Hello guys! It's a little late, but I managed to edit this chapter too. I wanted to post it tonight as I promised myself I would stick to my planning :) and yay, I am waking up in 4 hours. :))) But it was worth it. Hope you will like it

Tika86, I admire your strength. I don't think that tonight you'd be awake again to read my chapter though, as I got a lottle carried out. And I so cannot wait that long for season 6B

HonestPassion13, your hopes are coming true this chapter. And yeah, it won't take him much to realize that, but it comes with a cost too. I mean, he has lots of enemies and stuff, and Xavier is still looking for them, and trust me, he will think of that soon

yari. desu, sometimes I want to smack Dimitri too, but then I remember, oh, shit, I wrote that :)) but I hope you'll like what he does in this chapter and that that washes away some of his sins (I don't know if I used this right, I legitimately translated an idiom from my language that I am too tired now to go search. If it is wrong, I will change it in the morning). And I hope you have a nice week at uni!

Love y'all guys, thanks for still being here, and have a wonderful week!


I lied, Roza

DPOV

I hate myself for the words I am going to say. I know what she means. I know exactly what she's asking from me, what she wants to know.

And I would love to tell her. I would love to just tell her already and kiss her and rely on the fact that everything will be alright. To be that fool again and think that nothing bad will happen.

But I know better. Because I would lie to myself. Because it won't be alright. It never was. My past will always haunt me. And I can't do this to her. I can't let it haunt her too. I can't let her get hurt. I won't allow it.

"No, Rose. I don't want anything from you. What could I possibly want?" I play the fool and pretend I don't get it what she's asking me.

She nods, blinking fast and looking up, more tears threatening to spill.

I am hurting her all over again. She is hurting so much I don't even dare to look back into her eyes because I'm afraid I'll end up doing something I shouldn't. I don't think I'll ever dare look into her eyes again. I am a goddamn bastard.

But this is the best thing I can do now. To keep her away. It's better if she thinks the worst of me. If she hates me. I can't put her through this. I'd better not have her at all than to have her killed.

"Okay." she gulps smiles at me, a so, so sad smile. "Good."

"But what was this about?" I play that card some more.

"Oh, nothing." she finds the strengths to smile a little wider, then turns her back to me.

"Rose?"

"About nothing. It was just a stupid question of mime, that's all. Don't you mind about it."

And there she goes, heading towards the living room door.

RPOV

I am glad we set things straight. So damn straight.

I storm out of the kitchen before I burst out in tears. I mean, before I become louder than I already am. I am already crying, it's so hard for me to contain my tears, and my whole body is shaking from all the hurting I feel.

I don't stop walking until I get inside the bedroom, inside this room that I would love admiring if I wouldn't be ready to break completely.

The Christmas spirit should be all around, even on the inside. But all I can feel is my heart breaking into little pieces that I don't know how to put together. And just because of some words a complete stranger said to me.

What could he possibly want? Right. What could he? And what could I possibly want from him? I mean, it's not like I lo-

No. I don't. I don't feel that and I won't ever feel it. I won't allow myself to.

And him? Oh, him! I have never felt so much indifference in my life. Those words came out cold as an iceberg. I don't want anything from you. Of course he doesn't. Unless I would have dropped to his feet and let him take me straight to bed.

No! You know what? I won't let him do this to me. I won't get through this again. I won't let him do to me what Alex already did to me. I won't have my heart broken again by pretty lies, by false kindness. And I won't ever shed a tear for such men. Never again. For any man. It is not worth it. For him especially. He doesn't deserve my tears.

I go into the bathroom, get a hold of myself, wash my face and stare back at my reflection until I don't feel like crying anymore. I am fine. I won't cry again. I swear I won't. Not for him.

I polish myself a little, trying to erase completely the traces of my tears, and taking a deep breath in, I let it out with a sigh and open the door to go back there to show him I don't care either. Because I don't.

Getting back into the kitchen, I see that he finished the task I abandoned.

Ignoring him as best as I can, I get looking on the counters for the stuff I will need later for cooking.

And he just sits there. I don't hear him moving at all, but I feel his eyes on me, following my every move. Whatever. Let him watch. I still ignore his existence.

But when I finish my little task, I know I need to get back to the counter he is leaning on if I want to continue with my cooking.

To hell with it. I said I won't give a damn about him. So his presence won't stir me anymore.

Getting there, I start sorting things and I see there's one thing missing. A thing that I precisely know we bought.

"Will you need some help?" he asks extending the missing jar to me, and I only look at his hand as I respond.

"No, thank you. I don't need any help." especially his. He has helped me enough. All his helping only brought me suffering.

I want to take the jar from him, but he pulls it out of my reach.

"Are you sure?"

"I said I can handle it."

"Rose…"

Only him calling me by my name makes me lose it, and ever since I entered this room, I take a first look into his eyes.

"Please! I said I didn't need any help!"

He frowns and sets the jar on the table.

"I just wanted to help you," he excuses himself, but after what he told me earlier, his words have another meaning for me and I snap at him.

"Like you're doing by saving me? That's how you think you're helping me? But let me remind you that you are not doing it only for me. You're doing it for yourself too! In some way, anyway. I would be long dead if you wouldn't want something out of this, don't you think I am aware of that? It has to be. I don't know what it is, I swear I don't, but why else would you go this far to keep me alive? So why don't you stop acting like you are doing me a big service or favor by keeping me alive? For what I know, I am just a pain in your ass, I have always been, and I bet you have no pleasure in keeping me around. And for your information, neither do I!"

He looks at me, his eyes clouding, but his lips say otherwise because he smiles. Well, that's barely a smile, but it is.

"You still think that?"

"And am I wrong? You always hide stuff from me, so why would this time be different? For what I know, you could have been lying to me with everything."

And how could I not believe this when he does one thing, says another, then goes ahead and does an even more confusing thing that contradicts both the previous stuff. And this just keeps on going on and on, and on.

"Why would it matter what I say? You already have your answer."

"But don't I? Am I not right? Tell me."

"It doesn't matter," he ends with a sign. "Why would it matter? I won't try to change your mind."

He turns to leave, and when he reaches the door, I find myself yelling after him.

"It does matter! It matters so much! But you never tell me a goddamn thing that I could understand clearly! Never! You're so- You're such a player! You're always playing with my mind!"

I even see a bar of chocolate flying towards him, and I don't even remember when I picked it up and threw it, but when it hits the wall next to him, that thud makes my anger-filled brain come back to reality.

But he doesn't give any attention to that. He just goes out the door.

DPOV

I force myself to get out and not look back, not go back and tell her my only reason. Because it's easier if she keeps on believing that. Or at least I hope it is, at least for her.

I don't know what else to do, about anything, and in any way, so I take a seat on the sofa and… wait.

After some good minutes of banging pots and bowls and slamming I bet all the doors in the kitchen, I hear her mumbling something and she even groans a couple of times. I bet it still has something to do with my earlier idiocy.

"Come on. Open," I hear her plead, followed by some more displeased growls. "Please." followed by some metal on metal hitting noises. "Come on!" a thud. "Oh, Rose. Don't be a child," she says fainter, but as it's so silent in here, I hear it all.

Next, the doorknob moves a few times, but the door doesn't open for now. What is she doing in there? Will she come in here? Does she plan on throwing something else at me and she's deciding what now?

I'd better not look like I was waiting for her to come here, right?

I look around and grab the first thing lying around, to my luck, a book, and open it.

"Just go in there already," she seems to scold herself.

Then the door finally opens.

RPOV

The door is open. The door is open. I opened it. Oh, shit. Now I really need to get in there.

I step inside the living room, my eyes pinned on the floor under my feet and my fingers tightly wrapped around that damned jar.

Why did I insist on cooking something that has no magic without pickles?

I get closer to the sofa, on which he is casually sitting, reading. Nice. It's nice to see that he can be so relaxed after what happened earlier. At least one of us is.

