Archive of Our Own

Mitya finds himself on the stage in the Korolevskiy Theater. Instead of lovely singing or dancing that fills the room with happy cheers and a cozy atmosphere, the room is quiet and cold. The lights are off, and no one is in their seats. 

Lifting his right hand, he gazes at the red eye staring at him. Mitya is back in the afterlife. When did he die again? The memory should still be in his head, but after all the rummaging, he finds nothing.

“I better find my way out of here…” Mitya murmurs to himself, stepping forward. He can hear the distant sound of the blizzard raging outside the heavy doors. 

Suddenly, the room turns pitch black, and Mitya holds his breath. “What…”

Then everything turns red. The stage lights shift to the platform, and Mitya gasps.

“No…” Everyone he knows is on the stage, lying on the floor with no life in them. He recognizes Vodyanitsa and Odette, not breathing. Looking further, there are Alyosha and the Traveler. “Not again…”

And amidst the people, he spots a familiar, tall figure, sitting on the chair, and–

“Valeriy! No!” Mitya moves quickly as hands grasp at his shoulders, shaking desperately. “Wake up! Please!” Mitya’s voice breaks. Why is he back in the theater? Why is everyone dead again?

Is it because of him? Did he activate the curse of death for the nth time?

Suddenly, he feels cold. Someone is standing close behind him. Death herself is looming, and Mitya is too afraid to meet the gaze she is giving him.

And then…

Mitya wakes up with a gasp, his eyes widen, but all he sees is the familiar ceiling he sees every morning.

“A dream…?” He whispers to no one before he lifts his hand to rub his eyes. With a sigh, he sits on the bed and looks at his palm. No symbol of death staring back at him. At least that.

Again. It was the fifth time he dreamed about being dead, along with everybody, because it is ultimately his fault he dragged the people to their temporary demise. Or was it the sixth time? Seventh? More? Mitya gave up counting—no need to hold onto these.

Ignoring his rapidly beating heart, his quick breathing, and sweaty hands, he leaves the bed, throwing the blanket lazily to the side as his feet hit the soft fabric of his rug. Mitya needs to calm down, it doesn’t make sense to cling to his psyche when they have bigger problems to face.

Rubbing his eyes a second time, he stands up and readies himself for the day.

“Does this even make sense?” Mitya murmurs to himself, eyes scanning the paper with several scribbles and ideas for a new plan. His free hands rest on his chin as he whacks his brain for a better solution, because honestly this one could lead to a dead end and…

“Mr. Mitya,” a voice interrupts him. When the scientist tips his head up, he sees Valeriy standing, arms crossed. Oh yeah, he almost forgot he was there.

Wait, no- isn’t he busy with his usual schedule? Isn’t he too early to monitor him? 

“Hello, Sarge! Fancy meeting you.” He hums in response, the scarf waving at the soldier before dropping behind him.

But Valeriy only lifts one eyebrow before clearing his throat. “This is unusual for you. Did something happen?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Mitya asks lazily, switching the papers and scanning the texts rapidly. No, this won’t do it either. Whose idea is this now? Surely not his own!

“It’s late afternoon.” Valeriy starts, but then silence stretches through the room.

Mitya puts the paper on the desk. Yeah, no, this won’t do. Ahem, anyway, concentrate on his favorite Major. 

“Soo?” Mitya drawls, waiting for Valeriy to continue, but the soldier's frown deepens.

“You’re not pulling my leg here, right?” 

“Now why should I? Though of course it’s one of my favorite pastimes that kills my boredom, but this time I’m genuinely at a loss as to what you wanna imply. Or should I do it? Maybe you’re yearning for my daily teasings, so–”

“Mr. Mitya,” Valeriy interrupts him, the frown frozen on his pretty face. Mitya quickly shuts his mouth and looks confused. Did he forget something? Lunch? Well, it’s true: he only had some snacks he hid in his room, because it’s not really healthy to satisfy hunger with junk, but eh, no one can stop him!

Mitya sighs. “It’s late afternoon. So what? Did I perhaps forget something?” As soon as he asks, he watches concern flash across the soldier’s face. “Sarge, please, just tell me what’s wrong! Now you’re the one pulling my leg!”

Valeriy looks at the clock on the wall before his deep purple eyes are back on Mitya’s. “Usually I’d find you in the theater or in the restaurant, exactly at this hour.” 

Oh. Right. His usual stealth mission is to hide from his bodyguard and enjoy leisure time with a nice cup of coffee, or a beautiful show about singing and dancing, or just strolling around Snezhnograd to take in the cold, never-ending winter. Or maybe a novel he started three months ago but forgot. Oh right, he should go back to it again.

“Ahaha… Yeah, that’s true.” Mitya scratches his cheek. “But if I’m too busy, I forget to do it. And also I visit other places, too, you know.” 

Valeriy nods. “I know. And I know exactly where you’ll be.” 

Oh, Archons, his statement shouldn’t make his heart skip a beat. Because he knows Valeriy is too good at finding him, and it should annoy him. And yet it makes his heart jump in joy.

“However, it’s not common for you to… skip work and laze around–”

“I don’t laze around. I’m collecting new ideas!” Mitya chimes in, but Valery clears his throat.

“So I’m wondering if something is going on. Not that I want to force you to confess something, but…” The worry in Valery’s expression is back, his eyes scanning Mitya’s own as if he sees something he isn’t aware of himself.

But Mitya shakes his head and smiles at him. “I’m fine! I think I forgot because we have a new problem to face.” Mitya points at the several papers around his desk. “And it’s urgent, you see. Makes my head too full.”

Valeriy looks at his desk, then goes back to the scientist. “I see. Then I won’t bother you.” He turns around and puts his fingers on the door handle. “Just go to sleep earlier after work.” With a nod, he opens the door and leaves the room.

“Huh…” Mitya leans against the chair and places the pencil under his nose as he pulls up his lips. Throwing his arms behind his head, he tips the chair back a little and closes his eyes. Valeriy’s eyes are back in his mind. Why did he look at him as if Mitya skipped sleep? Oh wait!

He pulls up a round hand mirror from the drawer and examines his face. The eye bags are more visible than last time. 

Well, he did sleep and even remembers the nightmares, but witnessing a dream doesn’t mean he slept the whole night. “True… I fell asleep an hour before my work started…” he murmurs to himself. When he notes that an average person dreams two hours, he can consider his time less than two hours, considering the memories of his nightmare still linger fresh in his mind. And before that, he was tossing and turning in his bed.

With a sigh, he puts the hand mirror back and sits properly on his seat. “Back to work…” 

Mitya ignores the stinging phantom pain in his palm and rubs his eyes so he can see clearly again, ignoring the wetness in his fingertips.

Ah, what lovely weather. It’s cold, his hands are freezing, and his body is shivering. Rubbing his hands and puffing hot breath against them, Mitya strolls around Snezhnograd as he takes in the snowflakes that fall on his head and shoulders. It’s a calm afternoon, and he could visit the theater or the restaurant or anywhere he wants to be, ignoring the single eye that follows him through every step.

