re as bad as me, Mysha." Oh boy, we’re pulling out the nickname. Must be serious.
Mikhail sniffed before letting out a small laugh. Now that he realized it, they were both a mess. Bruises in deep shades of blue and purple covered both the homeowner’s and the pale man’s bodies and faces. The burnt grass beneath the dim sky was painted black from the visitor’s pouring blood. "I don’t think half the shit I’ve done compares to yours."
"Touché…" The visitor replied, pulling the hermit closer against his chest.
What felt like hours was only a few minutes. Exhaustion washed over Mikhail and his eyes struggled to stay open. The pale man shifted his arms to fully wrap around Mikhail’s waist, trapping him in a hug.
A hug far tighter than it was supposed to be.
"Dima?" Mikhail wriggled slightly to look down at the intruder, who had now sat up. His jaw parted at the sight. He hadn’t realized how close they were.
The hug tightened.
"Dmitry, stop it. What’s going on—"
A rough kiss crashed against Mikhail’s lips, cutting him off entirely. The homeowner gasped into it, their warm breaths mixing together.
The hug tightened further as the visitor’s nails dug into the fabric of his sweater. Mikhail’s heart skipped painfully when he found himself responding to the pale man’s touch, allowing himself to be pulled closer.
Something foreign pushed into his mouth. It was intrusive and overwhelming, yet he found himself unable to pull away.
And Mikhail hated how easily he melted into it. He allowed himself to be selfish with the visitor beneath him. To let instinct take over and drag out desires he had buried for years. Desires he had denied over and over again.
Maybe the pale man had been right all along. Mikhail shoved aside the raging memory of his father’s voice as their desperate movements turned messy and uneven, neither willing to fully let go.
The visitor let out a strained sound against his mouth when Mikhail instinctively pressed closer.
Eventually they were forced apart, though it was more the pale man pulling away first. "She calls for me to return you to where you belong. My time is up, dear hermit."
The visitor cupped Mikhail’s face between both hands, thumbs brushing against rough skin and dried blood. One hand slowly slid down toward his neck, settling against the frantic pulse there.
"Dmitry. I—" Mikhail paused as the grip around his throat tightened.
He gasped as every thought in his mind screamed at him to say it now. He needed to say it. After all the sleepless nights and all the years spent burying those feelings, it couldn’t end like this, could it?
He needed Dmitry to be his.
In every universe possible.
I love you.
Is what he could’ve said if he’d only had enough time.
But the crack of his neck sent his vision into complete darkness.
"Good night, Mysha."