How is it going guys? Tomorrow I am starting uni again, after a little break and ugh, i just wish I'd be sitting home writing the next two chapters because I bet you'll like them. *wink*
But even though. I hope I will be able to update on time next time.
Tika86, I am glad to hear that. I sometimes like too to go back to my favorite stories and books and re read the parts I loved, just to remember how great those scenes are
HonestPassion13, thanks for the conversion. I got the temperatures fixed. And as in what Dimitri said in Russian, I didn't think that he said something specific. I only thought that because he was a little delirious, he would be getting speaking in his native language. But hey, you can let your imagination go wild. Maybe he even told Rose what he feels for her, who knows?
selairalynn, there will be a kiss. Next week, I promise.
Well, GojGoj, in this chapter they will get again fighting, but I will make it up for it in the next chapter
And dear guest, I am glad I could make your dream come true
Have a wonderful week y'all!
Lots of love :)
P. S. The puns Dimitri uses aren't mine. I just googled them. And if I got some facts wrong about the way you shoot, well, that's my bad. I did some reasearch, but I couldn't understand all the stuff there :)
I allowed myself to call her mine
DPOV
She has some earphones on and she is dancing around the kitchen, her hips swaying from left to right into the rhythm of the music as she is stirring into some pot on the stove, her mouth singing the words silently, and if I am guessing this right, she's listening to Taylor Swift?
I stop in the doorway and lean over the wooden frame, half-hidden into the darkness, not wanting to disturb her performance and I watch her, a smile creeping on my lips at her sight.
I have always wondered how this looks from this position, not from the outside, down from a window. And it looks amazing. I love this sight of her. She's so passionate and enthusiastic about it and she's moving so relaxed and playful.
She's now wearing a shorter dress than the one I remember and as the song reaches a bridge, she lifts her hands over her head and sways her hips some more, making that damned dress lift on her thighs, revealing a glimpse of her dark-colored panties that round so perfectly on her curves.
I know that she can't hear me, but I still stifle the growl forming at the back of my throat when I see her like this. She's such a view. She's so goddamn beautiful.
My palms get itchy to get closer and caress those full curves of hers, to study, to memorize, to love all of her. I'd do her on this fucking counter between all these candles and bowls. Then I'd take her to bed and not let her leave it for hours. I would never let go of her if I could.
"Why can't you seeeeee, you belong with meeeeee?" she sings into a whispery voice, with a wooden spoon as a microphone before she sets it on the table, and all my doubts disappear. That is definitely Taylor Swift and she's a terrible singer, but I love hearing her. I'd like to see and hear her like this every morning, for the rest of my life.
She turns around to go get some plates from the counter, and as she heads towards the table to put them down, her eyes lift and she, unfortunately, sees me.
The second this happens, she squeals and drops a plate, turning it to pieces.
Oh, this lasted too little. I wanted to see some more. She was so sweet. So full of life.
She takes the earphones off and the music is now blasting out of them.
"Oh my God! Don't sneak on me like that, comrade. You'll give me a heart attack one day with your sneakiness." She repeatedly puts her hair behind her ears and avoids my eyes. "I thought you were still sleeping..." she tries to excuse herself.
Clearing her throat, she bends to pick up the shards off the floor, taking cover behind the counters.
I go to help her.
"What were you doing here?
"Um… dinner?"
"Only dinner, love?"
She lifts her eyes and smiles at me, just as I am smiling at her.
"I um… yeah… you know, they have a girl and I found this iPod she had and yeah…"
"And what were you listening to that got you so fired up?"
She bites on her lip and growls lightly.
"Comrade… It's embarrassing enough that you saw me fooling around like that. Could you at least not tease me about it?"
Fine, fine. Her cheeks are blushing hard enough already and it's not only from the moving around with such fervor.
"What are you cooking?" I ask as I take the rest of the shards from her and we get up.
She smiles, grateful. "I thought you'd need more than a soup to get your strength back. And I promised you I'd eat too, so I am making something more consistent. In fact, I just finished it. I just need to set the table and we can eat."
"Let me help you do that."
"Definitely not. All you're allowed to do is to sit."
"But-"
"Right there, comrade. Sit right there," she gets that bossy tone again and points her finger towards the table.
I wonder if she would get this bossy in bed too. I would-
Too bad you'll never find out! Stop thinking shit and sit down!
I do as I have been instructed and sit down without arguing because if she would get just a little bit feistier, I'll end up doing the stupidest thing on earth.
First, she comes and brings some candles on the table.
"You know, so that we could see better," she says shrugging, like needing to explain to me that even though this dinner is resembling so damn much a romantic one, it is not.
Next, she comes with new plates and a steaming pot of deliciously smelling pasta, and as she is putting some on my plate, she starts laughing.
"What's funny?"
Setting the plate down, she looks at herself and I do the same, being annoyed again by the bagginess of the dress she's wearing. It is doing her no justice.
"I feel like a perfect housewife dressed in this and serving dinner. The only thing I am missing is one of those tight, sleek buns and a bow on top."
No, no damned buns. Her hair let down is perfect.
"And I'm sorry I didn't cook anything more than pasta, but they didn't have many things left around the house," she says troubled.
"Love?"
"Yes?"
"Why do you apologize for things that are out of your control?"
"What do you mean with that?"
She's always sorry for something, even if it's not her fault. How do I explain this to her? I can't explain it in a way that she would understand the way I am thinking it. But it's like she's apologizing for her existence. Like it's troubling someone that she's alive. But not me.
"Nothing. Just… the pasta is fine. Everything you did is just fine. It looks and smells great."
She smiles widely and sits down after she put a big portion of pasta for herself too.
"Oh!" she jumps off the chair. "Wait till I put some parmesan on it too. It will make it even better. Don't you touch it until I come back," she finishes threatening as she heads towards the fridge.
As we eat, both of us too famished to even speak, she gasps and jumps off the chair again, this time rushing to the oven, from where she takes out a tray.
So that was that sweet scent I was feeling. I thought it was from the various candles around, but she keeps on surprising me. She baked something sweet too.
I can't help but laugh as she brings the tray to the table.
"What? What did I do?"
"No meal without dessert, right?"
She smiles. "You know I can't get by without my daily dose of sugar, comrade. And just so you know, I made this from scratches, so I don't know how it turned out to be. Know that I am not trying to poison you or something, though."
She got that apologetic tone again, but I decide not to point it out once more. I wonder who made her feel like such a nuisance.
She cuts it and puts a piece of cake on my plate, then remains standing there, looking at me, biting her lip, waiting for me to give a verdict, like I would be the head chef around here.
I take a bite and it has a familiar taste, I can't pinpoint exactly what it reminds me of, but I can say for sure that I like it.
"This is so good. What kind of cake is this?"
"It's in fact cupcake mix, but I couldn't find any cupcake mold, so I turned it into a cake."
"Well, love, this is one of the best cupcake-cake I have ever eaten. I can't even tell the flavor, but it's really good."
It is like something mama would bake on a late weekend afternoon, with all the kids in the kitchen nagging her, asking for something to sate our sweet tooth. And she made from scratches? What would this woman be able to do with proper ingredients?
She smiles so wide and happy, her eyes glowing.
"I am glad you like it. And if you want some more, I have a full tray."
"Yes, please. Give me some more now."
RPOV
He ate a lot. Like, a lot a lot. He had two servings of pasta and now he's onto the third serving of cake. But it's good. He is regaining strength. And I am nothing but happy about it.
As I continue to look at him, I can't help but smile. Seeing how much he eats, I understand why he is so interested in watching me eat such quantities of food.
"What?" he asks after swallowing the last piece of cake.
"Now you have eaten more than me, comrade."
He shrugs. "Can't help it," he says pointing to the empty dishes in front of him.
Yeah, after a fever like that, I would eat as much as he does. But what more of a compliment could there be for a cook than seeing someone eat with such hunger?
After we're done, he insists that he would wash the dishes as I was the one troubling myself to cook.
DPOV
And she insists on giving me a hand and she got up on the counter next to the sink and she's thoroughly wiping the dishes I wash.
"You know what, comrade?"
"What?"
"All that misses from this picture is for you to have an apron and you would be a perfect housewife too," she says barely containing her chuckles.
"Oh, really?"
"Aham. Maybe a pink one, with flowers on or something. That would suit you the best."
Her smile is contagious and I find myself smiling too.
"Oh, really?"
"What? Don't you agree?"
I splash some water at her.
"Hey!" She punches me, trying to pretend she is upset, but she's still smiling widely.
She does the same to me, getting some water from the sink, and in the second the water touches my face, she starts laughing.
"What?"
"You got…" she bends a little closer and cupping my cheek, she passes her thumb over the tip of my nose, moving slowly, her eyes way too preoccupied to look further down on my face, her insistent glare making me feel the need to lick my lips.
She takes a fast breath in and pulls away.