From the corner of his eye, he sees something, the dark-red in his nightmares, but Mitya ignores it, ignores death that follows him without a break. Because he knows it’s not real, it’s his mind playing tricks. It’s actually normal, right? After a traumatic event, the brain is still processing the tragedy. So he is fine. Mitya ignores his racing heartbeat and the slight tremor in his body.

“Mr. Mitya.” 

Mitya stops in his tracks and looks up. “Ah, Sarge! There you are! Right on time.” He greets him with a smile, his hands still rubbing against each other to keep him warm.

But Valeriy’s expression stays the same, only the corner of his mouth going down a bit. If Mitya looks carefully, he sees a concern flashing in his eyes. “You aren’t in the theater like usual. In fact, you followed me for quite a bit.”

Mitya blinks. “Eh? I did?” When did he do that? He must be lying! 

Valeriy nods. “During my break. You followed me as soon as I left the building.” Valeriy's eyes look at his scarf before that piece of cloth moves to wrap around Mitya’s cold hands. 

“At first I was observing,” Valeriy continues. “Maybe it was one of your little pranks before you made a bolt.” Ah, yes. Sometimes he does enjoy challenging Valeriy into hunting him. Mitya knows he has no chance, but the thrill of being hunted by the Sarge is… exciting. It makes his whole body hot.

“You must be joking. I did not follow you.” Mitya persists, crossing his arms. His scarf immediately falls back behind him.

“However,” Valeriy ignores his comment and goes on. “You continued to follow me for fifteen minutes.” 

“And you didn’t say anything before?” Mitya genuinely doesn’t remember doing that. Was his mind somewhere else while he instinctively followed his bodyguard? A little blush adorns his face. That’s embarrassing!

“You seemed lost in thought.” Valeriy beckons Mitya to come to his side. “Let’s go to Podvorye Restaurant. I still have some time left for my break.”

Mitya hesitates for a moment before moving to his side. “I really-” he shakes his head. “I really don’t remember. Why should I follow you anyway? You sure we didn’t meet coincidentally? I mean, it wouldn’t make sense!  Why should I—”

Mitya immediately shuts up when a strong hand is pressed against the small of his back, making his mind short-circuit for a moment. Because holy damn, Tsaritsa, his hand is so huge. Valeriy’s gaze drops to his own when he looks up, the dark bangs of his hair swaying a bit as he lowers his head. His lips are stretched into a thin line, and his long lashes brush against his cheeks. Mitya now notices the slight rosiness on his face.

It’s unfair how beautiful Valeriy is. Was he always this pretty? Does he now notice his beauty? Or was he aware before and ignored it? Or was he simply that ignorant and…

“Let’s go.” Valeriy’s voice interrupts his thoughts as he gently presses against his back. Mitya lets out an embarrassed squeak but quickly clears his throat, ignoring the way Valeriy looks at him.

“Yes, I suddenly crave some Borscht, haha…!” Mitya immediately replies.

Some time passes as Mitya sips his coffee. The restaurant is cozily warm, and the background chatter from guests almost makes him sleepy. Well, almost, since his eyes are trained to look at the wall, ignoring that Valeriy is looking at him. 

“Soo…” Mitya drawls, putting the cup back on the table and letting his fingers lazily graze the rim of his cup. “Is there something you wanna tell me, Sarge? You keep staring.” 

Valeriy hums. From the corner of his eye, he watches the Soldier sip his tea. “I’m trying to figure you out.”

Mitya almost chokes on his spit. “How bold of you! Is this why we are having a lunch date?” He laughs nervously, his face heating up again.

“Ah.” Mitya looks back at Valeriy and sees him blushing too. “No, I didn’t mean to-” he shakes his head. It seems like he’s struggling to find the right words. How adorable.

Not like he’s faring any better, so Mitya quickly lifts his cup again and hides half of his face with it, pretending to take a sip. 

Valeriy clears his throat. “I didn’t intend to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

Mitya quickly puts the cup down, waving his head. “Ah, no, no, you didn’t!” He quickly responds and smiles. “But figuring me out? Oh my. All you need is to ask me, and I’ll deliver you answers.”

“That’s the problem, though,” Valeriy says quietly. Mitya watches him idly turn the teaspoon. “You don’t. You never tell me what’s wrong.”

“But Sarge, nothing’s wrong!” Mitya tilts his head, still smiling. Valeriy's eyes are back on him, a deep frown is visible on his face.

“There it is again… You pretend you’re okay,” Valeriy’s voice sounds so small in his ears, as if he’s struggling to be honest with him. In a different situation, he would find the moment endearing. The Major never shows more of his personality than necessary, at least during his shift. Mitya really needs to spend time with his Major outside work, he’d love to know more about him.

But given the circumstances now… 

“Sarge, I’m completely fine–”

“But you’re not okay.” Valeriy finally says. “And it saddens me.”

Mitya’s eyes widen at his honesty. “Oh.” He blinks once, trying to come up with how to respond to that. He blinks twice, contemplating whether to drink his coffee again or look around. “That is interesting to hear…? Like, do you really feel sad about me?”

Valeriy sighs. He can see the disappointment on his face. “Forget it. Let us return to work.” 

“No, wait, I’m sorry! I take this seriously, I swear. Please sit back again.” Mitya quickly raises his hand to stop Valeriy from leaving. He would, of course, take Mitya with him, but ending this conversation on that note would leave a sour taste in his mouth.

“I would appreciate it if you would take it seriously.” Valeriy falls silent then, his eyes trained on Mitya. 

For a little while, no one talks. Mitya squirms in his seat as he puts his hands on the table, letting his thumbs swirl against each other. He looks left and watches two Faes gossip about some people at work. Mitya turns to look on his right. One sad individual sits in his seat and stares down. Who knows what they are going through.

Screw that, do these people know what he is going through?! Valeriy stops talking and pierces his gaze at him, aware that Mitya ruined this moment. He knows his comment was backhanded, since Valeriy rarely talks about what he feels. Or did he do that in the past and he never paid attention? 

Whatever it is, he realizes his stupid mistake.

“Soo…?” Mitya now breaks the silence as he looks back at Valeriy. “How much time do you have left before you—”

“We.” Valeriy chimes in.

“Yes, we. Ahem, how long before our break ends?” He nervously laughs before he feels a soft hit in the back of his hand. “Ouch!” Looking back, his scarf moves and hits him in the head. Mitya knows he screwed up, no need to remind him.

Valeriy's expression is unmoving. “It ended five minutes ago.”

“What?! Then why are we still here?! You’re never late when it comes to your work!” Mitya quickly stands up, his hands slamming on the table. “I-Is it because of me?”

“That means I take my worry about you seriously.” The Sarge has the nerve to stay calm and sips his tea. 

“But—”

“Sit down.”

Mitya immediately plops back to his seat. “Yes, Sir.”

“It’s been more than a week since you seem to have been out of the loop.” Valeriy starts, and Mitya gulps. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to talk about feelings and such. His mind quickly searches for an escape route, but at the same time he forces his thoughts to pipe down. The last thing he wants is to disrespect Valeriy. If he makes another stupid remark or decides to run away, he doubts Valeriy would ever try to show his worry like this.

