Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It took a moment for the man to realize he was awake, heavy eyes opening to darkness. He blinked in confusion, his unusual surroundings slowly coming into focus. On the other hand, perhaps he wasn’t?

He was lying in an endless sea of calm water, his body resting gently on its surface, head turned to the side. The only movement came from the gentle ripples of his breath, the liquid cool to the touch. Goosebumps bloomed across his arms, far too cold for bare skin. He noted that he was unable to see the seafloor.

Yet there was no fear of drowning, for if he were to sink he would have done so already. Instead, the water held him almost protectively, pushing back so that he would not slip beneath its icy depths. He groaned as he sat up, his body heavier than he remembered. Something was wrong about this, a pervasive fog dulling his thoughts and slowing his mind. Thousands of tiny little stars twinkled above him, the sight was both comforting and terribly lonesome.

He tried the stand only to fall onto his knees, the water cushioning his fall. Why was he here? How did he end up in this place? Actually, now that he was thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure who he was… The realization made him sit upright, brows knitted together in deep concentration.

He struggled to recall anything, wincing as his thoughts slipped through his grasp like intangible wisps of smoke in an endless void of nothingness, leaving him alone with only his senses. He took in his surroundings. There was no shore, he was completely alone here. Only miles and miles of twinkling night sky and serene ocean. Glancing down at his hands the sight of his fingers felt foreign. Turning them every which way, the man began to feel his frustration mounting. There was no familiarity in the tiny incision scars on his right hand or the thickness of his forearms, dark hair standing out against pale skin.

He huffed, slamming a fist into the water with a splash. Realizing the water was reflecting the stars above as a perfect mirror, he leaned closer. It took a moment for the ripples to clear from his outburst, moving even closer as a form began to take shape. A round face was staring back at him. Dark eyes, full cheeks, altogether framed by black hair. His expression was severe, most likely due to being unable to recognize the soft yet broad shouldered man in his reflection.

He flinched backwards when a voice called to him, but disturbingly enough, the whispers were completely contained within his own mind.

It has been far too long since we last spoke my child, and while I have been unable to reach you before, it appears that you have sought me out of your own volition. Winter stretches on and my connection to your world grows ever more dim, but I can feel it… how strongly your heart beats bearing my name. None of your kin have been able to reach me… Tell me, how did you manage this?

The man shivered, the voice all encompassing and frigid, though Her words were not spoken with malice, She almost sounded wistful?

‘Melancholic is more accurate’ he thought. He tried once more to stand on wobbly legs only to fall with a curse.

“Do not flatter yourself,” he hissed, ashamed how out of breath he was despite the lack of exertion. “I did not seek you out, I do not know you.” He had a feeling She was watching him closely.

Oh? Then perhaps it is simply your time…

He winced as the being pulled at his mind, sifting through thoughts that did not belong to Her.

Yes, I see it now… What they have done to you. You have suffered so much, and your loyalty has always been most cherished. Your body grows weaker, not intended to persist through such grievous transformations. Even my chosen have their limitations, yet you push yourself to survive in this harsh and unforgiving world. Perhaps this is why I can reach you now? You need not endure this torture anymore.

The sorrow in the other’s voice was agonizing, he braced himself against each pulse of emotion exuded from the strange presence.
“Whoever you are, leave me be.” He shook his head, hoping to jostle the pervasive assault to his mind. “I am not interested in entertaining idle conversation, I only want to leave this place.”

Fear not. I shall take you now, all this pain and suffering has come to an end. You can rest in my kingdom.

It irritated him how She spoke to him as though they knew each other. He grit his teeth, pushing hard at the alien presence in his skull. The sensation was unpleasant, like removing sticky tar as it shifts and melts between your fingers. For a brief moment the connection weakened, his first glimpse of clarity since opening his eyes. It hit him then who he was speaking to.

“I am not interested in going with you,” he spat, stumbling onto shaky legs. “I have found new purpose.” He tugged harder at the alien intrusion in his mind, anger mounting. “You are once again withholding my memories, release them now.”

Something was forming on the horizon, bathing everything around him in dancing lights, somber turquoise and cerulean shifting across the night skies. Yet the light was weaker than it used to be. The entity’s curious voice slithered into his mind once more, burrowing into his skull and nestling into his mind like an icy embrace.

Why? Those memories have brought nothing but grief to you.

“They belong to me, not you. You cannot take them again.” Her voice lowered into something soft, like she was trying to reason with an unruly child.

I did not steal from you. Everything I did was to protect you. I safeguarded your weaknesses to allow you to reach your full potential. Pain can cloud judgement, evolve into fear and indecision. Action is the antidote to despair.

“They are mine!” He cried, voice echoing out far louder than it should have. The lights above shifted erratically, the being’s hesitation allowed him to twist free, memories rushing back so quickly that it had him stumbling over himself.

That’s right. His name was Boris. He lived in a humble house outside the city with a dog, a cat, and a man he cherished above all else. He was both a man and a monster. Wait. If he was here then… He stared up at the lights in horror, his mouth going dry suddenly.

Death was speaking to him once more.

No. She couldn’t be… After all this time why would she suddenly appear to him now? Then it dawned on him. This was a dream, a result of unresolved fears. It would explain the surreal surroundings, his sudden physical weakness, his inability to think properly. Death did not speak to him anymore, She had no power over him.

“I need to wake up,” he reasoned, pinching at his skin. “I refuse to stay here.” The lights dancing across the sky grew brighter, a force pressing against his mind once more.

That form… Why are you wearing that skin once more?

For the first time something akin to anger flashed in the being’s tone before quickly collecting Herself.

Ah. I see. This is his doing, isn’t it?

He stiffened as the temperature around him shifted from cool to downright frigid, teeth chattering as ice crystals glittered like fine lace across his forearms.

This is why he could never be one of us, he has done nothing but drive a wedge in between you and I.

A gentle touch caressed his cheek, the cold seeping deep into his bones. Staggering backwards, he tried desperately to free himself.

We understand each other, for we are the same. Outcasts discarded by humanity. He can never truly be what you need. His fear is too great, unwilling to take that final leap of faith to embrace change. I know you have been enticed by sickly sweet words and saccharine promises of devotion, but that is temporary. He can never understand you like I can. Return to me.

Wake up. You need to wake up.

“I will not go with you!” The silence was deafening. His chest rising and falling in quick succession, unable to draw a full breath in.

This is not your fault She sighed, a condescending air tainting her next words. I should have been more vigilant, should have tended to your needs better. Perhaps then you would not have discarded my love for his.

Invisible hands held him still, forcing him to his knees. He struggled against Her hold once he realized he was sinking, the water no longer keeping him afloat. Panic surged even further when he noticed something rising in front of him, skeletal and inhuman; sunken eyes staring coldly into his own.

You do not need this old skin any longer, this is who you were meant to be. Perfection incarnate.

No, this was a nightmare, he desperately needed to wake up. The water was past his chest, heavy and viscous. There was no escaping it, his legs were not strong enough to resist such a thick substance. He was left scrabbling at the surface, nails unable to find purchase here, pooling uselessly through his fingers. The creature was standing above him now, familiar and grotesque; a cruel smile decorating its face. Was that how he looked to Misha back then? Now he understood his fear, what was looking down at him was the furthest thing from human, even though he could see traces of himself within its face.

“This isn’t real,” he gasped. “You have no power over me.” She sighed again, something gentle smoothed the hair atop his head.

I do not blame you, the fault is my own. Rest. All is well now.

His head was being dragged under, frantically gasping for air before his mouth and nose were completely covered. Twisting uselessly, he sank deeper and deeper in to the depths of the ocean, the stars dying out one by one. Bubbles slowly rose from his nose, the air forcefully pressed from his lungs. Before long he was choking, a horrible burning in his lungs as he jerked uselessly against the water suffocating him. His arms sank to his sides, too heavy to claw against the cold any longer. His body felt leaden and chilled to the core, the urge to give in was so strong. His vision was failing him, tired eyes slowly slipping shut.

Warmth bloomed across his spine, golden light suddenly enveloping and shielding him from the bitter cold. The water was pushed away, a perfect bubble of sunshine amongst an inky sea of darkness. Air flooded into his lungs, the man gulping it down greedily between each chest wrenching hack, gelatinous liquid purged from his lungs. This heat felt familiar, intimate, loving. He recognized it immediately. Without needing to see he reached towards the presence, the numbness melting away from his frozen digits.

How infuriating. Even now he must meddle in my affairs. No matter. My final order still stands. I trust that you shall do what needs to be done. Farewell, my child.

His fingers brushed against something searing hot, calloused fingers wrapping around his own. The hand yanked him into the light, leaving behind an ocean of loneliness.

He jerked awake, eyes darting around erratically. It was still dark, but he could just make out the well worn pillow where his human usually lay. Instinctively his heart rate spiked, worried at the sight of an empty bed only to realize a hand was moving along his back. The homeowner was sitting by his side, leaning over him with clear worry in his eyes.

“Sorry to wake you. You were talking in your sleep. You okay?” Instant relief washed over him, a soft smile already forming at seeing the other. It really was just a dream. He reached out to him, the human obliging and moving closer.

“Better now,” he croaked, resting a hand on the other man’s thigh. In all honesty he felt run down, he couldn’t tell if it was from the dream or from yesterday’s activities or a combination of the two. He was thrilled when the human leaned over him, curious hands moving over cool skin.

“Nightmare?” It took a minute for the visitor to respond, so distracted by the gentle touches moving over his chest.

“Yes.” The human hummed in response, currently fascinated by the ridges and valleys across his ribcage, tracing over the taut skin. His body had not quite returned to normal, still vastly taller and stronger than he was before, but he didn’t feel as invulnerable as he did yesterday. Especially since he could feel every little twitch of the hermit’s fingers as he continued his exploration.

He watched the other for a moment, appreciating every tiny feature. Right now his hair was sticking up at an odd angle, the result of sleeping on it while it was still damp. He still wore seemingly permanent bags under his eyes even though sleep nowadays came easier. His night shirt was rumpled and crooked, a trail of brown hair just peeking out beneath his navel. Most would probably describe him as disheveled right now, clearly exhausted and still on the verge of sleep. Nevertheless he was effortlessly handsome, appealing in every way to Boris.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The visitor reached out for his hand, a sigh leaving his nose when the other wordlessly intertwined their fingers. How did he ever get this lucky?

“You do not have to coddle me, Mishenka,” he teased. “It was foolish.” Apparently that was not the answer he was looking for, the human rolling his eyes and smacking at his shoulder.

“Just tell me you dope.” He hesitated, not wanting to worry the other. But it was the small twitch of a smile that had him confessing, feeling like he owed the other honesty now. Especially since he bore those terrible bruises, a reminder of his recent shortcomings.

“I dreamt Death returned to collect me.” The smile on the other’s face died, replaced by something serious. The hand around his own gripped tighter, the human leaning down further to face him.
“I’m sorry. That must have been awful… Was she angry with you?” The visitor shook his head recalling her soft yet irksome tone.

“No. She was irritating.” His partner turned his hand over in his own, looking over the bony protrusions of his bad hand. For once it didn’t ache, the pain abated by the infection no doubt. He had felt the bones snap back into place inside the heat chamber, damaged nerves restored once more. The visitor prayed the relief would last for a few days but he knew it most likely wouldn’t.

“How so? What was she doing?”

“She was condescending. Very typical of Her, She was prone to talking down to Her ‘pawns’ as if we were children. In some ways I wonder if that is how she perceived us. And she took my memories away again,” when Misha froze he added “In the dream of course.” The human was using his thumbs to work soothing circles into the back of his hand. He didn’t have the heart to tell him he didn’t require it, always greedy to accept his touch.

“And you said she tried to ‘collect’ you…” He looked up, as if he just thought of something. “So she stripped you of your identity and tried to kill you.” The human let out a soft noise, his gaze elsewhere. “Guess we both have some pretty fucked up dreams.”

The knowing look in his eyes did something to him, something he didn’t like. He felt vulnerable. The visitor didn’t like that feeling at all.

He huffed and turned his head, hating to put any more of a burden on his human’s shoulders. “I admit, it was not pleasant. I even knew it was a dream as it was occurring and yet I let it drag on for far too long.” He wanted his human to stop making that face, he’d been the source of too many of his problems as of late. He was supposed to bring him security, protect him. Love him. Not bring him down. The pale man was reaching up, trying to capture his precious human’s attention.

“But you know who rescued me?” Those green eyes snapped to his, never failing to make his chest flutter, so intense sometimes he forgot how to breathe. “I was drowning in an ocean of twilight, unable to lift my head above the water. But golden sunbeams broke through the darkness. You reached out to me and pulled me out of it. My sunshine.” He grinned, loving how predictably his ears turned pink. The homeowner was sputtering curses under his breath, so adorably flustered it made him laugh. A hand pressed over his mouth insistently, his frustration met with glee.

“Lower your voice you idiot,” he hissed. “It’s four in the morning.” He was deflecting of course, they both knew the plaster walls surrounding them were practically concrete; the likelihood of being overheard slim to none. The hermit had even admitted that during the cataclysm he couldn’t hear someone being murdered in the next room. Waking up to find their corpse in the morning was always an unpleasant surprise.

Through the harsh words and fiery looks there was clear affection there, warmth blooming across his cheeks as he allowed the visitor to maneuver him into his embrace. With his human tucked safely under his chin and his delicious body heat seeping into his chilled skin he couldn’t help but let out a happy trill, so grateful for moments like this.

“You should go back to sleep Mishenka,” he rumbled, smoothing his shirt back down with one hand. “I can tell you’re exhausted.”

“Fuck you, I’m not tired,” he insisted with a yawn, the visitor laughing at the blatant lie. The human propped his head up and looked down at the pale man, eyes drooping shut. “Tell me, what ‘secret’ is Dasha keeping for you? She wouldn’t tell me yesterday.” He tilted his head in confusion before it dawned on him.

“Oh how sweet. She thinks you don’t know already.” He couldn’t keep from chuckling. “She was able to discern I was a visitor. I told her not to tell anyone. It appears she planned to even keep that secret from you.” The homeowner was smiling at that, a small shake of his head.

“And she wasn’t scared?”

“On the contrary. She liked me more because I was a visitor.” He tapped his human on the nose. “You’re going to have to work on that with her. She is far too trusting, I may be ‘well behaved’ but trust the wrong visitor and it will end badly.” He smacked his hand away.

“Well behaved is debateable. More like insufferable.” The visitor made a small noise of indignation but the hermit ignored him. “I’ll talk to her… Still, I’m impressed you two got along so well. She’s such a good kid. Already looking out for you.” His face fell, the smile slowly slipping from his face. This had the visitor gripping his sides, rubbing little circles into warm skin.

“What’s on your mind?” Moonlight was slipping through the flimsy curtains, casting the room in a gentle azure. He admired how it made it look like the homeowner’s hair was glowing, soft tufts illuminated against the dark.

“I’ll be honest… I’m terrified I’m going to fuck this up. I don’t know the first thing about kids and my father was a piece of shit so I don’t even have my own childhood to use for reference. I have no idea what I’m doing.” The visitor leaned up, nuzzling into the other’s cheek.

“You shouldn’t fret so much. The child clearly holds you in high regard and you get along with Margo just fine.”

“Margo’s older. There’s a huge difference between teenagers and children, not to mention how their personalities are nowhere near the same. Margo’s always been very independent. Hell, during the cataclysm half the time she took care of herself. Dasha is so young and has gone through so much already. Her father was a good man… I can’t compare to that. I’m not even sure what she needs… Am I really the best person for her right now?” The pale man withdrew just enough that he could make eye contact, both hands now cradling the man’s face firmly.

“Yes. You are exactly what she needs right now. Daria looks up to you so much. She asked about you repeatedly while we were in the camp. She only chose to trust me because I told her I was there on your behalf. I understand your reservations but I believe your fears are unfounded. As far as parenting goes, perhaps think of what your father would do and avoid doing that.” The last comment earned him a half aborted laugh, the human cursing him with a shake of his head.

“It’s not that simple.” He hummed, leaning close to mouth at the tender skin below his ear, noting how his breath shuttered as he did.

”I don’t see why not? I have observed how you speak and interact with the tiny humans. They both consider you fair and reasonable, showing respect for you. Meanwhile you had a guest misplace her offspring during her stay here.”

”She was a visitor.” He waved him off, ignoring his icy stare.

“Acknowledged. Still, that is the level of parenting you are comparing yourself to. How hard could it be?” The human made a face and muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘pretty sure that she ate her own kid’.

“I am not worried. You have proven yourself time and time again to be capable of so much.” When the human gave him a look as if he still didn’t believe him he added, “Misha, you slayed a body eater on your own while blind and injured. You can handle raising a child.” He was ducking his head, the flush on his cheeks darkening.

“Bastard. When did you get so charming?” He grinned, loving how his human was crawling closer, now hovering over his face.

“I’ve always been charming Mishenka. You’ve just been in denial.” Fingers were tracing over his jawline, an intensity in his partner’s gaze that had made his heart quicken; exhaustion now forgotten as those pretty lips parted.

“I missed you so fucking much.” The raw emotion in those words had him surging forward, capturing chapped lips with his own. He was met with enthusiasm, it was the hermit for once that was tracing his bottom lip with his tongue. This caught him off guard for a moment, not used to the human taking charge like this. But the pale man recovered quickly, pushing back possessively until he was pinned against the sheets, wrists captured in one hand. That didn’t stop him from grinding down hard on the visitor, another surprise move out of the human. He shook from the effort of holding back.

This was dangerous. He was easier to rile up in this form, fighting against something primal that urged him to devour the man under him. If he lost control he risked hurting his human. And that could never be allowed to happen.

The visitor had to pull back when the man bit his lip, using his other hand to keep him away, long fingers splayed across his chest. “How bold,” he panted, his heartbeat in his ears. The human looked so delicious like this, red faced and panting through parted lips as he restrained him. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He had to stop things now, he was barely holding himself together. “As flattering as this is, I'm afraid we can’t go any further while I am like this.” He gestured to his body with his free hand.

“Why? I like it.” The visitor’s breath stuttered, leaning closer involuntarily. He wasn’t usually this honest or forward, it was throwing him off guard. The visitor scanned him over, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“My. You are forward today… What’s gotten into you?” His next words nearly made his resolve crumble completely.