"A little foam. You were having… yeah," she says getting the plate she abandoned earlier when we started playing and gets back to wiping it.
When we're done, she hops off the counter, and I guess we have gotten some water on the floor too as we were playing because she slips.
She doesn't even get to gasp all the way because I round my arm on her middle and pull her towards me, helping her regain balance.
She shakes her head as she tilts it upward to look at me, and I feel her fingers lightly tensing on my chest.
"I um…"
"You're okay, love?"
She nods a couple of times, then licks her lips so slowly, making me pay all my attention to that, to her full lips, and all I can think of now is how they taste. I'd love a reminder of that.
Don't you dare kiss her! Don't you fucking dare, Dimitri! Enough shit has happened in this house already. Don't make things worse. Don't complicate anything. You'll end up hurting her! It only takes a kiss. So don't you fucking do it!
But her eyes do the same thing as mine, moving up from my lips to my eyes, and back down. Could this mean that she…
Dimitri, now!
With my last piece of self-control, I let go of her and she clears her throat as she turns to one side and starts tracing the contour of a dish on the counter.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Do you think we could go outside for a little? Being inside this house for so long, with the windows closed and the drapes pulled, I haven't felt the fresh air outside. Haven't seen the outside."
"Why not?" leaving this place will definitely do me good. The cold air too. "But let's stay on the back porch. No one can see us from there."
RPOV
Finally outside, we sit on the porch and enjoy this silent, peaceful December night, the cold air being the only thing reminding you of what month is it.
As I study my perfect-looking surroundings, I chuckle, mostly to myself, as I remember my stupid thoughts about a backyard like this.
"What happened?"
"I have always dreamed of having a house like this one."
"Why?"
"I always thought that this is what's supposed to happen. To grow, meet someone, get married, move into a house like this into the suburbs, have kids and live a normal, peaceful life. But now, being here, I don't know anymore… It seems so… trivial to want this."
"Why is that?"
"I don't know. Something changed. I guess that everything changed. And I know I won't ever have this. So why bother dreaming about it?"
"But would you still want it if you could have it? Would you still want this kind of life? Do you see yourself being a suburb, stay at home mother or a trophy wife for the rest of your life?"
"Who knows what the future could have brought?"
He puffs. "Yeah, right. You would get bored to death in less than a week if it would be for you to live in a house like this. You could never live a life like that."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because you are not made for perfect, suburb houses like these."
"Ouch. That hurt, comrade. What? You think I couldn't do it?" I get a little defensive. I think I deserve a peaceful life after what I endured these past days. A life I know I won't get to live.
"Hey, you said it first. You said it seemed trivial to want it."
"But I still said I imagined myself living in one of these houses."
"Yes. Imagined. Past tense. It means that not anymore. You are not imagining it anymore."
Am I? Is he right?
"You're always so observant over other people's words?" I wonder what other things I said he interpret and I didn't realize.
He shrugs, and this is his only response.
"So what do you think?"
"About what?"
"About what house I would fit in, if not one of these perfect, suburb houses. What do you think would fit me? What wouldn't bore me to death in less than a week? What would be my dream house?"
"How would I know?"
I am the one puffing now. "You always have an opinion and you sometimes share it even if I am okay with it or not. So now when I ask for it, you keep it for yourself? Come on. Share it. I promise I won't mind. I want to know."
"Okay. First, you wouldn't need a house. You don't need a building. You need a home."
"But people make a home out of a house. So if I would move in with the right person…"
"True that. But still, you wouldn't like to live in a house that has just been built. A perfect, new, antiseptic building. That is not for you. That would bore you. You want history. Things to discover. Some ancient wallpaper on the walls. Doodles behind closets, hidden from their parents by the kids. Height marks on the doorways from generations of kids. Things left behind, forgotten in some corners of the house, or things that people left trying to leave a mark behind, trying to be remembered."
Hearing him talk like this, I can only smile. I like how that sounds. That there sounds like a hell of a house.
"Tell me more about it."
"Definitely a fireplace. An old, brick fireplace to hang your Christmas socks on and next to which you can cuddle under a blanket on a cold winter night with a book and a tea and read till midnight. A wide place in the living room for a big Christmas tree, eventually handmade decorated, with popcorn and cranberries and pine cones and all. A staircase. A strong, old, wooden one. And a garden. But not one with millimeter-cut grass like this. You'd need a big court, in which Ash would feel so free while playing. You would have lots of flowers in the front yard, and you wouldn't even think of having a gardener take care of them."
The more he talks, the more I like what I hear. And I realize that maybe he knows me better than I know myself. I wonder how come he knows all that, how he guessed I'd like a house like the one he's talking about. Each thing he mentioned, I realize that deep inside, I'd love to have that.
"Maybe there could be a cat too, that belongs to no one, but often comes around the house for treats you never cease to leave on the porch. A bathroom with a legged bathtub and little tiles on the walls creating a nice mosaic. A big kitchen in which you would cook all the delicious stuff you make, the smell invading all the other rooms, and in which you could dance all the way you like."
"You think my cooking is delicious?" I get excited as he mentions this too.
"I already told you your cake, cupcakes or whatever that was that thing you cooked was amazing."
"So you really like it."
"Haven't I already say that? Twice, love?"
"Yes, you did."
But I thought he said it out of courtesy back at the table. But seeing him eat so much of it and him keeping on reminding me how good it tasted, I am sure he means his words. And oh, I would cook him all the recipes I know.
"Was I right? About your house, I mean."
I chuckle at his question. He checked all the points I didn't know I wanted from a house.
"To be completely honest, yes. I guess it was just a preconception of mine that I had to live in a house like this one. And I am somehow glad to know that I won't have this plastic life. But you know what I want most now, besides any house?"
"What?"
"To live. Like, make it till tomorrow, till an hour later. Live for today. Enjoy everything I have left now. Like this moon that's now getting up on the sky. Enjoy the little things I still have because I know I don't have the time to think for some years later. Hell, I don't even think I have the time to think about what would happen next week. Because till then I might… you know. So yeah. To answer your question, yes. You got it right. I realize I can't see myself being a housewife. It would bore me to death. You were right about it."
"And we both know how fast you get bored."
At his comment, we both laugh.
"Yeah, comrade. You haven't seen the worst of my boredom yet."
"Oh, haven't I?"
"No. You see-" I start saying but get interrupted by the wind blowing some strands of hair onto my face.
I hurry to get them out of my way, and I manage with the most of them, but there are still some little hairs that nag me, tickling my face, that I can't seem to get rid of.
"Uf… stupid hair."
"Let me give you a hand," he says amused and after I nod, he proceeds to pick them off my face, his expression focused on this little task. "Is this better?"
"I guess- no." I wiggle my nose, still feeling something tickle it. I feel like sneezing. "I think-" I don't even know why he is laughing, but his warm laughter stops me from speaking some more, as I want to be silent enough to be able to hear and enjoy it.
"Let's…" he turns my head a little towards the light of the moon, and he comes some centimeters closer, so close that I can feel his breath on my cheek. "Here is it," he says victoriously as his fingers finally pick the little nagging bastard off my nose. "Better, love?"
"Mhm. Much-" I try to suppress a sneeze, but it doesn't work. "Now it's much better. Thanks."
But he doesn't pull away. He doesn't even stop looking at me in a specific way. I can't tell if it's amused or anything else.
"What's the matter? Why are you still smiling? Do I have something on my face?"
"No, love. It just that when you sneeze, you make this face-"
"What face?" do I look weird when I sneeze? And I was so close to him!
"Don't you worry. It's cute, Roza."
"Cu- cute?" he thinks I'm cute?
"Mhm." he makes the space between us even smaller, his hand propping on the wood under us, close to mine, his thumb playing with mine and he's now whispering in my ear. "You look like this little bunny scrunching its nose, love. So cute."
"I um…" I don't have a response. Should I thank him?
My mind is not responding, but I realize that my body did, my fingers daring to get over his.
And I thought it would be fine that I did that. But it wasn't. Because he flinches.
"We should get back inside." his tone gets flatter and his body pose stiffens as his body pulls away from mine, his hand slipping out from under mine. "It's getting cold and you're so undressed and someone might see us anyway. It's not safe to waste some more time here."
With these words he ends our little moment and gets up, leaving me more confused than ever. What the hell happened?
He extends a hand to help me up, hand which, I don't know why, some moodiness tells me to ignore. Maybe some pettiness in response to his reaction. Yes, I am petty. If his disposition can change like that, so can mine.
Seeing my cold reaction he doesn't say anything, he just follows me back inside.
The silence persists until we get climbing the stairs.
"We will leave in the morning."
"I imagined we would. Who knows? If we stay here for too long, that gardener might finally decide to come around and do his job and I so don't want you to kill him."
"I could just knock him out, you know?"
"Whatever."
I keep on to my attitude and enter the room we have been using, and he does the same, not saying anything more.