The fact that he goes this far for someone like him…

“I can put two things together. I’ll be blunt.”

“Wait!” Mitya interrupts him and looks around. “Can we go somewhere with… fewer people?” 

Valeriy looks around the restaurant, then nods. Mitya sighs in relief and leans back against his seat. Good, at least no stranger has to hear about Mitya’s supposed troubles.

“I’ll pay for both of us. Wait here, Sarge.”

They find a secluded area in Snezhnograd with almost no one here. Mitya sits on the cold bench, cursing inside that he'd never bothered to wear something more appropriate for this cold weather. Leaning against the bench, he follows the snowflakes gently descending on top of Valeriy’s head, painting his dark hair with tiny white dots. Mitya would have chuckled at the sight, but knowing what conversation awaits, he can’t swallow down the anxiety that threatens to break free.

“I must say it was kinda funny how we kept standing up and sitting back down in the Restaurant.” Mitya chuckles nervously, trying to break the ice and hopefully turn the conversation into something light.

However, Valeriy doesn’t comment, crossing his arms. He doesn’t sit next to him, probably preferring to stand. If Mitya looks closely, he would see the Sarge restlessness. It doesn’t seem easy for him either.

“I have my own thoughts about your recent behavior, but it’s only a conjecture which I possibly can’t take as fact unless I ask you directly.” Valeriy’s gaze slides down, not meeting Mitya’s eyes. It’s truly not easy for him either, but he confirms indirectly that he’s been thinking about him for quite a while. 

“I see! I mean, as a scientist, I gladly discuss some hypothesis you have in your mind.” Mitya pats the space next to him. “How about you sit first?”

“We did that enough already.”

Mitya sighs and takes his hand away. “Alright, alright.” His scarf comes alive and scratches Mitya’s head before he swats it away. Seriously, he only appears to be a menace to him!

“To come back to my point, it’s impossible to discuss with you when you deflect my questions. So I’ll be frank,” Valeriy repeats what he had said earlier. “It’s because of the incident in the Theater, am I right?”

Mitya’s breath gets stuck in his throat, his palms sweat, and his lips part slightly. For someone who usually doesn’t struggle to talk his way out of it or deny Valeriy’s conjecture, nothing comes to mind. He can only watch Valeriy with wide eyes, mouth frozen in a smile. He hit the nail right on the head, and it scares him.

With Death carved deep in his soul, he feels it close, as if with every step he takes, Death steps close behind him, resting in his shadows and ready to drive its claws into his heart, pulling everyone with him. And he despises it. Despises that he drags everyone around him as well. A reminder that follows him in his dream, instead of him, he sees his colleagues, friends, and the one he holds dear under his feet, cold and motionless.

And Valeriy ends up in his arms. His chest doesn’t move, his eyes stay shut, never to be opened. Mitya lost him again and again and again. And every time he shouts in agony, begging Valeriy to open his eyes and not leave his side.

His thoughts get interrupted when a firm hand rests on his shoulder, shaking him a bit, and Mitya’s breath hitches. “Are you okay?” When Mitya blinks rapidly, he sees Valeriy’s face close to his own. 

“Huh?” 

Mitya now notices Valeriy kneeling, his expression soft and his big hand comfortably heavy against his shoulder. His heart squeezes at the gentleness the Sarge is displaying without fancy words of encouragement. It’s who he is, and that alone is comforting.

“You looked like you were far away with your thoughts,” he says quietly, letting his gauntleted hand rest on his cheek. Mitya blinks quickly and lets out a shaky breath. He is fine–should be fine. 

“Sarge…” And yet Mitya closes his eyes and leans against the hand. “Maybe… Maybe I’m having trouble sleeping during the nights.” He admits quietly, letting his hands travel up to put them against Valeriy’s own. “But just maybe. Not confirmed, though.”

Valeriy hums, matching his quiet tone. “I figured.”

Mitya scoffs, but a small smile etches on his lips. “Come on now. You could have answered like…” Mitya opens his eyes and clears his throat, dropping his voice several octaves lower. “Oh, Mr. Mitya, I am so, so sorry to hear that. How can my humble self ever help you out?” 

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Oh, I’m sooo tall and serious and blunt.” 

Valeriy sighs and takes his hand away from Mitya’s cheek. Mitya makes a sad noise at the loss of the warmth. “Okay, okay, sorry! I didn’t mean to make fun of you!”

“I’ll help you out,” Valeriy says and stands up, brushing away the snow from his pants and coat. 

“Even though I must say I was quite good at your voice impression, I didn’t mean to… wait, what?” Mitya’s eyes widen. What does he mean by that- no, scratch that, he knows the meaning of the word ‘help’ and the concept of Valeriy wanting to help him, but what does he mean?

Instead of answering Mitya immediately, he takes out his little book and skims through the pages. “Tomorrow is your day off, so I’ll be visiting your home if that’s okay with you.” 

Mitya blinks. Again. Honestly, how many times will Valeriy surprise him? It wouldn’t be his first time visiting Mitya’s apartment. Sometimes he invaded his home to drag Mitya back to work. Or to wake him up when he overslept. And every time, Valeriy was forced to witness the chaos his apartment faced when he came over. But this time he announces his visit, and that feels more intimate.

“Sure. Is this your plan to help me out? Come over and drink some tea?”

“I was thinking about bringing some over. And snacks. The same ones you hide in your office.”

Mitya quickly clears his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And…” Valeriy looks away, a faint pink adorning his cheeks. Must be the cold, right? “You’ll see. Tomorrow. Late evening.”

Mitya stands up from the bench. “Yeah. I’d like that.” He says sheepishly, scratching his cheek. 

Valeriy nods, then fondness glinting in his usual blank eyes. He’s obviously not cold-hearted, but his poker face is impeccable and hard to read. Valeriy is good at controlling his emotions, it’s what he surely trained for as a Soldier. He hides his feelings behind the well-crafted mask to do his duty. But today… he’s trying to shove the mask to the side, letting Mitya glimpse what he’s really feeling.

Maybe Mitya was always wrong about Valeriy. Maybe he never shied away from showing his worry when it came to him. Or maybe he never really looked past the mask he was wearing. Sure, he was always fond of Valeriy, which is why he always looks forward to playing cat and mouse with his favorite soldier. And he always fancied his look. Valeriy is incredibly handsome, very pretty, and absolutely breathtaking. His deep voice sends shivers down his spine, his touch makes his heart skip a beat, and his strength leaves Mitya incredibly flustered. Oh, Archons, he only needs one arm to lift him off the ground.

Mitya knew he had developed a crush on him, but that was it, nothing more. He liked teasing him and watching his reactions, even though they were so small. But that was enough to pass the time, and he didn't think about it. Or maybe there was more, but he shoved those feelings down, hiding them in a box and never to be opened.

Mitya guesses the box is too fragile as his feelings reach his very core, making his heart race and his cheeks burn.

With a huff, Mitya walks next to Valeriy and grabs his arm. “Then it’s a date, my dear Sarge.” He says teasingly as he leans his head against his arm. He doesn’t miss a moment of their height difference, and he's gotta use it to his advantage. 