When I get in front of him, he doesn't look up. He continues to read.

This bastard!

"Com- um… Hey, you."

He looks up, not saying anything, but there's a question in his eyes.

"I um… Can you open this for me? It's too tight." and my hands hurt too much from the countless attempts to open it.

"I thought you didn't need my help in any way." he needs to remind me.

"I d-" I bite on my tongue, preventing myself from telling him the obvious truth. Instead, I throw him a killing glare and get threatening. "Do you want to eat dinner or not?"

He shrugs. "I am quite fine without it now. I am not that hungry."

I start biting the inside of my cheek until I feel the blood starting to overflow. And all this in my attempt to remain calm, can you believe it?

Thinking about him maybe touching me in the process of handing him the jar, I set it on the table in front of him with a hard enough bang that I am afraid it will break.

"So you won't open this?"

"You don't need my help, you said it very clear. So why don't you open it?"

"Because I can't," I say through gritted teeth.

"So, you need my help after all."

Oh, he is so looking for it. I might open this jar by smashing it against his head! I can't believe the attitude this guy has! Why is he being like this now, after what happened?

You mean, nothing, right? Because that's what you told him happened. Nothing. He's just relying on that.

But even though, I can't help it but continue to be upset on him. I will never cease to for what he said.

"You know what? I don't. I don't need your goddamn help." I take the jar off the table so fast that I almost drop it. "I'll break it if I have to, but I will get what's inside anyway. Without your help. I don't need any of your aid."

I turn around and proceed to leave him here, with his big ass arrogance and- and everything else he does!

I didn't even hear him when he got up, but he did, and now he's pulling me back by my free hand, turning me around and making sure I get close enough to him, so that his faint, earthy scent would take over my senses. I wonder if he is even aware of what effect that has on me. On women, in general. Maybe this is why he knows so damn well to take advantage of that.

But to hell if I let him play me again. To hell with his masculinity and all. I won't have it.

"Why do you have to take everything so seriously?"

He's kidding, right?

I squint my eyes at him, hoping that I am transmitting a clear enough answer. But I am not. There's still a question in his eyes.

"Because you…" oh, because I can't figure you out and have no idea how to be around you.

"Because I what?" his expressions turns from that slight cheekiness to serious.

"Because each time we get funny and friendly you do some shit and I don't know what that means," I finally speak my mind, naming my frustration, and I do it looking down, not having the courage to look him in the eyes.

He doesn't say a thing. A single damned thing. His mouth stays shut. He doesn't make a single sound. That's all I needed to know to get one more confirmation he doesn't give a damn.

Focusing on it, he takes the jar back from me, and it's like he's doing his best to touch my hands as much as he can in the process, but I am far too enraged to enjoy that.

I continue to watch him while biting my lip as hard as to keep myself from crying again. I made a promise to myself. I'll keep to it.

But he is not even looking at me. He opens that damned jar that started this new little mess, then carefully puts it back into my hands, again, his skin touching mine more than it should.

And even though I am petty and mad, my momma didn't raise a disrespectful child.

I mumble a "Thank you" and want to go back to my happy place, the kitchen. It always lightens up my mood when I cook.

But I hear him saying this.

"Huh?"

I look at him deadly and resist the urge to punch him.

"Really?" is he kidding me? Is he keeping onto playing with me like this? Even after I told him what I told him and he didn't react to it? What? He wants a prize now?

He lifts his hands defensively and shakes his head.

"I honestly didn't hear what you said."

"I said thank you," I get a little louder, even though I am not one hundred percent he is honest.

He smiles warmly and his hand comes over mine, his thumb playing on my skin a little.

"It was my pleasure."

And here he is, again, getting back to being sweet and nice and- and I hate it! Because this right here is the one thing giving me stupid hopes! This right here is the one thing making me want more from him.

I almost run back to the kitchen and I make sure the door is fully closed before I lean over the counter and start crying again. I can't. I think I might-

But he doesn't. And that's the way it is. I will get over it.

But… why was he so good to me so many times? Because of his job? Some of those things, yes, of course, he needed to do. But what about the other sweet, little things he did for me? What if he wanted to be good to me just for the sake of it? I mean, what does he owe me, affectionately speaking? Maybe he just has good intentions and doesn't want anything more from me. Didn't he make it clear enough? Why am I being petty about it?

Because I got everything wrong? What if I saw something where it wasn't? What if I am the one who did him wrong and not the other way around? But hey, he did me wrong too. He did stuff and said stuff to me too.

Oh, I don't know what to do now. I should try to make things right, shouldn't I?


I finish cooking with the same thoughts in my head. So, what do I do now?

Maybe with our bellies full, we'll see things differently. I know that I always think better when I am not hungry.

So, now I should gather enough courage to go call him to meal, right?

Going back into the living room, I find him still there, still reading.

Here we go.

I walk towards him and only when I stop close to him, he closes the book and looks at me questioning.

"Um… dinner is ready?"

"You're asking me?"

"No. No. I mean, I finished it. Dinner is ready."

He nods and that's all. He continues to stare back at me.

"It's um… going to get cold. Um… aren't you coming?"

He nods again.

Perfect! He doesn't speak to me now. So I messed things up. I was right. He is now upset with me because I was an idiot and reacted like that.

But I won't beg him to come. I have my pride too. I nod too and go back into the kitchen to set the table.

I almost drop the full plates I am carrying when I see him standing in the doorway. I swear he is like a ninja. I never seem to hear him coming.

He comes closer and I need to dodge him for our bodies not to touch as I head to the table. He comes along with the other two, moving just as silently.

So we're still not speaking. Okay. But I don't know how long I can deal with that.

I bring the last stuff, the cutlery, and put his in front of him.

As I sit, I hear him speaking.

"Than you." Wow, he is using words, but only out of courtesy. I bet his mother was a nice woman too.

I nod at him and try a smile too.

"Um… Enjoy your meal," I try to open a conversation.

"You too." Wow, another two words! But to my unluck, no other more.

So I am doomed to eat in this pressing silence. Fine. I'll live with it.

It only lasts for three minutes, max.

My tongue is itchy and I am feeling sorry and embarrassed too, and I am mostly tortured because he is not saying anything.

"Do- do you like it?"

"Mhm. It's good."

Another three minutes of silence.

"Don't you find this a little too spicy?" I ask pointing to a plate.

"No. It's fine. I like spicy foods."

Another courtesy answer to another stupid question.

But my brain can't keep on coming with more.

"What did the host want?"

"For us to pay with a card." For what? For his services? Or hers? Oh, that idiotic jealousy came again. What they might do is none of my business. "But I took care of it."

All he does is to give me bland answers and he isn't even looking at me. He keeps on eating.

"Yeah, I bet you did," I try to sound okay with it, but my words are full of meaning that I am not sure he gets.

His further silence pushes me over the edge.

I drop my fork into the barely eaten from plate, and burst the words out of my mouth.

"I am sorry, okay? I… I really am, comrade." he finally gets his eyes off the plate and looks at me, a question in his eyes. "For what I said. I mean, now and earlier and… I didn't mean it all to sound like that. I didn't know what I was talking about. I messed up. I said a stupid thing maybe. Not maybe. I know I did. I got things wrong. But I just… I don't know. And it's frustrating. I am blindly going everywhere with you and you barely tell me stuff. What could I possibly understand from what is happening? From what you are doing…" I sigh, trying to prevent myself from starting to explain to him what I understood from his actions. "Can you forgive me for that?"

"There is nothing for me to forgive."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Just what I said. I don't have anything to forgive you for. You didn't say anything that wasn't true, not even once today."

"But- but- you were… And you were giving me the silent treatment for what?"

"I wasn't giving you any silent treatment. I was just trying not to get you upset on me again. Because if it wasn't something I did, I suppose it was something I said that got you mad."

Oh, wow. So, after I have been a bitch, he was still thinking about not upsetting me more? I only get feeling worse about myself and my reaction.

