Just a Dream ♙ Fyodor x Reader

3: Wounds

I am surely nothing but a fool following you blindly. You're practically a stranger, a shadow of my past...yet here I am, chasing after you as if you were but a fleeting dream.

What am I doing this for?

There's no reason for me to believe your words...you have given me no real basis to your claims. Yet here I still am, nodding at everything you say like a lost kitten found on the sad pavements of Russia without a home.

Although...in all honesty, ever since I lost that sound of your cello I've never had much more to lose.

"Are you uncomfortable?"

Fyodor's voice rings out as sweet as candy in the suffocating streets of St. Petersburg, thick crowds of people bustling along despite the sun almost out of rays to give for the day. His sudden question startles you a bit, pulling you out of your thoughts so easily that the re-realization of your current reality runs a shock through your nerves, but when you meet his enveloping gaze all the discomfort is blown away with the winds of ice.

"No, I'm fine." Is all you respond, shaking your head and trying to protect your sensitive face from the intensifying snow in your coat, your body shivering. You don't wish to discuss your thoughts with Fyodor just yet, but for some reason you wonder if even without saying it all out loud he can already read your mind.

"It won't be long until we get to my home now. We'll be able to have a proper conversation once we reach warmth and privacy." Fyodor reassures you with a nod, completely unbothered by your nerves and dismissal to his question even though you are certain he senses your turmoil. Then again, even in the past he has always been rather calm and collected about almost everything.

He comes in out of nowhere to whisk me away with his decorated words of faith, so confident in his goal...

Why have I let him?

What does he mean by salvation?

I should have asked more...

And yet as you look back up in a glance to his face, pale skin tinted red from the cold he ignores, raven-black hair moved by the gentle air despite its harsh temperatures, you feel blossoming emotions hidden away by sour memories only he made better in the past, the weight of your hopelessness and boredom of the days just rolling by without aim feeling lifted off your shoulders.

This is why you couldn't ignore him.

To put it simply, you're in awe of the mere fact that somehow, Fyodor, your Fyodor you used to cling to at the foster home, has chosen you after years of nothing for a "salvation" he has yet to explain.

So far, it has led me to following him into his house with the trust that there are no ill intentions.

I...can trust him, right?

He...isn't dangerous...

"You know, you're a lot harder to find then you might think...I'm not sure if I can really have you leave again, dear Kisa." The dark haired man interrupts your thoughts again, this time as he catches your wrist and pulls you closer to his side just before you were about to bump into a group of gossiping women, a soft gasp escaping you as your side bumps into him instead, his grip on your wrist tight and in a way unforgiving for being careless in the slightest.

"What are you implying?" You ask him as soon as you register what he had said and recovered from being briefly pressed against him, glancing at his slim hands over your coat that had presented themselves as much stronger than you imagined. You don't really understand what he means, nor why he holds on so tight all of a sudden, the tone of his voice throwing you off even more; in it a mix of regret, desperation and a hint of a sinister tune that you had never heard in him before. You wonder if it's just a trick of the ambience, with the sun no longer visible and the last streaks of orange in the sky being overpowered by hues of purples and blues, the street lamps turning on one by one as night threatens to take over...