I think that we could have used more than this room, not share the same bed, but what would be the point now? Why would I make a fuss over it now? Being close or apart from him seems to be just the same lately. I don't know… He confuses me. And I am tired. I just want to sleep.
DPOV
After she plopped herself onto one side of the bed, I lie too and resume to watching the darkened ceiling as I feel her body tense next to me, as for sure she's still upset for the idiocy I did earlier and who could blame her? I took it too far and didn't stop on time, and when I stopped, I did it in the worst way.
She has been quiet for some minutes, and I guessed that she fell asleep, but that's not the case. She tilts her head and looks at me, biting her lips.
"Comrade?"
I turn my head to one side and meet her eyes.
"What?"
"I am sorry."
Her statement makes me turn to one side wholly, wanting to look at her better and to see if I got that right.
"You're sorry for what?" I should be the one saying that. Does she think that she did something wrong that made me react that way?
"Do you want me to tell you chronologically or alphabetically?"
"Come on, Rose. You don't have to apologize for anything."
"I do. I don't do anything well. I can't help you find that device you're looking for, I am slowing you down every time something happens, I put myself in stupid situations that you have to straighten, I am so clumsy, I got you shot. Do you want me to go on? I guess I could remember more of the stupid things I did if I focus a little, all of them pointing to the same conclusion. That I am good for nothing. I suck."
"Why do you say that? Don't."
"But I do. I am nothing but a trouble to you. I am sorry I am nothing more than a liability." Why is she thinking all that stuff about herself? She shouldn't. "I wish-"
"But you are my little trouble, love," I respond to her smiling, trying to lighten up her low mood, my hand getting up and caressing her cheek. And I would love for her to be so much more. But I can't allow it.
"Still, it doesn't help you much that you have to babysit me each step of the way."
"Love, stop that."
"I haven't helped you in any way, never. I just-"
"What about the first day on the street when you sprayed that guy with the pepper spray?"
"You would have taken him out anyway. I sprayed him only to get him off me."
"Okay. What about when, the same day, you told me about the man behind me?"
"I bet you would have seen him without my help. You hear everything. See everything too. You didn't need me to announce you."
She seems set to get the worst out of her. But I am set to prove her wrong. Because she is wrong.
"At the bar, with that man, when you climbed on him?" at this, she doesn't protest. Even though it was so reckless from her, it was a brave gesture. "And what about the times when you drove when we were followed? You did a great job there. What about my shot too? You took care of that so well."
"But what about all the times I tried to get away? Isn't that trouble I caused cancelling all the supposedly good stuff I've done?"
At this, I laugh heartily, remembering how much of a trouble we've been through because of her insistence to get away from me. But hey, it was fun at times too.
"Yeah, love. You have quite an imagination at finding ways to get away. The craziest of them all."
"You still think I am crazy for that, don't you?" she asks, finally smiling.
"I told you I do. But just a little bit, remember?" I will never stop believing this. And I love that little spark of craziness at her. It makes things interesting. "But even though, you're not that bad as you insist you are, love. Don't be so hard on yourself."
"You really think so?"
"I do."
She gets smiling sillily. "Thanks, comrade."
"And now to sleep with you," I say and pull the cover up on her and tucking her lightly. "It is already past your bedtime."
"Hey," she tries to seem upset but the chuckles give her away. "Stop that."
RPOV
We don't sleep at all. I mean I don't know about him, but I can't sleep. I don't really want to. I feel like if I sleep, I will lose all these little memories of the time I spent with him when we have finally connected in a way, and anyway, the sleep isn't willing to come as I keep on rewinding in my mind everything that happened ever since we entered this house.
But no matter how much I fight it, the sleep comes once and for a short period. And because I got to be relaxed, no worry present to keep me awake, I dream.
And I dream that dream I am always afraid of dreaming.
I remember nothing from it.
I just wake up scared of my mind and get up to my butt, my guts ready to spill and my heart beating like crazy.
"You're okay, love?"
Oh, of course he is here. I bet I woke him up again.
"I am sorry. I…"
"I know. It's okay. Don't apologize for it. Do you want to, maybe, talk about it?"
"Not really."
Lying back down, I hide my face into the pillow, wondering if he already saw the tears in my eyes. Anyway, I do my best to wipe them away without him noticing.
"Okay. But if you do, know I'm here."
"Thanks."
And this is it. To hell with sleeping. I am so sick and tired of dreaming that. Of always remembering that night. Of waking up so scared.
It won't take that much if an effort to stay awake until the morning comes, right? I did it last night too. I can do it for like, forever, don't I? I may need hundreds of ton of coffee and maybe some-
"You can't go on like this, Rose."
"Like this how?"
"Like forcing yourself to remain awake. You need to rest."
"I am not. I just… don't feel like it anymore. I am not sleepy anymore. I feel fine."
"You're not. I can see how you're struggling to keep your eyes open. You must be exhausted."
"Am not."
"I bet you are. How much did you sleep as I was out?"
Almost not at all. How could I sleep soundly when he was feeling so bad? And I know he would see it on my face if I'll lie to him, so why would I even try?
"I don't want to go back to sleep. I can't... dream that again, okay? I don't want to. I can't. Not again."
"What if I promise to you that I will be here to wake you up if that happens again? I will be sure you're fine."
"Why would you do that? Didn't I wake you up enough times?"
"So what? Let's say I don't have a better way of spending my night. I have been sleeping all day today. I am wide awake."
"You promise?"
"I do."
So, with his honest promise, I adjust my position a little, but no matter how much I try now, the sleep won't come. It's funny how when you want something it is not available anymore for you.
"You said you would go to sleep," his tone gets scolding.
"I don't think I can now." My brain is again filling with questions on why is he acting so nice after that shit he did outside.
He gets laughing again. "You are unbelievable, love. Just close your eyes. The sleep will eventually come."
"Will you tell me a story?"
Seeing him smile at my silly question, makes me want to take it back. I am not again drunk so that I could afford to ask for such things. What was I thinking of when I opened my mouth?
"Oh, you know what? Forget ab-"
"English or Russian?"
"Huh?"
"The story. Should it be in Russian or English?"
"You're messing with me, aren't you?"
"Why would I? You wanted a story, right? I am only asking, should I tell it to you in English or Russian?"
"You know I am not drunk, right?"
"So?"
"I don't know…"
"If it helps you fall asleep, then I'll do it. I don't know if you'd like my stories, but I'll try to make the best I can, love."
Oh, he shouldn't worry about the contents. I am okay with only hearing him speak. For what I care, he could be telling me no related words, I'd be fine with that.
"Fine. Then, make it in English, please."
"Sure." he again gets the cover up on my body and smiles at me before lying back down on his side.
I close my eyes and wait to listen to that beautiful voice of his.
"Many, many years ago, in a kingdom far, far away there lived a beautiful princess."
I open one eye to watch him, a stupid smile creeping on my lips.
"What?"
"Princess stories, comrade?"
"Hey. You asked for a story. I am providing you with one. If you don't like it, I can stop."
"No, no. I like it. Please, do continue. What's the princess's name?"
With a gasp, I snap my eyes open, scared too by the fact that I am not allowed to move freely and this unknown thing is keeping my body pinned into a warm prison.
When I feel him soothing my hair and whispering my name and shushing, I realize where I am and what's happening and I stop moving, even though my mouth keeps on saying "No", and I don't even remember why.
When I stop talking too, finally obliging my brain to stop thinking those bad thoughts, he pulls away, but his hands never stop soothing my body.
He looks at me, meeting my open, still frightened eyes.
"Are you okay?"
Hearing the deep sound of his voice, so full of concern, it soothes even the darkest of my nightmares. When I am with him, I feel safe and sound and I can't even imagine anymore how it would be not to wake up not being next to him to make it all go away.
I nod. "It was just that… bad dream again. I am sorry…"
He sighs and embraces me and I cuddle to his chest like a little kid I feel like now.
"You don't have to apologize for it." and what he says next bewilders me. "And it's not your fault, Roza."
"Pardon me?" I say muffled into his chest.
"It's not your fault your friend died."
"Wha-?" I pull away and look at him, being more than confused. "What are you talking about?"
"You don't remember anything from your dream, don't you?"
"No." and to be honest, I think I am glad I don't.
"This time you were mostly saying "Please don't die" as you were sleeping. And "I am sorry.""
"Oh."
He caresses my cheek and his hand rests on my skin.
"You shouldn't be so harsh on yourself."
His words make me burst in tears.
"But I couldn't save him. I should have done more. I should have helped him."
"What else? What else do you think you should have done to save Mason?"
"I don't know. But something. I should have done something. Something more than just…"
"Rose, hey, love, no." he pulls me closer and his fingers start drawing little circles on the back of my head. "Don't do that. I know you did all you could. And that is what matters."
"But what is the point of that if I didn't manage to save him? I can't save anybody."
I can't even save myself. I needed him so many times these days to keep me alive, even to protect me from myself.
"That is not true. You just saved me," he argues.