"Comrade, I-" what do I tell him now about that?

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Fine. If you don't want to tell me, then fine." he sighs and goes back to eating, or more to playing with his food now.

"I told you it wasn't about you…"

"And I think I was explicit enough when I told you I don't believe you. We have been together for the past days, just you and me. Who else could have upset you?"

"Look. It wasn't anything you did or said that got me acting like that. " It's so not his fault that I am seeing things happening where there are definitely not. "I promise it wasn't."

"Why do I still don't believe you?"

Am I such a bad liar?

I sigh and try to explain to him again, hoping that this time I am convincing enough.

"I mean it. I was being… moody. I was grumpy and still a little tired and maybe the jetlag added to it too, and even the shooting thing got to me and I took it all on you without a good reason. You were there and you were nagging me a little with the helping thing and I talked stupid things. "

He is shaking his head.

Oh, come on! I added enough details and I was sure not to fidget and be as calm as possible. Why doesn't he believe me?

"I am still not buying it." his words come to confirm his gesture.

"Will you stop it with that already?" I do my best no to snap at him again. "There is no other explanation you get because there is none other and if you don't believe me, well, then you will have to deal with it!" I can't temper myself enough and end up with my jaw tight and on the verge of crying.

"Alright, then."

I sigh relieved and fulfill my need to apologize to him again, to which he gives the same answer. Then, I open my mouth to speak some more.

"Look. Can we-?" I stop. It's kinda stupid to ask him such a thing.

"Can we what?"

For whatever reason, at his impulse, I continue.

DPOV

"Can we try at least try to be… Friends? It feels like we're in the Cold War here. I mean, even though I sometimes tried to hit you..."

She starts fidgeting and looking down at her plate, from which she barely ate.

But all I can do is to watch her stupidly. After all I have done, she wants this?

"Oh… I mean, you know, not best friends forever or something like that. But I don't know… I know it sounds stupid."

"Yes."

She starts contouring the fork on the table with her fingers.

"I know that we have started it all on the wrong foot, but I am really tired of arguing with you all the time. I am aware that you and I don't come from the same worlds and all, and I know what is going to happen to me sooner or later."

"Rose, I said yes."

"But now, I don't know, it would be nice to know I could have…" she sighs and finally looks up, but not at me. She's looking somewhere past me. "I could use a friend. Even a frenemy. I am not asking you to commit to anything, but I don't know, it would be nice to have someone who I could talk to or do stuff, as we did sometimes, and I underst-"

I have heard more than enough. She didn't hear me until now, but I stop her.

I get a hold of her hand across the table and she flinches, and her eyes finally dare to look into mine after she looks at our hands for a couple of seconds.

"Yes."

She frowns. "Yes?"

"Yes, I would like that." if nothing more, then to be her friend.

"You would?"

I nod, dissipating the surprise in her eyes and she smiles, but soon shies away and looks down, and surprisingly enough, she didn't pull her hand away from under mine.

I walk my thumb on the inside of her palm and she lifts her eyes, as she's biting her lips.

"Thanks, comrade."

"You know you don't have to thank me for anything, right?" For what it matters, I should be the one doing that.

She shrugs and puts her hair behind her ears, sadly, breaking contact with me.

"I um…" she chuckles. "I made dessert too."


She now comes out of the bedroom after a long bath, during which, I don't know if she was aware of it, but I could hear her happily humming. Again, her mood is jolly and when she lays her eyes on me, she smiles at me.

Because we're friends now. Nothing more. Just friends. Which is good.

"Whatcha doin? Still reading?"

Yeah, reading. I have kept the book around so that it will look like I am doing something, but my mind didn't read a single word from these pages. I am way too preoccupied with thinking about other stuff.

To her, I nod.

"Well, I think I might get reading something too. I feel like I haven't held a book in ages."

Walking past me, she leaves behind a sweet, citrusy scent that makes me think of summer, and my mind instantly starts creating this image of Rose somewhere on a beach, lying in the hot sand, her bare skin sunkissed, her hair free and salty-

"- isn't it?"

Oh, I missed what she said.

I look up and meet her amused expression.

"Huh?"

"That's an interesting book, isn't it?" Yeah, sure, the book. I need to nod this time too. "I said that this is a huge book collection."

"Oh, yes, sure. Plenty of choices." I'd better pay attention to the real Rose, not to the one in my head.

And this was a wise idea.

She starts looking through the shelves and she's carefully reading each title, taking her time exploring, sometimes tilting her head from side to side and eventually, one strand escapes the loose clasp at the back of her head, and she takes it and starts playing with it, twirling it around her finger as she continues to look through the books.

When she finds something interesting, she gets the book out and she's biting her bottom lip as she's focused on inspecting its abstract and looking inside the book, and whatever else her process of choosing a book involves. And this goes on for a couple of times, always ending the same. With her putting the book back.

Again displeased by a book, she puts it back and heads to another shelve, a higher one this time, and when she sees a book that caught her interest, she lifts on her tippy toes to reach for the book, but she still cannot reach it from the first try, and she pouts and puffs, her feet coming down to touch the ground.

But as determined as I know her, she doesn't give up and tries once more. This time, she lifts herself higher by propping a hand on a shelve, and in the process, she undulates her body against those shelves. Now I can perfectly see all her voluptuous curves pressing against the books and the wooden frame and oh, through those damned black tight pants she's wearing, and it drives me insane. I wish so badly to go and rip off her every piece of clothing she's wearing and make half the books fall from that bookcase. Or even more.

But unfortunately for my little fantasy, she gets back to a straight position and not even being aware of my eyes pinning her with such hunger, she starts looking through the book.

Five minutes later, I haven't gotten bored of watching her being so indecisive, and I guess she has read all the titles there, but still, didn't find anything she liked.

Disappointed, she sighs and props herself on the side of an armchair close to her, her eyes still scanning the bookcase.

I get up and head towards her.

"Tough choice?" and she squeals, her head turning my way.

She smiles, shaking her head.

"Heart attack, comrade, remember? But to answer your question, yes, very. There are so many interesting titles here. But I can't make my mind about which book to read." she sighs, takes a seat on the side of the armchair and starts wiggling her toes up and down. "Isn't it a pity that there are so many books in the world and we cannot read them all? That we don't have the time to enjoy them all? And stuff too. There are so many things to do we won't get to do. People to know..." she finishes and her eyes drift down to her feet.

Yeah, I would like too for things to be different and to have the occasion to know all of her. But it's better like this. It's the best choice. I need to keep this in mind.

"Comrade?"

"Yes?"

"Pick one for me. It's too hard for me to decide."

"What you're looking for exactly? What do you feel like reading?"

"Nothing in particular. Just something good."

It doesn't take me much to pick a book. I have seen the title there some time ago and I don't hesitate to recommend it to her.

Seeing the book, she laughs, then looks at me, an eyebrow lifted.

""Lonesome dove"? And a cowboy on the cover? Why am I not surprised?"

"It's a good one."

"Fine, fine. I'll give it a chance. I know better than to judge a book by its cover."

Heading back to the sofa, she turns to me.

"You know what a good book goes best with?"

"What?"

"Coffee"

"It's almost seven."

"So? I drink coffee no matter the hour."

"You don't drink coffee from what I remember."

"Well, then caffeine. Same thing. And maybe I started enjoying coffee lately. Would you like some too?"

"Yes, please."

"Isn't it almost seven for you too?"

"So? I drink coffee no matter the hour."

She starts laughing. "Good comeback, comrade."


Some time later, after insisting again that she doesn't need any help, Rose comes back, carrying two steaming cups. She still kept to her jolly spirit, and as she approaches me, she has a relaxed, smiling expression. It's interesting to see how happy it made her the fact that we're now some kind of friends.

But when she gets close enough, that jolly expression disappears as she meets the edge of the carpet and stumbles, sending the two cups flying.

