A Person I'd Call My Liberty| Fyolai|

⋆♱A Person I'd Call My Liberty♱⋆

The pair walked through the snow, crunching sounds being noticeable with each step they took. It was too far to turn back. Even if Fyodor's father was home, the white haired boy behind him would have at least one night of warmth, comfort, and what he desperately needed... care.

"Why do you want to help me so bad? I'm just some homeless person. Nothing special." They boy inquired, causing the raven haired boy to pause before turning back to face him. "You're freezing, starving, and very low on survival chances if you stay out here." he responded, his voice devoid of emotions just like his exterior. The raven haired boy began to lead the white haired boy back to his own home. His father wasn't the most understanding of people, but at least it was warmer than out on the snowy streets. The boy behind him deserved a safe and warm place to rest for the night, even if it meant Fyodor had to spend the same night enduring his father's constant complaints. 

Even though Fyodor's father was a jerk, he was glad the boy would be warm and safe for the night. He let out a sigh of relief as the pair arrived at the house, and he knew, despite the cold reception, he'd make it through the night. "Thank you," the white haired boy said, smiling as he stepped over the threshold of the house. He'd been living on the streets for so long that he'd almost forgotten how it felt to have a warm place to rest his head. "What's your name?"

"I'm Fyodor," the raven haired boy responded, ignoring the boy's gratitude. He'd learned over the years that kindness was often repaid with pain, so it was best not to get attached to people. However, the boy's grateful smile was something he couldn't ignore. "What's yours?" "Nikolai!" The boy answered, smiling as he observed Fyodor's house. Fyodor's father entered the kitchen holding a glass of whiskey and a bag of chips. Fyodor knew this meant trouble.

"Who's your friend?" he asked, glaring at Nikolai. "His name is Nikolai," Fyodor answered, his expression blank as he tried to gauge the mood in the room. He knew his father would not be pleased if he knew that the other boy was now staying with them, and he was prepared for the worst. "You're just going to bring some random kid into our home without asking me first?" his father yelled, tossing the chips aside and taking another swig of whiskey. "You know I don't want anyone else living here." "I know," Fyodor admitted, his voice barely audible over his father's shouting. "So then why did you decide to bring him here?" his father demanded. Fyodor was silent for a moment, considering his answer. "He needed somewhere to stay for a night," he finally said, hoping his father would be able to show a shred of empathy.

"And he couldn't find somewhere else to stay?" his father spat. "No, he couldn't," Fyodor said, refusing to back down. "He was starving and freezing, and I didn't want him to die out here on these streets." "Well, he's not my problem." his father said coldly, taking another sip of whiskey. "I don't want him staying here." "But he's just going to stay a night," Fyodor argued. "He's not going to get in your way or bother you at all." "I don't care about that." his father said, his voice growing louder with each sentence. "I don't want any strangers in my home, especially not homeless kids who are probably full of diseases and who knows what else."

"He's not a stranger," Fyodor said, his voice rising to match his father's tone. "And he's not full of diseases. He's just a kid who needs help." "And I don't care," his father screamed, slamming his glass down on the table. "This is my house, and I have the right to decide who gets to stay here." "And I live here too," Fyodor said, now fighting back his anger. "So I should get a say in the matter as well." Nikolai just watched the two, feeling guilty about causing them to argue of this. "He's right, I'm clearly not welcomed here.."  "Shut up," his father said dismissively, not even looking in Nikolai's direction. Fyodor turned to look at Nikolai, and his expression was one of concern. "Don't go," he said quietly. "I want you to stay."