B-SIDE
in which victor nikiforov should never have taken an interest in the boy with a gun in his school locker
sequel to bellyache
"honey, i can't be your saviour"
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🌻ft. em ^🌻
🥀
victor wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but he knew it was a bad idea.
he's going to kill you.
the house was quiet - too quiet - and victor's head was too loud; the tap was dripping too loudly. but anyhow, he was creeping across the landing, holding his breath even though yuri was either at school or burning his jacket someplace.
he's going to kill me.
chest rising at falling frantically like a rabbit in a trap, victor kept his eyes focused on the bright red phone with its cut cable on his way down the stairs, and realised he was praying in his head.
which was odd, seeing as he'd never prayed to any god before.
the door clicked open and victor's knees got so weak he almost collapsed.
he's going to fucking kill me. he's going to fucking kill me.
head thumping and bruises on his wrists screaming, victor looked down the bare streets and waited for yuri to pull up with the window rolled down playing born to die.
he's going to fucking kill me.
victor saw a payphone booth at the end of the street and braved himself. he knew he had about a total of eleven minutes before the sirens started flashing red. or he passed out. or both.
now.
victor didn't run; somehow he felt like they would tempt yuri to turn the corner. instead he kept his hands in fists by his side, and walked quickly without looking back at the open front door. before he'd counted to ten, he was inside the payphone booth and dialling a number he'd dialled before - more than once.