And the coffee ends up spilling.

Most of it lands on my pants, which I won't deny, it kinda stings. That coffee was hot.

"Oh, God, what have I done?"

She freaks out and while continuously apologizing, she starts to frantically pat on me with her T-shirt, that she pulled down so hard it reveals too much.

"Rose, it's okay."

She continues to touch me, too much and too fast and too close to a place that makes me go insane, my brain forgetting about the burning sensation while it is focusing on something else.

And I need to stop her. before my body starts responding to her touch.

"Rose, stop." I get a hold of her hands and pull them off me.

She pulls away, her face scared, and I realize that I might have snapped at her a little. But I swear I couldn't take it for her to touch me like that.

"I'm sorry." her voice trembles. "I just…" she bites her lower, trembling lip. "I didn't… I'm so sorry."

Seeing her so affected, on the verge of tears, I feel awful for my reaction.

I get up and she takes a step back, getting a little more scared.

"It's okay, Rose."

"I'm sorry. Please don't get mad at me. It was a mistake. I stumbled and, and-"

She sits onto her knees on the floor and starts picking up the little porcelain pieces.

"And I'm so clumsy, always. He was right," he? I swear to God that this he is Haynes, I'll cut him to little pieces. How badly did he dare treat her? "I can't-"

I get down to her level and I place my hands on her trembling shoulders and she dares to look me in the eyes.

"It's fine, love." I smile at her reassuringly.

"But I-"

I put my fingers over her lips, preventing her from saying some more.

"Roza. It was just an accident. I understand. It's fine."

"I um…"

"Rose…"

She nods and gets back to picking up shards, still a little distressed.

When I want to help her, she stops me.

"No, I'll do it. It's my mess. I need to mend-"

"It's okay."

My hands get a hold of hers, and I take the white pieces away from her, careful not to cut her.

"You can go change. I'll finish here, okay?" She nods, but doesn't get up. "What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry. I hope you're not mad at me. I didn't-"

"It was an accident. I have no reason to be mad at you."

"You mean that?"

"I do."

My response makes her smile through those tears that didn't fall.

"Thank you, comrade."


I finished picking up all the little pieces of the mug and went to throw them. When I turn around to get out of the kitchen, she's standing in the doorway, already changed of clothes. I start heading her way.

"I can make some more coffee for you if you still want some. I promise not to pour it on you this time."

"Pour, huh? So you did it on purpose?" I see the chance to lighten up her mood, but she seems to panic again.

"No! No, no. Really. No. I swear-"

This didn't turn out as I wanted it.

My laughing startles her.

"Don't worry, love." I am close enough to be able to touch her, and as much I know I shouldn't do it, I do it anyway. I pass my hand through her hair, arranging it behind her ear. "I was just kidding. Don't take it so seriously."

"Oh." She looks down rather embarrassed. "So, a second offer of coffee?"

"Sure. I'd love to."

"Super." She wants to get past me, but I stop her. I still need to make sure of something. "What happened? You changed your mind?"

"No. But I want to ask you something."

"Like?"

"Like, why did you freak out like that?"

She shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe because I spilled hot coffee on you?"

"Exactly the reason I am asking you. It was just some coffee."

"Don't know. It seemed worse than it maybe was."

"Does this…" I know that I shouldn't remind her of him, but I need to know. "Does this have something to do with Xavier?"

Her eyes widen. Oh, so I was right.

"Ho- Why do you think that?" she asks trying to avoid my eyes, which is another obvious confirmation.

"Because I had a hunch you were referring to him earlier."

"It's not what you're thinking about. It's not that important either," she tries to dodge the subject, but I won't hear it.

"What did he do?"

She sighs, probably knowing she has no way out of this conversation.

"He didn't do anything." yeah, sure. Besides daring to hit her once, I bet he didn't do anything else.

"Then?"

"He was just… I don't know, a little bothered by my clumsiness?" and by little, she means what? And more importantly, how? "But that's not important. He was right anyway an-"

"Don't you say that."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not. You're good at so many things and you do them well too."

She squints her eyes in disbelief.

"Name one."

"The way you cook, the way you do your job, your caregiving, how well you drive under pressure," oh, the way she kisses especially, and all the little things she does that she is not even aware of. "It's not all about the practical stuff that matters anyway."

She smiles, even blushes a little.

"You're… sweet to say that, comrade. But we both know I am a walking disaster whatever I do."

I shrug. "I still beg to differ." so what if she messes up from time to time. Don't we all?

My response makes her laugh a little. "Well, you'd be the only one."


RPOV

The I-am-sorry coffee done, I deliver it into the living room. But the thing is that he is not here.

I wonder where he could be. Maybe doing some business of his?

I search the little balcony and don't find him there. Next, I head into the bedroom. The door of the room is open and I can't see him in there.

Where is he? Is he hiding? The door of the bathroom is open and the lights are closed in here too.

Just to make sure, I decide to enter the room.

But three steps inside the room, oh, I see him. I see him so damn well, even though the only light in here comes from the Christmas tree the host so nicely decorated. But of course, I cannot admire that tree when he is here, looking like that.

I mean, he is so naked it would take you to be blind to not stop in your tracks and wow at that.

There's only a towel around his waist. A white damned towel, sitting indecently low on his hips, and oh, if I am interpreting things well enough, it looks like it was seconds away from dropping to the floor because I see his fingers wrapping on it and pulling it a little up.

And there's nothing else than that on him. I mean, nothing. No damn thing. Except maybe some droplets of water that drip from his hair and shine a little when they make their way down onto his chest and perfectly sculpted abs and reach- oh, God.

And that towel is not that long either! It's not fair! I can see so much of him. So much of his skin, of his muscles, of everything!

Well, not everything. But can you even imagine if I was a few seconds late? I mean, I felt him and-

"Rose?"

Oh, shit. He spoke to me.

I lift my eyes from um… from the whiteness of the towel, of course, and when I meet his eyes, I almost faint.

Him acknowledging my presence here, acknowledging the fact that I was checking him out shamelessly, makes me burn on the inside and I am sure enough it can be seen on my face too.

My brain being way too stupid now, I start babbling, my eyes safely pinned on his toes now.

"Co- coffee... Ready. It's- um- ready. You… you know, if you- you want to come and… and drink?"

I don't know if he even understood it, but I don't care now. All I know is that I need to get out of this damned room.

I turn around and resist the urge of starting to run. I try to seem as unaffected as possible of what happened, even though I am so damn sure I am not doing a great job. Only thinking about that nakedness, I feel my knees turning jello.

I only take two steps towards the door because I hear him call my name again.

I swear to God that if he decides to tease me in any way, I'll die of embarrassment.

Gathering some courage, I turn to face him again.

"Yes?"

"If you don't mind, would you help me bandage this?"

Now? Like this? In these circumstances?

I try to not give out my tenseness.

"Sure."

"Thank you. I'll go get some bandages."

And heading towards the bathroom, he decides, to my relief, to take his pants with him.


The embarrassing moment forgot (I pray it is), a coffee and some pages read later, I get bored and decide to see what the television has to offer for my entertaining. He, on the other hand, decided to stick to his book. I bet it is great. He hasn't put it down the whole evening.

But after a scurry through all the channels, I see nothing to catch my interest.

"There's nothing to watch," I complain when I finish searching for something a second time.

"How can you know that? You barely took a look at what's being broadcasted.

"I saw enough to know there's nothing interesting."

"A second? That's all it takes for you to know it's not interesting?"

"I didn't spend a second on a channel," I need to argue.

"Oh, that I know. I was only being indulgent. In fact, it took you a second to scurry through three channels."

I throw him an ugly glare, but seeing the amused expression on his face, I drop my upsetness and smile too.

"Fine, fine. I'll give a second to each channel, then."

Slowing down and taking my time to analyze the content, I still find nothing interesting.

Until I stumble over a little fluff that makes my heart melt.