"Maybe. No one can tell you for sure I didn't mess your arm forever."
He pulls away, just enough for our eyes to meet again. "Tell me one thing."
"What?"
"Only if you want to."
"Okay."
"What did he say to you lastly?
I cry a little harder and hide my face from him, burying it back into his chest.
I don't like to cry in front of someone, but oh, didn't I do it a lot in front of him?
"It's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But he wasn't blaming you for anything that happened, right?"
"No, he wasn't," I whine.
"Then why are you blaming yourself? You didn't push the trigger."
"Because… because I couldn't-" I can't even speak normally, my voice trembling with each sob.
"Hey. Look at me." I lift my gaze. "Take it easy, love. Your head will get hurting. Try and calm down a little, okay?"
I sniff my nose while nodding and he wipes my tears away.
"I know it must be hard for you. I have lost people too…" he stops and bites his lip just like he would have said already too much. "I know. I know it's hard. But life isn't going to get farther if you keep on blaming yourself. If you keep on blaming yourself. What happened was not your fault, okay?"
I nod. He may be right, but I can't stop thinking I am the reason Mase is gone. Maybe if I would have let him fight that guy or, I don't know… maybe if I have done something? Like act and not chicken out? Do something different.
"Wouldn't he want you to continue living your life?"
"Yeah, he would. He really would." Mase wasn't the type to hold grudges.
"And do you think you can do that if you keep on dragging yourself back to that moment? Trust me, he would wish you to be happy, not to do this to yourself."
I laugh a little.
"When did you get so wise, huh?"
He chuckles and kisses my forehead so lightly, that I am not even sure it happened.
"Call it a moment of inspiration, love."
I snuggle a little closer into him and let him rest his lips on my forehead for some more moments, the little hairs starting to grow on his jaw tickling my skin, but I don't care.
"So now, do you want to go back to sleep or should I go make you some tea?"
His intention makes me smile.
"No, thank you. You have bothered way too much with me already."
"You did for me, too." and he wants to get up. "I am going. Something warm will do you good."
"No." I catch him by his arm and pull him back down, and when I realize how daring my gesture was, I pull my hand back. "I um… I would like to catch some more sleep. It's been some crazy days and I think I need the rest."
But the truth is that I wouldn't like to be alone now. Even knowing that he is in the same bed as me, it does good to my mind.
"Okay. As you wish."
He sits back in bed and if what he said some time ago didn't surprise me enough, what he does now shocks me completely. He takes me back in his embrace, his arms wrapping around me and I stiffen on spot.
"Um, wha-"
He starts soothing my back, my skin feeling perfectly the tips of his fingers through the thin material of my dress.
"Is this okay?"
Against my better judgement, I nod. It is okay. It is great. But should it happen? Again?
"Go back to sleep, love. I'll be here."
I relax into his arms and even dare to put one arm around his torso too, my nose finding the best place just under his collarbone, a place in which I can feel his heartbeat faintly, which is such a calm rhythm to fall asleep on.
"Thank you, comrade."
"Don't mention it."
DPOV
My arm getting a little numb, I try to adjust my position, but Rose gets growling as she holds me a little tighter.
Moving all the way, I pull her even closer to me, and still having that pout on her lips, she comes closer, snuggling happily.
"You're so sweet when you're half asleep like this, love," I whisper to her as I put some hairs behind her ear and lean in to kiss her temple.
Wouldn't it be amazing if I'd wake up every single morning to this?
Sure, why not? You would wake up like this for about a week. Because in the next she'd be dead!
"Oh, Roza. I'm sorry."
I try to ignore her next growl as I get a hold of her arm and take it off from around me and I pull away from her too.
"I wish things would be different." but I can't do this to her.
I get out of bed and go. It's still too early in the morning and I'll let her sleep some more.
After getting rid of the car into a lake nearby, I decide to occupy the rest of the time with shaving.
I don't know why, but my arm started hurting as I attempt to do this, and I am not doing the greatest job, which is frustrating.
I throw the razor into the sink and proceed to take my bandage off. I wish I had one of those shots around to help with this nuisance.
"Can I um… help?" I hear Rose asking from the doorway. I didn't even hear her coming.
"No. I can do it." and I continue to unravel the cloth around my arm.
"I wasn't talking about the bandage."
"But about what?"
"About what you were um…" she looks down, her foot drawing little circles on the plushy carpet on the floor. "...doing before that."
"You want to help me with shaving?"
"Why not? I know how to do it. I did it for my father when he had his hand broken one summer."
"Fine."
I can't do it myself and it needs to be done. I can't get out with only a quarter of my face shaved.
She comes closer and I hand her the razor I wasn't doing such a good job with.
But as she is spreading some more shaving foam on my jaw and I keep on bending for her to see well, we both silently get to the conclusion that she is too little.
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all," she chuckles.
"What about this? Can I… I'll pick you up a little, okay?"
"Um, sure, okay."
And in my most stupid moment, I go on with my stupid idea and I pick her up and sit her on the edge of the sink in front of me.
She spreads her legs a little, making space for me to get closer in between them so that she could reach and see my face.
I don't know if I should be thankful that she now got a pair of pants on or not. I am mostly not. I am even mad I have pants on. Skin on skin, it would have been great.
The moment our thighs touch, she blushes and starts breathing heavily and she's gulping each time she moves her eyes on me and she does her best to avoid my eyes, focusing on shaving me, but all I do is watch her. She's so close to me and how could I even look at something else but her? I can feel her sweet aroma all over me and at times even I need to grit my teeth to manage to keep my hands tamed and not wandering on her body.
Way to go, Dimitri. You have brought this to yourself.
I swear I am so stupid sometimes. Instead of putting distance in between us, and not even physically, I keep on doing stuff like this. Last night by holding her, now putting her on this sink and letting her do this. But I can't fucking help it. I want her close to me.
We have spent too much time in here, in this little space out of time, away from everything that's happening out there, and I have allowed, even initiated too many things that shouldn't have happened.
But soon, being outside again, this house will always remain ours. A little safe place in time where I allowed myself to call her mine. But in the outside world, it can't happen anymore.
RPOV
After a little stop at a store, he takes me straight to the airport and in the car, along the way, I don't know, something happened. Something bad. His mood changed. He became dark and silent and didn't feel like responding to any of my questions with more than three words, trust me, I counted.
He became… cold. Again. And I didn't dare ask what I did this time that got him to act like this. I already feel like walking on thin ice whenever I speak to him, and I don't know how he will react to my questions. Could it be about the shaving thing? I saw his expression change then a couple of times…
Uf, why does it have to be so hard to read him?
Entering the airport, we stop at the list of flights.
"Here. You choose where we are going to go," he says showing me the flights panel.
"Me? Why?"
"Because it doesn't matter where we're going."
"Nice that you let me pick the non-important stuff, comrade," I try to be playful, but he responds rudely to my little remark.
"Rose, do you want to pick or not?" he got really offended by my comment.
Seeing him react like that, it makes me get an attitude. Whatever happened with his behavior, it can happen to mine too.
I shrug. "If it doesn't matter where we go, does it matter what I choose?" I can't help but respond pettily.
He sighs and pins me with his glare. He seems tired of my attitude and I must say I am tired of his mood changes too. Is he bipolar? I did my best to be good, wanting not to annoy him uselessly. But even though, he seems to find reasons to do shit like this. And I can't not respond to it.
"I was thinking that you would like to do that. My bad if I thought wrong."
"Fine, I'll pick. Does it matter how far?"
"The farther the better."
"Great!" I throw him one of the fakest smiles I am capable of and start looking on the flights leaving soon.
What should I pick?
I see all the common places. But I don't know why, something makes me say this.
"Let's go to Tallinn."
He looks at me suspiciously. "Why that?"
"Why not?"
He shrugs. "Out of all the places available? No Paris, no London?" he asks almost mockingly.
Yeah, of course. I should have picked Paris because I so want him to kiss me under the Eiffel Tower and I even believe that this would happen. Bullshit! I don't even like Paris. It's too basic and cheesy and stuff. And him thinking that of me, it annoys me further. Who would want to have a romantic walk there with him? Not me.
"If you don't like it, pick one yourself and be done with it. You told me to pick, I picked. If you don't like it, I don't care. Pick whatever the hell you want."
"I didn't mea-"
"Whatever, comrade. Are we going to take the tickets or what?"
He puffs. Why is he the one getting mad when he is the one who started this?
"Fine. Let's go."
But to our greatest luck, five minutes after we buy our tickets, we get announced that our flight is having a one hour delay. After all, it's so, so close to Christmas and everything is clogged, even in the air.
So we pick some chairs into the waiting area and I am in for some tensed silence once again.
DPOV
"There is something wrong with her," Rose says out of nowhere.
"Something wrong with who?"
"That little girl there. The blonde one right there," she stops to point her finger towards the right of the waiting room, on a hallway. "She's all alone."
