Nikolai had always been captivated by birds. Their elegant wings, the way they soared effortlessly through the sky-it was a kind of beauty that never ceased to amaze him.
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He often watched them from his window, imagining what i...
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The dim morning light filtered through the curtains of Nikolai's room, casting a soft glow on the walls. You huddled your wings close, feeling the softness of the bed beneath you, a stark contrast to the usual coldness of your own room. Everything felt unusually calm—peaceful, even.
Your eyes fluttered open slowly, taking in your surroundings. The room was surprisingly cozy, filled with soft colors and mismatched furniture. The gentle chaos of it all made sense for Nikolai. His space was an extension of him—messy yet oddly comforting. You glanced down from the bed, and there he was, sprawled out on the mattress he'd placed on the floor. His lanky form was positioned like a starfish, limbs extended in every direction, as if he were trying to take up as much space as possible.
A small smile crept onto your lips as you took in the sight of him—his usual eccentric energy muted by sleep. His white hair was a wild mess, sticking up in every direction, and a line of drool trailed from the corner of his mouth. You bit back a quiet laugh, finding the image almost endearing. It was rare to see Nikolai this peaceful, and it was a stark contrast to his usual whirlwind personality. Even in his dreams, he seemed to stretch out, as if his spirit couldn't be contained.
You couldn't help but think back to the night before when he'd insisted that you stay over at his place. It wasn't like you had much of a choice—your house felt too unsafe, too vulnerable, especially after everything that had happened. But you still weren't quite used to the idea of staying here. This apartment, which Fyodor had arranged for Nikolai, was supposed to be a temporary safe haven. Yet, something about being in his space, so intimately close to him, made it feel more permanent than you were ready to admit.
Shifting your head slightly on the pillow, you winced as a sharp sting shot through your shoulder, the place where the bullet had gone through. The pain was still there, a dull ache reminding you of your recent close call. Fyodor and Sigma had been quick to remove it, their cold efficiency unsettling, but at least they'd gotten it out. Still, the wound throbbed, the soreness persisting despite their care.
You hissed softly, gritting your teeth as you pressed a hand against your shoulder, trying to ease the discomfort. You couldn't deny that the injury had taken more out of you than you wanted to admit. The exhaustion clung to your bones, making your body feel heavier than usual, your wings sagging slightly under the weight of it all.
The creak of the floorboards drew your attention, and you glanced over at Nikolai again. Despite his chaotic sleeping position, he remained dead to the world, breathing softly, completely unaware of your discomfort. For a moment, you envied how easily he could sleep, as if the worries of the world had no place in his mind when he closed his eyes. But then again, this was Nikolai. Nothing ever really bothered him, not in the way it bothered you.
Still, as much as his carefree attitude frustrated you sometimes, you found solace in it. He had a way of lightening the darkness, making even the most dire situations seem like a twisted game. It was probably why you had agreed to stay here in the first place—because no matter how much danger lurked outside, Nikolai's presence somehow made it all seem less terrifying.