"Oh, comrade, look at it! It's so cute!"

The smallest penguin existing is the little blue penguin, which is 16 inches tall, and the only thing smaller than it are its babies.

"Oh, isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen?"

His eyes lifted from his book, he looks at that major cuteness, but he doesn't give any vibe of being impressed.

"Come on. You can't be neutral to that. It's adorable! Look at its little wings." He just shrugs. "Oh, comrade, you're unbelievable. You don't know what cute means."

In the possibility of seeing some more cuteness, I decide not to change the channel. But I just stumbled over a little "Did you know this?" about penguins.

European penguins can stay under water for approximately 20 minutes at a time.

Oh, wow. I'd be long dead in such conditions. But would I die from the lack of air or I would freeze to death?

Other than humans, emperor penguins are the only warm-blooded animal to stay on Antarctica for the winter.

"This is where you get material to impress your kids?"

I laugh. "Sometimes. Sometimes I look them up the internet."

"Oh, so this means you have some more facts like these up your sleeve, right?"

"I may have."

"Tell me one."

"Why? You wanna laugh at me for it?"

"Why would I? I am just genuinely interested."

He'd be the only person over five years old interested. But something in the way he speaks and looks at me makes me believe him. It makes me believe that he's sincere.

"An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain."

He smiles. "Tell me one more."

"What? Are you five and I am being entertaining to you with my silly facts?"

"Only half of that statement is true."

"And we both know which half, comrade."

I get grinning and so does he. I like seeing him like this. I like being his… friend.

"Of course you do, love."

I move my attention back to the TV, but a thing pops in my head.

"Comrade?"

"Huh?"

"Birds can't live in space." I confess that the fact that he likes hearing these silly facts from me feels nice.

"That I knew," he says like this time I didn't manage to impress him.

"Oh, really? The tell me why." If he is trying to play the smartest in the room, I want him to prove it to me. I bet the just wanted to mess a little with me.

"Because they need gravity to swallow."

"Oh. Yeah. You're right." So he wasn't joking.

I missed some facts as I was busy talking with him, but I am glad I didn't miss this one.

Penguins are hopelessly romantic too. They mate for life and they even propose to their winged soulmate by giving their partner a pebble.

I can't help it but start awwww-ing and squealing and making inhuman sounds.

"This is so, so cute!"

"Do all the littlest things impress you?" he asks amused.

I look at him and smile crookedly, feeling the need to do so even though I am not displeased at all by his comment. It's better to enjoy the littlest of things anyway.

"Maybe they do. But look at them, that little fella just proposed to her with a little pebble! How can you not be impressed? Even I would say yes to that!"

The last thing I said makes him laugh warmly and deeply.

"Oh, love. You're unbelievable."


"I am bored."

"You always get bored in less than five minutes?"

"Hey, I already warned you that you haven't seen the worst of me. But yes. When I am not doing anything just like this, yes, I do get bored."

"Considering how easily excited you get at little things, you'd think it would be easy for someone to keep you entertained."

"Well, apparently I am not. But it's just that I like having something to do." and not think about stuff instead. That's the most important thing.

"Have you considered going to sleep?"

"Nah. I am not tired."

"Then what do you plan on doing?"

"Dunno. Do you feel like having a snack?"

"Not really."

"Your loss then."

As I pick up not one, but three snacks from the stock we've made, an idea pops into my head and I rush back into the living room to share it with him.

But my excitement gets cut off in less than a second by his firm answer.

"No."

"Oh, come on. What's the point of staying inside now? We've been outside today."

"Rose, you know why I am doing this."

"I know. But look how beautiful it is outside. It's night and all those Christmas lights are lit."

"Haven't you seen them from inside here already?"

"Not as well. Come on. Can't we go out even for five minutes? I am so, so bored in here. I would do anything for a walk. Just a small one. Around the building, across the street, wherever you want. I'll let you pick. But just to go out there. I just feel the need to go out a little. And yeah, I know. I know and I am aware that I shouldn't ask for this because of my safety and all, but I feel like I am suffocating in here. And on top of all, no one knows we're here, right?" I finish with a strong enough argument I hope and I even go as far as trying to break his will with my puppy eyes.

I see him considering things, but on his face I don't see the possibility of him saying yes to this.

Which I understand. He needs to be cautious.

"You know what? It's okay, I get it."

I guess I could go to sleep now or something. At least I tried.

"Wait another hour, okay?"

"What?"

"To let the streets get even emptier."

"Is this a yes?"

"What does it sound to you like?"

"Oh, comrade. Thank you, it means a lot." I want to go into the bedroom to choose a sweater to keep me warm, but before I do so, I stop into the doorframe and look at him. "If you delayed our little trip outside just because you hope I'll fall asleep or I'll drop it, you're wrong. In exactly one hour, we're getting out that door," I threaten and when I see him smiling, I go on my way.


Coming back from the kitchen after I went back to pick the snacks I dropped when I had my genius idea, I see a way in which we could spend this hour we still need to wait to go outside.

I stop in front of a shelf that has a bunch of games on it. I like the fact that the host has thought about every source of entertainment possible. The place looks cozy enough to spend your time here and has all the things you need.

I search through the games and find one the brings up so many funny memories.

I take it out.

"Hey, comrade."

"What?"

I show him the game.

"Wanna play a game?"

One of his eyebrows lifts.

"Do I look like I would?"

I smile. "You look like you would do a lot of things, but I cannot judge you by that. You have surprised me at times." so, so many times, in fact. "So, I have to ask. Are you in for a game? It's Mario Kart. Does this sound tempting enough for you?"

He shrugs. "I can't know. I never played it."

"This cannot be! Everyone has to play Mario Kart at least once."

"I never played anything."

"So you're telling me you have never touched a console?"

He nods. "I never needed to."

"Well, now you need to. You must play this game, no discussion. I am not letting you say no. You're not getting away."

And funny enough, now the roles have switched and I become the teacher, but not for too long because I bet it takes him less than five minutes to become a master at anything.


"You're sure you've never played on a console before?"

"Yes. Never. Why?"

"Why? You're asking me why? Because it's the thousandth time you kick my ass, comrade, that's why. I used to be a pro at this game. I always beat Mason to this. But with you? It is impossible."

"You wouldn't have liked me much if I let you win."

"Yeah, you're right. But this doesn't prevent me from wanting my revenge."

"But that hour has passed."

"Some more minutes of waiting won't kill me. I still want to kick your ass."

I hear him laughing. "Fine. As you wish."

"And if you even think of letting me win, I'll kick your ass in real life."

"Oh, I'd like to see you try, love."

"Oh, comrade. Don't you dare me twice. I like proving people wrong. So now, let's play."

Some minutes into the race, he again gets my car off the road.

That's when I drop my joystick and punch him.

"What was that for?"

"That was because it wasn't fair!"

"I think it was."

"But I was so close to winning!"

"For what it matters, you have been a worthy opponent." I can't help it but grin. "Of course, when you weren't flying off the road."

I punch him again and he laughs.

"Hey, that happened only once without your help, okay? And I thought we agreed not to mention it."

"I thought we agreed not to mention it to other people."

"Not to anybody, okay? It wasn't my fault anyway. The game glitched."

"Sure, love," he says still smiling and getting off the sofa. "Now what about that walk?"

"I'd love to, comrade."


DPOV

"It looks like it might snow soon."

"I hope it doesn't," her response comes fast and I rather say it was harsh.

I thought she'd like to see some snow. Back in the States, I don't think she would have gotten to see it this year.

"Why?"

"I just don't like it. I don't like snow."

Weird. Snow seemed to me to be for her one of those little things she enjoys the most.

"Just like that? You don't like snow?"

"Yes. It sucks. All that whiteness and all that snow that's inconvenient and makes that creaking noise and oh, when it starts melting it's horrible and it gets dirty all over and- and…" she needs to stop coming up with reasons because her voice breaks and tears start falling on her cheeks. "And all that Christmas shit going on and... I am sorry." She wipes her tears and looks away.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"But you are crying."