She doesn't wait for me to say anything, she gets up and heads to the little girl. I follow.
When I catch up with her Rose is already making the little blondie stop crying holding her in her embrace as she keeps on saying faintly "I lost my mommy."
"Don't you worry. We'll help you find her. But I need you to be brave now, okay sweetie?"
The little one is nodding as she's wiping some tears with the back of her sleeve.
I crouch too in front of the girl and ask her her name.
She frowns so deeply as I speak to her and her light blue eyes darken. Ouch. Maybe she doesn't like me.
"It's alright, sweetie. He's with me. He's…" for the first time in a long while, Rose looks at me and smiles a little. "He's good. You can tell him your name. He'll help us find your mommy, don't you, comrade?"
"Of course I will. If you tell me your name, I can find your mother faster."
"I'm… my name is Sarah, Sir."
"Sarah what?"
"Sa- Sarah An- Andrews."
"Good. Now, you two wait for me here. I'll be coming back with your parents, alright?"
"Tha- thank you, Sir."
I nod at Rose, leaving her with little Sarah and I go back into the waiting room, just in time to hear a woman starting to call for Sarah.
I go straight to the woman and inform her what happened. Leaving her other child with her husband, she rushes out on the corridor and she's kissing and hugging, and scolding Sarah, thanking us too, all at the same time.
The little trouble taken care of, we get back to our places and watch little Sarah now playing with her brother, forgetting so fast that she got lost no more than five minutes ago.
"You're good with children. I mean, you made her stop crying so fast," I say, feeling the need to dissipate this tension between us, tension that I created in the first place.
"It is my job. I've dealt with crying kids a lot of times before."
"No. I think it's more than that."
"Like?"
"I believe you'd be a great mother too, Rose."
She smiles looking at me surprised.
"You think that?" she asks in disbelief.
I don't know why I said it, but it's true and if I said it out loud, I'll own it. Because I believe it.
"Yes. I believe that."
"Um… Thanks."
Still smiling, she pulls her feet under her chin and rounds her arms on her legs.
A couple of seconds later, she sniffs her nose, giving me the impression that something's wrong.
Looking at her, I see she is biting the inside of her cheek as she's silently crying.
"Roza? What's wrong?"
She sobs and shakes her head lightly, trying to dismiss the thing that is bothering her. "Nothing. I'm fine," she whispers.
"I know you're not." I get closer to her on the chairs and take her hand in mine. "Talk with me, love."
Avoiding looking at me, her eyes pinned on something on the floor, she spreads my palm and starts drawing circles on it.
I let her be until I feel a warm droplet fall on my palm.
"Tell me what's the matter."
She looks away and sobs lightly, trying to take a deep breath in.
"A family like that," she whines pointing her head towards the family of the little, sweet girl we helped earlier.
Not knowing what she means, I turn her to face me, but she still looks down at our hands.
"Roza…"
Me calling her like this breaks her completely and she rounds her arms on my torso, burying her face into the crook of my neck and she rests there, crying silently, her body shaking with each sob.
"I am sorry. I didn't…." she gets a hold of the back of my T-shirt and clutches it into her palms. "I don't…" she says angrily this time and cries harder. "I just want to live, goddamnit. The thought of never having that… I want to have that one day. I don't want to die. I am so scared of it..."
I lift her off me and wipe the most of her tears away. It kills me seeing her hurting like this.
"Hey. Roza, look at me." sniffing her nose some more and trying not to cry anymore, she slowly lifts her head and catches my eyes.
Cupping her hot cheeks and kissing her forehead, I lay her head back on my chest.
"You'll have that."
"How? Don't give me false hope. You and I both know…" She sounds so hopeless as her voice breaks. "We both know how this ends. I am not going to have a happy ending. Never…"
She gets crying again and I hold her tighter in my embrace, brushing her back until she calms down and her breathing steadies, and not even then, I don't let go of her. I hold her for longer, caressing her hair and telling her that it will all be alright.
"It won't be like that. You'll be fine."
"How can you say that?" she finally asks.
Because I'll make sure of it, whatever it takes.
But I don't get the chance to say my promise out loud because the little girl from earlier is now in front of us with a frown between her brows, her hand reaching for Rose's knee, attracting her attention.
"Rose, why are you crying?"
She gets up and starts wiping her tears hastily.
"Oh, sweetie. I am not crying."
"But you are. You have tears in your eyes." well, isn't she an observing girl?
"Oh, but they are happy tears. You see? My friend over here told me a very good joke and I laughed so badly that my tears started to fall."
"Really?" the little one asks excitedly.
"Really," Rose responds, expecting to have gotten away with it.
"I want to hear it too! Sir, can you please tell me the joke too?" the girl directs her attention to me now.
Rose looks at me too and shrugs defeated, like apologizing, then turns to the girl and wants to tell her something, but I speak first.
"How do you call a magician dog?"
The girl smiles and Rose looks at me questioningly. Well, didn't say something about a joke?
"How? How? Tell me how," the girl demands excitedly.
"A labracadabrador, of course."
At this, Rose burst into heartfelt laughter and the little girl follows.
Hearing Rose laugh so hard after her down moment, comes as a blessing. I didn't know my little joke would amuse her so much, but she can barely stop laughing in order to take in some air and her eyes get teary, but thankfully, this time from laughing, and I can't help but be in a good mood too and smile at their sight.
When they both cease chuckling, the little Sarah remembers why she came by in the first place.
"Here. I want you to have this," she says and extends her palm towards Rose, and there is a little colorful bead bracelet. "I made this for you to thank you for helping me find mommy."
"Oh, that's so sweet." Rose gets excited at its sight and hugs Sarah. "Would you help me put it on?"
After the girl ties three knots on Rose's wrist, she takes a step back.
"Do you like it?"
"If I like it? I love it. You're a little artist."
"Thank you, Rose. And thank you for helping me when I got scared. I gotta go now. My mommy is waiting for me. Bye!"
And with this, Sarah gets running back to her family.
Still smiling, Rose turns my way, an eyebrow rose.
"Do you have a secret stash of jokes for kids down your sleeve, comrade?"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
"You do?"
"Well, you must be able to connect with anybody."
"Yeah, you're right. Especially in your job…"
Her fingers playing with the wooden beads of the bracelet, she looks around the airport, towards that family again, and I fear that she would get sad once more. And I don't want that to happen.
"Hey, Rose?"
"Yeah?"
"What did the little corn say to the mama corn?"
"What?"
"What did the little corn say to the mama corn?"
"Is that another pun?" I shrug. "I don't know. What did he tell her?"
"Where is popcorn?"
My answer makes her chuckle.
"How can you tell a vampire has a cold?" she shrugs. "He starts coffin."
This one makes her laugh again. And I don't want to stop. I scratch my brain, trying to remember some more jokes like these. To make her laugh like this, after these days, after everything she has been through, is the best thing I can do.
"They're so bad they're good!" she squeals.
"How do all the oceans say hello to each other?"
"Oh, oh! I know this one! They wave!"
And she only gets laughing harder, and her laughter fills the whole waiting room. It's colorful and untamed and so, so sweet.
"What did the buffalo say to his son at school drop off?"
"Oh, I need you to tell me that. What did he say?"
"Bison," I say with a straight face and as serious as I can.
"Oh, God! Of course!"
In these moments when she is laughing like this, it feels like the temperature in the room has risen a couple of degrees and I can't help but stifle a grin, knowing I am the one who has brought that smile on her lips.
"Okay, okay. Stop, comrade. My stomach hurts. Please," she says bending over and laughing some more. "I can't stop."
Big tears get rolling down her pinked cheeks and it takes her some minutes to stop chuckling. But at least she is a little happier now.
After she stops laughing, she still chuckles from time to time, and now turns to look at me and smiles warmly.
"Thanks, comrade. I guess I needed a good laugh."
"Don't mention it." I love doing that. I love seeing her laugh. I would do it for the rest of my life.
RPOV
We finally, after so much waiting, get into the airplane and from the second I make the first step past the entering door, I get very nervous, but I decide to hide it from him. I can manage this without his help. I want to prove myself I can. I want to prove myself that I can do without him.
I try to seem as serene as I was when we were into the waiting room and I listen to and do everything I am told to as I fake my nervousness as some tiredness in front of the Russian.
And I did well. Until it's the time for the plane to take off.
This is when the anxiety makes itself present big time and I close my eyes and I fist my palms, squeezing hard onto the air as my breathing picks up.
Okay, I am not afraid now. I am good. I will not have a panic attack. I am fine. The plane won't fall. I am just thinking stupidly. I am… touched?
I open my eyes and see his palm taking control over mine, unclenching it, and his fingers entangling with mine.
"Easy, Rose." I turn my head to look at him better and he does the same. "You're afraid," he states. I nod lightly and he holds my hand tighter. "It's okay."
"Thanks," I whisper, my heart now getting to beat harder, but the airplane taking off is not the reason anymore.