“Boriska. I almost lost you.” He was forcing the words out. The visitor could tell he was fighting against his insecurities, seeing it in the way his eyes darted away, voice barely above a whisper. He found himself leaning forward, hanging off of every word.

“The entire time I was trapped, I thought about you. Worrying over you, wishing you would hurry up and come home. It was agonizing. But knowing you would come back to me is what kept me going. I started daydreaming about you to keep myself sane. What I would do when we finally reunited.” The hermit had managed to wriggle an arm free while he was distracted, a calloused hand cupping his cheek. “I missed your voice. Your little touches. How you always make the day worth getting out of bed for. God you drive me up the wall sometimes but hell, I’m tired of pretending I’m not crazy for you. I want you so much, if you’ll have me.”

The visitor sucked in a trembling breath, fighting himself with all the strength he had. His straightforward response was doing something to him, his affection for the other was practically melting his insides. But the visitor side of him was burning hot, craving something carnal. Complete domination. And those dominant urges are what worried him most.

“Want is not the issue,” he grit out, eyes once again firmly clamped shut. “Believe me. I want you, I want you so bad it hurts— But we can’t. We shouldn’t. Not until this form has reverted back.” He could feel a thumb gently brushing against his cheek, drawing a pathetic whine from the visitor. If he kept touching him like this he wouldn’t be able to deny him, his body already reacting so strongly from his affection, already aching and hard from a few touches and heartfelt words. How embarrassing.

“Why?” It should be obvious. He was absolutely looming over the human right now, nearly seven feet tall enshrouded in unyielding muscle with boundless stamina and a full bout of the infection coursing throughout his entire body, making him both animalistic and inhuman.

“I could hurt you,” was all he could argue, failing to lean away from his human’s torturously tender touches. He stated the fact with as much conviction as he was able, yet the human still looked unconvinced.

“Boriska. Look at me.” The command had him bristling and leaning forward, a warning growl fighting its way up his throat. Visitors instinctually didn’t take orders well, only Death could command them. The pale man reminded himself that he was in control, not his inner monster, flexing the tense muscles in his shoulders. Unfazed, the hermit sat up slowly, the hand on his chest giving way as the visitor’s full attention was directed into those dizzying green eyes. “Do you care for me?”

“Of course,” he breathed, moving ever closer.

“Would you protect me?” What an asinine question. There was no one he wouldn’t fight to keep this man safe. He’d even face off against Death herself if it came down to it.

“Always.”

“Would you ever hurt me?” The answer was rushing out before he could think properly, brain function impeded as it overheated.

“No.” The human laid back, flashing the pale man a smug grin.

“Then I don’t see the issue here. I trust you. And you know by now I’m not made of glass. I can take what you give me.” The visitor blinked before grinning, in some way admiring the man’s attempt to manipulate him.

“Nice try darling but I’m not sure you quite understand what you’re getting yourself into here.” He was pressing closer now, teeth bared and eyes predatory, situating himself where their height difference was now abundantly clear. The homeowner gasped when he aligned their hips, cool fingers wrapping around his thigh and yanking him closer. “You have only ever had me at my weakest. Want me to elaborate on what you’re asking for?” His grip tightened, pupils dilating as the human squirmed underneath him. “I am going to ruin you. Make you mine, body and soul.” He rolled his hips hard, the way the human’s eyes snapped down told him he finally noticed. His height hadn’t been the only thing that had ‘grown’.

“You can see it now, yes? Why this is a bad decision…” His fingers were dipping underneath the fabric of his nightshirt, releasing a groan as he gripped the muscle there, the human’s pulse practically beating through his skin. “If you don’t want this you need to stop me now.” There was no hesitation.

“I want this. Fuck me like you mean it.” The resulting ripping sound was unexpected to both of them, most of the human’s sleep shirt torn and hanging from his fist. The unamused look in the human’s eyes was almost comical. “What do you have against my clothes?!”

“You shouldn’t be wearing any,” he snarled, tearing the rest off of him as he yelped. He craved him entirely. The sounds he made, the heat of his skin, the way their bodies slotted together as if they were a fated pair.

“You were made for me,” he grit out, digging his nails harshly into the plump skin of his hips. “Perfect in every way.” The human was sensitive to praise he had noticed, his words were affecting him already, the evidence apparent in the growing wet spot in his boxers. He thumbed at his chest, savoring the sound of his human mewling underneath him, head thrown back to show off the mottled bruising of his neck.

That’s right. He put those there. Mishenka belonged to him. No one else.

One strong pinch had the human biting on his arm to muffle himself, the sight was both intoxicating and infuriating for the visitor. The thing was his rational side understood why he was doing this, but the visitor in him craved punishment for denying him those pretty little sounds. His teeth were sinking into the swell of his chest before he could think better of it, the human arching off the bed as he did. Tiny pin pricks of blood were already seeping out of the mark, a perfect impression of his teeth shuttering as the hermit sucked in ragged breaths. He lowered himself with a satisfied trill, sucking and licking at the skin in apology.

There were fingers threading into his hair, trying to keep him in place as his tongue lathed across heated flesh, snaking its way across his chest and up his neck. He was half tempted to keep going, enjoying how the human twitched and jolted as the slick appendage swirled around sensitive areas. But he was running out of patience, grinding against the human’s front more insistently. The friction wasn’t enough, the visitor feeling the sheets tear in his fingers as he fought against himself, his hips never stilling. Only the thin fabric between their boxers separated them now, the same insipid undergarments that the human had forced him into wearing recently. He needed them off right now, hooking a finger into his own waistband and ripping the garment off by force. Instantly he felt relief, his cock now resting heavy on the hermit’s stomach.

His head was blissfully empty, focusing solely on the panting human beneath him. He was pulling the offensive fabric of the human’s own underwear down and away from the delicious sight in front of him admiring his naked form; cherishing every beautiful scar, freckle, and beauty spot. He had something new in mind for his beloved, noticing how worked up the other man was already, cock swollen and leaking against his stomach.

”Mishenka,” he cooed, aligning himself so their erections were pressed together, the copious amount of precome making things slick and even more enjoyable given how the human’s eyes were practically rolling into the back of his skull.

”So perfect,” he purred, rolling his hips so firmly the smaller man was thoroughly trapped against him. “So beautiful. My precious—” his breath barely ghosted over his lips, “—beloved—“ the way his voice lowered an octave made the hermit shiver, unable to look away, “—darling human. Taking such good care of me.” The way the human slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle himself was the icing on the cake. He was going to devour this man.

“Fuck. Look at you. Barely even started and you’re falling apart so beautifully for me. How flattering.” He was propped over him on his elbows, zeroing in on how the other hissed and shuttered to every thrust of his hips. He knew just how to work him into a gasping mess, practically drooling over his human now as rutted against him, that lovely blush now far past his shoulders.

“You’re mine.” His fingers dug into the man’s hip so he could pull him closer, bearing his teeth to the sensitive flesh of his neck. “All mine. No one will keep us apart again. I’m going to bend you over this bed and fuck your pretty little ass until you can’t speak, until all you can think about is me.” The visitor’s brain was going fuzzy, his only thoughts now were to claim him, fold him over and make the human his own.

A small pained grunt had him sobering up, withdrawing his hand as if it were burnt, marks already blooming on the human’s hips. He jerked his head to the side, furious at himself. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid, one slip up he could break his bones… or worse. The visitor tried to withdraw, shoulders trembling, but the human was following after him.

“No, don’t leave. I need you.” If he was a stronger man he’d pull away from him. But he was not a man and the human was his weakness, already being maneuvered closer by calloused hands. “You are always so careful with me,” he breathed. “Make me feel so good, I want to make you feel good too.” The visitor whined when warm lips sucked and nipped at his neck, allowing the action even though it was reigniting the fire in him again. The human couldn’t possibly know how tender that spot was to a visitor. They went for the throat to kill and to establish pecking order, to bare one’s throat was an act of trust or submission. He would never allow this with anyone else. He was shaking now, the sensation overwhelming to him.

”I have a little secret for you,” the human whispered, warm breath fanning across his cheek. “I like the marks. All of them.” He was moving his hand back on his hip. “And…” He hesitated, his eyes darting away from his own, too overwhelmed to look him in the eyes at this moment. “I like it when you really fuck me up… like, when I can’t walk right the next day. Makes this so much more real, I can’t stop thinking of you afterwards.”

“Mishenka,” he whimpered, unable to still his hips. Fortunately he was dragged over the human once more, held in place by his hair, yanking him into a searing kiss. The visitor was all too happy to lick into the human’s mouth as if he were starving and he was his last meal. Perhaps he got a bit overzealous, he tried to retreat when he heard the other gag around his tongue but his grip remained firm, effectively trapping him. The confusion was replaced with raw need when he realized that not only was Misha okay with the odd action, he was aroused by it. He was fisting the sheets to keep himself from breaking his partner as he doubled down, absolutely hellbent on delving as far as he could into that tight heat.

Every choked sound and jerk of his body was catalogued, the visitor allowing the other a moments reprieve to gasp for air before diving back in, snaking further and further down the man’s throat each time. Could this even be categorized as kissing anymore? He didn’t care, enjoying how he was swallowing down each and every whimper, moan, and cry.

When his fingers dipped between the other man’s legs he froze, disconnecting from their kiss with a wet pop. He was already slick down there. Just to be sure he leaned back, marveling at just how easily his fingers sank into the human. There was no resistance.

“Misha,” his voice was tight, eyes trained on his fingers. “Explain.” The man was covering his flaming face behind his hands, instinctively bringing his legs together in shame.

”I…I was…” he watched the human swallow hard. “There was a reason I was awake when you were having your nightmare.” It took a few moments for the words to fully sink in, the full gravity of the meaning slapping the visitor in the face. He was curling his fingers inside him in seconds, fisting his hair with his other hand so he couldn’t escape, forced to look directly into the visitor’s grinning face.

”Oh Sunbeam! You were touching yourself without me?” He jolted as those wicked fingers found their target, reducing him to a writhing mess. “Tell me,” he growled, leaning closer. “What were you thinking about?” One strong stroke had the human biting his lip so hard he’d be surprised if it didn’t leave a mark. The hermit was beyond talking, scrabbling against the visitor’s skin desperately trying to find something to hold onto.

He tutted his disapproval. When he asked a question he demanded answers. Slowing his pace until it was nothing short of excruciating he smiled at the human’s mounting frustration, languid movements deliberately driving the hermit insane. He was desperately trying to wriggle his hips down to meet the fingers that were currently denying him pleasure.

“Enlighten me, darling. What had you so worked up that you were fingering yourself,” the visitor yanked his hair hard, delighting in the meek look in his eyes. “Who were you thinking about?” For a few moments he thought he wouldn’t answer, the human drawn so taut he was shaking underneath him.

”You,” he practically sobbed, fingers still dragging slowly across his abused prostate. “I missed you—wanted you—“ The smile that enveloped his face was nothing short of manic, stretching the skin far beyond what it should.

”Lovely.” But just to be mean he didn’t increase the pace, too wrapped up in watching the expressions flicker across a face so usually reserved and stoic. Unfortunately his human caught on, his frustration building to uncharted levels.

”Why?” He was writhing now, trying to find the stimulation he craved. “I—I told you what you wanted—“ His voice broke, head turning to the side when his other hand fondled his chest once more.

”You did.”

”Then why—?”

”Because you wear desperation so wonderfully. I’m simply admiring the view.”

“You—ah!—fucking bastard!” He snickered in response, pinning him down so there was nothing he could do to push him along. Everything was going well, he was completely in control, the visitor urges to conquer and destroy were being restrained through sheer willpower. It all went to shit when two furious green eyes squinted back at him.

”If you don’t hurry up and fuck me I’m getting up and leaving!” All restraint flew out the window at that.

In hindsight perhaps it wasn’t smart to provoke a pent up visitor after so much foreplay. The homeowner didn’t even have time to yell before he was flipped around, finding himself lying on his stomach. Dazed, he almost propped himself up when a hand slammed him back down, pressing down hard between his shoulder blades. He wheezed as the air was squeezed out of him, too winded to notice at first that he was basically facedown, ass up, and on his knees. If his face wasn’t red before it was on fire now. Sure, he had fantasized about this before but had never been brave enough to actually ask for it. Somehow he managed to be torn between fear and excitement, desperately trying to turn his face enough to see the visitor.

The resulting snarl in his ear made him shudder, eyes squeezing shut involuntarily. He had never heard him make that sound before. Something wet was touching his face, flinching as it moved across his skin. The freak was licking him again, thick strings of saliva dripping down the side of his face. Why the fuck did he find that hot?

He cracked an eye open and was startled to find the visitor hovering over him. The homeowner was used to seeing a lot of facial expressions on the man, but never that one. It was almost as if his eyes were glowing, glinting reflectively from the moonlight pouring through the tiny window. But his expression seemed dangerous, predatory. Something was prodding against his entrance, much larger than anything he had experienced before. The visitor was leaning forward, teeth flashing in warning as the tip caught against his lube-slicked hole, breath hitching in anticipation. His body was already reacting, goosebumps breaking across his skin. He licked his lips, voice coming out much weaker than he had intended.

”Boris?” No answer.

He should be terrified right now, should be worried the visitor had lost control or something, but he was still painfully hard, dick twitching when the visitor moved forward, the air completely punched from his lungs as he entered him. Burying his face into the bedsheets to muffle his cry, the fabric clenched between his fingers, he forced himself to relax as he took him inch by inch. It was too much at first, clenching involuntarily despite his best efforts. But another threatening growl in his ear had the homeowner going limp, completely surrendering himself to the pale man, hot breath hitting the back of his neck. The sound did something to him, releasing a shuttering gasp when the rumble changed to something warm, nose nuzzling into the crook of his neck while he drove himself deeper.

The visitor was so much thicker now, knees spreading wider to accommodate the stretch. Good God he was still sinking into him, he had never gone this deep, it was getting difficult to breathe. Then, just when he was beginning to panic that he wasn’t going to be able to survive much more, the pale man bottomed out, hips flush against his ass. He wasn’t the only one struggling to breathe, the visitor’s chest was heaving over him, nails digging into the sensitive skin between his shoulders.

He groaned, never experiencing such all encompassing fullness. It was completely overwhelming, his thighs were already shaking under his weight. Suddenly the pale man’s warning made more sense. They had only had full penetrative sex a handful of times and it was never this intense, their bodies aligned pleasantly together. Now the visitor dwarfed him, practically caged in on all sides. The raw inescapable strength in which he held him down left him flushing, ashamed in some ways that he also found that arousing.

He had bedded a monster.

When the visitor shifted forward his eyes snapped open in shock. There was no way he just felt what he thought he did. He managed to sneak one hand under himself reaching blindly until he found it, palm pressing firmly against his stomach. He choked, fighting against every nerve in his body not to come right then and there.

There was a bulge.

Oh God Boris don’t move, not yet, please don’t move—

He abandoned the distended skin of his abdomen to grip himself hard, fighting back his orgasm with white knuckles and clenched teeth. He couldn’t fall apart yet, he wanted to be good for him, needed to prove that he could handle whatever he threw at him. Another spike of panic shot through him when he felt his partner adjust, that glazed look in his eyes did not bode well for the homeowner.

Boris was absolutely out of it right now and was more than likely two seconds away from rearranging his insides and he was neither adjusted nor ready for an ass pounding right now. He needed to sober him up, desperately racking his brain on how he could reach him in this state. He was blurting out his next words before he could think it over.

“Remember the night this all began? When I asked if the kiss was real?” Reflective eyes snapped to his own, expression unreadable. A horrible part of him wondered if he was repulsed by him right now, voice unsteady and body quivering. The visitor claimed to admire his strength and here he was slurring his words, struggling to string a few sentences together. The epitome of weakness. He shook his head, desperately trying to dislodge the thoughts.

”I…wanted to tell you something that night, but I was too afraid. I was a coward…But…I want to tell you now…” Something flickered in the visitor’s eyes, just for a moment but he was sure he saw it. Encouraged, the homeowner admitted what he couldn't that night.

”You mean so much to me. Every day spent with you is a day worth remembering. You make me feel things I haven’t felt in so long, it’s terrifying and exciting at the same time. I…I don’t know what I did to deserve this, I feel like I’m going to wake up and find out this has all been some fantastical dream and I’m still stuck in that shitty basement. But Goddammit Boriska, I never want to go back to how life was before I met you. I used to pray every night that when I went to sleep morning would never come, but now I wake up every day knowing that you will be there waiting for me. ” His confidence was waning, deflating under that impassive stare.

”I want you to know…I need to tell you…” He swallowed hard, unsure of how to phrase such an intimate yet sappy sentiment. Why did it feel like admitting it would ruin everything? As if breathing the words would cause a terrible rift, a new age of loneliness and isolation brought forth from three small words. He closed his eyes, no longer able to face him any longer. In the end he couldn’t force out the words he wanted to, but he whispered something close to it.

“I…adore you.”

Strong hands rushed to circle his body, a purr so strong that it drowned out everything else bubbling out of the visitor’s throat, nuzzling softly against his cheek. He was back.

Boris.

”My human,” he whispered, lips pressing ardently against every inch of exposed skin. “Darling,” he shuddered against him, long arms squeezing him tighter. “I feel the same. Do you know what you do to me? How much I yearn for your affection, company, and embrace? I was incomplete before, set in a self-inflicted cycle of impassivity and solitude. Never once had I imagined I would find my other half. Not as a human, not as a visitor. But then I met you.”

He gasped when the pale man rolled his hips, careful to stay buried to the hilt. “Life was not worth fighting for before I met you, I cared not the outcome in this tiresome war of life and death. But you changed me, Mishenka. A visitor is not supposed to have wants or desires, we are above such things, but I ache for you, perpetually hungering for your touch. Your love.” His chest squeezed at that word, so strongly it frightened him.

Another roll of his hips had him nearly sobbing, biting down hard on his own knuckles to keep quiet. The discomfort was long gone, replaced with the primal need to chase his release, grinding desperately against the visitor. He wouldn’t last if Boris kept talking, his words were affecting him much more than he anticipated. It felt as if his insides had dissolved into molten lava, burning hotter for every phrase of devotion the visitor uttered.

“Boriska please,” he pleaded, eyes watering from being under stimulated and untouched for this long. “Need you—need you so bad—pleasemoveplease—“ His scream was captured by a hand over his mouth, the visitor driving into him like an animal.