Valeriy seems to have no time to adjust his mask to deflect his feelings; he sees the red reaching his face, blinks, and looks away. Mitya can’t help but chuckle. “Let’s head back. I’ll take responsibility for both of us since we’re thirty minutes late.”

“Wait, true, I forgot! Your break is over by a long shot! No, no, no, it’s because of me you’re late, so let me handle it.” Mitya is a bad influence on the poor Sarge! He should at least take responsibility here. But Valeriy doesn’t respond as he walks towards their destination with Mitya clinging to his arm. “Sarge, hey, Sarge! Valeriy, come on! Don’t ignore me!”

No matter how many times he mentions that he doesn’t mind taking the blame, the stubborn Sarge ignores him. The nerve of him! With a pout visible on his face, he tries again and again, ignoring the gazes of the passersby.

Night arrives. Mitya sits on the edge of the bed, eyes focused on his palm after waking up from another nightmare. No matter how much he looks, no eye is staring back at him, which means he isn’t trapped in a dream. And yet his palm stings, and the heavy stare of death’s eye pierces its gaze against him.

Every time he closes his eyes, he finds himself back at the theater. A shame, he usually loves to imagine himself sitting in one of the comfortable seats, listening to Vodyanitsa sing while he scribbles down his brilliant ideas. It’s his little sanctuary even if Vodyanitsa ends up nagging him to pay attention. 

But his little sanctuary is tainted with death, the incident in which he was involved still fresh in his mind. And indeed, it wasn’t too long ago, but it feels like it happened yesterday or just hours ago.

It’s his fault. He dragged everyone into this mess. How can he ever make it up to everyone involved? 

Mitya sighs quietly and gets up. No use going back to sleep, so he decides to take his notebook and have a nice cup of tea. 

To distract his mind, he mindlessly doodles as he recalls today's events. Mitya still feels bad for Valeriy taking all the blame and punishment for being too late. He knows the punishment will be very little, but wouldn’t something like this ruin his perfect reputation? “He probably will just work longer or something...” He whispers to no one as he continues to scribble in his book. 

Until he notices several single eyes staring at him from the paper, and Mitya gasps, letting go of the pen. “What the hell?!” He’s not dreaming again, right? Mitya pinches his cheek and sighs when the pain immediately comes after the pinch. “Okay. It’s real. I’m not dreaming.” He mutters quietly as he rubs his eyes.

Okay. The eyes are still there. He takes a deep breath and puts a hand on his chest, calming his heart. The logical conclusion is that he doodled these damn eyes while he was drifting off. That’s just so obvious, so why does he freak out like an idiot?

The room is silent. Only a small lamp illuminates the darkness, together with the Kresnik Torch to keep his home warm.

“Oh, Tsaritsa… I’m losing my mind.” He whispers as he tears the page from his notebook. Mitya needs to ignore everything his mind is forcing him to remember. It hinders his work, his ideas, and his plan. Is this one of Ronova’s torments he inflicted upon him?

Mitya widens his eyes and looks around the room. Maybe he shouldn’t even think of that name, or else the Ruler of Death appears in the corner of his room. 

The silence in his home makes him too restless. He wishes he could go back to sleep like a normal person, but he doesn’t want to dream about that place again. He puts his head on the table, lifts his notebook, and looks at the doodles from the previous page. The tiny bear that he drew in memory of Valeriy. “Come on now, he’s not dead.” He says to himself with a tired chuckle.

With a sigh, Mitya lifts his head to look at the doodle that resembles Valeriy, thinking back to his encounter with the Sarge in the afternoon. “I wish you were here with me…” he lets his finger glide over the drawing, following the messy lines. 

It would make sense being with Valeriy. Mitya sits up straight and grabs his pen. “Why would it make sense…” he taps his chin with his finger. “I just noticed this,” he says to himself, then scribbles something down in haste. It doesn’t matter if it’s difficult to decipher; at least he can do it. 

“That’s it!” Mitya stands up, hurries to his bedroom, grabs his trusty scarf, then runs back to the kitchen.

“So,” with the scarf wrapped around him, he feels it move to his side. “You better listen. Remember when we sat in the restaurant, right?” Pen in hand, he underlines the word restaurant. “I noticed how Valeriy’s presence calmed my nerves. It would essentially help me focus better.” He writes down the word focus and moves on. “Since we need to come up with a groundbreaking plan to stop—” he shuts his mouth quickly, not daring to speak Ronova’s name. “Eh, you know, anyway. I admit I may struggle a bit because of the incident with death, so you may know what I imply here. But it’s not a big deal, so…”

Of course, his scarf doesn’t respond, it only gives him a thumbs up or pats his head the more Mitya talks and writes. He connects the dots on why he should be with Valeriy. For the sake of Snezhnaya, of course!

“And the conclusion is…” Mitya smiles as he looks over the messy mind map. His scarf does nothing and falls back behind him. His house is silent and dark. Only the tiny lamp on the table casts a faint yellow glow. 

Mitya lets go of the pen, dejection washes over his entire being. “I want to see him so badly.” He sighs and puts a hand on his forehead. How didn’t he notice it sooner? Every time he has his Sarge follow him and stay with him, his heavy thoughts feel light. And today it proved it, especially when Valeriy made several attempts to talk about Mitya’s recent changes in behavior. 

“Tomorrow evening he’s coming over.” He talks to himself again, a reminder. “So I better be patient. It’s too late to visit him. I’m sure he’s exhausted from today's work.” 

Well then. He has to wait, and that shouldn’t be a problem. 

Mitya tries to ignore the stinging pain in his palm, and he tries to ignore the piercing stare of Death that looms in his apartment, because it’s all in his head.

“Ah, I forgot my tea!”

Mitya’s off day is usually a blessing in his life. He can do what he wants: stroll around Snzehnograd, play with the children and build a snowman, enter a nice café, or take the train to visit villages, enjoying the peace they bring. It’s only one or two days, but he always looked forward to spending his day the way he wanted.

And yet, with too much free time lately, he feels restless. Again. His brain is working nonstop to find a solution to fall back into his routine, but Death forced him to change, and he can’t stand it! Pierro better come up with a life-changing plan to end his misery!

Of course he knows it’s a group project, so he can’t shove all the problems onto Pierro. 

So here he is, back in his little sanctuary. The theater was lively and cozy, even if he struggled to get in. He was walking back and forth before the entrance, arguing with himself in his head about why he should or shouldn’t enjoy a show in the theater. Some staff members talked to him and asked if he was okay or if there were problems, but he didn’t pay them any mind because he had to win an argument with himself. He wanted to go there so bad!

Yes, he won. Mitya may suffer slight dizziness, given that his anxiety is flaring up and he feels a bit too hot, his hand is stinging again, and he stops to breathe for a moment when the stage light turns red. Did he see that right?

Calm down, he thinks to himself. This is the world of the living, not the afterlife. Everything’s fine.

Pulling out his notebook and his pen, he’s ready to jog his brain while he listens to the beautiful melody filling the theater. Some idea might appear in his mind like a eureka moment.

The tip of the pen hovers over the paper for a little while. Nothing comes to his mind, only the surging uneasiness that paralyzes his brain. He can’t focus at all, and it drives him up the wall. 