He smiles back at me. "Are you good?"
I nod. I definitely am now. And there went my proving myself that I can do this without him. But how can I say no when I love it so much when he's holding my hand?
A second later, as a turbulence comes I squeeze his hand and he does the same, reassuringly.
"It's your first time, isn't it?"
"Am I that obvious?"
"You could have told me."
"And what could you have done?" maybe drug me again?
"Know for a first," he somehow scolds me and I am already predicting a change in his mood. "We don't want another panic attack, right?" he gets jokingly and I chuckle and relax a little more.
"Yeah, we don't."
And the sweet thing is that he doesn't let go of my hand for as long as I need it, keeping on walking his thumb on it. And even more sweet, he tries to distract my attention.
"Wanna watch a movie?"
"Sure."
He lets me pick one and silly me, I fall asleep fifteen minutes into the movie.
I wake up as someone is fastening my belt, as he is fastening my belt, and I find myself with a pillow under my head and a blanket on me, keeping me warm.
Have we gotten there already?
But the stewardess is there to inform us again that we're ready for the stopover. Right, I forgot about that.
He finishes putting on my belt and gets up. And the second he sees me awake, he scolds me a little.
"You didn't sleep very much lately, didn't you? And by not very much, I mean not at all, and I am not referring only to last night."
"I did slee-" He throws me a look and I switch to saying the truth. "No. I didn't."
"Why?" I shrug. "Rose? What did you do all that time?"
"I um... watched you. Kept an eye on you," I say and avoid his eyes now. "You know, there, for some seconds, I thought that you... you know… you would…" I can't help it and my eyes fill with tears. "That you would die," I whisper so faintly. "That fever you got…"
His hand gets mine again and he's caressing it so lightly.
"I am sorry for having to go through that."
I smile at him. "I am glad you are fine now."
"Thanks to you."
"Don't give me that much credit comrade. I didn't do that much…"
He wanted to say something, something more than just contradicting me, I have seen it on his face, but he didn't do it because he got interrupted by the stewardess talking again. Why isn't the universe letting me finally hear him say something that matters?
Even his expression changes and he pulls his hand away fast, like touching me would have burned him.
I get mad at this and I take the pillow under my head and hold it tight, preparing mentally for the landing. The departure wasn't that bad, the landing won't be either, right? And this time I will do it without his help!
"You'll be okay?"
I look at him and I see the concern in his eyes, that so easily replaced that face he made when he pulled his hand away. I see so many undecipherable things in his eyes and I hate it that I don't know the meaning! It pisses me off so bad! Why does he keep on alternating between those looks, between these states of spirit? He is driving me insane!
"Yeah. I'll be fine. Perfect," I reassure him with a fake smile and get back to squeezing on my pillow, ignoring on purpose the hand that he placed on the little space between us.
The second landing goes as well as the first one, again, without his moral support and we head out the plane.
As we walk towards the exit, he stops me at the first info stand and gets himself a map.
"You've never been here before?"
"No."
"Really?" he nods. "So, this is unexplored ground?"
"You can call it like that. Are you hungry?"
"After more than ten hours flying, do you even need to ask?"
"Okay. They have this seemingly great restaurant nearby."
As we eat, I decide to finally take my chances and ask the most pressing question in my brain.
"Comrade?"
"Huh?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"What are we doing here?"
"We're eating, aren't we?"
I throw him an ugly glare and hope he chokes a little on his food as a repay for that answer.
"You know what I meant. What are we doing here, in Tallinn, comrade."
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? Don't mess with me. Why are we here?"
"I told you that I don't know. So stop asking me."
"I will stop asking when you stop lying to me and tell me the truth."
"I already told you the truth," he says angrily, gets up from the table and after he makes a little stop at our waitress, he heads outside, leaving me there looking like a fool.
What the hell is wrong with him? One second he is acting nice and then he snaps like this? Is it my fault that his orders are messed up? And what the hell he means when he says he doesn't know? He always knows.
I need an explanation, and I am not giving up until I get one. It's been way too long ever since I keep on asking and getting these useless responses in return.
And how dare he leave me here like this? I am so tired of people leaving me hanging, of doing this to me. I will so not go through that with him. I won't ever allow anyone else treat me like that bastard.
I get up and go after him, being angrier than ever.
Getting outside, it doesn't take me much to spot him thanks to his height and I give no damn about the people around us.
"Hey, you, you little bastard!"
He stops, turns around and watches me approach him.
"Don't you ever, ever, ever, do that again to me! I was talking to you and you left like that?" I keep on pushing my finger into his chest. "I wanted a simple answer to a simple question. What the hell do we do here?! And I still want that answer. You won't get away from me with just your I don't know. It's my life, comrade. My life we're messing with here. I get it that the thing I have gotten into is way bigger than I might understand and that many people want to kill me and stuff, but I think that I deserve at least an answer to a simple question. What the hell do we do here? Why did you bring me here? Because I am sure that we are not on vacation or to enjoy ourselves because running from one place to another and trying not to get killed was never fun for anyone!" I end up out of breath, but I am finally calmer. Saying all these things to him did me good. "I am not asking for much from you."
He sighs deeply. "I honestly have no idea what we are doing here."
"What? Didn't you get any orders to follow? Or are they too secret you would have to kill me if you'd tell me?"
He smiles so faintly. "No, Rose."
"No, what?"
"I didn't get any orders."
"Then what in the name of God do we do here if no one told you to bring me here?!" It is exasperating. He is exasperating. This situation is driving me insane.
"We're running away."
"From who are we running away now?"
"From everybody that wants you dead."
"Which is?"
"Which is everybody."
"I…" everybody? "I want to ask you something else too. I can't find a reason myself and I was wondering if you could tell me."
"What?"
"Why did um… Tasha come to kill me? I mean, she is one of your people and you… Is there a bounty on my head? Am I wanted, dead or alive for that thing I don't know? This is why you…?"
"Why I what?"
Hell, I should have stopped talking earlier. I so feel that what I wanted to say will upset him. But I need to say it anyway.
"Rose? This is why I what?"
"Why you keep me with you?"
"Do you think I do this for money?" he sounds so hurt. "Is that what you believe? That I keep you with me for the sake of fucking money?"
"I don't know what to believe! Everybody wants to get their hands on me thinking that I will be their leverage with Xavier and this is why you even took me in the first place! But then Tasha comes and she wants to kill me and hell, you two are on the same side and this means what? That your men want me killed too, or at least that they want to get their hands on me, but not through you? I am confused. Am I supposed to live or be killed? Why did she do that if you are on the same side as her? Why did she want to kill me while you do your best to keep me alive? Hell, you even got shot for me! I want a reason, comrade. Tell me why you do this. Tell me what to think about this."
He is looking away and responds almost whispered.
"She was there to do it because I refused to."
"What did you say?"
He looks now in my eyes as he repeats those words.
"I said that she was there to kill you because I didn't want to."
I am speechless. Why did he refuse to kill me?
"I um… what?" I can only mumble half of the words. "Why?"
He doesn't give any attention to my question
"We should go now. It's getting late and I want to-"
I stop his speaking by getting a hold of his arm and try to shake him a little.
"No! I want an answer! Tell me!"
"Tell you what?" his voice is so cold now.
"Why you didn't do it."
He shrugs. "I just didn't."
"You're doing it all over again!"
"Do what, Rose?"
"This- this- this thing goddamnit! You start to tell me things and then you stop and all I get is half of the facts and then you wonder why I believe all the stuff I believe. And when I ask for more explanations, you brush me off like it wouldn't be important. Well, let me tell you that it is! It is hell of important!"
"You are exaggerating. It is not important."
The reason he kept me alive, the reason he almost got killed for me, the reason he is acting like this isn't important? To me it is.
"Then if it isn't that important, tell me! It shouldn't be hard for you to tell me if it isn't, right?"
He avoids my eyes and keeps to the same cold tone.
"It is just a difference of opinions. I think that we should keep you alive to get leverage, my superiors don't and so they wanted you out of the picture. Simple. Don't make things bigger than they are, Rose. Because they're not."
Oh, so that's all?
"Okay. Perfect. A-freaking-azing!"
I am boiling with anger. That's all I mean to him? A goddamn leverage. He did so many just for the sake of being right. Why am I even surprised?
You know what? That's good. Perfect. He can go fuck himself.
I start walking away from him and I am not looking back. I head straight into the bunch of people gathered for the Christmas fair nearby, hoping that I would somehow get lost and never have to see him again and never have to face all those conflicting feelings he arises in me every single time I look at him. I hate feeling so many things when all he feels is a big bunch of nothing.
"Rose!" he calls for me, his deep voice making all the people around me cease speaking for a split of a second, but I don't give a damn. I don't bother to respond, I don't give him any attention when he calls for me again. I just pick up my pace and walk further.
But of course, you can't get away from him. I never could.
He catches up with me in less than a minute and gets a hold of my elbow, stopping me and pulling me towards him.