“Shhh. Let me take care of you now, Sunbeam.” He felt a hand lift one thigh, changing the angle so that he was pounding ruthlessly straight into his core, dragging along his prostate with every powerful thrust. He convulsed in his grip, unable to do anything to stop his climax from slamming into him as he tumbled over the edge, arching his back further as he ruined the bedsheets beneath him. But the visitor didn’t slow his pace, mercilessly fucking him hard through the shockwaves of his orgasm. A muffled whimper was the only indication he could give before his leg gave out, his strength failing him.

He didn’t even register at first when the hand was removed and a pillow was thrust into his arms. There was a brief pause as they rearranged themselves, a hand reaching around and splayed against his stomach, both holding him up and pressing back against the swell caused by the visitor’s own cock. The increased pressure had him burying his face into the pillow, jerking when the hand began palming at the protrusion.

”Incredible,” his voice was both breathless and full of wonder. “I can feel our union.” He bit back a scream when the bastard pressed harder, rolling his hips as he did. Fucking hell he was going to die, Boris was trying to kill him. Something about this discovery broke the pale man, the homeowner suddenly finding himself pinned under a frantic visitor, his movements rough and uncoordinated. The wet sounds hitting his ears were downright sinful, warmth trickling slowly down his thighs. If that was just pre then what was in store for him when the visitor finally climaxed? He bit the pillow hard, grateful in some ways that he could hide his face right now.

The pale man was close, he could tell by the way his thrusts were growing even more erratic.

“Look at you,” he breathed, nosing into the sweat slicked hairs at the base of his neck. “Taking me so well, stretched to your limit, just for me.” One particularly hard thrust nearly had him coming a second time, fighting a mini battle with himself to outlast his partner. “Mine,” he groaned, pulling the homeowner impossibly closer. “We were meant for this, destined for one another. No God or mortal could ever hope to sever our connection now.” The visitor was practically babbling nonsense now, the homeowner deciding to hurry things along, the building pleasure in his core too much to handle anymore.

”Only you,” he gasped, focusing hard in order to get the words out. “Ah—belong to you!” The visitor cursed, hips stuttering hard as heat flooded his insides, writhing as the sensation brought him over the edge as well.

He gave a few more final thrusts before the visitor collapsed on top of him, both breathing hard and boneless. The homeowner was whipped, head full of static and his muscles reduced to jelly. He was a mess, covered in a mixture of sweat and both of their releases.

But for once his mind was blissfully silent. In this moment he was completely content, basking silently in the afterglow, enjoying the gentle purr the visitor was producing at the moment.

He didn’t regret it. That was the most intense sexual experience in his life. Who knew that fear and arousal could be so close together. For a moment he had thought he went too far provoking him like that, the pale man on the verge of snapping under the pressure. Yet his visitor was a saint, ensuring that he was okay even when he was struggling to hold himself back. God he was going to be sore tomorrow, he could tell by the way his legs were trembling. He couldn’t find it in him to care.

He had meant what he said. When he had been kneeling and awaiting his death he had regretted not being more honest with his partner. For so long he had deflected, guarded, and hidden any feeling that felt too intimate or vulnerable. Growing up he was taught that a man was meant to behave a certain way. Never show weakness and by God if he let the wrong emotion slip he was corrected harshly for it. It made it so hard to open up, even Vera had voiced frustration with him. But it had been his only defense for so long he struggled to cast it aside. He hated himself for it.

The homeowner tried to not let it show, covering his self-hatred with sharp words and a stony facade; knowing that the visitor could read him better than anyone else and maybe that would be enough. But after going through those long days and even longer nights not knowing if he was ever going to see him again something shifted. Everything was temporary. He could die tomorrow or twenty years down the road. No one could predict what the future held for them. They had already survived an apocalypse and more. Who knew what else life had in store for them. Together they had carved out a tiny refuge of safety in a world still ravaged by ruin, one that he had grown to cherish.

Why should he hide it anymore… what was there to be ashamed of? They were alone out here and humanity had far more pressing issues than two roommates who were suspiciously close. Besides, Boris was open with his feelings for him, freely offering affection, company, and unabashedly voicing his desire at every opportunity. It made sense to return the favor.

Boris was still catching his breath, panting over the back of his neck. He was practically draped over his spine, slightly trembling from the aftermath. The visitor’s body weight should have felt crushing but he found he didn’t mind. Oddly enough he felt… safe. Completely surrounded and weighed down by his partner. The homeowner couldn’t keep his eyes open, opting instead to listen to the sounds of his partner as he struggled to collect himself. Eventually a kiss was pressed to his hairline, no doubt unpleasantly damp with sweat. But obviously the pale man didn’t seem to care.

“내가 얼마나 사랑하는지 모를 거야,” he breathed in wonder, cool fingers brushing against his heated skin. “시간이 지날수록 더 사랑해.” He couldn’t respond with anything more than a hum, too drained to even make a guess at what he said.

He hissed when the visitor slowly moved away, pulling out in the process. The following sensation had his eyes finally cracking open, nose crinkling in distaste. He turned his head to glare at the growing puddle between his thighs. He was not going back to sleep like this. The homeowner murmured something and tried to push himself up only for his arms to give out. Thankfully his partner was on him in seconds, hands gently smoothing along his back as he leaned down in concern.

“Are you alright, Sunbeam? Is there any pain?” He wanted to smack him for the last question but he settled for shaking his head and repeating himself.

“Bath.” The visitor tilted his head.

“I understand. Would you like for me to start the water?” He smiled and turned to face him better.

“More than that,” he wheezed, taking note of the concerned crease in the pale man’s brows. “You’re going to have to help drag me to the tub.” He didn’t seem to mind this, offering up a nod and a quick peck to his temple.

“Of course. Whatever you need.” He dozed off as his partner cleaned himself up and threw on a pair of pants, disappearing down the hall. He wasn’t gone long before returning, a towel gripped in one hand. He expected to be helped up but found himself being scooped off the bed and into his arms, the visitor partially wrapping him in the towel. For some god forsaken reason this embarrassed him more than taking a cock up his ass, wriggling defiantly in the pale man’s hold.

“I can still walk you bastard!” The visitor grinned, dark eyes twinkling with laughter.

“No darling, you can’t. I made sure of that.” The homeowner stared at him in shock. “Here, I’ll show you.” The moment his feet touched the ground his legs gave out, muscles trembling with fatigue. The visitor was fully supporting him, a hand under each armpit. “You specifically requested this, remember?” He was being maneuvered back into the other man’s arms if he barely weighed anything, shying away from the visitor’s gaze out of embarrassment.

“Oh and you asked for it oh so sweetly too, said it made you think of me. How could I deny you that?” He flushed, realizing he had admitted that. When he heard the visitor snicker he shot him a withering glare.

“If you laugh I’ll kill you.”

“I’m not laughing at you Sunbeam,” he assured, his eyes crinkled in mirth. Just to be difficult he pinched the visitor's arm when another kiss was pressed to his face. As usual his antics made the visitor smile, but this one seemed blinding, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Seeing the tub filled with steaming water had him nearly weeping, already easing himself in with the help of the visitor. He couldn’t help a sigh as he slipped further under the water, the heat felt so good on his aching muscles. Somewhere in the background he could register that the water was being turned off.

This was perfect.

So cozy in fact, that when he closed his eyes everything around him melted away, just allowing the warmth to seep into his body. For a while there was no sound other than the occasional ripples of the water, caused by the constant drip of the faulty faucet. Though a soft voice reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

“Can I assist? Please?” He hummed, fighting back a prickling sense of déjà vu. The visitor had asked something similar after the body eater encounter. He remembered how confused he had been at the time, so torn between allowing the visitor closer or pushing him away. Even back then the visitor had been attentive, careful and gentle as he dressed his wounds. If he had told his past self that by the end of the year he’d be sharing his bed with the pale man he would have thought he had gone mad.

Said visitor was propped over the edge of the tub looking down at him, eyes soft for once. It threw him off guard for a moment, mind still fuzzy. He blinked slowly. What exactly did he wanna help him with? His confusion must have been evident, the pale man pointing to the shampoo bottle with a hopeful look in his eyes. He wanted to wash his hair? Did he find him weak? The thought alone made him bristle.

“I’m a grown man,” he murmured, eyes heavy and tired. “I don’t need help cleaning myself. I’m not a child.”

”I know Mishenka.” A hand was carding through his hair so softly he couldn’t help but lean into it. “I just enjoy being close to you.” The confession had his breath catching in his chest. As odd as the request seemed to him, he allowed it.

Turns out that having someone massage shampoo into your scalp was actually a pretty divine sensation. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, just laid back and appreciated the visitor’s firm yet deliberate touches. And then when those hands made their way to his shoulders? Oh he was in heaven. If he could purr he would be doing so at this moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed, unaccustomed to indulging himself like this. The pale man kept silent except for the few breathy laughs he chose to ignore, not wanting to give the visitor any reason to stop.

Between rinsing his hair and releasing the tension in his back, pale fingers focusing on a rather painful knot of muscles at the moment, he took a moment to truly appreciate what he had. A year ago this kind of contentment would have seemed impossible. Hell, even a few months ago would be far fetched. But now that once suffocating feeling of inadequacy had eased its oppressive grip on him, replaced with a feeling so warm and euphoric. That feeling mounted in intensity every day spent by the visitor’s side. It terrified him, finding so much enjoyment in another like this. Life had taught him that people came and went. But he wanted to spend an eternity with Boris.

Reaching up he grabbed one of the hands that had circled around to his front. The visitor was looking down at him curiously, watching as he pulled his hand towards his face. He didn’t have a way with words like Boris did, but he hoped the reverent kiss pressed against his palm was enough to communicate the depths of his adoration. He smiled at the pale man’s stunned face, loving that for once he wasn’t the one looking rather flushed.

“Thank you Boriska.” The resounding warble that climbed out of the visitor’s throat sounded both reflexive and delighted, pressing closer to the homeowner.

“I would do anything for you Mishenka,” he purred, cradling his face. “Always.”

“Sap.” He couldn’t help a small laugh as the visitor nuzzled into his neck, the other at risk of getting soaked if he kept jostling him around like this. But the visitor didn’t care, refusing to let him go even when he purposefully dropped a handful of water on his head.

The visitor managed to coax his stubborn partner into a few more hours of much needed rest, gently cradling the man against him, a hand splayed across the soft swell of his stomach as he slept. He couldn’t sleep, truthfully he was still wound up from their earlier actions. The images in his mind were downright perverse, the sight of the hermit pinned down as he drove into him was forever seared into his brain. And the fact that he took all of him to the point he could feel himself…

He shuddered, softly gripping the sleeping human possessively. There was an underlying guilt eating at the visitor though. They were both fools to indulge themselves like that. There had been a moment where he had truthfully lost control, dangerous instincts taking the reins as reason slipped from the forefront of his mind. The thought of what he could have done if he hadn’t snapped out of it made him ill.

Mikhail was so much stronger than other humans, he didn’t put them in the same category in his mind. But at the end of the day his bones would snap and his skin would bleed just like any other human when faced against a super visitor. He needed to remember that, he couldn’t risk harm to someone so precious to him.

It unsettled him enough that he felt the need to protect him, cradle him closer and never let him go. He watched him sleep for hours, taking comfort in the slow rise and fall of his chest. A little trill climbed out of his throat when he rolled slightly in his sleep, enraptured by the sun-kissed skin upon his face. His hair was so long now, sticking up haphazardly in a chaotically beautiful way. He recalled the first time he glimpsed him from the windows, the strands cropped short and severe. He liked this softer look on him.

But his fun ended all too soon when the sun began to shine through the curtains, the human stirring slowly in his arms. It was cute how he crinkled his nose, cracking one angry green eye in the direction of the curtains.

”Nooo,” he hissed, moving a hand to cover his face. “Not yet…” The visitor leaned closer to shield him from the harsh light.

”Realistically there is no reason you are required to get up now. Go back to sleep.” Despite his insistence his human refused even though it was abundantly clear he was exhausted.

”No,” he grumbled, slowly sitting up. “I’ve got so much to—Ah!” He winced in pain, the visitor taking the initiative and pushing him back down onto his back.

“You do not. At least nothing of great importance. Please humor me.” The human wriggled against his hold, smacking at his chest when he didn’t back down.

”Yes I do! The house’s a wreck, Dasha will be getting up soon—“ He rolled onto his side only for the visitor to follow after him to squish him with his body weight. “—Hey! Unhand me you bastard!” They wrestled each other, one trying to escape while the other was determined to keep him confined to the bed. He couldn’t help the laugh when a hand smacked over the entire front of his face, reaching out blindly until he felt the human’s ankle and tugged him closer. The resulting yelp was delightfully endearing. Of course he had to keep surprising him, lunging upwards in an attempt to wrap the pale man in a headlock, both men fighting back grins now. He loved how his human kept him on his toes.

”Hah!” The human seemed to think he was victorious, draped across the visitors back and holding him firm. “Too slow—Ack!” The visitor had rolled over, laughing when the human released him immediately in favor of pushing at him, trying to shimmy out from under his broad shoulders.

”You dirty ass cheater!” He let him struggle for a bit, feeling pretty smug about himself until he felt teeth digging into his shoulder, body going rigid.

”Oh,” the visitor turned around, grabbing at the human before he could scuttle away. “You’re going to regret that.” If it wasn’t for the hand over the human’s mouth he would have screamed bloody murder, the visitor licking a long wet stripe directly across his face as he tried to push him away. He sat back on his heels, admiring his work, the hermit sputtering and wiping at his face with his hand. He looked like an furious wet kitten.

”—Fucking gross,” he managed to wriggle away, “Trying to kill me first thing in the morning I swear!“ He watched him shimmy off the bed, quickly limping away before the visitor could grab him again. A sick part of him enjoyed watching him stumble away knowing that he was responsible for that. With a sigh he lumbered after him, ducking under the doorframe as he went.

”Alright dear human. Show me what is so pressing that it cannot wait until this afternoon.”

“I have to get this place back in order before Dasha wakes up.” He watched as the human pushed open the office, gesturing to the room. “See what I mean?” What he saw wiped the smile from his face, his blood boiling under his skin. Those three pigs had destroyed this room, everything from mud to food grease staining the upholstery of the couch and arm chairs. He glared in particular at how they violated their reading spot, caked on grime littering the furniture. The human stepped closer, noticing his expression.

“Every room looked like this. I managed to tidy up the living room and kitchen yesterday but there’s still a lot to do. And with the blizzard outside, I figured we’ll have the time to kill.” He was right, the visitor had forgotten about the storm in all the chaos.

“I loathe the thought that you ever had to endure their company. If I could do things over—“ He was stopped, a hand gently reaching for his jaw.

“It’s okay. We can’t change what happened. I’m just grateful you’re back.” Even though the visitor despised human chores he tried to help as best he could, carrying armloads of garbage to the foyer as Anya watched, still a bit weary after everything. They had tried to invite her into the bedroom last night but she refused, choosing to sleep underneath the kitchen table. He planned on working with her confidence later in the day after properly disposing of the looters.

Outside the house the fields were blinding white, fat snowflakes drifting down in waves. He hated to admit it but the cold was already starting to seep into his body through the thick layers of clothing he had adorned in an attempt to keep it at bay. Not only did his clothing not fit correctly, the human making this apparent by smacking his exposed stomach as he passed with a grin, they weren’t retaining enough body heat. He tugged the sweaters down knowing that the effort was in vain, shooting the human a dangerous look while he snickered. He should be grateful the garments stretched over his shoulders to begin with.

By the time the hermit was satisfied, laundry in the wash, office in livable condition, and the furniture wiped down it was already late into the morning. The visitor was reaching for the coffee pot when his partner shuffled in, looking like he really could have used a few more hours rest. And the way he was walking… Well the blame was on them both. He at least had the decency to make his coffee for him.

“Guess the mail won’t be coming today. Everything’s frozen over.” He paused in thought, the sound of the skillet sizzling and popping filling the quiet. “Actually we probably won’t be able to make a trip to town for a few days. I really hope we don’t run out of food, those assholes depleted our supply.” The visitor was resting his chin on his shoulder, just enjoying the human’s warmth and company. If it came down to it he would cut his own rations. He had lived through a period of starvation before, he could do it again.

“I can attempt to hunt something.” It was an ambitious thought. He wasn’t sure how easy that would be for him right now. Still, he would try for his human.

“Won’t the snow be an issue for you?” He grimaced, already dreading going out in it later. He hated how it stuck to his clothes, seeped into his gloves, and followed him into the house, clumps breaking off of his boots and melting onto the floor leaving a cold puddle for him to accidentally step in later.

“…I am unsure, this is uncharted territory for me.” This was his first winter as a visitor. He remembered never batting an eye at the weather before he turned but now the cold carried a certain danger to it, clearly affected by the falling temperature more than humans.

“Then we’ll go together. Might be fun, I can show you how I do it.” He couldn’t help cracking a grin.

“Alright, I am intrigued. But I promise my way is more efficient than yours.” The human looked offended, ignoring the apologetic kiss pressed to his forehead.

“Listen here you little—“ he cut himself off as a nervous face appeared in the doorway, looking unsure between the hermit and visitor. The human put some distance between them, setting the skillet aside and turning off the burner. He tried to ignore the disappointment the action brought.

“Morning, Dasha. Did you sleep okay?” The girl nodded and took a few steps closer. It wasn’t until the human motioned for her to take a seat at the table that she finally entered the room fully. He might as well join her, grabbing both coffee mugs to set on the table. Earlier the visitor had gathered up the newspapers he had missed while he was gone. He had wrinkled his nose in disgust as he realized the men had thumbed through them, their dirty fingerprints staining the pages. He pulled them closer, considering if he should crack one open or not.

Oddly enough the girl didn’t take a seat until he did, noticing that she had chosen to sit by him rather than Misha. She looked better than yesterday, no longer covered in layers of dirt and adorned in fresh clean clothes. Though they were a tad too big for her, hanging awkwardly off her small frame. Dark circles still sat under her eyes, a weariness in her gaze that should not exist for someone her age.

“I’m just finishing up breakfast, are you hungry?” The girl sat straighter, nodding enthusiastically. The visitor watched his human as he worked, dividing up portions as he moved through the kitchen. He adored what they had, but there was a new worry that he hadn’t considered until now. Would they have to hide the nature of their relationship from Dasha? It was not only frowned upon by most, it was illegal. It would kill him to have to pretend he wasn’t head over heels for the human in their own home, having enjoyed this closeness immensely.

