ADDICTION • 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐱 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

"Yes," Andrei whispered. "Never abandon me. If you stay long enough, I'll give everything to you."

How long had it been since they had met? One month? Two months? Three? The present and the past seemed to be clamming together somehow. There wasn't time to ponder over the future. At home he returned to his father and suffered silently, here he could live freely and love freely, too.

Y/n didn't answer, but he squeezed Andrei's hand. I won't leave, was what he was trying to say. But the words seemed to have gotten choked up in his throat, somehow. There were too many other things he wanted to say that were burying his words down under his tongue.

But it was too hard.

.

.

—

.

.

All time ever did was pass.

Memories came to him in flutters and in spurts. Y/n knew this was what happened all his life: this whole business of clinging to people, shying from them, getting too scared of being fond of them. And perhaps this had been a defense mechanism for him; he had willingly locked up all memories of Andrei...because he was scared of feeling. And yet even in those days when Y/n felt nothing, it was all so surreal: all so...

All of his life he had lived through tragedies and brief moments of happiness and yet—Andrei was both. His life before Andrei had been gloomy and solitary to the point of madness. Life with Andrei had been beautifully tragic because there was the promise of being everything, and yet nothing at the same time. And the moments without Andrei had simply made him shrink further in the corner.

"Stop getting sick," Y/n swallowed. "And stop getting hurt. It's like an innate talent you have, you know. Would it kill you for once just..."

He didn't look at Andrei as he spoke. Their hands were still intertwined and Y/n was desperately trying to seep a little warmth into that coldness. Because why was his body so cold, like he was dead? Yet the eyes that stared at him, staring right through him—it was proof he was alive.

"Just like last time," Andrei smiled softly. "Isn't it?"

"I wish you wouldn't get so hurt." Y/n said numbly, refusing to smile back. His head was in a whirlwind: his thoughts were like flesh constricting under pressure; they were trying to find some sort of sanity, some relief. But there was none. "How did you...a bomb, Andrei. A bomb. Who is this other organization that you speak of?"

"We have been at odds for ages." Andrei brushed it off. "They have failed to kill me again."

And I hope they never do.

"Don't be scared, Moy Sladkiy," Andrei teased, grinning. "In fact, does this not show that you care for me?"

"It's a serious matter," Y/n deadpanned. "Don't joke about it."

"But is that not like Deja Vu? A mirror scene. Just like our childhood. Just like when you made me fall in love with you:it's like I'm falling in love with you all over again, this time faster and harder."

"Andrei," Y/n narrowed his eyes. "Just focus on recovering."

"I think I have a bottle of vodka somewhere. Russo-Baltique," Andrei said mildly, "should we open it?"

"Andrei."

"Don't worry too much, Y/n," Andrei whispered, his fingers tracing patterns on Y/n's palm. "Why are you so nervous? I'm not going anywhere. If anything...I'm scared. I'm the one who's nervous. The one who is...frightened."