ex nihilo | fyodor dostoyevsky x reader

ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀ

Terror

ʙʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴇʀʀɪꜰɪᴇᴅ ᴏʀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍɪꜱᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ. ɪ ʜᴀᴅ, ᴀꜱ ɪᴛ ᴡᴇʀᴇ, ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴍɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇꜱᴘᴀɪʀ. ɪ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ʟᴏꜱᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴜᴀꜱɪᴏɴ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ.

- H.G. Wells, The Island of Doctor Moreau

. . .

After ice cream, you and Nikolai went to another cafe, where you couldn't help but drink some steaming hot coffee. The weather wasn't the warmest after all - and the ice cream didn't really fill your belly. Not to mention you were looking for excuses to waste more time with Nikolai.

You had to respect his boundaries, however. Although he didn't say he had anything to do for the remainder of the day, at some point, near evening, you told him you'd have to leave. As a farewell, he hugged you tightly. His hugs, truly, were like no else.

Your mind was thrown into a specific bliss afterwards; the one that lightened your entire being, yet bound it to the past. Restrictions were placed upon the now. Come back to it, and you would certainly give in to vertigo.

The tact of your heart dictated so: you had friends, and you wanted to keep them. Nikolai, and Sigma, and perhaps - if opportunity would be given - Alexander as well. Never in your life had you been more sure of their position in your heart. Gratitude spun a bit too forcefully. You tried not to grin directly at any passerby, though you would love to share your own joy.

As you walked back to the apartment, you relived the jokes and the discussions you had with Nikolai. That dear man, lovely man - how much you cherished him. He did wonders to your mood in his own wacky way. You had only words of praise to describe him... especially now, after he had helped you so much.

And you came back to your apartment, the finale being a prancing sort of dance in the hallway. Knock on the door, nobody opened it, knock again, and nothing happened - Fyodor was asleep, maybe? No, it can't be. That's far too rare. He could be in the bathroom, perhaps. You were already fumbling through your pockets to find the keys.

Opening the door, you voiced your presence. "I'm... back!" You spotted your own hesitation and uncovered the reason behind it.

By all means, you wanted to say home. Before, it would be a reassuring term. You liked to use it back in Russia. It was fitting, yet it was different. The people, the residence, even Fyodor to an extent. Nevertheless, the worst change was that which you seemed to undergo.

It wasn't difficult to notice. You became more elaborate with your daily activities. This outing with Nikolai for example, it served a specific purpose - you came with questions and pleaded for solace, honest or not. Just so you could deceive yourself for a little while longer.

What was it? Doubts swirling inside your head. Nothing to be heard. You added a bit more timid, "and are you..?" But nobody responded.

This was odd. Fyodor wasn't the type to go outside out of his own initiative. He would have certainly informed you of his departure, wouldn't he? The next thing you did was to check your phone, and there it was, a message.

"An associate of mine has insisted that I meet him. I'll be back shortly. Don't worry," was what it said. Fyodor telling you not to worry - that very sentence presented you with the idea of concern.