He tried to look over the paper in his hands but a repetitive clicking began to grate on his nerves. It took a moment for the visitor to pinpoint the source, leaning over to see the child nervously picking at her nails. Usually he would ignore the sound and return to his reading. What concerned him however was the state of her nails, raw and bleeding. Still, despite the blood, she continued to pick at them, worried eyes glancing around the room. He set down the paper and tilted his head. She was only making the injury worse.

“Dasha.” She froze, looking up at the visitor with wide eyes. In truth he didn’t know how to address the destructive behavior directly, unfamiliar with the proper way to speak to children. So he opted for a distraction instead. “Have you met Anya?” She looked confused before shaking her head. He whistled and watched the pup come running, nails clicking across the wooden floor as she approached. The child’s face lit up immediately, a small gasp as the dog sat by the visitor. “This—“ he ruffled the dog’s ears affectionately “—is Anya.” He could tell by the way she leaned closer she wanted to pet her.

“And..um, she’s your dog?” He nodded.

“Yes, she is. She’s very well behaved.” He motioned that it was okay to touch her, guiding her hand forward. She was delighted, gently reaching for the animal who in response turned and started sniffing her over. She broke out into a gap toothed grin at that, tiny hands stroking over her face. Satisfied he turned back to his paper, watching the two out of the corner of his eye. Anya was very interested in Daria, going as far as to hop up to sniff her face, the girl laughing quietly at her antics.

A plate was set down in front of him, pulling his attention away from the paper. This morning it looked like kasha, eggs, and toast, though the portions were far smaller than usual. To be expected. Most of the food had been given to Daria, her plate piled much higher than their own. He would have done the same thing if he were in the human’s shoes. Her current weight was concerning.

The human took his sweet time joining them, making a point to wash a few pans, put away spices, and wipe down the counters before finally slowly taking his seat, almost as if he was dreading it. The visitor sipped on his coffee pretending he didn’t know why.

”So Dasha. I know I promised we would go to town today but the weather’s taken a turn. Looks like we’re going to be stuck at home for a few days. But I promise we are going to pick you out something nice when we go, alright?” She nodded around a mouthful of food, as if the information didn’t faze her.

”That’s okay. These are warm.” She was wearing an oversized sweater with a little sailboat embroidered on the front. His grandmother had given him that for his birthday one year. Seeing it brought bittersweet memories. His father had behaved himself to a degree when she was alive.

“Good. Let me or Boris know if you need anything. And I know it’s a lot, you have been through so much, but if you need to talk or have any questions we’re here for you—“

”Are you and Boris married?” The visitor nearly swallowed his fork, hacking as he choked on his own food. He looked up at Misha, breathing hard and eyes watering. He discovered that humans were capable of turning purple. Face twitching, the human folded his hands in front of himself, a downright deranged look in his eye.

”No. Um. We are definitely not married.” This would have been so much funnier if he wasn’t so worried about where this conversation was going. The human leaned back, placing both palms on the table now. “I uh…What makes you think we are?”

”He kissed you,” the girl stated matter of factly, pointing to her forehead as she chewed. “Right here. Daddy used to give Mommy a kiss on the head every day when we were getting ready for the bus.” The human pinched the bridge of his nose.

”I’m sorry, when did he—?”

”Just a few minutes ago, right when I walked in.” The visitor watched the human, trying to gauge how angry he was at him right now. He did kiss him, he hadn’t realized that she had seen it. The last thing he wanted was a fight right now, already fighting the urge to launch across the table and try to make things right. Daria was glancing between them both, confusion evident on her face. “What’s wrong? Did I say something bad?”

”No. You didn’t say anything wrong,” the hermit folded his hands in his lap and drew in a deep breath. “It might be a little difficult to understand but Boris and I are partners. We are…dating, not married.” The visitor’s shoulders relaxed at his tone, he wasn’t mad, just extremely nervous. He could see it in his body language, posture stiff and guarded. So far the child didn’t find anything odd in what he had admitted, watching the hermit with big brown eyes.

”Boris told you what he is, right? And how you can never tell anyone or people might try to hurt us?” She looked shocked, turning towards the visitor in worry.

“I didn’t say anything, I promise—“ The hermit reached out a hand to stop her.

“No it’s okay. I’ve known for a very long time.” He took her tiny hands in his own. “This is important though. You can’t tell anyone that Boris and I are anything more than roommates okay? Otherwise bad things will happen.” She squeezed his hands hard, brows coming together.

”…Like…The ones that took me away?”

”Well no, FEMA wouldn’t come here for that, but other people might. Um, let me try to explain this…” He was silent for a few moments, choosing his next words carefully. “You see, a lot of people do not like to see two men together romantically. Many think it is wrong. So if they were to find out, sometimes they try to hurt those two men. Does that make sense?” She nodded, anger flashing in her eyes.

”They sound like bullies, just like the bad men.” She gave them both a sweet little smile, declaring a promise as she did. “I won’t say anything, don’t worry. I’ll protect you and uncle Boris.”

Uncle Boris. That was new. But his human was over the moon about it, smiling brightly as those green eyes shined with pride and gratitude.

”Thank you Dasha. We will protect you too. You’re safe here.” His heart stuttered when those wonderful eyes turned to him, a gentle fondness directed in his gaze. He couldn’t help but return the look, gently taking the man’s hand and brushing his thumb across his knuckles.

So they wouldn’t have to hide their relationship. That fact brought the visitor so much peace of mind, basking unashamedly in the radiant presence of his beloved human.

The rest of morning went by quickly, the human asking Dasha a few questions about the camp before changing the subject into something more lighthearted when the girl appeared close to tears. They both noticed how quickly she ate. The child even got sick afterwards, holding her stomach as the human fussed over her in a panic.

Afterwards he was roped into destroying Daria’s old clothes, tossing the filthy garments into the wood stove. Once the clothes had been incinerated he wandered down the hall to check on both humans. The hermit had dragged a stool in front of the bathroom mirror, currently meticulously going through the child’s hair with a comb. It was necessary considering how poor FEMA’s sanitation was, with lice being a recurring subject in the news as of late.

But the process upset the girl. She held her composure for a time, only breaking when the human mentioned that a little more of her hair would need to be trimmed due to damage and to even things out, gently lifting a random long section that stood out from the rest.

“The good news is that there’s no sign of lice anymore. But we are going to have to fix this eventually.” His calm demeanor quickly changed to panic when she hunched over herself as she quietly wept. The human tried to comfort her, kneeling down and assuring her that it would grow back, but despite his best efforts he was unable to break through her. In the end she retired to her room, muffled sniffles could be heard through the door.

“I’m already messing up,” he groaned, shoveling another load of snow to the side. The pale man was crouched nearby, checking over the looter’s corpses, now frozen stiff and tinged blue.

“No you aren’t.” He smirked when the human flinched with each crack of bone, breaking down the corpses into something more manageable. “She’s been through a lot. It’s understandable for her to undergo reactions of this nature.” The hermit stood still for a moment, brows furrowed. The visitor could tell he was still worrying about the child. To most his panic would seem to be an overreaction, she suffered a spell of nausea after eating too quickly and cried over the thought of cutting her hair, but the pale man could tell why it ate him so badly.

The hermit felt as if he had let his neighbor down in so many ways. He blamed himself for the man’s death even though there was little that could have been done. Then he had failed to keep his dying promise, to keep his daughter safe. If anything were to happen to her now it would only reinforce those feelings of regret and self loathing.

Eventually the hermit went back to shoveling, that lost look still darkening his gaze. The pale man leaned over to observe the man’s progress. “That is nowhere near deep enough.” That managed to piss the other off, pausing to shoot him a glare.

“Do you think this is how I wanted to spend my afternoon?” It was apparently. He came out here on his own volition.

“You offered to join me, I made it abundantly clear this would not be enjoyable. I tried to let you rest.” In truth he was glad to accept his company, it distracted him from how rotten he felt right now. As the morning continued the visitor began to feel…off. His muscles were aching, some even spasming underneath his skin. As the hours passed the feelings just increased. Sudden bouts of dizziness were becoming more frequent, nearly falling over twice already.

But that didn’t stop him from feeling mildly guilty over dragging his human out into the cold with him. While they were technically both to blame the human was obviously still sore, gait odd and limping. He had honestly tried his best to hold back and in his mind he had done better than expected, but he really should have known better. Though the way Misha had loved it, pushed back against every wild and hungry thrust—

The visitor shook his head to dislodge the intoxicating memory. He had a job to do right now.

“Misha,” he tapped the edge of the hole insistently. “That is still not deep enough, we don’t want an animal digging them up.” He blinked when the shovel was suddenly shoved in front of him.

“You can dig your own hole.” He laughed, shaking his head. Usually he despised snow, but the way it was sticking to the human’s lashes made those bewitching green eyes even more captivating. Especially the way he was glaring at him right now.

“Sure, let’s trade places.” He wrenched on the arm in his hands until it was out of socket, staring up at he human with both a challenge and a spark of playfulness. As expected the human curled his lip but didn’t look away.

“Do you have to do that?”

“Yes. The goal dearest human, is for no one to find them. And no one will find them if they’re scattered across the fields with the rest of the dead.” He froze, remembering why their were so many corpses on this somber farm. He needed to tell the human about the madman, especially being so close to the house.

“Actually, I need to warn you about something.” The hermit stopped, all previous playful frustration gone, the visitor’s change in tone obvious. “When I was in the woods with Daria, I encountered him. The one responsible for the dead here,” he gestured to the field, “He used to come to your door and insist on performing checks on you.” Any light that was in the human’s eyes fizzled out, replaced with a cold solemn expression.

“I remember him. He thought he was some kind of vigilante hero, but in reality slaughtered countless refugees and civilians.” He nodded, picking at the dirt under his nails.

“The same. I wanted to eliminate him but I was concerned for the child’s safety.” The human rubbed a hand over his face with a groan.

“God dammit…Why? Why does it have to be him?” Seeing the human distraught made him reconsider hunting the human down now. But the visitor could tell his strength was dropping, now able to feel the biting cold seeping into his fingers and the winter gusts that chilled him to the bone. Not to mention he was shaking now, having spent so long in this wretched snow. One mistake and he would be shot, bleeding out slowly in that damn forest.

“Perhaps if he returns to the house I can catch him off guard—“ He paused when the human groaned again, flinging the shovel down with a curse. The genuine conflict in his expression confused him, unable to understand his reaction. “Mishenka,” he tried, standing up to face him. “It will be alright, I will protect you.” The human just shook his head.

“No,” he growled, shoulders drawn and tense. “It’s so much worse than you think.” The human pointed towards the house. “That ‘madman’ is Dasha’s uncle. While he was burning those people alive,” he gestured to the charred remains of the houses nearby. “He was looking for her, Borya. I told him at the door that FEMA had taken her, what’s he going to do if he sees her? I don’t even know if Dasha knows he’s out there, she’s never once mentioned having an uncle.” Ah. That was not expected. The visitor frowned, he felt as if this poor child’s bloodline was cursed.

“He could be her last living relative.” He had meant it as more of a statement but the hermit was whipping around at his words, storming closer with a wild look in his eye.

“Let me make something clear,” he held up his hand, a determination so raw it had the visitor bracing for anything. “That man is unstable. I watched him systematically torch every single house in the neighborhood. He shot people for one sign. Murdered a group of people right where we are standing. They were unarmed.” It was true, their sun-bleached bones lay buried beneath the snow. “He wore a necklace made from severed fingers and human teeth for fucks sake! He cannot be trusted with Dasha. I will never allow him to take her.” The visitor calmly laid a hand on each shoulder, watching as the human seemed to jolt out of his rage induced frenzy.

“Dear human. We are in agreement. He must be dealt with if he returns. But we will need to exercise caution. As much as it pains me to admit, he is armed and I am no longer able to withstand gunfire, I can feel my body weakening by the hour.” He gently tapped the man’s temple, green eyes glancing up and searching his own. “We have our wits. We can use that to our advantage. Together, no one can stop us.” That tension that had the human so taut finally eased as the pale man pulled him closer, placing a kiss to one frozen ear.

“For now let us finish up here and then we can devise a plan inside. Get you out of this dreadful cold, okay?” He nodded pressing closer, both arms gripping the pale man tightly.

“Okay. We do this together.” Reassured, the two worked together to dispose on the looters, hacking and tearing the bodies to pieces and burying them along the way.

Apparently the hermit had learned the looters names during their stay. The young one was the first to be buried, resting in tiny pieces under frozen earth and snow.

“Roman was insufferable,” the human grumbled. “Constantly sucking up to their boss and prancing around like an entitled shithead. God I should have killed him when I had the chance.” He remembered the human mentioning the same last night.

“Now you have me curious, when was there opportunity to slay him? And don’t leave out how you managed this,” he pointed at the gruesome remains of the man with the scar, no longer recognizable through the blood and fractured skull.

“The kid wouldn’t stop messing with my rifle. Seriously, he acted as if it was an oversized toy. I overheard them planning to take me out and leave me buried in the yard come morning so I tried to take them out one by one. Roman and I were outside and he was mishandling the gun as usual. So I baited him into test firing it and tricked him into pulling both triggers.” A faint twitch of the other’s mouth caught the visitor’s attention. The visitor couldn’t help but grin as well.

“I presume that did not end well?”

“Not at all. Kid landed hard on his ass. The recoil had him down for a good while, that’s when I should have finished him off, but I was worried about Yuriy. He had already threatened to harm Anya several times before.”

His hands clenched involuntarily. If any harm had come to her… Well… He didn’t want to even think about it.

“This guy here went by Vasiliy. I broke his nose the day they first forced their way into the house so I knew it was a weak spot. He was very cocky, I could tell by the way he carried himself he was quite confident in his abilities. When he heard Roman fire the gun he came running. As he approached he was gearing up some dumbass monologue but I didn’t even give him the chance. Struck him as hard as I could with my rifle mid-sentence. And when he went down, I made sure he wasn’t getting back up.” He shivered, some twisted part of him wished he could have watched. Something about the image of his human caked in blood and viscera that were not his own was deeply appealing to him, a satisfied hum bubbling up at just the thought of it.

They were now focusing on the leader, the worst of them all in his opinion.

“No, you’re right,” the hermit confirmed when he voiced as much. “Yuriy was a disgusting pig. He reminded me so much of my old man that it drove me up the fucking wall. I’m glad to be rid of that piece of shit.” The vitriol in which he spoke of the man made the visitor’s hackles raise instinctively, eyeing the fading bruises across the human’s face.

“Was he the one that struck you?” The human paused, picking up on the dangerous lilt to his voice.

“Most of the time. Vasiliy gave me the shiner but everything else was him. He was the kind of man that demanded obedience… We didn’t exactly see eye to eye.”

“It should have never happened.” The silence was thick and heavy. The only sound came from the snow as it fell from overladen branches, the wind whistling through the remains of the ruined timbers of the neighbor’s farmhouse. The human sighed, jamming the shovel into the ground and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Boriska. Stop blaming yourself. I already told you that this wasn’t your fault. I’ve been through so much worse.” He frowned at that, not liking what that statement implied. The hermit took no notice of his grisly demeanor, continuing calmly. “Pretty sure my dad gave me a concussion over letting the clothes mildew in the washer. And there were plenty of times I came out of a fight with both eyes fucked up, felt like trying to navigate the world blind. At least I had one this time.”

While he held a deep admiration for the human’s resilience and fortitude due to his downright hellish upbringing, it still made his chest tighten at the thought of what he had to endure. The promise came tumbling from his lips before he could even help it, a vow that he refused to break.

“I will never allow anyone to touch you like that again.” The human seemed stunned by this sudden profession, blinking rapidly as his mouth fell open uselessly. In the end he couldn’t find his words, turning his face when the pale man refused to break eye contact. His face was flushed from either his statement or the cold, he wasn’t sure which. But he meant every word.

The storm made it impossible to go to town, effectively trapping them in the house. Food was a concern, the homeowner carefully planning every meal. If the weather didn’t improve soon they could be finding themselves in trouble. Luckily they were able to secure a couple of grouses a few hours after burying the looters. They were initially hunting for deer, but after spending half the day in the woods with no luck they were forced to switch tactics. It was a blessing the birds were so dull, the homeowner showing the visitor how they could be caught with a simple wire and a long stick. He had been highly amused by this, commenting on their terrible reflexes.

“They just stand there?” He laughed in disbelief, the homeowner holding the first bird up by it’s legs.

“It’s their defense tactic. They stay real still so predators don’t notice them even when they happen to be walking by. But it makes them easier to catch, if you can get the snare over their head that is. Years ago I almost stepped on one’s tail feathers before it decided to fly away. Spotting them is the trickiest part.”

When he caught the second bird he couldn’t help but grin smugly down at the visitor, who had failed to catch anything himself so far despite his best efforts. But the way he was marveling at him with nothing but pure wonder made him self-conscious, ducking his head to the side as he fought that weightless feeling in his chest. He seemed to be giving him that soft look more and more frequently as of late.

Daria was another cause of concern, there were some peculiar behaviors that both men had taken notice of. She ate way too fast, often getting sick after a meal. He once made the mistake of reaching for her in an attempt to stop her but she yanked the bowl closer, accidentally dropping and shattering the porcelain on the tile floor. She had looked so dejected after, repeatedly apologizing for the incident.

“I’m so sorry uncle Mikhail, I promise I didn’t mean to!” Tears were accumulating on her lashes, the child wringing her hands together as she cowered. The sight had made him physically ill, like she expected him to lash out. It made him question himself, was she afraid of him? He pushed back images of his father, he refused to be like that man. Instead he knelt down, picking up the broken porcelain in his hands. Her behavior confused him, having seen a flash of fear and anger in her eyes before the accident.

“Dasha calm down, it’s okay. Just… Tell me what happened.” She hesitated for a few moments, guilt worrying at her gaunt face.

“I… I thought you were going to take it away.” He paused, turning a little more to face her.