"So what? I feel like it so I cry."

I put my palms on her cheeks and make her look at me.

"Rose, what's the matter?" Only silence meets me. "Come on, love. Tell me." I wipe her tears away. "What happened?"

"He... um... he loved Christmas,"

She sobs and looks down, and I go as far as embracing her and laying her head on my chest.

"Mason," I say it for her. She nods.

"And… and each time it first snowed, like, the real deal, when the snow settled, we used to take a day off, no matter what, and go out to enjoy it. Because he always said that that is the only day when the snow is best. The rest is just puddles and shit." She chuckles through the tears. "And he was right. We would make snowmen and angels and stuff. It was great. That happened every single year. No matter what. It was our special time. But now…"

I lift her off me and caress her cheek.

"But this doesn't mean that you have to hate it now that he's gone. You can keep the tradition, even if it's only you. You could do it for him. Keep the tradition going for his sake."

She smiles and nods. "Yeah, I could. I like how that sounds."

Continuing our walk, some minutes later, Rose gets excited and happy about all the things around us, her previous sadness being long forgotten. And I am happy about that. I am happy to see her happy. This walk is doing her good.

The Christmas fair is now quite empty and the sellers are starting to close their little booths, but Rose doesn't seem to observe this, and it doesn't diminish her jolliness, not even a bit.

She is pointing excited to all the shapes the Christmas lights have and aw-ing to the ones she finds cute and she's slowly humming to all the Christmas songs played into the square, and not surprising at all, sensing all the tasty smells around here, she gets hungry.

"Oh, comrade. I'd kill for some roasted chestnuts."

"Then let's get you some."

"You would take me some?" she almost squeals.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Dunno."

After I get her some, I stop at the booth still open close to us, and I get my hands on a hat and a scarf, nicely knitted, from dark green wool that feels so soft to touch.

"Do you like this?" I show them to her, to see if she likes them too. I wouldn't oblige her to wear them just because I feel like it.

"Yeah, it's really nice. But why are you asking?"

"Because you're going to wear them."

Being given the green light, I pay for that and we walk away.

"I don't need that, you know?"

"It's either this, or we go back inside. Your choice."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Won't you be cold? You're only wearing that duster of yours."

"Here? Me? Be cold?"

"Oh, yeah. I keep on forgetting you're from Siberia where I would turn into a snowflake on an instant."

"Close enough."

"What?"

"You almost guessed it"

"I did? Where do you come from then?"

"A little town on the outskirts of Omsk."

"And how is that? How is it there? Is it a nice town?"

I shrug. "I don't know anymore, love. I haven't been there in a long time." decades.

"Why not? Don't you visit your family?"

If it would only be this easy.

"I… do. Somehow. But not that often."

"Oh, of course. Because of your job." again, if it would only be that easy. I wish it would be that easy. "Oh, I am sorry if I went too far with my questions. I didn't mean to be too intrusive."

"It's fine, love." that's an old enough experience to not affect me that bad anymore when I get reminded of it. I guess that getting reminded of it every day helped.

"But I don't know what I would do without my folks. They mean the world to me. How does it feel to not see them for so long?"

"I got used to it."

She nods and doesn't ask further questions and I am grateful for that. I don't know what explanations I could have given her. I don't like talking about this anyway.

So, I try to change the subject.

"Here." I extend the scarf and the hat to her and she squints her eyes at me. "I told you about your options. You choose."

She smiles and almost rolls her eyes.

"Fine, fine. If you insist, I'll wear them."

That I would like very much. I wouldn't want her to catch a cold or something.

She takes them from me, but she still has that package of roasted chestnuts, and when she tries to put the hat on, she almost drops them all.

"Can I do that?"

She smiles. "It would help me a lot if you would."

I first take my time arranging her hair, putting it past her shoulders, and again, when I put the hat on, I take my time and chance to touch her as much as I can, my fingers careful to pick inexistent little hairs from her face and caressing her skin while I am at it.

She keeps on watching me, her teeth biting on her lip the whole time, and it takes so much from me not to stop her and be the one doing that.

We're just friends. And I need to focus. Preferably not on her lips.

I try to be more distant when I put on the scarf, and I do it fast, wrapping it twice around her neck.

And she looks so sweet, wrapped into the green, soft material. It makes her eyes so big and deep and the warmness I find in them as she looks back at me-

"Thanks, comrade."

I take a step back and look down.

"Don't mention it, love."


RPOV

Along our walk, it starts snowing, just like he predicted.

I stop and look up, feeling the little, cold snowflakes falling on my face. I can't hate this.

I feel his fingers lightly wrapping on my elbow.

"You're okay?"

Ah, isn't he sweet?

I look at him and smile.

"Yeah. I am. Really. Thanks for asking."

"You're sure, love?"

Instinctively, I make a face and he laughs lightly.

"Why do you dislike so much being called that?"

"Power of habit, I guess."

"Habit?"

He won't stop until I give him an answer, so I decide not to bother to lie to him.

"Xav- he was usually calling me stupid names like that, almost all the time and it is reminding me of him when someone calls me a pet name, and I'd rather not be reminded of him."

"Was he using love in particular?"

This is his concern? That he might be calling me the same pet name as that bastard?

"Surprisingly, he has never called me that. Just honey, babe and other sappier things. Oh, and Rosie."

Remembering this, I quiver, and not from the cold. He was right to make me wear that hat and scarf, but he won't ever know the truth.

"And to be honest, I never liked when he called me that but I never told him. No. In fact, I hated that."

Thinking about something pretty stupid, I chuckle.

"What's funny?"

"I think it's the first time I hate something and say it out loud."

"Not true."

"What?"

"You have said you hate something before."

"What?"

"Rather somebody than something."

"Oh." I smile, even though I feel kinda bad for telling it to him so many times. "Hate was an overstatement. I don't tend to hate things or persons on a regular. Plus, when I said it, I didn't know enough to believe it." he's not that bad. Not bad at all.

"And… you still believe it now?"

"No. I don't hate you, comrade. I just don't like you very much at times," I tease.

"Oh, so that's what you think about me?"

"I don't know what I think about you most of the time. I have a lot of bottled up emotions about you."

I don't know why, but I decided to let it all out. We're friends now, right? We should be honest with each other.

"Then let's break the bottle."

"That's-" oh, I can't be that honest. I can't tell him what I truly feel. It would go against our friendship. "That's not how metaphors work."

"I mostly like words to mean what they mean. I don't play with metaphors."

"I see."

"So?" he gets demanding and I don't know what to tell him. I mean, I don't know what to tell him so that things will remain as they are between us.

"Well, I don't know. Not really. I didn't mean that, honestly. I don't hate you. I was just mad at you. And besides that, you're… sometimes nice." and sweet and warm and loving and so much more that makes me feel a bunch of other things I have no idea how to deal with.

He smiles, seemingly satisfied with my answer.

"I can live with that."

Phew. So I have gotten away this time.

"But one more thing."

Uh-oh. I celebrated too soon.

"What?"

"Would it still mind you if I called you love? I promise I'll l stop if you say yes."

Thinking about it now, it doesn't bother me that much anymore that he's calling me that. I came to get used to it and it would be weird for him to stop calling me love. I would miss it.

"Nah, comrade. We're good."

"Good, love."

"Hey! Don't push it. I might take it back."


Walking some more, I see an ice rink nearby and I instantly get squealing.

"Comrade, please, please, please, can we go there?"

Smiling, he nods.

"Really?"

"Why do you always suppose I am going to say no?"

I shrug. "Because you're cautious of stuff?"

"Well, I don't find this action to be very dangerous."

"Oh, thank you. I haven't skated in ages."

When we reach close enough, I see it is closed. I should have seen it coming. It late after all.

"Oh well, it would have been fun."