"You're heading the wrong way," he says through gritted teeth.
"Sure. My bad. We'll be going anywhere you want. Just like always. I am here only to follow your command. Don't mind my free will. I will just be your leverage and I'll be pleased to serve you."
"Rose…" he growls and I feel the exasperation in his voice.
"No. You know what? Whatever you want to tell me, I don't want to hear it. Because if you are going to try to reason with me, I know that you will be telling me only a half-ass reason or an idiotic explanation that you think I am stupid enough to believe and that will only make me madder on you! So would you please not say anything else and just drag me somewhere and be done with it? I know the drill already."
"That's perfect to me," he says just as pissed off.
"Great."
We walk and don't speak another word, him guiding me into that haze of people by keeping his hands on my shoulders and changing direction when needed.
When we get to some emptier streets, his hands finally leave my body.
A few moments later, I find myself in front of a nicely decorated stand that sells gingerbread.
"Would you want some?"
He decides to speak and these are the words he decides to use?
Thinking of their meaning, I start laughing, almost hysterical.
"What?"
"You always get me food to make me forgive you for whatever shit you do."
"I do not."
"You do, comrade."
"No. I don't," he keeps on arguing.
"The facts don't lie." He looks at me suspiciously and I start explaining. "After you burned down my apartment, you bought me that chocolate you know I love. After the bar thing? You bought me again chocolate and came to me with it as a peace offer. After we almost…" I bite my tongue. "Coincidence or not, you bought Chinese. At the diner? You shared your plate with me after we argued. And now this. Now you think you can buy me with gingerbread."
"Did you ever stop to think there was another reason I did those things?"
"Like?"
"Maybe I was doing it so that you would stop scolding me. It keeps your mouth busy, you know?" He says trying to be funny and I even smile too, but for different reasons. I am not in the mood to play this game with him anymore.
"So, I got it all wrong? Isn't this a peace offer? It is just a shut up offer?" but from what I remember, I haven't said a word in a long time now.
His expression softens considerably.
"It is, Rose."
"It is what?"
"A peace offer. I…" and when he was again close to saying something meaningful, he just sighs.
"You know, a simple word would be enough. More than enough. You don't need to waste your money on stuff like this. Saying something might cost you less than buying me food all the time because I don't know if you observed, but we argue quite often and you might remain with an empty wallet until you finally get rid of me. "
I turn around and leave.
"Rose, wait."
He catches up with me and I realize I have headed into a really empty street. We're all alone here, just me and him and the sounds of the cheerful people at the Christmas fair nearby.
I look at him with my hands crossed over my chest.
"What?"
"I don't consider it a waste as long as you are enjoying it."
His answer doesn't satisfy me at all. He keeps on saying useless stuff. Useless stuff that I don't want to hear. He never speaks, and when he does, he rarely says things that matter to me.
"Good to know. Now can we-"
I want to get moving again, but he stops me, and I take two steps back until my back reaches a wall. He doesn't seem to care. He still comes closer.
"Look…" he sighs as his right palm rests on the wall behind me and his body comes closer to mine. "Words… they don't come easy for me. I usually do rather than say. I have never been a man of words."
"Good to know that. Too bad that sometimes what you do is completely confusing and I tend to need verbal explanations."
I want to get out of that little space I am a prisoner of, but he pulls me back.
"No."
"What now?"
"I am sorry. For… all of this."
"Yeah, okay." if he is saying this only to make me feel better, it won't work. What is the point of saying it if he does mean it?
His fingers tilt my head so that I get now to look deeply into his eyes.
"I mean it, Rose. I really do. I know all of this must be…"
"Confusing? Annoying? Insane? Not fair?"
"Yes, yes, yes and yes. All of the above and some more. But just understand that I am not here to make things harder, okay? I don't want that." he caresses my cheek and puts my hair behind my ear, his fingers continuing to play with a strand of my hair as he speaks some more. "I am only trying my best to do what I think it's good and I don't even know if that is the right thing to do, and I don't know if even half of what I am doing myself, and with all your questions…"
"But-"
"I know. It's your right to ask and to want to know. I won't deny that. I would do just the same if I were you. But I have no good answer to give to you to any of your questions. I have no satisfactory answer. I can only tell you that I am trying and this is all I can offer to you now. I don't know if it is enough but it's all I have. I am trying to do what I think is right."
"And what do you think is the right thing?"
"To keep you alive."
"For your profit."
"No. Goddamnit, Roza, no. For… for you." when he says this, my eyes fill with tears. This is the most heartfelt thing he has told me, like ever. It's all I ever wanted to know. But he says some more, not before his thumb wipes away a tear that decided to fall. "You have no fault in this. You shouldn't have to go through all this and die. You deserve better than this. That's why."
I nod, while trying to keep my tears at bay.
"Thank you." my hand trembling, I dare bring it up and lay it on his chest. "And… I trust you with this. Not that I would have a choice, though." We both chuckle a little. "But being serious now, maybe from all the chances I had, you were the best of them. My best chance. And I thank you for this, comrade."
"Don't mention it, love."
Next, all that's left to do is to look at each other, like we did a thousand times now.
And I start feeling that thing I always feel when we get too close and we do this, and that something I feel, I might not get to regret later if it happens now.
But he does something unexpected.
He gets his hand off my cheek and he brought it down, and damn me, I expected him to touch my body, I wanted him to do that, but it was not the case.
His hand went somewhere into his pocket maybe, because when he brings it back up, it is holding a nicely packed piece of gingerbread, and there's a question in his eyes, along with that cheeky smile that spreads on his lips.
I start laughing, from disappointment or amusement, I don't know anymore.
"That's stolen, isn't it?"
"How can you possibly know that?"
"For starters, I didn't see you pay for it."
"Because you weren't there."
"You didn't have the time."
He sighs. "Fine, fine. I stole it." I open my mouth in surprise and want to scold him. "But not before making sure to slip some money into the tip jar."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"Good."
"But the question is…" the amusement fades from his expression. "Will you forgive me? For earlier?
I grab the sweet treat from him and get away from between him and the wall. One more second that close to him and I would either jump on him or smack him because he didn't dare do what I wished he'd do.
"Peace offer accepted, comrade."
He smiles back at me.
When he pulls up the car, he didn't take us to any motel here, but in front of an apartment building.
"What are we doing here?"
"I thought we could rent an airbnb here. Have a little change from those motels. Is that okay with you?"
"Do you even have to ask? I came to loathe motels. Any apartment sounds like a blessing. That's what you were doing on your phone all this time?"
"Yeah. That too."
We get up to the apartment he said he found, but there's no host to take us in.
"She said she'd be here."
"Can't you work your spy magic on the door and get us inside?"
"And then what? Have her report us to the police?"
"Uf, you and your unbeatable logic, comrade. Then what do we do now?"
"What about doing some groceries?"
Out of nowhere, I start laughing.
"What? You want some more cake, comrade?"
"I wouldn't say no to that, love."
"Let's go then."
But as he drives, I see that we're heading away from the civilization and towards some forest I guess. And I bet that we won't find a supermarket there.
"Comrade?"
"We're making a little detour."
"Where?"
"If I tell you where we go and why, do you promise to have an open mind about it?"
"Why don't you tell me first and I'll decide after I know?"
"Comrade, I know I said I am not going to argue and that I'll try to do this, but I can't."
"Please, Rose? I won't always be able to take care of you."
"I know, but I can't do this. Anything but not this," I say and hand him back the gun he insisted I would learn how to shoot.
He wraps my fingers back on the handle of the gun, but I shake my head and push it back into his hands.
"Love, I need to know that you can take care of yourself. I won't always be able to protect you, not even if I am around."
"But…"
"And I might not always be near. If you get alive from all of this, I won't lie to you. It won't be easy. You'll have to be on your own, to take care of yourself, to watch your back and so much more. And from the way I saw you froze when…" he stops before mentioning the Tasha incident.
"You know why I froze."
"I know. Then, let's get working on that first. If you don't feel comfortable after that, it's okay. We'll get back to the apartment."
"Okay. I'll try. But I can't promise you anything. I loathe guns."
"I figured that out a while ago."
"Good. What do we start with?"
"Ground rule. Treat every weapon as if it were loaded. Always."
"That won't be a problem. Unless I drop it."
We both laugh.
"That's good, love. You're joking. Not feeling uncomfortable yet?"
"Not yet."
"Good."
He extends the gun to me and after a deep breath, I take it from him.
"How does that feel?"
"Strange." I weight it in my palm and study its curves. "Heavy. And not only physically. But that doesn't matter now. What else's next?"
"There's nothing else to know. Just, going further to shooting and how to do it."
"Fine. Show me. But be gentle with me, please."
"Sure, love."
He moves and comes behind me, his palms coming on my shoulders and he makes me stand tall.
"Now let's work on your stance. Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart," he says and his foot gets in between mine, parting them. "And get your dominant foot slightly behind for more support."