“No, I was trying to warn you to slow down so you didn’t get sick. Why would you…” Then it dawned on him, heart rolling painfully in his chest. This behavior could only be explained by one thing. His suspicion was confirmed when the girl spoke up, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Every time I tr-tried to eat they always t-took it away from me, other kids or teenagers, even adults did it. They wouldn’t leave me a-alone, stealing everything I had! I’m so sorry, I-I know you wouldn’t, please don’t be mad—“ He set the broken shards aside and reached for her, pulling her close. She stiffened before breaking down, sobbing into his shoulder. Not knowing what to do he glanced up to catch the visitor’s eyes, both looking lost in this situation. The visitor was no help, slowly chewing a mouthful of stew as he peered down at the two humans. He couldn’t even be mad. He knew the visitor struggled with ordinary humans, much less children.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t cry.” He felt tiny hands grip his sweater even harder. “I’m not mad,” he assured her. She leaned back, snot already dripping down her nose.

“You’re not?” He nodded, using the end of his sleeve to wipe her eyes. “Promise?”

“I promise. It was an accident.” In the end he made her another bowl and urged her to eat more slowly to which she promised she would try.

During the day she was either glued to one of them or barricaded in her room. The disturbing discovery had been made after the homeowner had tried to enter to put away fresh laundry and the door wouldn’t open. He panicked for a few moments before a scraping sound was heard behind the door. Then a tiny face was looking through the gap, a small smile on her face.

“Sorry, I had to move the chair. You can come in now.” He shuffled inside and sure enough the armchair had been pushed towards the door. A lump formed in his throat, setting the clothes on her bed. The fact that she felt she needed to do this was heartbreaking.

“Uh…” he started, desperately trying to find his words. “…Do you do that often?” The girl deflated immediately, wringing her hands nervously.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to keep the bad men out.” He nodded and rubbed at his face, feeling that familiar pang of regret eating at him once more. The girl misread his pained expression, bowing her head in guilt. “Did I do something wrong again? I’m sorry…”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He sighed and focused on the ill fitting clothes folded on her bed. It was all he could provide for now. “The bad men… That’s not me or Boris, right?” She shook her head, waving her hands quickly.

“No! You and uncle Boris are nice! The bad men are the one’s who come to the door.” FEMA. He should have known.

“Hey, listen to me.” He crouched as low as he could, his knees already protesting the action. “They won’t come here Dashunya. They don’t go door to door anymore. Okay?” She nodded slowly yet he could tell by the vacant look in her eyes she wasn’t truly listening. This was another recent problem. She frequently zoned out, spending hours in silence.

“Dasha.” Brown eyes stared up into his own. “Do you feel safe here?” Her silence was deafening. He stood back upright and patted her shoulder, swallowing down the pain at her lack of answer. He made her feel that way. He failed to protect her. He tucked the rest of the laundry away in silence, hating himself so much.

Nights were even worse. The only night Daria had managed to sleep soundly was the first. Now they were becoming accustomed to the tiny knock that came around roughly at ten o’clock against the bedroom door. The visitor sat up this time, mumbling something as he squinted through tired eyes.

“Every night,” he grumbled, opening the door. As usual he was helping the child into the bed, letting her curl up in the center between them with her stuffed animal firmly gripped in her arms. The homeowner barely reacted, yawning and turning towards the girl.

“Nightmare?” She nodded, pulling the toy closer. Toto had once been his only companion and brought him so much comfort during times that felt so hopeless. It felt right to give him to her.

“They took me away again,” she whispered, voice trembling. “But they said I was a visitor this time… then… they—“ He stopped her, gently holding up a finger.

“Shh. It’s okay. It was a dream, you’re safe here.” The visitor was settling back on his side, and while he had been a good sport the past few days he could tell that this in particular was wearing on his nerves. The visitor was sorely missing getting a full night’s rest, frequently being jostled awake by the frightened child for reassurance. He could tell Daria looked up to the visitor very much, always listening as he spoke with full focus.

“But what if they broke the door down? Or if they came in through the windows?”

“No that wouldn’t happen,” he grumbled, words slurring together from exhaustion. “I would hear them coming and tear their arms off.” The homeowner shoved his shoulder.

“Don’t tell her that!” But the girl actually seemed reassured by this, finally wrapping herself in the blankets and settling down.

And then there was Boris himself. With each passing day he moved slower and grew more sallow, dark shadows deepening under his eyes. If he didn’t know better he would think he was ill, but the pale man brushed off his concern each time.

“I have a superior immune system, Sunbeam. This is simply a result of pushing myself too hard. It’ll pass.” But he wasn’t convinced, watching the visitor wobble to the side, catching himself with one arm.

Thankfully the sun came back out by the weekend, the roads thawing to something traversable once more. They desperately needed supplies, a revision to his ration card application already in hand. Slipping it in the mailbox he prayed the post would be running today. The homeowner was in the middle of zipping up an old moth-eaten jacket onto Daria when he looked over at the visitor, eyes glassy and hair stuck to the sweat soaked sheen across his face. He didn’t look well at all.

“Hey,” he gently ran a hand up his arm. “You don’t have to come to town with us. Take a nap or something, you look rough.” He was hoping the other would understand where he was coming from, but the pale man as usual denied that anything was wrong.

“I am fine Mishenka. I’m not leaving you alone again.” It frustrated him to no end, he was clearly out of sorts but refused to acknowledge it, growing more defensive each day. Even the dog had taken notice, loyally glued to his side and watching over him as he slept. He tried to be firm.

“Boriska. Everything will be alright, we’re just visiting two stores. Just stay here and rest. Please?”

“Wait is uncle Boris staying here?” Daria looked between them, fear evident in those brown eyes. “I don’t wanna go if he’s not coming…” He looked down in confusion.

“What? Why? We’re going to pick out some proper clothes for you, one’s that fit. Won’t that be nice?” She was wringing her hands, looking oh so very small in this moment.

“But…It won’t be safe without him…” The comment hurt far worse than it should, the homeowner drawing a sharp breath inward.

Oh.

He should have expected this, it made perfect sense. She no longer felt safe in his care. Boris had saved her, defied the odds and returned her home. Now she looked to the visitor for security. Not him.

“Do not fret tiny human, I will be accompanying you.” He motioned for the door. “Go ahead and head outside, we will be right behind you.” The homeowner wasn’t paying attention to the door closing, too busy trying to choke down his grief.

A firm grip on his shoulder pulled him closer, cool skin pressing against his cheek.

“Shh, my sunshine. It’s okay. Do not make that face.” He turned away, ashamed that the other could pick up on his distress so easily. He was supposed to be a man for fucks sake, roll with the punches and never show weakness. And here he was sulking over a few words.

The visitor pinched his arm, causing him to jolt, warm breath fanning across his face as he leaned closer to his ear. “I know what you are thinking, stop it.”

Could he? The homeowner bit his lip to ground himself, slowly drawing a full breath in. The visitor was getting so good at reading him now, even recognizing the signs of a self-destructive spiral. How embarrassing. Still, he couldn’t find the strength to face him.

Fingers suddenly gripped his chin, forcing him to look at the pale man. There was no judgement in his eyes, only gentle understanding. “No more of that. Alright?” His thumb traced over the hollows of his cheeks. “She did not mean what you are thinking. Daria cares for you very much. Do not despair.” The tender kiss he offered communicated so much more, chilled skin cradling his face so lovingly. He couldn’t help but melt into the touch. “You are doing a good job.” Swallowing hard he nodded, feeling incredibly exposed right now.

Weakness was never allowed in this household. Conditioned from childhood to put on a brave face or grin and bare it. But it wasn’t like that with Boris. It was like the visitor could sense when there was a problem, probing deeper into the tangled chaos of his heart and unraveling the mess of emotions hidden beneath. To be understood meant being vulnerable, something that he was not used to.

He cleared his throat, forcefully pulling himself back together, zipping his jacket up the rest of the way.

“Alright, let’s go.” The pale man said nothing but the firm hand placed at the small of his back settled him more than it should have.

The bus ride over was more crowded than usual, the three smushed together in one of the last available benches. They weren’t the only ones that needed to restock their supply apparently. The closest place to shop for clothing was a thrift store a few blocks away from the supermarket. The door jingled as they entered, the smell of artificial flowers assaulting his senses. It smelled similar to the perfume his grandmother used to wear. A tiny elderly woman looked up from the counter, adjusting her eccentric glasses when they came closer.

“Good afternoon,” she chirped, sliding out her chair with a grunt and waddling over. “Can I help you lads find anything today?” Daria was currently hiding behind Boris, she had been for the entirety of their trip, a death grip on the man’s hand. If it hurt the visitor he didn’t say so, yet the pain in his eyes he suspected came from something else. He had been noticeably shivering since they left the house.

“Do you have children’s clothes?” The woman blinked in confusion before noticing the girl.

“Ah yes, of course we do! Come, follow me.” The store was a hodgepodge of worn out fabrics and wildly flamboyant outfits, no doubt the ‘normal’ clothing had been picked clean by now. But fortunately there were a few things to choose from in the back, a small collection for children. “Here we are! Changing rooms are on the right. Please let me know if you need anything.” With that she wandered back, the beads dangling from her glasses swaying as she walked. The homeowner glanced at the clothing racks feeling rather lost. He knew nothing about picking out apparel, always opting for his turtleneck sweater and a pair of plain pants every day.

“Uh,” he started before pausing. “Dasha, how about you show me what you like.” At first the girl was reluctant, morosely flipping through the options until she found a plaid white and yellow dress, her eyes lighting up immediately.

“This one! It’s my favorite color!” He held it up to her praying it would fit, the girl smiling for once. Thankfully it appeared to be her size. As they dug through the garments he got a feeling of what would fit through trial and error. She picked out several dresses and long sleeve shirts to pair with them as well as a set of overalls she loved because of the dog embroidered on the front pocket and a few sets of jeans. Shoes were more sparse, he could only find a pair of snow boots and black Mary Janes in her size. Though she seemed content, running back and forth to the dressing room before hopping out, making sure to show both of them each outfit.

Seeing her act like a normal kid for once made his heart clench, watching her now flit through the winter apparel aisles. She picked out her favorite hat while he fitted her for a proper jacket, which ended up being more difficult than expected. Every option seemed to be either way too big or incredibly small. Finally he settled on a waterproof parka, even though he found the color combination odd. Daria didn’t seem to mind, running off to look in the mirror once more. He prayed this wouldn’t bankrupt them, looking at the growing bundle of clothing in his arms.

The old woman at the counter had watched the whole affair, a warm smile on her face as she observed the girl. He was trying to set each new outfit on the counter while Boris attempted to corral her to the front.

“What a lovely little girl,” she cooed. “Are you her father?” Something about that made him flinch, never once enjoying the thought of bearing that moniker. There were two reasons for this. He dreaded the thought of becoming someone as loathsome as his own dad and he didn’t deserve to be placed on the same pedestal as her actual father. He was a far better man than him.

“Uncle,” he corrected, frowning at the abysmal amount of cash in his wallet. The woman smiled and began slowly folding the clothes on the counter.

”And he is—“ He cut her off, not feeling in the mood for idle conversation.

”—A family friend.” She nodded, accepting his answer.

”Well she is a delight. I can’t remember the last time I saw such a joyful soul in this shop. Not since the cataclysm…” He watched as she reached over and placed a few additional items in each bag, the homeowner throwing out a hand to stop her when he realized.

”Ma’am, there’s been a mistake, I didn’t pick those—“ She held up a finger, a soft light in those knowing eyes. He realized what she had been placing in the bags: toys.

”When the world has been turned upside down with sorrow, loss, and grief there is little need for toys. But children are such amazing and innocent souls, capable of enduring so much and still have the courage to smile. If there is a light still shining in spite of so much despair then that light should be nurtured. Please. Allow me to give you these, I have no need for them.”

She motioned at the little girl who was now being dragged out of a clothing rack in which she had tried to hide, the visitor wearing a look of weary exhaustion. Yet the child seemed content, already trying to run off to another part of the store. The woman chuckled softly and folded her hands neatly into her lap. “Your niece needs these toys more than I do.”

He didn’t know what to say in response to that, only offering a stiff nod of awkward gratitude. Daria was initially devastated when he told her she couldn’t wear one of her new outfits out of the store but settled down when she was allowed to wear her jacket.

”I have to wash these first and then you can wear whatever you want, okay?” She nodded even though she was clearly still sulking. It was concerning how little cash now sat in his wallet, mostly cleaned out after visiting the thrift store. He dug around in his pockets as they walked, trying to scrounge up anything else he may have had on him.

”Boriska, how much cash do you have on you?” He prayed he hadn’t spent all of the gambling money, knowing the other had no interest in ‘human currency’. The visitor, who now walked with the little girl clinging to his sleeve, looked over with red rimmed eyes. He was going to force this man to take a nap when they got home.

“I am unsure, I will check.” The pale man reached into his oversized pockets and rummaged around for a moment. He nearly fainted when he removed his hand, fistfulls of paper bills between his fingers. “Will this suffice?”

”ARE YOU INSANE?!” He rushed to block him from view, shoving his hand back into his pocket. “You are going to get us robbed! Where did you get that?” He hissed. “That is way more than you had before!” Pulling open the other’s oversized pockets so roughly the visitor was yanked a few steps forward. Apparently it was even more than he thought, his pockets were positively lined with cash.

”I confiscated everything that was in the looters possession. After everything they put you through I thought you could at least make use of the money. They won’t be needing it anymore.” He grimaced, recalling the means that this cash was attained. Robbing little old grannies and the occasional murder. But the Pale man was right, this was about survival. They needed every resource at their disposal.

The grocery store was slammed, more busy than he had ever seen before. Signs were posted everywhere apologizing for the frigid indoor temperature. They even had a greeter at the door. “Our heating unit has been out since the storm, we apologize for the inconvenience. Thank you for shopping with us today.” He didn’t care if it was snowing inside the building so long as they had supplies.

He kept a tight grip on Daria’s hand, allowing her to pick out a few things as they went. Tallying was more difficult, he no longer had as large of a reserve to fall back on. The looters had ruined everything. He hoped that their ration card would be updated within the next few weeks, having a permanent new mouth to feed made things a bit more complicated.

The noise alone was overwhelming, constant conversation and children crying throughout the building. He couldn’t wait to return home. And the visitor was so slow and quiet they kept losing him, having to backtrack constantly to see which aisle he was stuck in. This was getting to be too much, every single sound was grating on his nerves.

So focused on leaving he realized too late that Boris wasn’t behind him anymore. He stiffened, glancing around in an attempt to catch sight of his partner. They were already in the check out line, most of the groceries bagged and ready yet the visitor was nowhere to be found.

”Dasha,” the girl looked up, still looking rather exhausted. He fought to keep his voice neutral. “Have you seen Boris?” She blinked a few times before turning around as well, hands clutched tightly to her chest.

”He was right behind us…” He could hear the fear creeping into her voice, he hated that his heart rate was picking up as well.

“Oh wait, there he is!” He looked to where she was pointing, relief washing over him. But that feeling didn’t last, realizing that the visitor was staggering over to them. He had a hand clutched over his face, crimson fingers glistening.

”Borya!” He rushed forward, grabbing at his shoulders. “What happened? Did you hurt yourself?” His hand was moved out of the way to reveal blood steadily trickling from his nose, smeared across his chin and fingers

“Misha,” he voice sounded off, the homeowner realizing just how dull his eyes had become. “Something… is wrong with me…” He was shaking violently, he could even hear how it was affecting his breathing, now shuttering and irregular. All thoughts fled his mind, replaced by a crippling sense of urgency: Get Boris home. Now.

”Dasha,” He breathed, pulling the visitor further into the check out line. “Can you handle carrying these?” She took the bags containing her clothing, frantically looking between him and the ailing visitor.

”What’s wrong with him?” He could hear her distress, her voice teetering on the edge of cracking, but he couldn’t focus on her right now, not when Boris was looking like he was about to pass out. He was lightly smacking the side of the visitor’s face to keep him awake, his steps were growing more and more uneven.

”I don’t know, but we need to get him home. Right now.” He didn’t even wait for his change, slapping down the cash and taking off with an armload of bags and the visitor in tow. The bus ride was horrific, the driver at first kept insisting they go to the nearest hospital since they had reopened their doors. He knew better than to take the visitor there, who knew what could happen. Hell, knowing FEMA they were probably roaming the halls.

Then nosy passengers kept trying to butt in, asking questions or feigning concern in the guise of observing the spectacle. He clenched his fists and tried to bite his tongue. The straw that broke the camel’s back was when a man, who had already approached them twice now with unwanted ‘medical advice’ despite having no experience in medicine, tried to move the homeowner aside.

”Kid, take a seat. I’ll take a look at your friend here, get him patched up in a jiffy. Got a cousin who’s a Doctor out in Novosibirsk, taught me all kinds of stuff. Now, what you’ll wanna do is—“

He wrenched his shoulder out of the pudgy man’s grip and wheeled around with a snarl. The man looked completely shocked when he shoved him back, advancing on him like a rabid animal.

”Get the fuck away from him and mind your own fucking business! As for all of you—“ he gestured to the nosy onlookers that had gathered onto their side of the bus. “You can drop dead.” Thankfully no one else approached them after that but they did earn several glares from the passengers. Even the bus driver was eager to watch them leave.

”Dasha, get the door.” She rushed to open it, tripping over her own feet in her haste. The visitor looked awful, sweat dripping down his face and muttering to himself but nothing he said made sense. The only discernible words he could understand were “…She wasn’t real…”. He tried several times in vain to get the others attention but nothing was working, his eyes barely open by this point.

“Borya,” he pleaded, grabbing his cheeks in an attempt to get him to focus. His skin was frigid. “Tell me what’s wrong, what’s happening to you?” His eyes sharpened for a moment, like he was finally realizing where he was for the first time. He waited for a response, the homeowner having no idea what to do, unsure of what could be causing this.

”Cold… She knew…” He cursed as the visitor’s legs partially gave out, his tremendous weight hell to drag to the bedroom and now made worse by Anya. The dog was clearly upset, trying to sniff and jump at the visitor, causing him to stumble over her as she wove between his legs. Forced to dump all the grocery bags in the hall, he laid the pale man on his back, the dog immediately jumping up onto the bed to lick at his face. An idea was slowly taking shape, spurred on by the visitor’s vague words. Among his delirious rambling he mentioned the cold. He had seen the visitor react poorly to temperature change, but never like this. But what if all this time he had been acclimating to the cooler weather and now all that progress had regressed because of what FEMA did.

”Dasha, I need your help in the kitchen.” She was quick to join him, holding her arms out as he dropped washcloths into her arms and started the kettle, yanking out his grandmother’s old rubber hot water bottle.

”Is uncle Boris gonna be okay?” She asked, watching him fill the bottle carefully. He chose his next words carefully, not wanting to lie to the girl.

