Sciamachy

"Talk to me in Russian" I lean over his chest to look at him and he smiles, brushing a curl out of my face.

"Ya boyus' togo dnya, kogda mne pridetsya s toboy razvestis'" he says so quick that I couldn't even catch one familiar word.
(I'm afraid of the day I have to divorce you)

"Say it slower" I urge him, nudging his chest and he repeats himself slower with a longing look on his face.

"Ya ne khochu s toboy razvodit'sya"
(I don't want to divorce you)

"What did you say?" My brows furrow as I pout since I couldn't even understand anything, disappointed in my Russian skills, not that I ever tried to learn it. He pulls me a bit closer to peck my lips before he buries his nose into my neck, inhaling my scent as if it's the last time.

"neuzheli my ne mozhem ostat'sya takimi navsegda?" He says, his voice sounding like he's in agony before he pulls away to look into my eyes again, my confusion probably evident.
(Can't we stay like this forever?)

"Ya khochu videt' eti yamochki na vsyu zhizn'" He squeezes my cheeks with both hands while I only smile like an idiot, not comprehending a word but it's fine. I could listen to him talk like this forever.
(I want to see these dimples for the rest of my life)

"mogu li ya skazat' tebe, kakaya ty krasivaya navsegda? Obeshchayu, mne eto nikogda ne nadoyest" He keeps going while I just lay my head on his chest, listening to his voice and heartbeat at the same time.
(Can I tell you how beautiful you are forever? I promise I'll never get tired of it)

"eto slishkom mnogo, chtoby prosit', tsvetok?" My head snaps up at the familiar word.
(Is this too much to ask for, flower?)

"You said something with flowers" I narrow my eyes and he nods his head with a hum. "What did you say?"

"I was just talking about how you're a pain in my arse"

⚠️ Trigger Warnings: domestic abuse, guns and knives, eating disorder, body dysmorphia, suicide, blood, self harm, mature scenes