Die in my arms [Fyolai]

Hold me one last time

It seemed like everyone stopped existing, but the two of them.
An overwhelming sensation invading their minds as they lost themselves in pleasure and pain, hoping to escape the chains of what's called “life.”

“Dos-kun!” The bright man entered without any invitation in the modest apartment of his friend.

“What is it now, Nikolai?” Despite the sudden approach, he didn't seem to dislike it. Turning his head from his desk to look at those full of energy eyes, a soft smile on him. A smile that's impossible to know if it's genuine or not.

A place with a living room that's connected to the kitchen, a single bathroom, a study, and a small bedroom. Nikolai would always complain about how small Fyodor's apartment was and tell him to move to another place.

“Will you pay it for me?” That was the Russian's answer every time his friend threw a tantrum.

Living in Moscow wasn't cheap at all, and an apartment with this amount of space was already pretty expensive.

“But it's boring…” A pout on him as he crouched on the floor of Fyodor's study. Drawing circles on the carpet. 

“Mhm? Why is that?” 

“Ah… you see… there's no space for you to escape~” A wicked smile was drawn on his lips, looking up at his beloved friend, with an expression that would make anyone weak on the knees. A deep blush spreading through his cheeks, signaling an obvious excitement running through his veins. 

The pale man just sighed softly, his smile turning into a wide grin.

Yes… that's why he liked so much Nikolai Gogol, his only friend.

A relationship that cannot be explained with words, a connection that went beyond the “normal.”

The sound of someone standing up, the soft laughter of the other one… and the horrid noise of a blade digging deep in the flesh. 

“A-Ah… A knife this time?” Cold sweat fell from his forehead as he swallowed the pain, embracing it with no intentions of going away. Gasps escaped Fyodor's lips as he tried to act as calm as always, but he could feel how it went deeper and deeper.

“Don't die on me yet, Fyodor…” A gentle whisper while he withdrew the sharp object. Observing, with great delight, the blood pouring out of his injured friend.

“Die? Oh dear, it takes more than that to get rid of me.” For one second, the time seemed to stop. The only thing the white-haired man could see was Fyodor's lips moving before falling onto his knees, a pained yelp coming from his throat.

Warm and cold. Both mixed in a way that fired up Nikolai's soul.
The crimson liquid dripped on the floor, making a pool under him. A laughter that was filled with excitement and agony as he saw a dagger stuck on his right thigh, staining his clothes in a beautiful red.

“Ah…AHH… AHHH!!” A scream that would terrify anyone who heard it, saying that held an incredible amount of pain. But the man who screamed showed anything but pain. His eyes seemed to plead for more, addicted to that feeling that made his whole body shiver with terror and filled his brain with ecstasy.

His wishes were heard, and soon enough, he was screaming again his left thigh, now being the victim.
As if it was the best gift ever, he held with tenderness who hurt him.

“Are you getting romantic now?” A mocking tone from the black-haired man as he whispered gently. His hands covered in blood grabbed with special care the hair tie that held the braid of the one who hugs him, staining the pure white with crimson red. 

The strands of hair fell over his shoulders, slightly covering his face. As Fyodor observed his work with amusement. Suddenly, his lips assaulted, being forcefully pressed by Nikolai's.