”I’m going to take care of him, but I need some help.” He leaned down, resting a hand atop her head gently. “He’s sick right now, I know it’s kind of scary. But you are such a brave girl. Can I count on you?” She nodded, eyes filled with determination.

”Yes! I’m a good helper!” He ruffled her hair gently.

“Yes. You are.”

Warming the visitor was a tricky process. He tried desperately to get the other to stop shaking but covering him in more blankets didn’t seem to be enough, though tucking the hot water bottle under his jacket at least eased the tremors. Periodically he changed the hot towel draped across his forehead, walking back and forth from the kitchen to the bedroom to boil more water. It was a small victory when at last the pale man’s nose stopped bleeding, the homeowner dabbing away the dried blood from his face.

”He’s sick because of the cold?” He nodded, changing out the washcloth once more.

”Yes, that’s what I think at least. Visitors are sensitive. They were meant for warm weather.” He noticed the girl’s expression and stopped, turning to face her fully. Tears were silently falling down her cheeks. “Hey now,” he wiped at her face, unsure of what had suddenly brought this on. “What’s wrong? He’s getting better see—“

”It’s my fault,” she choked, wiping furiously at her face. He was so lost at this moment, setting the cold washcloth aside.

”Dasha, how can you possibly think this is your fault?” She pointed at the visitor who was now sleeping, puffy bags under his eyes and hair clinging to clammy skin.

”Boris gave me his jacket even though it was super cold outside! We were in the woods for hours and I was warm and he didn’t have anything. He was out there because of me, I did this!” His heart clenched at the way she said this, like she was sure this was true.

”No, no. Come here.” He pulled her closer, drying the tears on her face. “None of this is your fault. Okay? None. If anything FEMA is to blame, not you. Their little ‘test’ did this. Even if he had worn his jacket that day I think he still would have ended up like this, except you might have gotten sick as well. And I couldn’t imagine if both of you were…” He swallowed hard, the thought alone was unpleasant. “All we can do now is take care of him. We’ll get through this together, alright?” He brushed away a stray hair that was falling into her eyes, sobs still wracking her tiny form.

Not knowing how to reassure the girl further he patted the comforter. “I’ve actually got a really important job for you. Can you sit here with him? I need to put the groceries up and make us something to eat. It’s a big job, will you watch over him for me?” The girl nodded, hoisting herself up to sit by the visitor’s side.

His grandmother used to do this all the time when he was little. When he was upset she would butter him up by giving him an ‘important job’, really emphasizing how much his help meant to her. He did all kinds of things for her, cracking eggs into a bowl, measuring out flour, rolling little balls of dough all with the utmost concentration. All because he believed it to be important. And it always worked too, standing there by her side always made him feel better, distracted him from the monster roaming the halls.

The homeowner kept himself busy, routinely checking on the two every so often to change out the water and drape a fresh hot towel across the sleeping man’s forehead. Daria was laser focused on the visitor at all times, taking her guard duty very seriously. But she wasn’t alone. The dog was pressed against her, positioned so her head could lay on Boris’ chest, rising and falling in rhythm with his breaths. And then there was Toto, plopped directly next the the pale man’s head, glass eyes aimed forward.

”For protection,” the girl had explained. “Toto always protects me so I asked him to protect uncle Boris this time.” He wondered to himself how such a kind soul survived what she did. Then he remembered who raised her and it all made sense. The neighbor had been one of the most compassionate and thoughtful individuals he had ever known in his life. He knew her father would be proud of her now.

It wasn’t until sunrise that the visitor finally awoke, having only opened his eyes a few times during the night before instantly falling unconscious once more. Daria had fallen asleep at some point, sandwiched between the dog and visitor. She was exhausted after everything, having spent hours fighting rest. The homeowner had been too afraid to move her, finding sleep had been very difficult for her lately.

There was confusion in his gaze, slowly looking around the room. He paused for a moment when he saw both Anya and Daria, the dog’s tail thumping happily against the bed. Then he noticed him. The way his face relaxed made his heart miss a beat. There was genuine warmth in those hazy eyes.

”Hey.” The homeowner cringed inwardly. How eloquent of him. The pale man seemed to find it amusing though, cracking a slow grin.

”Howdy.” He scooted closer, having dragged one on the dining room chairs into the bedroom. He hadn’t slept at all last night, stoking the fire and changing out the visitor’s hot towels for hours.

”How’re you feeling?”

“Tremendous,” he frowned at the visitor which seemed to only encourage him. “Simply lovely. I am the picture of health.” he chuckled to himself before wincing, brows pinched together in pain. The homeowner wasn’t laughing.

”Boris,” he warned, leaning closer. “You were bleeding pretty badly yesterday. And you passed out. Can we take this seriously? I’m… worried… about you.” As difficult as it was for him to admit it looked as if it was even harder for the visitor to hear, his eyes narrowing and jaw clenched. “What’s happening to you—“

”I don’t know.” The visitor cut him off sharply with a huff. “I have been struggling with certain… ailments for the past few days. I thought this was all a byproduct of exhaustion. I was wrong.” He appreciated the honesty but it sounded like the visitor had been masking his pain which irked him.

”Tell me the symptoms.” When the pale man made a face he added, “Please. Humor me.” He released a long sigh through his nose, the house quiet except for the distant sound of the washing machine. He had started Daria’s new clothes an hour ago.

”Exhaustion, no amount of rest seems to help,” the visitor listed off each ailment, one shaky hand idly stroking the dog’s head. “Headaches, chills, muscle aches. At first I could ignore it, but this morning when I stepped out into the snow, I felt as if my bones were breaking apart. If I didn’t know better I would think this was just an ordinary human illness, as repulsive as the idea may be. But I do not believe that to be the case now.” He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice as best he could.

”And you didn’t think to tell me?”

”I did not realize the severity of this,” he hissed. “It may come as a surprise to you dear human, but you know as much as I do about this. I did not withhold the truth of my ‘condition’, I was ignorant of it.” The homeowner averted his eyes, a twinge of guilt swirling in his chest.

”Sorry,” he grumbled. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.” He stood, peeling the old washcloth off and submerging it into the latest batch of steaming water. “I do have a theory though.” The visitor turned his head to watch him, a curious tilt to his head.

”Oh? Do tell.”

”I will. Just testing something first.” The pale man scoffed, turning away.

”You lecture me about keeping things from you then do the same to me. How hypocritical.” He smacked his forehead lightly, fighting a smile at the offended noise the other man made. Sure enough it only took a few minutes to see a change, the visitor lightly trembling once more. He replaced the hot cloth and watched the shaking slow and fade, as if he had imagined it.

”I think you’re changing back.” He gestured to his body awkwardly. “You know… To how you were before they stuck you in the heat chamber.” The visitor sat up with a groan, holding the washcloth in one hand.

”You are probably correct. I knew this would happen, but last time I reverted it was not like this. I didn’t even notice my body was changing at first. The change started small. My skin became more sensitive, my strength less impressive. I was confused at first, I called to my master for guidance but She never answered. I was completely alone.” He shifted so that the girl was lying more comfortably, moving the little stuffed animal into her arms.

“I remember seeing my reflection in a hub cap lying on the side of the road. I had color to my skin, if I hadn’t known better I would have thought I was human again. That’s when I realized something was wrong. By the time I found you, I had already changed significantly. But it never felt like this. Uncomfortable at times, but there was no pain.” The homeowner hummed, idly carding his fingers through damp black hair. The visitor could use a bath, but he had been too afraid of accidentally throwing his body into overdrive. Perhaps when he could safely stand again.

”That test they put you through, you said they exposed you to extremely high temperatures, right? Then you immediately had to endure the worst winter storm of the year. I think your body is in shock. ” He reached for the visitor’s zipper, removing it enough to show him the hot water bottle tucked into his jacket. “You got better when I added heat. I think if we’re careful we can safely get you back to how you were. We just have to be smart about it, otherwise we might make it worse.” When the visitor said nothing he looked up only to find the other regarding him with so much warmth it made him freeze. Two hands curled over the collar of his coat, he had forgotten to remove it earlier.

“I’m not worried,” he murmured, tugging him closer. “I’ve got the smartest, most handsome human looking after me.” He snorted, ducking his head.

”Shut up. Flattery will get you nowhere.” The visitor hummed, a dreamy look plastered across his face.

”Hmm… perhaps. But how else will I profess my appreciation for my favorite human?” He cracked a slight grin at that, finding the statement a tad absurd.

”Favorite human? When did I earn that?” The visitor was blurting out the answer before he could even react.

”After our very first conversation. You were so defiant, never before had I met a human as fiery as you.” Stunned, he didn’t even realize the pale man had sat up further, now looking down at him from this angle, those hands keeping him from standing upright. “In the end I couldn’t keep myself away.” He was firing back before he could even help it.

“Because you’re a stalker.” The visitor cocked his head to the side, a delighted twinkle in his eye.

“I would call myself a persistent admirer.”

“Of course you would.”

“You’re irresistible like that, Mishenka.” He gave the pale man a hard stare, cocking one brow.

“And you have terrible taste.”

”I have immaculate taste.” An accusatory finger was jammed into the visitor’s chest.

”I’ve watched you devour a rotting deer carcass. Don’t act like you have some fancy refined palette.”

”And I suppose that cancels out years of dedication to the classical arts? Might I add that you had ordered that I provide for myself back then, and now it is being held against me? Oh Misha, how you wound me.” That last comment got him, a terrible snort escaping before he could stop it, the smug wink the pale man gave him was not helping. To keep himself from laughing and waking the girl he pushed forwards, catching the visitor off guard with a chaste kiss. He could feel him smile against his lips.

”You’re delusional. Or delirious. Are we sure that FEMA didn’t fry your brain?”

”They really tried.” Two soft laughs flitted through the early morning air, both taking time to appreciate a quiet moment of peace while the world allowed it.

Over the next few days the hermit made sure to monitor his partner closely, checking for any signs of pain or weakness. Now that they had an idea of what was happening both men were working together, neither wanting to repeat what had happened out in public. Boris had taken to soaking in hot baths and spending time in front of the wood stove when the shaking grew worse, for now all outdoor chores fell to the homeowner. He didn’t complain, just grateful that the visitor was on the mend.

Their efforts were clearly paying off. His skin color was improving, less sickly grey and more of a healthy flush to it. But he was extremely tender at the moment, constantly wincing as he moved around the house.

”You’re definitely shrinking.”

”I am—Ah—aware.“ he hissed when his hands moved over his spine. “Misha, I beg you to exercise caution in that particular area. Please.” They were currently in the bathroom, the visitor stripped down to only his pants and gripping the sink as the homeowner looked over the nodules of his spine. They were getting closer together slowly but surely, though this seemed to cause the other incredible discomfort.

”Sorry. I’m trying to be careful.” The entire reason they were doing this was because the visitor had stretched after breakfast this morning only for a horrible crunching to ring out, both humans jumping out of their seats to his aid. At first the pale man had been unable to speak, doubling over his newspaper as he groaned.

Gentle fingers traced each protrusion, watching carefully for any signs of pain from the other. He noted that the pain was mostly localized between his shoulder blades.

“This is the problem. You should take a hot shower and really let the water focus on that area.” The visitor grunted in response, face still pinched in pain. If it was still hurting him afterwards he was fully planning on working the knots out by hand, even if the visitor protested. The last thing he wanted was for the other’s back to lock up on him.

He turned to leave but hesitated, torn between indulging a silly whim or not. He caved, trying not to feel like the biggest dork in all of Sebezh when he grabbed the pale man’s hips and stood on the tips on his toes to press a kiss between his shoulder blades. He fled quickly, trying to will the flush on his cheeks to go away, in his haste completely missing how the visitor watched him leave with a pout.

Daria had also been helping as of late, venturing more into the house since their outing. While in a way he was glad to see her moving around he still worried about her. She had been seeking the visitor out whenever she left her room, following him around like a lost duckling. At first it confused Boris, the visitor trying to talk the girl into checking on the homeowner instead. He could tell that he didn’t know how to engage with her sometimes, freezing up occasionally when she dropped a toy in his lap, or offered a hug. But after a while he adapted to it, reading while Daria looked over his arm, helping him wash the dishes, dragging a tiny basket behind her as the visitor carried an entire stack of clothing in his arms.

It was during dinner that the homeowner realized why the girl followed the visitor around so avidly. It was the guilty look on her face that gave her away, the visitor having grunted as another part of his back shifted into place. She still blamed herself for his illness. Her food sat nearly untouched in front of her. It took a lot of convincing to get the girl to finish her dinner, he wished he knew how to ease her mind. After tucking her in for the night he decided to check on Boris but the sight had him cracking a grin.

“You have an admirer.” The visitor looked up from where he had been reading, tucked mostly under the covers to stay warm. But what stood out was the sea of stuffed animals surrounding him, like a protective fluffy army poised to protect the visitor at any moment.

”I have noticed,” he flipped the page of his newspaper. “I am unsure as to why she has taken such a liking to me. Tiny humans are quite a mystery.” He huffed, leaning against the door frame.

”You can’t be serious?” But the blank look on the visitor’s face told him he was. “Borya you saved her, of course she’s going to like you after that.”

”That would make sense if this behavior had been present a week ago. I suspect she thinks I am too frail to take care of myself now. A shame it takes one moment of weakness to sway a human’s perspective. Fickle minds.” The bitterness in his voice was clear and evident. He stepped forward, brushing aside a few toys so he could sit with him on the bed.

”No, that's not what’s happening. She looks up to you, more than she does to me if we're completely honest.” He cut the visitor off when he opened his mouth. “Come on, don’t try to butter me up. She feels safe with you because she knows you can protect her. You’ve shown her how you were capable of keeping her safe, something I promised to do and failed miserably. I have to earn that trust back, I let her down. But the reason she’s arranging all those stuffed animals on you every night is not because she finds you weak. She blames herself for your illness.” The pale man frowned, confusion etched across his face.

”I cannot understand how she could possibly think that.” He picked up one of the toys, idly turning it over in his hand. It was a little colorful horse, frizzy plastic hair draped over one side. She had stuck several of these horses to the side of the fridge, enamored with the little magnet in the toy’s hoof.

”Her words, not mine. Dasha thinks that because you gave her your jacket that day she was the reason you got sick. Now she’s trying to make it up to you.” For once it was the pale man’s turn to be stunned by his words, lowering the newspaper into his lap.

”That’s not… Reverting back was inevitable...” He held his hands up, easing off the edge of the bed.

”I know, I tried to tell her the same thing. Maybe it would be better coming from you?” The visitor seemed lost in thought as he left, looking at the stuffed animals around him with a curious tilt of his head.

The visitor took his words to heart thankfully. He was half asleep when the whole interaction occurred, but it still moved him. Daria had come to the door around ten O’clock as usual, but instead of entering the room the pale man was waiting for her.

“Another nightmare?”

”No… I…” There was a distinct warble in her voice, the girl wringing her hands together. “I thought I heard someone knocking on the door… I got scared.”

“Hmm. You know, I think I know someone who can help with that.”

”You do?” The visitor whistled and suddenly the dog was sailing off the bed, ears pricked forward towards her master.

”You have helped me so much these past few days, Dasha. Thank you. I knew that I was going to feel odd after that test but I did not anticipate it would make me that sick. But you looked out for me, that was very admirable of you. I want to return the favor.” He beckoned the dog forward, a large wet nose sniffing over the girl with interest.

“Anya is the bravest, most loyal, and protective dog I’ve ever known. If you want, she can stay with you at night from now on. She will not only watch over you but she will protect you as well. She’s protected both myself and Misha before.” A spark was coming to life in the girl’s eyes, a hand reaching out to scratch the dog’s head.

”Really?” He nodded before standing upright and offering his hand. She took it without hesitation. As they walked back to her room he could still hear the visitor speaking.

“Did you know Anya knows Korean?”

”Wow! Really?”

”Would you like to learn how to ‘talk’ to her?”

”Yes!” Her excitement echoed through the house, the homeowner cracking a tiny smile. He must have fallen asleep by the time the visitor returned because it was the feeling of a hand running through his hair and lips pressing to his cheek that roused him. He turned to align himself properly, slotting their lips together slowly, chasing his warmth as he moved against him.

”Went well?” The homeowner murmured, still half asleep. He could feel the visitor smiling against his skin.

”Yes. I believe I have found a suitable solution to our ‘nightmare’ dilemma.” He hummed, pulling at the visitor to join him in the bed. His partner happily obliged.

”That’s good,” he yawned, tucking himself against his favorite pillow: the pale man’s chest. “Thank you for looking out for her.” It was routine now, he expected the hand on his waist just as much as the visitor anticipated the leg thrown over him, the two completely pressed against one another. He had never slept with someone as clingy as Boris before, but now that he had grown used to it there was no going back. Being held so tightly and that calming purr that reverberated through the visitor’s chest always lulled him to sleep. There was just nothing better than this, a sickly soft feeling swirling in his chest. He knew what it was, but he wasn’t ready to face it yet. Instead he burrowed his face into cool skin and drifted off to sleep.

“Why are we visiting uncle Luka and Yesenin again?” He was in the middle of wrestling with the zipper of the girl’s jacket when the visitor joined them, his face pinched.

”Indeed. Why are we visiting them?” He shot him a warning look, finally getting the jacket fastened correctly.

”Because we haven’t been over for a few weeks and they’ll definitely want to see you again, Dasha.” The little girl was eyeing the door nervously, rubbing her mittens together.

”And… Uncle Boris will be okay? He won’t get sick?”

”As long as the other humans don’t try to get ‘chummy’. Otherwise I may lose my lunch.”

”Boriska. Behave.” The pale man huffed, shoulders curling inwards. Was he seriously pouting like a child? “No, he’s all better now. No more pain.” Well, none that wasn’t supposed to be there. His hand had started aching again, the sad look in his eyes had been hard for the homeowner to bear, silently squeezing the pale man’s good hand in a poor attempt of comfort. “As long as we aren’t outside for too long he should be fine.”

Luka was waiting for them out in the snow when they arrived, alone and lost in thought. For a moment he was worried something was wrong, face dark and posture rigid. But his somber expression brightened when he saw them, pulling the homeowner into a bone crushing hug and slapping him on the back firmly.