With a sigh, he puts the pen between the pages and lets his eyes wander back to the stage.

But he can’t help himself, looking around in the middle of the show in hopes of finding Valeriy entering the theater and ready to sweep Mitya off his feet and drag him back to work. 

Valeriy, of course, doesn’t appear in this place, and his heart squeezes painfully. Why should he be here in his free time? It’s not his duty to babysit Mitya outside of work. It’s his free time, so of course! Nevertheless, he feels absolutely disappointed that his little wish doesn’t come true. 

“It’s fine. This evening I’ll see him.” He whispers as he closes his notebook, concentrating on the beautiful show by Odette and Vodyanitsa. 

After the show, he stays a bit longer in the theater, hoping to catch up with his friends and congratulate them. Mitya has to let the Prima Donna know he paid full attention to her singing, maybe she’ll be proud of him, but he still feels bad sometimes for disrespecting her, even though it was never his intention. So why not let her know?

Mitya notices Vodyanitsa on the stage talking with Odette and Alyosha. Great, everyone’s here, so why not—

He stops in his tracks, his hand hovering a bit in the air as he watches the trio laughing and chatting together and forgetting the world around them. Alyosha’s smile is small but soft as he listens to Vodyanitsa tell him about something that happened to her recently. Odette does the same, her hand rests on the fae’s shoulder, chiming in sometimes.

In their little bubble, there is no room for him. Maybe he never realized it, or didn’t want to, but he was never that close with them. Hell, he barely knows Alyosha and Odette, and Vodyanitsa is surely not really fond of him as well.

His heart stings. Mitya lowers his hand and turns around. Was he always this lonely? Does he even have someone to call his friend? 

“I want to see you…” Mitya mumbles as he strolls mindlessly with no goal. For the first time in his life, he desires to be dragged back to his workplace and sink himself back into research, experiments, and—

Eh, who is he fooling? The main reason is Valeriy, of course. He wants to feel his big hands on his body, either around his arm to gently guide him back or on his waist, pushing him back to his office. 

Some time passes, and he feels incredibly bored, lonely, and sad. This isn’t how his free time should be! He fights with his mind not to find Valeriy and hunt him down, even if it sounds very exciting to be the one finding him, but the Major must be very busy, so he has to wait until evening. 

Mitya immediately stops and blinks quickly. He looks left and right, then back ahead. This is the Armory Palace. When did his legs carry him here?!

“Ah, Mr. Mitya, it’s nice to see you again. But isn’t today your day off?” One of his colleagues approaches him with a smile. What’s his name again? 

“I do! In fact, I was taking a stroll and basking in this beautiful cold Snezhnaya has to offer.” Mitya smiles back and looks around. No Valeriy. He feels so disappointed.

“I see. Well, if you have too much free time…”

“Yes, yes, I have so much free time! I mean, I wouldn’t mind going in and helping you guys out and throwing my two cents here and there and– ack!” His scarf chimes in and wraps itself around his neck. “Okay, okay, geez. I won’t work today.” Did he tell his scarf to choke him whenever he does something out of character, like going back to work of his own volition? He doesn’t remember!

“... Okay.” The other scientist says, looking a bit disturbed, but his smile returns. “But it’s fine. I’m scheduled somewhere else until our usual project continues. So enjoy your free time.” He nods. “Anyway, my break is over, so I’ll see you later. Bye!” 

“Wait—” but the scientist rushes back to the building, leaving Mitya no room to stop him. He sighs and kicks up a little pebble. He hoped to talk with him a bit longer, but alas, today is kind of cruel to him and painfully reminds him that he’s a sad, lonely individual. Great.

When Mitya notices a Fatui soldier walking by, Mitya hurries to her and waves. He can’t leave on a bad note; he needs something positive, or he’ll go crazy. “Excuse me, did you perchance see Major Valeriy somewhere around?” 

The soldier stops and greets him. At his question, she taps her chin and hums as if trying to remember whether she encountered Valeriy. “Oh, yes. He’s here, but he’s very busy right now. Do you need me to pass a message to the Major?”

Mitya’s smile freezes on his face. Great. Just great. He shakes his head and thanks her, not waiting for her to say anything more, he turns around and walks away. His scarf is kind enough to wave the soldier goodbye.

He knows he’s being too dramatic, and nothing really bad happened today, but would he ask for too much by wanting someone as company? He could have joined the three Rokot members, but seeing them so close… it stung.

“Whatever. Time to head home.”

In the end, evening arrived. The sky turned deep orange as it grew darker and darker. The day passed by painfully slowly, it was a torment for the poor, poor scientist! Sitting restlessly, he put the novel down on his lap. Concentrating on reading was difficult enough, but he had to do something to make time pass quickly. 

Valeriy should be here any moment now.

Half an hour goes by, Mitya plays with the edge of the page, not focused on the book at all. Valeriy should be here any moment now.

An hour later, Mitya makes tea and pours himself a cup as he looks out the window. Valeriy should be here any moment now.

Twenty minutes later, Mitya holds the empty cup between his hands, glancing at the window. The streetlamps are on and chasing away the darkness. It's fine. Valeriy should be here any moment now.

Half an hour later—

Valeriy should be here at any moment now… right? 

Mitya lets out a shaky sigh, the mood going down rapidly. He pulls up his legs and rests his head against his knees. Did Valeriy forget their date? 

Realization hit him then. Is this why he doesn't show up? Did he make him uncomfortable by calling it a date?

His eyes start to sting, but he quickly swallows to calm his heart and get rid of the fat lump that got stuck in his throat. What is with his free time? He never felt this upset over his goddamn free time. Mitya always looked forward to lazing around when his off day arrived, but now? After he realized he wanted to spend his time with Valeriy so badly, he disappeared? 

“It's just today, what the hell are you on about…“ He mutters to himself and shakes his head, lowering his knees as he leans against the sofa. He hates how he's behaving, and it's all Death's fault. Why is his palm stinging again? Do you want to take him to the afterlife that much, Ronova? Then come and get him, you—

Suddenly, the sound of knocking comes from his door, and Mitya flinches. Did Ronova listen in and is ready to tear his soul out of his body? 

Wait, no- she would not use the door like a polite guest and ask Mitya if she can kill him politely. 

Mitya's eyes widen, and he jumps from his seat, running towards the door and gripping the door handle. Not waiting any longer, he quickly opens the door and…

“Valeriy!“ Mitya's body reacts quicker than his mind as he throws himself against Valeriy, embracing him.

“Uh—“ Mitya feels an awkward pat against his back before he pulls away, craning his neck to look at Valeriy. He can see blush spreading across the Major's cheeks, but he doesn't make any attempt to push Mitya away. “Hello.“

Mitya lets go of him and takes two steps away, coughing awkwardly. “Hi.” He takes a messy lock between his fingers and puts it behind his ear. Way to go, Mitya, now he surely wants to go away. “I’m sorry I should have asked—”

“No, it’s fine.” He gives Mitya a small smile before nodding, stepping inside the house. Mitya completely ignores the way his cheeks are burning as he closes the door behind Valeriy. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” Valeriy says as he puts the bag on the table. “I brought the snacks I told you about. I assume they’re your favorite.”

