𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

comments would really boost my motivation :]

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NATURALLY, Y/N HAD SAID YES. After all, did he have a choice? Saying no wouldn't exactly mean death, for Andrei had already shown him: that time and time again, he would not be angry. But emotions were fickle, and could change at any given time. Instead, Y/n did what he was expected to: sit down obediently and quietly at the dinner table, and eat the food Andrei had prepared.

It wasn't difficult to pretend he liked it—because Y/n did like it. The flavors had melted beautifully and gloriously on his tongue, so attuned to his taste buds that this single meal alone had almost convinced Y/n that Andrei did know him previously, from young.

And it was also hard to pretend like it wasn't delicious. Y/n felt a smile crawl into his features unwillingly at the delicious taste, and Andrei's sharp eyes caught the upward tilt of his lips.

"I used the spices you liked when you were a kid," Andrei broke the silence, drumming his fingers on the table. There was a loose, relaxed smile—no, smirk—on his face. There were the unsaid words hanging in the air; I am the one who knows you the best. I am the one whom you should cherish. "Are you enjoying it?"

The fork Y/n was holding halted midair, and he cleared his throat, pausing before he answered.

"Yes. You made it, didn't you?"

"I've told you already. I am quite the excellent cook."

I can tell, Y/n thought to himself. Y/n did not have the money to afford meals of high quality, but it was safe to say that Andrei cooked wonderfully. It wasn't just slightly above average, it was divine, so masterfully made from scratch, so delicately crafted. It was like a haven, truthfully.

"..." Y/n poked the single potato strip left on his plate, swirling it around in rich gravy. "Is cooking part of your whole mafia requirement?"

Andrei let out a soft chuckle. "I have already told you, Moy Sladkiy, that I had only pursued cooking because of you."

"I thought you were joking." The last of the potato was chewed up by Y/n, dissipating into his mouth. Y/n swallowed, drank a tall glass of water, before he wiped his mouth with an obviously expensive paper napkin.

Andrei was still there.

Shouldn't he have other things to do? Y/n wondered with slight apprehension—Andrei was simply looking expectantly at him, as if waiting for something. Waiting for what? Y/n was clueless.

"Don't you..." Y/n started, "have work?"

Like killing people, I mean.

Andrei raised a perfect eyebrow.

"I suppose Anna has not told you about our plans for today?"

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