”Misha! It is so good to see you. Ready for this wacky weather to over right?” He nodded politely as Luka chuckled, both the man’s hands gripping his shoulders. Suddenly the visitor was pressed against his back, the homeowner forced to look up to see what he was doing but his partner ignored him. He was too busy glaring daggers at the cheerful man. Luka’s face fell for a brief moment, a strange expression flickering across his face before he recovered, clapping the visitor on the shoulder. He swore he heard Boris growl.

”Borya. How’ve you been? What have you been up t—“ he paused, smile falling completely when he noticed the tiny hand in the visitor’s hand. Daria was hiding behind the visitor but slowly stepped out, offering a shy wave.

”…Um, hello uncle Luka… Do you remember me?” Luka was crouching to her level immediately, a soft smile breaking out across his face.

”Yes, yes of course, Dasha.“ He was quick to pull her into a fierce hug, the girl trying to return the embrace with her tiny arms. She looked like a pink and purple marshmallow, her puffy jacket leaned a bit towards the ridiculous side but it kept her warm. When he pulled back he glanced between the two men, pure wonderment in his eyes, “How is this possible?” Before he could even answer he was looking at Daria again, eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay? When did FEMA bring you back? Did they treat you well? Do you need—“ The homeowner cut the man off, realizing he was stuck in a loop of questions.

”Let’s go inside first. That way we can catch Yesenin up too.” Luka sat still for a moment, that strange look passing over his face once more before giving a nod and hopping to his feet, wiping at his eyes and trying to force a crooked smile.

”Yes, that’s a good idea. So sorry, I’m just…I’m just so glad to see you again dear.” She returned his smile, Luka had that kind of effect on people.

But something was off about him today. He didn’t miss how as he turned around the smile had given way to a look of pain. Luka gestured for them to follow, motioning to take the stairs today.

“The elevator’s out of commission. I don’t think anyone will be fixing it anytime soon.” The homeowner stood behind him as they walked, trying to analyze his friend's strange demeanor. Usually Luka was talkative, filling the silence with idle chatter. But today he remained quiet, keeping a few steps ahead instead of walking by his side. He prayed that this wasn’t a result of the visitor’s cold greeting.

Once they were in front of the apartment door, Luka leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad she’s alright, I’ve been worried to death about her ever since that night…” He nodded, swallowing down the usual guilt that threatened to claw its way out every time he reminisced too long about it.

”Me too. I thought the worst honestly.” The door swung open on its own, a thin face coming into view. Luka turned away. Yesenin’s face brightened when he saw the homeowner, clapping a hand on his shoulder and pulling him inside with a grin.

”So nice to see you, my good man. Hope you didn’t lose power in the storm.” He was being dragged into the living room, a pleasant smell wafting from the kitchen. It made his stomach growl, having cut his own portions as of late to account for the girl.

”No we were lucky, we never lost power. But our supplies are pretty sparse right now, but that’s a whole other story.”

“Yeah? What happened? You finally devoured all two thousand potatoes in your basement?” Yesenin seemed tickled with himself, chuckling and jostling the other’s shoulder. It was Luka that caught his attention, brushing his fingers against his arm.

”They found Dasha, the neighbor’s little girl.” Yesenin froze, eyebrows flying up to his hairline.

”Are you serious? How—“ All three of them turned to the sound of the door opening, the visitor being led inside while the child chattered excitedly.

“I think we should get a pet crocodile, we could keep him out in the yard and make a pool for him to live in.” The visitor was grinning, unwinding her scarf and hanging it on the hook by the door.

”Oh yeah? And where would we obtain this crocodile?”

”I saw them on TV once, they can’t live too far. You’re super strong so you could go catch one and bring him to the house. Make sure to get the biggest one you can find, he needs to be able to protect the house. I wanna name him though.” He was nodding along as if this all made perfect sense.

”Naturally. And how large of a pool would we need?” The girl looked down at her hands before stretching them as far as she was able.

”This big! Daddy got a purple one from the store last year, if we could find the same one he’d love it.” At that moment the visitor looked over at him, laughter clear in his eyes. He couldn’t help but smile as well.

”I don’t know about a crocodile kiddo, what about a pet duck instead?” The girl was whirling around, finally noticing Yesenin. She grinned and ran forward, allowing the tall man to hoist her up into his arms. It was a game they used to play, Daria would ride on his shoulders and giggle as they stomped down the halls, her squeals of delight echoing into every room. The house was quiet after they took her, no one was quite ready for how heavy the silence would feel.

”It’s been awhile you rascal! When did you get back?” She pointed at the visitor who had not so subtly stepped in between Luka and the hermit. He gave him a warning look when he felt a hand on his hip, the visitor ignoring him in favor of looking around the apartment as if he’d never been here before. Jealous bastard.

”Uncle Boris saved me from the FEMA camp.” Both Luka and Yesenin appeared startled, a silent conversation clearly exchanged between the two of them.

”Really?” Luka seemed the most shocked, turning towards the pale man. “How did you manage that?” Boris stopped picking at his teeth and blinked a few times, realizing the conversation was now centered on him.

”I noticed an ad in the newspaper that was published by FEMA. They were urging the public to come forward and claim their missing relatives. They had listed her as an ‘unknown minor’ so I figured they had more than likely mismanaged her records. I made my way to the quarantine camp and pretended to be her father. They were none the wiser.” Luka was still looking at him, brows drawn together.

”How did you know what she looked like? She was taken…months ago…” The homeowner jumped in, not liking the look the others were giving his partner right now.

”I showed him earlier.” He prayed his face was neutral, already feeling his skin prickle underneath his clothes. “We had a conversation about her a few days prior and I had a few photos from the past couple years. I told him how much I missed her and wished I could do things differently. My words must’ve stuck with him because he got the newspaper and decided to go be a hero.” To his relief both men seemed to accept that as an answer.

”That’s really brave of you Borya. I’m thankful you both returned uninjured. Those guys can be…brutal.” Luka stiffened at Yesenin’s words, he had a feeling there was a story there. Before he could ask, Luka motioned for the homeowner to follow him to the kitchen.

”Misha, can I get your help for a second?” He nodded and made his way to the next room, the visitor quietly joining him until Luka surprised them both by holding up a hand. “No need. I just need one set of extra hands. You can stay here.”

Something was wrong. Despite the smile on his face his eyes were cold, his tone left no room for debate. The visitor recoiled instantly, face twitching from the effort of remaining calm. He could tell he was about to jump out of his skin, long fingers twitching at his sides. The pale man already disliked Luka. He couldn’t tell if it was because he saw him as a threat to their relationship or if he associated him with secrecy, but it was clear and evident he was struggling to overcome those feelings. This was only cementing that mentality further.

The homeowner felt panicked as well, trying desperately to figure out what was happening right now. It was almost as if the two were sizing each other up, the pale man straightening to his full height. Sure he was about as tall as Yesenin right now but he still stood a bit taller than Luka. But the cheerful man was deceptively strong, you could see it in the thickness of his arms and toned midriff, often exposed due to his bizarre fashion sense.

Then a terrible thought hit him, his stomach churning in dread. Did Luka know?

The visitor was speaking, voice just low enough for the three to hear. “I would feel better accompanying Misha. I will stay out of your way.” This somehow made things worse, Luka’s eye’s narrowing further, fake smile still plastered on his face.

”Maybe I should make myself clear. This is not a suggestion. You will stay here.” The physical reaction the words had on the visitor was instant, lips peeling back into a snarl and eyes flashing dangerously. Before things could get any worse he stepped between the two, laying a hand on his partner’s chest. His face shifted from rage to confusion, dark eyes focusing on steady green.

”It’ll be fine, Borya. I’ll be right back. Stay here.” The visitor didn’t like that at all, shoulders drooping forward. He looked like a kicked puppy, pure hurt etched across his face. Turning, he followed Luka into the next room. He was trying not to focus on it, needed to be ready for whatever confrontation was in store for him, not the broken looking visitor standing in the doorway hunched in on himself.

Luka led him all the way to the back of the galley kitchen, the homeowner feeling as if the cabinets were closing in on them. Only once they were tucked into the corner did he whirl around, face deathly serious.

”Misha,” he started, voice tight. “Is there something you need to tell me?” Shit. This was it. He knew Boris was a visitor. He kept his voice low, choosing his words carefully as his heart rate skyrocketed.

”What are you talking about?” Luka looked offended.

”Don’t give me that Misha,” he sounded genuinely upset with him. “If you need help you can tell us. You’ve done so much for us both, Yesenin and I are so grateful for everything you did to keep us safe during the cataclysm. We’re your friends. You can tell us these things, we’re here to help you.”

What in the world was he going on about? Could he tell them the truth? It felt like a trap, he couldn’t possibly see how admitting ‘hey guys, so the guy I’m seeing is actually a super visitor, hope that’s cool with you’ would go well. He tilted his head, eyeing the other wearily.

”I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Luka let out a slow breath, something that looked routinely practiced. He watched the man settle, the moment his eyes opened they were less frantic and more resolute.

”Alright. Then tell me who gave you this,” his fingers grazed the mostly healed bruises around his eye. He flinched back, eyes going wide.

Oh. He didn’t figure out Boris was a visitor. He thought he was abusing him. Luka continued, misinterpreting his expression. “Yeah Misha. I know a black eye when I see one. And don’t think I missed the rest of the bruises either, your face is covered in them. I was worried something was off. The possessiveness, the hostility towards me, and now the bruises and the controlling behavior. He didn’t even want you talking to me without him present! A huge red flag. I’ve dated guys like that before and I care too much about you to let you get hurt—“ He cut him off, holding a hand up.

”Luka. That is not what’s happening.” The other man squinted at him, as if he didn’t believe him. He continued, stepping closer. “Let me explain. It will make sense I promise.” Luka sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before relenting.

”Fine. I’ll listen.”

”When Borya went off to get Dasha he was away from the house for several days. Three men came to the house and caught me off guard, kept me locked up while they went through our belongings. I’m bruised to hell and back because those fuckers fought and later tried to kill me. Borya stopped them. He would never hurt me.” He couldn’t read the expression on Luka’s face, thick arms crossed over his chest.

”Three men happened to approach the house while Boris was away.” He nodded. Luka’s frown deepened. “And how, may I ask, was Boris able to ‘stop’ these men?” He didn’t like the way Luka asked that, hackles raising instinctively.

”The same way we dealt with things during the fucking cataclysm Luka. We killed them. I’ll show you where they’re buried if that makes you feel better.” He stepped closer, his temper flaring.

“Borya and I have gone through so much to keep each other safe, did you know that? We’ve been attacked by visitors, FEMA, and hell, even other humans. So yeah, life can get a little rough out there. I know you and Yesenin have gotten used to your cushy little city lives but out there it's a dog eat dog world. There’s no one you can call to come save you. We’re completely alone out there, or have you forgotten?” Anger flashed in the other’s eyes but faded into hurt, almost like the feeling caused the other pain.

”No. I haven’t forgotten… and life’s not been great here either,” he spat, fingers digging harshly into his bicep. “But then why the odd behavior? It’s not normal, it’s manipulative.”

“Because he blames himself,” he snapped, growing more frustrated. “He left me alone for a few days and came back to a guy pointing a gun to my forehead in the front yard. Borya’s always been protective but you’ll have to excuse him if he’s a little more so after something like that.” Luka looked shocked for a moment before he lowered his gaze. When he finally looked up, his face was pinched, an overwhelming sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed, I just… saw your injuries and it brought up bad memories and I wanted to spare you from that. I let my anger get the best of me and drew conclusions that weren’t true. That’s my fault, I apologize.” The quiet between them was heavy and awkward. The homeowner sighed, exhaustion weighing down his shoulders. He never wanted to fight his friend.

“It’s alright. At least I know you’re one of the few that actually gives a shit about me.” He was thrown off when the other man grabbed his shoulder, squeezing hard.

”Always. You are very important to me Misha. Never forget that.” He nodded stiffly, feeling a little overwhelmed by Luka’s honesty.

”I feel the same about you and Yesenin.” Luka fiddled with his sunglasses, looking deeply lost in thought.

”Misha…have you considered…leaving that place? Starting over?” He blinked. He had considered it before. But the idea seemed so impossible, full of challenges, the unknown, and what about the finances…

“Where would I go, Luka?” He sighed, curling his arms around himself. “Who’s selling or buying houses during times like these?” Luka didn’t say anything, instead scratching idly at a defect on the laminate countertop.

”FEMA…They didn’t hurt the poor girl, did they?”

”Those bastards starved, shaved, and dressed her in soiled rags before throwing her out in the snow. And now she’s terrified of everything. She barricades her bedroom door at night, she hides when the mailman approaches the house, and she eats her food so fast she gets sick. And that’s not even the worst part. She zones out and you can’t reach her when she’s like that, content to sit in silence for hours. And the nightmares, we finally got her sleeping in her own bed because Borya’s been letting his dog stay with her. We are trying our best but we both have no experience with kids. So half the time we don’t even know what we’re doing!”

”You two are doing what you can and that’s admirable. I don’t think anyone knows what they’re doing, especially now.” Luka looked up suddenly, looking rather ill.

”She didn’t see you two kill the home invaders right?”

”No, no. She was safely tucked into the woods when that happened. She didn’t see anything.” He let out a sigh of relief.

”That’s good. She’s already been through enough.” Luka began rummaging through the cupboards, pulling out the kettle and offering ideas as he worked. “Perhaps you two could start taking her to the local playgrounds. Interacting with kids her own age may help.” He nodded, passing him a stack of mugs when it became clear he was preparing tea. He gave him a grateful smile and turned towards the kettle, arranging the cups in a line. “You can rejoin the others, I’m sure Borya’s missing you. I’m sorry for everything.” Luka waved him off, a desolate look in his expression that was so foreign it felt wrong on his face.

No. He was going to figure out what the hell was wrong with his friend. There was more going on here.

”What’re you making?” He gestured to the dutch oven on the stovetop, the sound of sizzling could be heard throughout the cramped kitchen.

”Huh? Oh, that. Pirozhki. I thought you all might be hungry. The first batch will be done soon and I’ll start on the next in just a second.” The homeowner was already rolling up his sleeves, looking around at the bowl full of dough and ground meat on the countertop.

”No need. I’ll do it.” Luka looked up in surprise, brows drawn together.

”You really don’t have to, go have fun with everyone else.”

”It’s fine.” He was already flattening the dough in his hands, muscle memory from so many years of having to provide for himself. “Gives you a chance to tell me whatever the hell’s wrong with you.” Luka’s mouth dropped open, fumbling with the mug in his hands.

”What are you—“

”Don’t try to hide it from me, that’s not fair. You're my friend too so if you’re allowed to worry about me I get to return the favor. You’ve been off since we arrived and I know it’s not because of Boris. Start talking.” That actually made the other snort, face softening.

”You’re more perceptive than I thought, I believed I was holding myself together a bit better. Apparently not.” He accepted the mug of tea that was offered to him, setting it aside as he removed the pirozhki that was done cooking. “You sure you want to hear about the woes of my ‘cushy city life’? Some of them are kind of stupid.”

”Of course. You’ve sat through enough of my whining.” Luka laughed at that, the first real laugh the entire afternoon. They worked together, dough and flour sticking to their hands as they worked and talked, the homeowner focusing on his friend as he spoke.

”The first is actually horrific. Two days ago a whole squadron of FEMA agents surrounded the apartments. There had to have been at least four or five vans out there, it was just a sea of hazmat suits. FEMA demanded that everyone needed to leave the building now, it was condemned and no one was authorized to be here. The problem is that most of us here don’t have anywhere else to go, either they lost their homes or they have no way of getting back to where they’re originally from. For example there’s a young man here that’s from Georgia, he was here visiting a friend when the cataclysm hit. He can’t return to his home country with the transit system still not operating at full service and the poor thing has no way to communicate with the people here. Can you imagine how terrifying this all is for him?”

No he couldn’t, just the thought of being in the man’s shoes made him anxious. “There's also a lot of families here just trying to scrape by. Some of the men came down and tried to explain their situations. You know, hoping for a little understanding given the circumstances. The negotiations got a little heated however and…things took a turn.” He had a bad feeling about where this was going.

”Let me guess. FEMA killed them.” Luka nodded, turmoil in those usually soft eyes.

”It was horrible, Misha. The blood…The screams. God, it makes me sick. They were only looking out for their families. Many of them were factory workers with plans of getting out of here as soon as they were able.” He took the raw pirozhki that Luka had finished and began arranging them in the hot oil.

”So what made them back off?”

”Their wives and some of the children ran out to try to stop them, and when they got caught in the crossfire people from the surrounding buildings got involved. Once they realized they were outnumbered they fled, but not before giving us a deadline. We need to be out of here in three weeks. Or else they're demolishing the building with us inside.” Three weeks was just a few days before New Years. So instead of celebrating with their families, they would be struggling to find sanctuary to get out of the snow.

”Shit Luka,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. Do you have a place to go?” Luka made a face, gently packing ground beef into the dough in his hand.

”We’re working on it. Yesenin swears he found a few leads.” He nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. The homeowner wondered if he offered the office to the pair if they would accept, just until they got back on their feet. But Luka was glancing over, looking rather sheepish for one. “There’s something else…but this one… it’s silly.” He was sure it wasn’t, Luka wasn’t easy to get worked up.

”Try me.” It took a few moments for Luka to gather himself, taking a sip of his tea with a faraway look in his eyes.

”You may already know this since I told Boris but I’ve got a rather painful onesided crush on Yesenin.” He nearly dropped the meat pie in his hand, whirling around on the other in shock.

“You what!?” Luka gave him a wry smile and nodded. The visitor most certainly did NOT tell him that. He was beating his ass as soon as they got home. “When did you tell him?”

”Last visit. I told him because he was clearly suffering, so obviously pining for a certain grumpy shotgun wielding recluse. So I thought he’d feel better knowing that he wasn’t the only one hopelessly yearning for their roommate.” He grit his teeth, ducking his head from the other man’s playful look. God dammit, how did both Luka and Yesenin realize Boris wanted him before he did? Luka’s sigh pulled him out of his thoughts.

”I didn’t know it was onesided at the time though. I had hoped…” His voice broke, the man clearing his throat in embarrassment. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it eventually. It’s not the first time this has happened to me.” He was trying to put on a brave smile and something about that look made him break, remembering how painful it was when he thought Boris didn’t feel the same.

”How did you find out? Did you tell him?” He was listlessly staring into the contents of his mug.