Oh dear. Mitya really missed Valeriy a lot. Why did it feel like an eternity since he last saw him? This isn’t normal at all; he'd had days and nights when the two of them didn’t see each other, and he was completely fine with it.

(Well, fine would be the wrong term, as he sighed way too often when Fatui sent a different bodyguard during Valeriy’s absence. And oh boy, were those days boring as hell. Because that nameless soldier was no fun to tease, he was too stiff and too panicky. And the worst part was that he couldn't find Mitya. Honestly, it was basically his day off with the way he could easily sneak out. It didn’t help that he yearned for Valeriy, and his scary ability to pinpoint Mitya with perfect accuracy.)

He guesses it’s his mind slowly going crazy, and he yearns for someone by his side. He yearns for Valeriy, and he can’t deny it anymore. And with that realization, every second without him feels like time slowing down and tormenting him. And it was only day one of a Valeriy-less day. He does not want to experience more days like this.

“Yes, these are exactly my favorites. How do you know? I never showed them to you or to anyone.” Mitya gasps theatrically. “Sarge! Do you snoop around my things when I don’t look? You fiend!”

“You weren’t exactly hiding the snacks when you were munching them with no care in the world.” Valeriy almost snorted. Almost. Heavens, he has never seen amusement on his pretty face. 

Then he remembered the Major was off shift. Is this how he is outside work? More relaxed? Smiling even?

“Mitya?” 

Mitya begins to blush, his heart beating loudly against his chest. Archons, this is not a crush anymore? He is in love.

He realizes too much in such a short time, and he wonders how his mind hasn’t exploded yet.

“M-Make yourself at home. I’ll make us tea.”

Several hours passed, and Mitya continued chatting about all the little things that came to his mind, too eager to finally talk someone’s ear off while also teasing Valeriy to drink up the little reactions he gave him. If Valeriy acts less stiff with the mask laid down beside him, he is more expressive—well, if one can call it expressive. His mouth curved slightly down when Mitya counted the Sarge's embarrassing moment when he almost tripped over a cat, his eyes flicked to the side when Mitya tried to flirt, his cheeks subtly pink. 

And now a comfortable smile rests on his lips when Mitya tells him about one of his successful projects in the past.

Until now, Mitya realizes he’s been talking too much. “Sorry! It’s already so late. I forgot you had other reasons to be here…” In truth, he was stalling and finding new topics to chat his ears off. Well, maybe half the truth. He missed Valeriy so much he had the urge to talk, talk, and talk. But he did not forget the real reason for his visit.

“That’s correct,” Valeriy responds, crossing his arms. 

Mitya squirms in his seat and swallows. “Yeah, this time I won’t attempt to escape. However, the window looks tempting. You know, jumping down and stuff.” He gives Valeriy a nervous laugh, but the latter is unamused.

“I’d rather you don't do that.” 

“I was joking, of course!”

“It’s not funny.”

“Right.” Mitya quickly shuts his mouth, his eyes looking at his hands that rest on his lap. “Sorry.”

Then he hears footsteps approaching, and the seat next to him dips. When Mitya looks up, he lets his gaze wander to his side. Valeriy sits next to him, worry flashes in his eyes.

“I know talking about oneself is difficult. Especially for you. I know so little about you, Mitya.” He reaches out with his hand, taking Mitya’s left hand in his own. Mitya’s breath hitches when warmth envelops his hand. 

“Oh… your…” Mitya glances at the table and sees Valeriy’s gauntlets resting there. 

“Forgive me. I had no time to change out of my uniform. I immediately came here after work.” Valeriy’s thumb brushes softly across soft skin, making Mitya shiver. 

“It’s fine!” Mitya says too quickly, his voice coming out higher than usual.

“What I’m trying to say is,” Valeriy starts, his eyes trained against their hands. “I’ll start being honest about what I feel, so you’re not alone. Of course you decide whether you want to tell me or not.”

Mitya opens his mouth and then closes them again. For the first time after hours of nonstop talking, he’s at a loss for words. Too many things swirl in his mind after Valeriy shows his cards and decides to be vulnerable for Mitya so that he isn’t alone in this. 

Being vulnerable feels so scary and lonely. He never desired to lay down his own card for everyone to see. He preferred to keep them close to his chest, hiding them from the world forever. Valeriy seemed to notice and decided to make the first move. The Valeriy that stands proud like a wall with no cracks whatsoever. You could do anything and try to coax anything out of Valeriy, but the unmovable mountain never falters, making every attempt futile.

Even Mitya tried to dig up embarrassing stories from Valeriy’s past, but it never worked. Like himself, he preferred to keep things to himself.

“Valeriy…” 

A warm hand squeezes against his as Valeriy takes a deep breath. His eyes are focused on his gauntlet. “I do faintly remember what happened in that theater with the Ruler of Death. It’s… like a distant dream that’s out of my reach, but it’s here, glued in my mind.” Valeriy stops for a moment as he takes another breath. From the look of it, he struggles with the incident too.

Of course. After all, Valeriy died in the afterlife, sitting lifelessly against the chair. The image pops before his eyes, and Mitya shakily breathes, squeezing Valeriy’s hand. 

“I forgot you remember it. True… due to the unique properties of the theater’s Ley Line, you all didn’t completely forget about the incidents.” How did he forget that again? They all remember, and they know it’s because of him. They know…

“Don’t blame yourself, Mitya.” Valeriy pulls him out of his thoughts, thumbs brushing at the back of his hand again to soothe his worry.

Mitya shakes his head, feeling incredibly guilty. “How can I not? I certainly would if one crazy individual came up with a groundbreaking idea that kills everyone in the room.” 

“Would you really blame that so-called crazy individual?” Valeriy asks, his eyes back on Mitya, but he averts his gaze, looking rueful.

“... I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe not.” 

Valeriy shifts, his body fully turned toward him and his arms stretched open after he lets go of Mitya’s hand. He looks a bit awkward since he’s not the type to initiate these gestures. “May I?”

Mitya blinks and blinks and blinks again, the redness returns to his face, but without answering, he throws himself into Valeriy’s arms, burying his face in his chest.

“You’re really something, Valeriy. You… you confuse me.” Mitya breathes out a chuckle, soaking in the warmth Valeriy provides. “First I feel guilty, then sad, and now I feel like my heart is about to jump out of my body!” 

Huge hands pat his back in comfort, pulling his small body closer to him. “I apologize. You, uh, looked like you needed a hug.”

Mitya hums and moves his head so he can rest his cheek against Valeriy’s chest. “How much do you remember, Valeriy?”

“Almost all of it. But it’s complicated to explain. It’s like trying to remember a dream after you wake up from your sleep.” Valeriy’s deep voice vibrates against his ear.

“I see…”

“It’s scary… I revisit that moment in my dream, but even my dreams are too blurry to grasp it fully.” Mitya looks up to see his face, uneasiness washes over his face. He understands Valeriy. He feels the same, and maybe that’s why he opens up to him. 