"Would have been? Why can't it still be?"

"Because it's closed?"

"So?"

"What do you mean so? We can't get inside."

"We can."

"Like, break in?"

"Yes, that's what I am talking about."

"I don't know…"

"Haven't you ever done something reckless? Illegal?"

"No, not really. I have always been a good person… well, not that good." I have had my share of saying mean things.

He smiles.

"What? Why are you smiling?"

"What bad things did Rose Hathaway do?" I shrug. I don't even remember the last time I did a bad thing, especially involving breaking the law. Maybe never.

"You didn't get a book back to the library in time?" he decides to tease me.

"Hey!" I punch him in the chest and try to seem upset, but a smile is creeping on my lips. "And for your knowledge, that happened once. I still haven't returned it to this day." I was too afraid someone would scold me for it.

"Oh, once! That is something, love."

"Hey, stop it." this time I get a little upset. So what if I don't break the law on a regular basis?

He laughs, and ruffling my hair, he half takes me into his embrace.

"Don't get mad, love. You are just too good. I feel like I am only corrupting you with this thing."

"Well, you are! Because I never… What if someone…"

"We run."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

He doesn't wait for anything else to happen and jumps the little fence supposed to maybe keep dogs away, because it is so easy for people to get inside. Then, he extends a hand to me.

But I am still a little reticent about it. So many things could go bad.

"Maybe it is time to live a little more Rose. So what if it's a little reckless? Didn't you say that you want to live for today?"

Yeah, I said that. The thought of so many people wanting me dead or willing to torture me in order to get what they want is terrifying me. It only makes the urge to live, to feel alive to get bigger and bigger in me.

To this day, I haven't really lived my life. Not like I always wished anyway. I would sit around and wait for that special moment to come and change everything and I used to hope that all of a sudden, my life will become exciting and all these good things would begin to happen to me. But that special moment never came. I thought it did when I met Alex. But he only made things worse.

And what if that moment will never come? What if I am waiting in vain?

Maybe this means I should start changing things while I still can. To take things in my own hands and stop waiting for them to happen to me. To be the one who makes them happen. To take control of my life, as much as I have left of it. To fight back if I can. To do stuff. New stuff. Something, but not sit on my ass.

Who knows how much time I have left anyway?

Smiling, I nod and extend my hand to him. Accomplice, he reciprocates the smile and he takes it, his warm fingers wrapping on mine and helping me get over the fence too.

"Maybe I should have gotten you some gloves too."

"Nah, don't you worry. I'm fine." now that he's holding my hand, I am fine.

He takes me to the little building there that holds the precious skates.

As he is picking the lock, I find myself chucking.

"What?"

"I can't believe it I let you talk me into this."

"Trust me, when it's illegal, it makes things ten times more enjoyable."

"Oh, so you're speaking from experience? What other things did you do?"

"How much time do you have?"

"Oh, I see. I am not sure if I want to know anymore." I mean, I already know about the killing and stuff.

"As you wish." he gets up, opens the door and signals me to get inside. "After you, love. Choose what your heart pleases."

I pick the cutest pair of skates I have ever seen, a black one with bright purple accents, and just this little thing already fills me with excitement.

As I am putting them on, I see that he is not doing the same. He just sits against the doorframe, watching me.

"What are you doing there?"

"Waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to be done."

"Why aren't you getting ready too in the meantime?"

"Because I am not doing this. You are."

"What do you mean you are not doing this? Then why did we bother to get in here?"

"So that you would skate."

"What about you?"

"I don't skate. Haven't I said this already?"

"But why?"

"I don't want to."

"Come on, comrade. Don't be a fun spoiler. Take a pair of skates and be my partner. It will be fun." He shakes his head. "Pretty please?"

But he is just as unmoveable.

"Fine then." I start taking my skates off. "Then we can go."

"Love, don't be stubborn."

"But I am." and I continue to untie my laces.

"It's not that simple."

"What isn't?"

"I just… don't know how to do it. I never learnt."

"So you weren't messing with me back at the bar?" he shakes his head. "So what? It's never too late to learn. I have learnt to shoot today. You can learn to skate too. I will teach you."

"You don't have to."

"Aww, come on comrade. A big, bad spy like you is afraid of some ice?" I decide to go with this approach, presuming that messing with his ego will do the trick. He cannot resist this challenge, I know for sure.

"Oh, Roza."

Smiling and shaking his head, he heads towards the rack of men skates. So, yay to me, right?


Getting out on the ice, I feel so free. I re-accustom myself with the ice, with the moves I used to do, and it feels so good. I feel so good. So, myself.

Waiting for him to come outside too, watching him now approach the ice rink, I realize that I have been more myself in a few days with him than I did for the past couple of months. Around him, I don't feel the need to be other than myself, like I did around Alex. Around Alex, I always wanted to be perfect and I always failed. With him, I don't. He has made me understand that it's okay to not be that. That it's okay to flawed and to be my silly self. Because we all are.

He gets close enough to the rink and I head his way.

Like he did when he corrupted me to get in here, I extend a hand to him.

"Are you ready, comrade?"

With a smirk on his face, he takes my hand and steps onto the ice, and unlike I did when I first stepped inside a rink, he keeps his balance. But hey, at least he is still letting me hold his hand, even though he doesn't seem to need it, which is nice. I like it when we hold hands. Even if it is only as friends.

And even though he says he has never done this, either he has been lying to me, either, again, he can master any skill in less than five minutes. He starts skating just like he has been born on the ice. He has it all. The balance, the ability, everything.

"You know what, comrade?"

"What?"

"I think I am jealous of you."

"For what?"

"For your skills. You didn't trip, not even once."

"So? Nothing compares to your pirouettes."

"You saw that?" I thought he was busy putting on his skates. I thought that I was alone here.

"I did. And you are amazing. I could never do that."

"Oh, don't flatter me. I bet it would take you two minutes to do it perfectly."

"I could never do it the way you do it."

"Yeah, because I am such a professional skater."

All that matters is that we to have fun. A lot of fun.

I get to practice again some of my skills on the ice, making pirouettes and speeding along the ice, enjoying myself to the fullest, especially when I circle around him and he smiles back at me.

One time, getting close to the sides of the rink, a silly idea comes to my mind.

I pick some snow, hide it behind my back and head fast his way, before it gets to melt completely in my hand.

"Hey, comrade."

He turns around and I don't wait for anything else, I just throw the soft snow at his face.

His mouth opens in surprise.

"What was that?" he asks as he wipes his face.

I can't contain my smile as I shrug.

"Oh, so you're so proud of yourself, huh?"

"Maybe."

I see a quite dangerous smile spreading on his lips.

"Then let's see how proud you will be when I get my hands on you."

"What?"

"Oh, you heard me, love."

He starts heading towards me, first slowly.

"Comrade, no."

"Why not?"

He wants to speed up and this is my cue to start running away. I so did not think things through.

And because my first intention is to get away from him, I keep my eyes on him and ignore the ground under my feet.

Which is the worst idea because duh, the ice is slippery, and I am wearing sharp skates and do you see where I'm heading?

To a bruise. I am heading head forward to getting my ass bruised.

Because inevitably, in my rush, I stumble.

I close my eyes tight and prepare for impact.

But I don't know which miracle happens because I don't hit the ice. He, as always, I don't know how he keeps on doing it, is next to me. And catches me before I hurt myself.

It takes him a second to balance the both of us on the slippery ice, and I keep my eyes closed the whole time.

When I feel the ground steady under my feet and his arms around my middle, holding me tight against his hard chest, I dare open my eyes.

I meet his smiling face.

"Professional skater, huh?"

He looks at me with one eyebrow risen and I chuckle.

