[ in stillness, he waits for questions that never come. the things that kaz thinks nikolai might ask — that he should — are tucked away inside. perhaps nikolai fears who might hear the answer, in his doubled mind. the moment passes.
he watches nikolai’s shadow-stained fingers fan across the bed and imagines them on his skin, testing the waters in fantasy before wading into the deep in reality. another nod, and he swings his legs onto the bed. nothing to do but adjust his loose collar and button-down when confronted with such tiny, thoughtful gestures of care. soft support at his back, warmth on his skin. although he’s decided to abide such things from nikolai, he hasn’t the faintest idea how to appreciate them. there’s something unsettled — no, unguarded in the eyes that catch nikolai peering up through fairer lashes and auburn hair, shadows only there in his mind. it’s more intimacy than his dreams dare conjure, knuckles brushing his inner thigh. another vulnerability that he shouldn’t allow in the part of his legs.
stay, he says, and all kaz can think is you’ll die of the proximity. it should be a simple request, but kaz finds that he has no experience in asks of this nature. no resting beyond the necessary. no waiting for anything but revenge. if his life had ended the night he ruined pekka’s, he would call the saints kind.
calloused fingers put his attribution of carefulness to the monster (not nikolai) to shame. this is the genuine article. the only light left on this whole dark earth, inviting him to share its fading warmth. awe cracks his mask, lost in looking at the miracle of nikolai lantsov until the notebook returns to his hands and jolts him back. his heart sinks as he reads the words. if it can hear, why wouldn’t it see through nikolai’s eyes — or feel the movement of his hand? stay recurs, its meaning warped. stay to save him, to clear a path forward, and to watch him go.
he scribbles a note, as if absent-minded, before dropping the book in the space between them. say them in a way only i’ll understand. a puzzle. a challenge. surely nikolai will enjoy the difficulty, despite the high stakes.
against his better judgement, kaz pulls off one glove and then the other. ]
[ with a sigh, ] I’m not any better than you at this. [ staying or indulging in stillness. all those times he told nikolai to quiet, kaz had been buzzing with the divine purpose of keeping him there. now, with the reverse in play, he finds simply holding himself in the present profoundly difficult.
he catches nikolai’s wrist, interrupting his work on the bandages, delicate fingers wrapped around blackened skin. nikolai’s pulse fails to arc into a crashing wave, so kaz traces the black lightning down his arm to his rolled sleeve. ]
Always the same tack with you. [ tending his wounds, he means. it’s teasing through his hesitation. he stretches his other arm across nikolai’s chest to seek the pulse in his throat, flesh still clammy to the touch but flushing attractively as blood revitalises the paths slowed by genya’s tonic. ] I’ll clear my schedule. [ no need for another’s hands on him, if nikolai wishes for this thankless work. strange, that nikolai should want him to accept the attention of others and place himself squarely in the path that might lead away. pleasing, too. he leans closer, closer, closest, as his hand fits under nikolai’s jaw and tips it up, just so. after the events of yesterday, he knows now that nikolai wouldn’t keep him here if he wasn’t wanted, which makes ducking to kiss him marginally less daunting. like the leap between ketterdam’s buildings as opposed to the tumble over a ship’s rail.
it’s short — and sweeter than he’ll ever admit. sea spray flecks his skin, but that’s not so bad. warm cheeks, a quick smile, then his eyes cut away to the window. he releases nikolai and raps his fist on the notebook. ]
no subject
he watches nikolai’s shadow-stained fingers fan across the bed and imagines them on his skin, testing the waters in fantasy before wading into the deep in reality. another nod, and he swings his legs onto the bed. nothing to do but adjust his loose collar and button-down when confronted with such tiny, thoughtful gestures of care. soft support at his back, warmth on his skin. although he’s decided to abide such things from nikolai, he hasn’t the faintest idea how to appreciate them. there’s something unsettled — no, unguarded in the eyes that catch nikolai peering up through fairer lashes and auburn hair, shadows only there in his mind. it’s more intimacy than his dreams dare conjure, knuckles brushing his inner thigh. another vulnerability that he shouldn’t allow in the part of his legs.
stay, he says, and all kaz can think is you’ll die of the proximity. it should be a simple request, but kaz finds that he has no experience in asks of this nature. no resting beyond the necessary. no waiting for anything but revenge. if his life had ended the night he ruined pekka’s, he would call the saints kind.
calloused fingers put his attribution of carefulness to the monster (not nikolai) to shame. this is the genuine article. the only light left on this whole dark earth, inviting him to share its fading warmth. awe cracks his mask, lost in looking at the miracle of nikolai lantsov until the notebook returns to his hands and jolts him back. his heart sinks as he reads the words. if it can hear, why wouldn’t it see through nikolai’s eyes — or feel the movement of his hand? stay recurs, its meaning warped. stay to save him, to clear a path forward, and to watch him go.
he scribbles a note, as if absent-minded, before dropping the book in the space between them. say them in a way only i’ll understand. a puzzle. a challenge. surely nikolai will enjoy the difficulty, despite the high stakes.
against his better judgement, kaz pulls off one glove and then the other. ]
[ with a sigh, ] I’m not any better than you at this. [ staying or indulging in stillness. all those times he told nikolai to quiet, kaz had been buzzing with the divine purpose of keeping him there. now, with the reverse in play, he finds simply holding himself in the present profoundly difficult.
he catches nikolai’s wrist, interrupting his work on the bandages, delicate fingers wrapped around blackened skin. nikolai’s pulse fails to arc into a crashing wave, so kaz traces the black lightning down his arm to his rolled sleeve. ]
Always the same tack with you. [ tending his wounds, he means. it’s teasing through his hesitation. he stretches his other arm across nikolai’s chest to seek the pulse in his throat, flesh still clammy to the touch but flushing attractively as blood revitalises the paths slowed by genya’s tonic. ] I’ll clear my schedule. [ no need for another’s hands on him, if nikolai wishes for this thankless work. strange, that nikolai should want him to accept the attention of others and place himself squarely in the path that might lead away. pleasing, too. he leans closer, closer, closest, as his hand fits under nikolai’s jaw and tips it up, just so. after the events of yesterday, he knows now that nikolai wouldn’t keep him here if he wasn’t wanted, which makes ducking to kiss him marginally less daunting. like the leap between ketterdam’s buildings as opposed to the tumble over a ship’s rail.
it’s short — and sweeter than he’ll ever admit. sea spray flecks his skin, but that’s not so bad. warm cheeks, a quick smile, then his eyes cut away to the window. he releases nikolai and raps his fist on the notebook. ]