“The countless deaths, being unable to solve it as everyone dies one after another. I never felt that helpless in my life.” Valeriy mutters and lowers his head, the bangs covering his eyes, making it harder to read his expression.

“And my biggest fear was…” Mitya feels arms squeezing against him, but he doesn’t say anything, letting Valeriy continue. Mitya lets his fingers rest on his arm, gently brushing against it as an attempt to comfort him. “My biggest fear was to see you die. I would never forgive myself if one day I found you lifeless on the bed.”

Mitya remembers Valeriy’s lifeless body on the chair, and that moment alone shattered his heart into a million pieces. But alas, he had to put up a tough front for everyone as he racked his brain to solve this mystery. It was scary and devastating, but they depended on the group's brain. Everyone was agitated and horrified, and Mr. Chugunov's constant paranoia and shouting made it so hard to keep himself together.

Mitya contemplates sharing what he felt, but being so vulnerable… It’s so hard.

“I’m sorry—”

Valeriy caresses his back and shakes his head. “You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault, Mitya.”

Letting out a tiny, pitiful sound, he buries his face back against Valeriy’s chest. “... still.”

“I’m not telling you all of this to make you feel worse. So please.” Valeriy gently pushes Mitya off his chest to look at his face, thumb brushing against his cheek. Mitya shudders at the gesture and closes his eyes. “Don’t blame yourself.”

Mitya nods, yet a sorrowful expression crosses his face. “I-I try not to.”

Valeriy doesn’t seem to be convinced, though, but he says nothing in that regard and lets go of his shoulders, sitting back up. Mitya already misses the warmth of his hug, and he sighs, not wanting to overstep the boundary by jumping back into Valeriy’s arms. It seems the Major isn’t done talking, so he keeps quiet.

However, a large hand rests on top of his own again. Mitya looks back up to Valeriy and smiles. This is enough for now. 

“In the end, I died before you. A part of me is relieved I was first, but then I wondered.” Valeriy squeezes his hand against Mitya’s, seeking comfort himself. His hand trembles slightly, but he keeps himself together, forcing himself to stay collected. “Who would protect you when I’m gone? I know you’re strong and capable of doing that on your own, but the thought alone scared me.”

Mitya quickly uses his other hand to let it rest on Valeriy’s arm. “But–but it’s fine now. No one died, and we are alive, here! So…” It’s a weird feeling that comes across, being lost as to what to say, what to think. Mitya can’t just sugarcoat his words and tell him that they can forget about it, since unfortunately he still suffers the aftermath of Death.

“I talked with Miss Odette and the Traveler about it,” Valeriy says instead, his eyes intense against his own. “I asked them what happened after I died. They accused you of being dead and—”

“Which I did! Or, like, Miss Odette had all the right to suspect me of being a wandering soul like Ptashka and Shram, because she found me dead in the Armory palace.” Mitya says quickly when he sees Valeriy looking grim, almost angry.

“I know. And it’s logical.” Valeriy nods, but his mimic is almost upset. “But they threw you out of the snowstorm to die. If I was there…”

“Don’t be angry at them, please! I don’t feel betrayed or hurt. As you said, it’s logical, and it helped me confirm some things on the way.”

Valeriy squeezes his hand a bit more tightly to control his emotions. “I still don’t like it.” Valeriy murmurs, his voice coming out too quietly, but Mitya catches it anyway.

“Oh, Valeriy. It seems you’re the one who needs the hug.” Mitya pulls his hand under Valeriy's and throws his arms around his neck, climbing onto his lap and making himself comfortable. The other makes a surprised, quiet noise, but he lets Mitya on his lap. He puts his own arms around Mitya’s waist, pulling him closer to himself.

“I never saw you being this open with me, Sarge.” Mitya sighs and rests his head under Valeriy’s chin. 

“I’m doing this for you, Mr. Mitya.”

“You don’t have to, you know.” Mitya chuckles, feeling giddy at Valeriy’s sweet kindness. 

“But I want to. How else will I make you talk to me about your troubles?” Mitya stays quiet for a moment, his heart picks up speed for the nth time. He swears to the gods Valeriy will be the end of him. How can he say that? As if… as if he’s very important to Valeriy. 

This can’t be true, right? Mitya keeps choosing to be in denial, but the more Valeriy talks, the more he’s convinced he’s wrong. Does Sarge like him in that way? 

“What if I choose not to tell you?” Mitya asks instead.

“Then I won't regret opening up to you.” Mitya feels a kiss on top of his messy head, and he squeaks.

“You…!!” Mitya quickly lifts his head to look at Valeriy, his entire face now red. “You’re being so…!” 

Valeriy has the nerve to smile at him. How dare he?! “I’m what?”

Mitya groans before slapping his hands against Valeriy’s cheeks with a pout, relishing his faltering smile. “Fine. I’ll be honest with you… and with myself.”

“You don’t have to—”

Mitya interrupts him when he squishes his cheeks with his palms, enjoying the sight of Valeriy’s lips pursing forcefully. “To steal your words: I want to.” It’s not easy, he knows. He is never honest with himself, pressing his emotions down and acting like he’s fine, to the point that he managed to gaslight himself.

It’s scary. It was scary. But now? With Valeriy being the first to talk about what he felt during the incident, even though his memories are not consistent, like an object he can hold. For Valeriy, it must be like a fleeting bubble that floats away the closer he approaches, threatening to burst when fingertips reach out carefully. 

He slowly takes Mitya’s fears away. Now he is sure he is ready to fess up. 

“I know what you’re feeling, Valeriy. When I saw you on the chair, not moving and not breathing… I was so lost, upset, and…” Mitya stops squeezing Valeriy’s cheeks and instead caresses them. “For that moment my world stopped. It was difficult to accept that you were gone.” 

“Take your time,” Valeriy whispers and gently pats his back. He doesn’t want to know how he looks right now, hoping he doesn't cry. He can do it: deep breaths, deep breaths.

“... Of course I stayed calm and collected—Wait, no, I almost lost my cool when Mr. Chugunov kept whining, but that’s not important right now.” A chuckle escapes his lips. Valeriy hums but doesn’t say anything yet. 

“The image of you on the chair burned in my memory. I-I admit it took me a bit to get used to you sitting there. I know it sounds stupid but…”

“It’s not stupid,” Valeriy reassures him, his voice low and gentle. Mitya breathes shakily. Valeriy is too good for him, it’s unfair. He’s so gentle and so kind and…, and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

“Archon, you’re making it so difficult for me…” Mitya lets his thumb brush against Valeriy’s bottom lip, eyes lingering on his mouth. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop commenting.” Mitya’s breath hitches slightly when he feels hot breath against his thumb, feels his lips move, and notices the faint pulse under his tip. If he dares to move his thumb a bit, he’d have it inside his mouth. 

“... No, I don’t mean it like that.” He moves his thumb away, clearing his throat. “Can I ask you a favor after I’m done telling?”

Valeriy nods, lifting his hand and resting it on top of Mitya’s. His lips brush against his left palm. “Of course.”

Mitya’s heart beat so fast it’s almost deafening against his ears. Nervousness mixes with excitement as his head spins. He’s been sitting on Valeriy’s lap for several minutes now. It surprises him every time how much he fits on his lap, how tall Valeriy is. He’ll never get tired of their significant height difference.