His palm slides down on my arm and he gets a hold of my mine, his fingers wrapping on the gun over mine, bringing it a little up to show me as his words explain to me what he's doing.
"Get a good grip of it. Always use two hands when firing. Your dominant hand should be high on the handle and the other hand lower, wrapping on the lower part of the handle, for more support. Extend your trigger finger along the side of the weapon. Does that sound hard to do?"
"No. Not really."
"Good."
He now extends the weapon out in front of us, and inevitably, his front body glues to my back.
But he is all business and I need to be too.
"Squeeze the pistol in your hands firmly, but not too tight. If your knuckles turn white, you are squeezing it too hard."
"Okay."
"Okay," he responds and lets go of me, to do it by myself.
He doesn't say anything else for the next minute maybe.
"What now? Do I practice this stance some more?"
"No, love. You are squeezing it too hard."
"Oh."
He again comes closer and puts his hands over mine, and now I need to force myself not make that grip on the handle even tighter, just because of the closeness between us.
"It's okay. Just relax a little, love."
I take some air in and unclench my fingers off the gun.
"Good. This is good. Now, find a good sight picture. Sight picture is imperative to accuracy."
"This doesn't bring me much comfort, comrade. How do I do that?"
"You see this?" he shows me a little thing on the top of the pistol.
"Aham. What about it?"
"When you look through it, you should see the target clearly."
"I don't get that. I should pay attention to this little thing and not to the target?"
"Okay. You know what? We'll focus on the accuracy of the target later. Let's deal with the other basics now, okay?"
"Sure. If we still have to…"
"I'd like you to. Because-"
"I know. And I promised I'll try, so… I'll try."
"That's good. As you squeeze the trigger, the weapon will get pushing backwards. Manage the recoil by combing a proper firing stance with a good grip."
"Stuff are getting a little complicated there, comrade."
"I know. But I know you can manage it."
"Eh…"
"Come on. You did so many already.
"Yeah… I did, didn't I? I can't even believe you made me do so many crazy stuff."
"Hey, don't you forget that some of them you started."
Again, we laugh. Him being funny is making my tenseness disappear. Which is so good.
"Lastly, maintaining calm, steady breathing is important to ensuring your fire accurately."
"Oh! I already mastered that, right? You always told me to breathe."
He laughs some more. "Sure, love. But some more practice is never a bad thing. You should always fire during the natural pause between exhaling and inhaling. But if this is too much now, we'll work on it later."
"Yeah, better later."
"Okay. And lastly, keep your finger straight and off the trigger until you are ready to fire. And most importantly, keep the weapon on safe until you are ready to fire. And, I guess this is all."
"Nothing more?"
"No."
"Nothing?"
"Why would there be?"
"Because…"
"Because this means that now you have to shoot, right?" I nod. "What if we shoot this first one together?"
"I'd like that."
And with his help, I, I mean we, shoot.
I don't manage the recoil as best as I hoped I would and it pushes me backward, but his body is there to support me.
"See? You did it, love."
"Technically, we did it. But anyway, I just shot a tree, comrade."
"And I hope that's everything you'll ever get to shoot."
Oh, me too.
On our way back, he extends to me a little paper with two phone numbers on it.
"And what should I do with this?"
"Memorize them."
"For what?"
"For the times you'll be in trouble. And memorize them well. Your life may depend on it one day."
"Whose numbers are these?"
"Mine and Ivan's. We always answer, no matter the hour. And if you have a problem, call."
"I um…" I put my hand over his as he changes gears. "Thank you for this. I promise not to ever call you in the middle of the night because I got bored, comrade."
"Oh, Roza." he smiles while shaking his head.
After stopping at the supermarket and him surprisingly letting me buy all kinds of unhealthy stuff, we get back to the airbnb and finally, the host is there to meet us.
She's smiling and seems so nice, but wants to speak with my companion about some important stuff.
So he finally hands me the bags that he categorically refused me to carry on the stairs and tells me to go inside, a thing that I can't protest to, and have to comply to.
DPOV
She wants to be paid with a card, her request coming out of nowhere. She didn't mention any of this before.
I don't have any card on me. I only use cash. It is harder to trace. And being here, all I want is to be untraceable.
RPOV
Okay, call me a curious one, or a nosy one, whatever, but I intentionally left the front door open wide enough so that I could still see them from the kitchen, where I was supposed to be, unpacking the goodies.
But I just want to know what they're doing, even if I don't know what they're talking about. Maybe I can figure it out from the way they move or something.
And oh, I see plenty.
I think I should have closed the door behind me.
Or maybe not. I now see another reminder of what I mean to him. Which is nothing. I thought that after everything that happened ever since we got in that house meant something for him too. That all he said to me today meant something to him. But I guess it didn't.
Or, I don't know… Is he used to act like this around women and I am just interpreting? Is he doing it without realizing it? Is he that used to making their knees weak and make them purr at his will just at his littlest touch? Because that's what he's doing to our host now and she's very much enjoying it, his touch on her arm making her lean onto the wall, trying to approach a sexy pose.
I can see it on her face that she loves it. Too bad I can't see his damned face too. I bet he loves her reactions too.
Or is he just a nice person and you are just imagining it as flirting?
Oh, who am I kidding? Of course he is flirting with her! Look how his fingers still walking on her arm!
And why am I even jealous to begin with? He doesn't care about me anyway, obviously. At least not in that way that he cares about her now. And why would he? Just because he was so close to having sex with me? Wasn't I the one refusing him so many times? What am I expecting from him? To beg me? No. Of course not. And why am I even thinking of this shit? I don't want to sleep with him.
But that woman seems to want it.
Well, they can happily go and do whatever kinky thing they're planning now. I give them my blessing. Maybe if he gets laid, he won't act so hot and cold with me anymore.
When he finally comes inside, there's a proud expression plastered on his face and I pretend I am not seeing it.
I bet he scored. I am wondering when they will be getting that hot date. Maybe tonight.
Will it happen here? Where will I go then? Because to hell if I am listening to them banging all night. I don't want to hear her screams. I mean, in the possibility in which he can make a woman scream. Oh, I bet he can.
Would they want a threesome too? Noooo. Not in his wildest dreams!
All these questions make me angrier than ever and I am pouring it all on the groceries that I was supposed to take care of, and I am so, so close to popping all the bags and ripping to pieces everything that touches my hands, imagining, of course, that it's him I am doing all these bad things to.
Or how would it be if I would throw them all at him?
Freeing. It would be hella freeing. Oh, how freeing it would be to throw this biiiig tablet of chocolate at him. What would I love for it to reach?
I feel his hand on my shoulder and I jump a little, my thoughts returning to the reality in front of me.
I turn around and snap at him, that chocolate still in my hand, and I was so, so close to throwing it at him.
"What? What do you want?"
His confusion meets my question.
"Are you okay, love?"
"I am just perfect, thanks for asking. And please, for the love of God, stop calling me like that." I bet he just called her like this earlier. I bet he calls all the women he meets names like these. And they like it. But I don't!
"I… what…? Are you sure?"
"Of course I am sure! I know best how I feel because I am feeling it." and I feel like snapping his neck!
I want to avoid his inquiring eyes and get back to unpacking, but of course, he stops me and makes me look exactly in them, his palms wrapped on my upper arms not letting go of me when I try again to get away.
"Tell me what's wrong all of a sudden."
"Nothing. Nothing is wrong."
"And do you expect me to believe that? I can see it on your face that there is something going on."
"Believe what you want. I don't care. I told you there's nothing."
"Come on, Rose. Did… Did I do something?"
"And why do you think that anything you do has any impact on me?"
"Because you seem to be mad at me for some reason?"
"I am not."
"Do you expect me to believe this too?"
"Again. Believe whatever you want. I don't care. I already told-"
"Why are you acting like this?"
"Go to hell."
I rip away from his grasp and finally get back to my groceries, this time trying to be gentler with them, trying not to give him any more reasons to doubt me, which I don't manage to do very well.
"And you still declare you're not upset with me?"
"Yes. I wasn't. But that was before you started nagging me with your importance."
He stops me once more from my unpacking and forces me again to look at him.
"Rose… is this about the talk we had earlier? On why we're here..."
"No." it is so much more than that. "Yes. No. I don't know. I just…" I am so goddamn confused! "Do you want something from me?"
"What?"
"I said, do you want anything from me?"
"Like?"
"Like, I don't know. Something. Anything. From me. Do you want something from me?"
"What is this about?"
DPOV
I see tears gathering in her eyes and her voice cracks as she speaks to me further.
"Answer my question goddamnit! Just for once answer my question without questioning me back! Do you want something from me? In any way?"
Oh, but I don't just want something from her. I want so many things from her. I want everything from her. I want her, all of her, mostly. And not in only one way. In all the ways. And in all the places. And for the longest time.
She keeps on looking at me, her eyes inquiring, waiting for an answer I know I can't be honest about.