"Yeah, I guess I should be more-"

But he isn't paying any attention to what I am saying and I don't even feel the need to finish my sentence because I remark the way the moonlight reflects on his face, the way it emphasizes each feature. The side of his nose, his lips that part a little as I stare at them, his strong jaw, the edges of his eyebrows. I love the way it reflects into his eyes too. Oh, he's so, so perf-

I get distracted when his hand moves upwards, taking a strand of my hair out of my face and puts it behind my ear.

My heart begins to pound faster as his gaze is still on me, as his eyes continue to look back into mine and all I can see is that warm dark chocolate I want to drown into.

"Roza…" he whispers barely hearable, the only thing that gives him away being the white puff he made while opening his mouth.

"Yes?"

"You know earlier today when you asked me if I want anything from you?"

Remembering his answer, remembering my reaction, remembering everything that followed, I nod and look down at the blackness of his shirt. Why is he bringing this up?

Getting a light hold of my chin, he lifts my head back up and caresses my cheek.

"I lied."

My jaw drops in surprise. I never expected him to say such a thing.

"You… you did?"

Sighing, he passes his fingers through my hair and they stop at the nape of my neck to swirl lightly on my skin.

"Yes. I lied, Roza."

"Why?" I barely ask. I don't know if I am going to get an answer. With him, you never know.

"Because…" this time he passes his hand through his hair, looking more distressed than I thought I'll ever see him. "Oh, Roza. For so many reasons."

"Tell me at least one."

"Because it wouldn't be fair towards you."

"What wouldn't be fair?"

"The fact that I want to kiss you."

My eyes widen so hard that I even feel the creases forming on my forehead.

He what? Did I hear that well enough?

"If you're messing with me, please stop right now."

My eyes already got teary and only the thought of him mocking me with this, of him playing with me this way, I can't take it. If he's doing this, he's so cruel.

I sob and want to pull away, but he keeps me there, in his embrace, our bodies pressed onto each other.

"Look at me."

I shake my head no.

I try so bad not to cry, but one tear escapes.

"Oh, love…"

He bends and kisses it away, so, so gently.

"Comrade," I whimper. "Don't…" He can't do this to me.

His palms getting a hold of my cheeks, he tilts my head upward, but I still don't dare to look him in the eyes.

"I am not messing with you. Not with this, I promise. I just…" he sighs so deeply. "I am so tired of trying to ignore it. Especially now. I can't do it anymore. I don't want to. I don't want to ignore the fact that I want so badly to kiss you right now."

I look at him even more startled by his confession.

"You really do?"

He gulps and lets out a short breath.

"I do. I want to kiss you."

His thumbs are now circling the little sensitive spots behind my ear, his hands slowly but surely working up to making me lose my mind.

"Really, really bad."

Wow. He wants to kiss me. And not because I asked for it, not because someone looking for me forced him to, not because I jumped on him and kissed him first. But why then?

He still looks at me, his eyes never leaving my face, not even for a second, and seeing the confusion on my face, he smiles warmly.

"You know, I'll be waiting for an answer, whatever that is. Just… it's up to you."

I gulp too, my mouth feeling so dry out of nowhere.

I open my mouth, but I can't speak! I can't make a single word get out of my mouth. I froze just at the thought of him kissing me again. Because I want is so, so bad.

His palms move on my cheeks and his skin gets burning on mine as he bends a little closer to me.

Oh, God, it's happening.

I am biting my lip in anticipation, my heart beating so hard it threatens to break my rib cage.

But all he does is to gently rest his lips on my forehead.

"You're cold, love?" he whispers and he's now walking his thumbs up and down my cheeks, his lips feeling tingly on my forehead as he speaks.

But I am far from being cold. From his first touch, my body heatened, my blood flowing everywhere so, so fast.

I shake my head.

"Oh, so you can respond," he says amused.

He moves his lips a little down, getting closer to my mouth, his nose getting to touch mine and his forehead resting on mine.

I am going to go insane if he's teasing me some more. His lips are so far from mine. Didn't he say he wanted to kiss me?

This frustration is what makes my mouth finally speak.

"Why aren't you kissing me already?"

He chuckles as he pulls away a little.

"I asked you if I can. I am now waiting for an answer, love. I told you it's up to you. So?"

He lifts his eyebrow and I almost chuckle. At least this time I am not hasting into things and he's letting me make my mind, and wow, he is asking me, just like I mentioned it back at the mall.

I nod lightly.

"Is that a yes?"

I have wanted this for so long again. I longed for this. I dreamt about it happening again a thousand times.

I nod again, more determined now.

He smiles and as his lips come closer to me again, my breath catches and my body stiffens in anticipation.

"Easy, love."

He stops close enough for his breath to warm my cheek and he's walking his thumbs alternatively over my bottom lip, parting my lips some more, a thing that makes my body relax in his arm, which he moved down just in time, him holding me by around my middle.

He pulls me even closer, the space between us becoming inexistent, and soon, his lips make contact with mine.

I sigh and close my eyes, my body melting into his, and I need to get a hold of his forearm for support and not to slip again on the ice.

First it happens so gently, his kisses being soft, our skins barely touching, this bringing a tingly feeling all over my body.

A flame ignites in me. I want more. So much more. I want it all, no matter what this means.

I respond to the kiss by pressing my lips on his and he pulls me a little up towards him by getting his other hand at the back of my head, playing with his fingers through my hair.

But despite my eagerness, he still resumes to little pecks placed on my lips, and he seems to be teasing me as he is moving his lips on mine.

I find myself growling displeased as I can't seem to get him to give me more.

Smiling at first at my reaction, his tongue comes out and starts walking on my lips and I can finally let myself be floating, losing myself in this sensation of this familiarity.

I don't waste a second to give him further access, and he slips his tongue past my teeth, and I get to feel the sweet taste of him on my tongue.

But soon he pulls away again, leaving my mouth longing for more, and he looks at me, a smile forming on his lips.

"Comrade," I whisper like pleading for him to kiss me again. I am pleading for him to kiss me again. He won't get away just with this.

He doesn't let me wait for it and kisses me again.

The kiss gets more intense now, his tongue not taking it slow at all, and as soon as it touches mine, it takes over my mouth without any further restraint, his tongue getting so hungry for mine, tasting and teasing and exploring and coming inside deeply, making me moan lightly as I lose control over my senses and all I can feel is the warmness of his flesh in my mouth.

God, how come each kiss seems to be the first one with him? I have never felt such passion in neither of the other kisses of his, even though none of the others before were bad. But this one, oh, this one is so full of everything. I want him to never stop.

I dare to place my palms on his neck, my thumbs reaching his jaw and I respond to his little game, swirling my tongue into the same rhythm as his until I get even more breathless than before.

Smiling, he pulls away a little, letting me catch my breath and breathing as heavily, he gives me one more peck, on the corner of my mouth.

"You are cold, love." His lips brush on my cheek as his palms come over mine on his neck.

"It's just my hands, don't worry."

Slipping them from under his, I move them in his hair, and I am looking at him, still startled. Is this even happening? He just kissed me and oh, wasn't this amazing?

He takes my hands into the warm comfort of his and looks back at me and looks, and looks, and looks, and I love it. I love the way he's looking at me now. I see so many in his eyes.

But what is he thinking about?

"Stop doing that," he says sounding bothered.

I frown. "Wh- do what? What did I do?"

He leans closer to me again and after he brushes his lips on mine, he takes my bottom lip in between his teeth and grits them on my flesh, making me close my eyes and sigh.

"This, Roza." He drags my lip with his teeth again. "You're driving me insane when you do this."

"Oh. I won't do it anymore if-"

"Please don't. I like it, love."

"But you said it is driving you insane."

"So what?"

At his weird answer, I smile. Whatever he wants.

He sighs an "Oh, Roza" and with his fingers playing with my hair again, I lean in closer and happily lay my cheek on his chest and dive into this blissful moment. I love this little moment of him holding me, of his warmth radiating on my body, of his hand in my hair, of his lips resting on my forehead, of him feeling like he's mine.

I don't really know what this means, but I love it. I love it that now I know.