“Can I ask for a favor now?” Mitya asks instead. He’s too impatient to wait, and he can’t think straight anyway. He knows he’s jumping the gun, but if not now, when will the perfect opportunity arrive?

“So impatient.” Valeriy lightly presses a kiss against his palm, and Mitya whines in a low tone. Yes, he is too impatient, so what! “But sure, what is it?”

“Please kiss me,” Mitya says immediately before he can stop himself. “Or I can kiss you! It doesn’t matter who does it first, you know? It’s just the act of kissing that’s burning in my mind so much, and I really, really, really wanna kiss you so much right now, so can we–hmph!”

Valeriy interrupts him when lips press against his own, quick and almost desperate. Mitya whines against his lips and puts his arms around his neck, kissing back fiercely. 

For a moment he stops thinking, his senses and thoughts are filled with Valeriy, his hot lips that devour his, his large hands that hold him tightly, his fingers that travel under his shirt and—

Oh, Archons, his fingers dig against his skin, making Mitya gasp against his mouth, his whole body shuddering. 

“Mmh…!” If Mitya pushes it further, would they…

Valeriy pulls away, the saliva connecting both their lips. His breath comes out heavy, blush painting his handsome face, and he stares at him as if he’s ready to eat him.

Nevertheless, Valeriy stays in place, taking his time to observe him, and Mitya’s face burns. 

“We have strayed from the topic,” Valeriy admits, looking bashful. “I need you to know that this wasn’t my purpose of visiting you to take advantage of your condition.” Thick fingers unfortunately leave his skin, and Mitya sighs in disappointment. “I’m sorry.”

“No!” He immediately says, putting his hands on Valeriy’s shoulders. “I would never think of you like that. And it was I who led this moment to this.” He leans in to give Valeriy a peck on the lips. 

“Mitya…”

“You don’t know how much this helps me. You’re healing me with your lips and body, and you’re sexiness and—”

“Mitya,” Valeriy warns him, his grip on his waist is tight.

Mitya laughs then. “Sorry!”

Valeriy sighs then and lifts Mitya off of his lap. “I’ll keep trying. I know it will take more than that for you to open up to me.” Valeriy the fiend ignores his big, sad eyes and his wobbling bottom lip. He wants to be back on his lap! 

“But it’s a challenge I gladly accept.” A satisfied smile finds its way to Valeriy’s lips as he puts his large hand on top of Mitya’s head, his finger carding against his messy locks.

“Hmph, I’d like to see you try.” He says playfully, knowing full well Valeriy will succeed faster than he thinks. “I won’t make it easy for you.” 

“Good.”

Mitya inhales sharply when fingers find their way to his face, lightly brushing at his cheek and nose and then resting on his chin, lifting it to meet his eyes. A dangerous glint plays in his gaze before it’s gone, replaced with softness. “As long as you don’t keep yourself shut… I’ll be patient.” 

Valeriy is not fair. So unfair! If he keeps up this romantic attitude, he won’t make it far in life. Mitya lost count of how many times his heart skipped a beat or raced as his emotions went haywire. Not only did he share a kiss with Valeriy, he talked like a devoted boyfriend, trying to make his other half happy.

Mitya slaps his hands on his face, hiding his burning expression from the world. “Y-yes, I promise I won’t hide or lie to you.”

The corner of Valeriy’s lips stretches more into a smile before standing up. “It’s late, we should—”

“Can you stay the night?” Mitya interrupts him, a hand clutching Valeriy’s arm as he stands up as well.

“Are you sure?” Valeriy asks carefully.

Mitya nods. “I insist! Though I don’t have any spare clothes for you to wear. Not my fault you’re tall as a mountain.” He shrugs.

“Right. I don’t have anything to—”

“The only solution for you is to sleep naked.”

Valeriy lets out a violent cough, his face turning a deep crimson. That’s a first!

“No!” 

“But you can’t sleep in your uniform, and I don’t want you to leave!” Mitya uses his other hand to grab Valeriy’s arm as well as to prevent him from leaving his apartment.

“And I won’t be sleeping naked in your bed.”

Too bad, so what can they…

An idea pops up in his head.

“Then I come over to your house. Wait here, let me pack up my pajamas, my toothbrush, my work-related stuff, and…”

In the end, Valeriy agrees without protest and waits for Mitya to pack his stuff.

Late into the night, Mitya lies on the well-made bed. Valeriy’s bed. His back is turned against Valeriy, whose chest is pressed against his back. It took Mitya a bit to convince Valeriy not to sleep on the couch, saying that he needs his support to chase away the nightmares. That made Valeriy’s eyes widen before agreeing.

Mitya lazily plays with Valeriy’s fingers as he thinks about their talk an hour ago. He isn’t sure what they are, but that’s a topic for tomorrow. 

“I keep having nightmares,” Mitya starts, his voice a whisper. Valeriy hums, showing he’s still awake. “About that incident. I guess it was obvious since you guessed it right before.” He puts his left palm against Valeriy’s huge one. His palm still stings from time to time, a cruel reminder that he carries Death in his soul. 

“I’m back there every night. Alone. But I’m never the one dying. It’s everyone who dies… It’s you who keeps dying, and I…” his voice trembles when he sees the images of Valeriy dead in his arms, gone from his life. 

Valeriy pulls Mitya closer to his chest and presses a kiss on top of his head. “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

Mitya inhales and exhales deeply. “Yeah. You’re here… with me.” He leans against his warmth, closing his eyes. 

“I’ll wake you up when you have another nightmare. And if I don’t notice it, then wake me up.” Valeriy whispers against his hair.

“Okay.” Mitya breathes. “I will.”

Both are silent again. Valeriy’s heartbeat and calm breath lull him slowly to sleep. 

“I just remembered,” Valeriy suddenly says, and Mitya blinks his eyes open. “On my way to your home, I met Miss Odette. She said she and the others saw you in the theater and were concerned that you left with a sorrowful expression.”

Oh. Mitya forgot about that encounter, or if he can even call it an encounter. “Aah… Of course she noticed.” He sighs.

“They care about you, too, Mitya.”

They care… Warmth blossoms in his heart, and he smiles a bit. Knowing how Odette operates, she sought out either him or Valeriy and got straight to the point.

“She also told me that Miss Vodyanitsa invites you to Podvorye Restaurant for lunch with the others.” 

Mitya turns around to meet Valeriy’s eyes. “Are you coming, too?”

Valeriy looks at him with a frown. “We both have work tomorrow.”

Mitya chuckles then. “Hmm, I see. Indeed we have tomorrow, hehe.” That means Valeriy will chase him. And that also means that he will drag the Major to lunch with them whether he likes it or not. 

“Thank you for telling me, Valeriy.” Mitya yawns and closes his eyes. 

Valeriy hums. “Good night, Mitya.”

“Sweet dreams, my dear Valeriy.”

Unfortunately, the nightmares did not cease, and Valeriy is sadly not his ultimate cure, but tonight he woke up in his arms, and his presence was enough to lull him back to a dreamless sleep.

This is enough for now.