To Be A Bird And Fly Away

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Nikolai knew Fjodor was crying. He could tell from the way his body flinched, from the way he looked away from him, from the way he pressed his palm to his nose. But he had never really seen him cry. Not like that.

"Fyo, please, look at me. I'm here for you. I won't touch you if you don't want to. I won't do anything, but please don't hide."  He grabbed a tissue from the bed table and stretched out his hand. Very slowly Fjodor turned around again. With the edge of his sleeves Fjodor's wiped the tears from his face.

I'm sorry, he wanted to say again, but his voice was still buried deep inside his chest. Captured inside a cage of pain and fear. His eyes were still focused on his hands, afraid of what would happen if he looked at Nikolai. Afraid the boy he loved would forever remind him of that day. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Fyo...", Nikolai said again and he finally found the strength to meet his gaze. Those eyes, those two colored, crystal clear eyes. I can't do this anymore. Tears formed in his eyes again. I don't want this anymore. Nikolai looked at him so calm, so warm. I want it all to stop. I want my mind to stop. He never thought he needed somebody else. His whole life he had fought for himself, not willing to drag anybody else into his mess. Yet Nikolai was here, consciously willing to stand by his side, being there, watching him, caring for him, comforting him.

"Why?" It was more of a sound than a word that escaped his mouth as he started to cry again. For the next few minutes they just sat there. Nikolai watched Fjodor sob and whine, he didn't say a word, he didn't move, he just waited for him to calm down. And eventually Fjodor did.

With red and puffy eyes Fjodor looked at Nikolai. Thank you, he wanted to say, but not even that he could. Feeling guilty he watched his hands again. "Thank you for letting me stay", Nikolai said and Fjodor rapidly turned his head. What did he have to thank for? A genuine smile formed on Nikolai's lips. It was just a small tilt of his mouth, almost invisible, but it was there.

Fjodor opened his mouth, he wanted to say something back, but no words came out. He felt like one big disappointment, but Nikolai smiled it all away. For a second they stared at each other, then Fjodor lowered his head, as the edges of his mouth flinched. "You're smiling", Nikolai said with a grin. "You are smiling." He said that like it was the major event of the day... And maybe it was.

Two days had passed since Fjodor had woken up. He was still unable to speak, it was like every word was one too much. It felt like, if he said everything out loud it would come true just then. His father came by every day, yelling at him, trying to manipulate him into believing his version of events. That Nikolai was at fault. That if he hadn't shown up, this all would not have happened. And that he would never do anything like that again if he told that to the police. As if.

But his mind was struggling with the fear of what might happen if he did not do like his father told him to. If they didn't arrest him right away, next time it probably wouldn't be just two broken ribs and a couple of bruises. He had seen the rage in his eyes that night, and this only from a slight provocation. What did he think of doing that? Did he really believe the police would come in at the right moment and catch him right then and there? He should have known better.

He opened his eyes, trying to replace the scenes of his memories with the view from the window. Blue summer skies greeted him, patched with a few fluffy clouds and two twittering birds. They were so loud he could hear their songs through the window. Oh to be one of them and just fly away.

His body was healing steadily and the doctors told him he might even make it to his sister's wedding. Fjodor slightly touched his cheek, where a rough hand had slapped him earlier. That's what you get for not being able to talk the way someone else wants you to. Not being able to talk at all.

His gaze wandered towards the door, when a knock echoed through the room. A small smile formed on his lips and he let his hand sink back on the blanket. Slowly the door opened and a cheerful young boy with long white hair entered, waving a small bouquet of flowers. "Hey, Fyo, how are you feeling?"

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