”No. He told me.” He watched Luka lean forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “Remember that poetry expo? Well he took our advice and submitted a poem. It moved the judges so much that they asked if he’d be willing to read it aloud on stage. It was called ‘The Man Who Fell for a Star’. It was one of the most emotionally moving pieces I’ve ever heard. Full of yearning and self-deprecation, obviously directed towards himself and his inability to approach the one he harbored feelings for. I got my hopes up while listening, like an idiot. But in the end the poem was about a woman.”

Luka wiped at his face with a groan. “And I know I needed to hear it. It’s the only way to move on. But I feel so awful because now it physically hurts to be around him. The last thing I want is to lose his friendship. But I don’t see a way I can put some distance between us without hurting his feelings.” He felt stupid, standing there awkwardly as Luka was going through the five stages of grief.

”Uh, what does the poem have to do with his true feelings? Poems are fictitious all the time. You can’t just assume it’s real.”

”You weren’t there,” he murmured, voice devoid of all emotion. “You didn’t hear the way he spoke about her, how he got choked up when he described how her ‘smile was akin to drops of sunlight and shimmering gold’.” No. He didn’t hear him read that poem, but just imagining Luka looking up at Yesinen as his heart broke with each new verse seemed demoralizing. Luka was stronger than him, he wasn’t sure how hard he would have spiraled if put in his shoes. Someone would probably have to confiscate the shotgun from him.

”I’m sorry Luka.” And that was all he could think to say, unable to find a solution or offer a suggestion to help his friend. Hell, he didn’t even know how to console him right now. Luka sighed before offering him a soft smile, cheek propped against his hand.

”Nothing to be sorry about. Part of life. But enough about my silly problems, you still haven’t told me about how you two got together.” He didn’t feel like this was an appropriate time for him to flaunt how happy he was when Luka was standing there looking so morose.

”Luka, we don’t have to—“

”No please,” his voice was genuine, a softness in his tone that couldn’t be forced. “I want to know. Listening to others overcoming the odds and finding each other,” he let out a dreamy sigh, shaking his head. “It brings me so much joy. Gives me hope. Please tell me.” They were plating the pirozhki now, Luka having washed his hands and working on brewing tea for the rest of them. He tried to swallow his guilt, fearing that this would only dampen his friend’s mood further but he told himself that Luka wouldn’t have said that if he hadn’t meant it.

”It was right after we were heading home from seeing you actually. Yesenin had kind of helped with getting my nerves up, he pointed out a few things I hadn’t noticed before.”

”Like what?” He felt his face flush out of reflex.

”He mentioned how Boris was always watching me and how he reacts when he sees me. Even made a bet that he’d break out into a smile once I walked up and he was right. I never realized before… Borya’s eyes, they just,” he made a motion with his hands, unsure how to properly describe it, “come to life when he looks at me. I don’t know how he does it but every time he gives me that look I feel…”

Weightless. Worth loving, he thought.

”…Special. Anyways, it’s what I needed to hear. Finally gave me the kick in the pants to face him.”

”And how’d that go? Were you the one to initiate?”

“Kind of? I tried to find the perfect moment but I kept making excuses in my head, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t work up the courage. I actually almost gave up…” The homeowner flushed, not wanting to admit that a hickey was the catalyst for everything. So he kept it vague.

“I ended up visiting him right before bed, just hoping for an answer to all these feelings that were eating me alive but I misinterpreted his response as a rejection. I’m lucky that he was able to see how upset I was because I was about to run away. Deal with them my usual way.” Which was to bury those feelings and never touch them again. “But he stopped me and told me how confused he was, admitting that he had trouble reading me.” Luka held back a snicker at that which he tried to ignore.

”You can be a tough nut to crack, I thought you hated me for a while before I figured out that you talked to everyone like that.” So Luka also found him difficult to read? He didn’t like the shit eating grin on the other man’s face, pointing at him, expression stern.

”Do you want me to finish the story or not? Because I can leave.” He wouldn’t really and Luka knew this, stifling a small laugh behind his hand.

”No please! I need to know.”

”He told me to tell him what I wanted…” He flushed a deeper shade of scarlet, his ears burning just remembering that night. “…and that he was already mine.” When Luka didn’t respond he chanced a glance at the other man, nervous due to the lack of repsonse. But he was smiling gently at him, eyes shining with both pride and something wistful.

”And he makes you happy?” He asked quietly. The homeowner nodded, his throat tightening.

”Yes. Very much so.” Luka pushed off the counter, slowly standing upright, that bittersweet look still lingering on his face.

”Then I’m so happy for you Misha.” He placed the mugs on a tray while the homeowner grabbed the basket of pirozhki, covering them with a kitchen towel to keep them warm. “Maybe one day…” His smile had fallen a bit, eyes glassy and unfocused. “…I can have that too.” He squeezed the man’s shoulder, wishing for that more than anything.

”You will.”

The visitor had heard every word. At first he had been downright furious with Luka, a clear act of defiance against him. And when Misha had turned him away? It brought all those bitter memories back. He was keeping things from him again. Shutting him out. But what a blessing it was for his hearing to still be far beyond a human’s even with his strength growing weaker by the day. He was able to sit in an armchair and feign interest in a newspaper while the tall human entertained the child. All of his focus was actually directed towards the kitchen.

He was offended when the usually optimistic human accused the visitor of being the perpetrator behind his human’s bruises, anger mounting even further. Of course his beautifully loyal human defended him, smiling to himself when he heard his anger. He loved how intense his voice got whenever he was worked up.

It seemed that the two had both calmed down, Luka apologizing to the hermit as the conversation shifted to the little girl. He vaguely listened, ruminating on why he harbored such animosity for the cheerful man. It didn’t start that way, he hadn’t minded him so much when they first met. It was only when those secret meetings had become routine, the human leaving him to sit alone in that empty house. It made him feel hollow, like he was losing something he never even had in the first place.

And now he just couldn’t help that spike of jealousy every time he saw the cheerful human. He had gotten the human to open up so easily. What did he have that the visitor didn’t? And learning that Luka was interested in men only made it worse. The visitor in him acknowledged him as a threat.

A competitor.

These feelings were absurd and he knew it. Yet this was how a visitor saw the world: stake your claim and guard what was yours. Competitors were met with extreme hostility. Humans didn’t seem to operate under the same guidelines. He knew that he was disappointing Misha every time he let those feelings flare up, but they were difficult to discard, his hackles instinctively raising every time the other man approached his human.

But as the conversation continued he grew still, listening hard as the older human confessed the nature of his doomed affections. What he was describing somehow stifled the anger and jealousy that had been festering for so long, shifting to an uneasy understanding. He was aware of what that felt like. Living so close to the person you treasured above all else and knowing that they will never see you in the same light. He had experienced the suffocating hopelessness that Luka was feeling right now.

In his circumstance, his fears were unfounded. His human returned his affections. Luka had been rejected entirely, all the while the other man remained completely oblivious to his sorrow. It made the visitor feel strange, glancing up to watch as Yesenin laughed and smiled while the other human was suffering just a few feet away.

He narrowed his eyes, observing the man in front of him. Something about this situation intrigued him. Luka stuck his nose in his private business, it was only fair for him to do the same. First things first.

He needed to read that poem.

The homeowner was half worried that the visitor would be waiting to jump out and dismember Luka the moment they rounded the corner but was pleasantly surprised that he was waiting for him on the loveseat, patting the empty cushion with a smile, but he knew the pale man well. There was a twinkle in those eyes that meant he was up to something. He prayed that whatever it was didn’t involve harming his friends. Setting the basket on the coffee table he joined the visitor, allowing the man to press a kiss to the side of his head.

”Welcome back Mishenka,” he murmured, throwing an arm around his shoulder. While the contact felt nice he couldn’t help side eyeing the man.

”What are you scheming?” He whispered, trying not to draw the other’s attention. The visitor actually had the audacity to grin at that, leaning forward and plucking a pirozhki out of the pile.

”Nothing nefarious darling. I’m merely interested in your human companions, humor me.” He sat forward to see him better, barely opening his mouth to try and ask him what he meant by that before the visitor was calling out to the tall man.

”Yesenin. Misha mentioned you were into poetry. I used to read a fair bit back in school, though I unfortunately didn’t possess the talent to write any of them myself. Yet I always enjoyed interpreting the thematic messages between verses. Sometimes it felt like solving a puzzle.” The other man’s eyes lit up, uncrossing his knees and sitting forward.

”Did you now? Who were your favorite writers?” Luka was setting the tea down, offering a hot chocolate to the little girl who accepted happily while the visitor and Yesenin exchanged random names with each other, presumably belonging to famous poets. The homeowner himself didn’t know. He had never particularly cared for poetry in school, but it seemed the visitor knew enough to entertain Yesenin; the other man nodding along as the visitor spoke.

He was sure he was up to something but couldn’t for the life of him think of what it could be. The homeowner was even more stunned when the visitor managed to earn two hearty laughs from the other man. Borya had never attempted more than polite conversation with his friends. He looked over at Luka to see what he thought of all this but his eyes were focused solely on Yesenin, uncharacteristically muted and gloomy. He winced, tearing his eyes away. Was that how Boris used to look at him? God he was stupid. Now that he knew he couldn’t stop noticing the signs, he couldn’t believe he had overlooked his friend’s feelings.

”I would be interested in reading your work sometime,” the visitor stated, a pleasant smile plastered across his face. But he could see the cogs turning just by looking into his partner’s calculating eyes. Yesenin was scratching the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish.

”Ah, well…You’re welcome to but I can’t promise they’re any good.” The visitor removed the arm around his shoulder, grabbing at another one of the meat pies. He had forgotten about the food due to his distress, stomach growling in protest. The smell alone was making his mouth water. Right when he thought about grabbing one for himself, a fried pastry appeared two inches from his nose, the visitor presenting it to him with a smirk. He plucked the pastry out of his hand, shooting him an unimpressed look when he winked at him. The bastard probably heard his stomach, but he couldn’t complain too much. The pirozhki was delicious.

”Oh I meant to ask before it slipped my mind, did you submit anything to that poetry event? Misha had mentioned you two traveled to one recently.” The homeowner nearly choked, mouth stuffed full of food. He never told him about the poetry expo, he hadn’t brought it up at all. It suddenly hit him, eyes widening.

Boris overheard them in the kitchen.

He turned to tell him to stop, sure that this was a scheme to get back at Luka but a hand gripped his thigh, holding him firmly. Boris wasn’t looking at him, but he could tell the visitor didn’t want him to interfere though his body language alone. Though he wasn’t about to sit by and let him hurt his friend, glaring openly at the visitor when he caught his eye briefly. But within that tiny exchange he almost seemed to be pleading with the homeowner to play along, rubbing his thumb softly against his leg.

Fine. He would trust him. Relenting, he sat back and allowed the pale man to continue. Yesenin’s smile faltered for a moment before recovering. Luka shifted away from the man.

”Ah…” His voice was nowhere near as lively as it had been before. “I did.” Daria was completely oblivious of the tension in the room, happily munching on her third pirozhki and sipping her hot chocolate. The visitor looked pleased by this, leaning forward in his seat.

”Really? Perhaps I could read it sometime?” Two things happened. Yesenin’s face darkened, looking as severe as he used to during the cataclysm and Luka broke completely, lowering his head and curling into his chair. The homeowner squeezed the visitor’s wrist. Hard.

”I apologize, my good man. That poem is very personal to me… I don’t think I can share it.” If the pale man was disappointed he didn’t show it, taking a drink from his tea and ignoring the bruising grip the hermit had on him.

”I understand the sentiment. Years ago I used to play piano. There was a song that really resonated with me at the time, I felt like the music truly told my story. It was a very physically demanding piece and I had to learn it in a short time, memorizing it section by section. I never got a chance to perform the piece in its entirety and I resented that song for many years. Though now, if I ever attempted to play it again, I’d want it to be for someone I cherished.” The homeowner’s eyes widened, feeling the visitor squeeze his knee. When he looked up the other man was already watching him, regarding him with an honest smile.

Did he mean that? Or was that all just for show, part of his mysterious plan involving the two men in front of him. But when his hand released his leg and their fingers interlocked he remembered who he was sitting next to. Boris meant every word of what he said, which made his chest flutter.

Yesenin’s face had softened, nodding to himself. ”A fellow man of the arts. I hope you can take up music again Borya, I don’t know why but I feel like music suits you.”

The rest of their visit was more lighthearted, Yesenin telling stories as Daria listened intently. Even Luka came out of his shell, sharing a recipe that he attempted the other day with the pair of them. Surprisingly the pale man was behaving himself around Luka, maintaining eye contact as he talked and offering more than a few sparse words. But he couldn’t stop noticing the tiny little looks the man snuck towards Yesenin when he thought no one was watching. It hurt to see such misery in his eyes.

”So Borya. Misha.” Luka pointed at the two of them. “Any big plans for New Years?” He hadn’t even thought about the holiday with everything going on. He shrugged, currently leaning against the visitor’s arm.

”No, not really. We’ve had so much going on.” A small voice piped up, barely above a whisper.

”Wait…We aren’t going to celebrate New Years?” The pure devastation in her voice had the homeowner sitting up, the girl looking up at him, lip trembling.

”Wait, no, I didn’t mean that Dasha. We are definitely celebrating New Years.” They were now at least. She perked up, folding her hands in her lap.

”And we can get a tree?”

”The biggest tree.”

”And presents?”

”Of course.”

”And make yummy food?”

”Whatever you want.” The girl actually smiled at that, clapping her hands together in excitement.

”You both should come too.” It was the visitor that spoke, much to the homeowner’s surprise. “There’s plenty of room, Misha and I can set up a space for you in the office.” When the hell did the visitor ever willingly invite humans into the house? Luka looked surprised, holding up both hands.

”We’d hate to intrude—“ The homeowner cut him off before he could decline the offer.

”I was going to suggest the same thing actually, Boris just beat me to it.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Listen. I know you guys are about to lose the apartment, Luka told me. Why not stay with us. Enjoy the holiday and take it easy until you get back on your feet?” Yesenin was the next to speak.

”Are you sure? You’ve already done so much for us, friend.” He nodded.

”Yes. I would feel better if you spent New Years with us.” Luka looked over at Yesenin, as if he was letting him make the final decision. In the end he agreed, smiling at the two of them.

”Alright. We’ll be there. Thank you.”

A few minutes later the men said their goodbyes, full of well wishes and shoulder hugs before they made their way back to the bus stop. Daria had fallen asleep near the end, the homeowner ended up having to carry her in his arms. Once they were out of sight he was punching the visitor’s shoulder, glaring up at the taller man.

”The hell was all that?” The visitor rubbed his arm, the corner of his mouth twitching.

”Luka got it backwards, you’re the one hitting me.” He jabbed a finger in his direction.

”So you were listening! Why’d you bring up the poem Boris? You knew it would hurt Luka!”

”Calm down Sunbeam, I had my reasons. Let me explain.” The bus was rumbling around the corner, the sound of the air brakes releasing as it jerked to a stop.

”Well it better be good. He didn’t deserve that.” Tucked into one of the back rows, the pale man began explaining his thought process.

”I find the entire affair interesting, don’t you? Luka believes that his feelings are not reciprocated because of the woman described in the poem. Yet Yesenin reacted defensively when the piece was brought up. Almost as if he was the one who was rejected, not Luka. Why would he have reacted so strongly if the poem was written about a woman neither of us have ever met?” He blinked, not quite following. But the visitor continued.

“I find it even more interesting that during the poetry expo he was willing to read that piece to an entire crowd of strangers but refused outright to share it with us then. Notice that he emphasized the emotional significance the piece symbolized for him. That brings us back to the poetry expo itself.”

He was following the visitor off the bus, looking up at him curiously as he talked. “The fact of the matter is that Yesenin was once willing to share the contents of that poem even in front of an unknown number of strangers, but now he is not. I do not believe that the crowd was the intended audience. I believe one person in that crowd was meant to hear those words.” He unlocked the door and held it open for the homeowner.

”You’re saying…That Luka was that person?” The visitor followed him through the house, waiting for him to return from tucking Daria into her bed.

”Perhaps, but perhaps not. Without reading for ourselves we’ll never know.” That was disappointing. There was no way for them to ever get their hands on it, such an important item of deep sentimentality would be difficult to find lying around in the open.

“I guess that’s it then. Yesenin could be keeping it anywhere. For all we know he could even be carrying it with him.” The visitor grinned, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“That is why I want them to stay over for New Years. I am going to read that poem.” He stared up at the visitor in shock.

”What? Why?” Was this some sort of revenge? Did the visitor really hate Luka that much? He opened his mouth, ready to argue against this when Boris surprised him.

”Because as much as it pains me to admit I understand how torturous it is when your feelings will never be returned no matter how much you try. It’s crushing. Every day spent by their side is both indescribable bliss and wretched agony. Unable to tear yourself away because you are addicted now, they become your favorite form of torture. You crave their attention, even if it’s not quite in the manner you desire. I thought all of these things at one time, and look how wrong I was.”

Cool hands cradled his face, the homeowner stepping closer with baited breath. “I have the affection of the only man I have ever desired. There was no one else before you Sunbeam, my previous relationships nothing but meaningless trysts and one night stands. For years I thought I was broken, like something was deeply wrong inside my soul. I didn’t even think I was capable of these emotions until I met you. But I feel like you understand me in a way that no one ever has.” He smiled, eyes fluttering closed.

”So you’re doing this to help Luka.” He stepped closer, curling his arms around his partner.

“Hmm, you can say that.” He was, he just didn’t want to admit it.

“That’s very kind of you.” He smiled when he felt a finger press against his lips.

”Shh don’t tell anyone.” He felt his breath ghost against his lips, so warm and inviting. Before he could lean closer the visitor stiffened, eyes widening.

“Misha,” he growled, voice dangerously low. “Someone is standing at the door.”

A series of slow knocks rang out, one after the other. He gave the visitor a weary look before quietly walking to the bedroom, locating the shotgun, and readying himself for anything.

It’s just a refugee, he told himself. A door to door salesman that’s gotten lost.

But he knew this was most likely untrue. It was late, the sun hanging low in the sky. No one with any kind of smarts would be wandering out past dark in the middle of winter. Last time someone approached his door, three looters had been waiting for him on the other side. As he approached the peephole he let out a shuttering exhale, the visitor pressed in close behind him.

He sucked in a breath, fingers trembling as he looked through the peephole.

The madman was staring right back at him.