💜Hopeless Romantic Coffee☕

"I'm not sure I understand, professor" the young prince muttered.

Fyodor put his finger on the map in front of him. He changed his stance so effortlessly, where most people would've sighed at the student's lack of understanding, he only grew more patient. "You see, when the army of Napoleon reached Austerlitz, the Holy Roman Empire collapsed after losing the battle, that's all you need to take away from today's lesson. Next week I'll tell you how the Prussian Empire of today came to be. Take care, your highness" Fyodor's tone was calm, almost comforting as he bid farewell to the prince, who after gathering his book thanked his professor and took his leave.

Once the door closed, Fyodor leaned back into his chair, letting out a breath, but not really a sigh.

"Having a hard time teaching history?" You peaked out from behind a wall with a smile. You had been quietly hanging out in the little area of the study which was separated from where he taught his lessons. It was comforting to him to know you were nearby, even though he couldn't see you, but it was a necessary evil so the students wouldn't get distracted.

"The boy is great at athletics, great at foreign languages and mathematics, but history? You could tell him the troubadours and Marie Antoinette will have tea together in St. Petersburg tomorrow and he wouldn't be able to point out a single problem in that statement"

You let out a laugh at that. "Getting disgruntled now? You were so patient with him while he was here" you walked over to him. He took a moment to take in the sight of you. He had missed your closeness, even if it had been just an hour.

"...My anger would not serve him. Besides, he's well-meaning, and I do believe nobody deserves wrath to be bestowed upon them if not by god, least of all by me. My duty is to infuse him with knowledge that will serve him in life, and in a way or another, even if I must rephrase my every sentence a dozen times, I will fulfill that duty." He explained calmly, as you slowly made your way over to him and took a seat on his lap, his arms immediately wrapped around your middle, keeping you close.

"You're wise my love, and patient, that's why I love you" You looked at up him with soft adoration in your eyes.

"Only because I'm wise and patient?" He asked with a teasing smirk.

"And because you're you, Fyodor. Because you're caring, and loving..." You replied, snuggling closer to him. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, his dark hair tickled your cheek slightly. Saying he felt like he was in heaven at that moment would be an understatement. He didn't say anything, just kept holding you, as he basked in the feeling of having you so close, of your forehead against his neck, your hair draped over his shoulder. He had lived so much life, and yet, the feelings your presence sparked in his chest were always new, he could never tire of them.

You remained cozily snuggled up against him for a long while, before you turned your head slightly, and noticed there was a small bouquet of wild flowers sitting on the desk in front of you.

"Oh? Where did those flowers come from?" You inquired.

"The youngest princess I tutored this morning. She tried to bribe me" He said with such monotonousness you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Tried? She didn't succeed then"

"Precisely. I accepted the flowers, but I told her we can't skip the lesson today"

"She's... seven years old, right? Are you still teaching her how to write?"

"Yes..." He sighed. "Every time I introduce her to a new letter, she panics. I have to teach her two at a time, otherwise she leaves the lessons in tears, which I do not want"

You smiled softly at the story. "You're a good teacher, Fyodor"

He paused for a moment at the compliment. It felt wrong to be called a good teacher, he felt like he had never put any effort into deserving the praise, he was just doing what came naturally to him and using knowledge that he himself hadn’t learned, but experienced. "...I just wish to teach my students...and teach them in a way that aids them…" he attempted to brush off the compliment.

"That's the definition of a good teacher!" you poked his cheek playfully.

He sighed exasperated, before he gave into a smile. "Whatever you say, my love..." He held you close a moment longer, thought over his next words a couple seconds, before finally voicing them.

"I was thinking we could go to theater one of these weeks."

You needed a couple instants to process his proposal. You had never been to the theater before, well, you had, but only as your former employer’s servant. You were seated behind her, and didn’t much focus on what was going on on stage, instead paying close attention to the needs your lady would’ve voiced eventually.

"The theater?...I don't think I have any suitable dresses, love..." You said a bit embarrassed, still unsure about how to feel about seeing a performance as an actual spectator. Fyodor on the other hand, was quite surprised that out of everything you could’ve brought up as a possible issue had this simple of a solution.

"I'll bring you to a tailor, don't worry about such an insignificant problem" he was quick to reassure.

“But I’ve never been to one! And it will cost money...” You stuttered out flustered.

“Again: insignificant problems, my love. Nothing that can’t be solved with ease. Just answer me: would you like to come to the theater with me?”

You pondered your answer for a moment, you weren’t sure why, before you finally nodded your head and whispered a soft yes.

The next day he was quick to bring you to a tailor much of the nobility of Saint Petersburg was used to frequenting. After he took your measurements, you started discussing the cuts. Dress shopping might be something women of your age were quite versed in, but as you had spent your whole life having your clothes being hand-me-downs or made by your family, explaining what gown you would've liked proved to be a challenge for you. You knew what was in fashion, you lived at the royal palace after all, but voicing which of the current trends appealed to you the most proved difficult on first impact. Luckily, your husband knew you better than you knew yourself. He always noticed when your gaze lingered on the dress of a princess a moment too long, and he also knew exactly what cuts would flatter your figure. Fyodor mentioned looking for in-season formal wear, asking what colors were popular, and helped you choose from them. He left no stone unturned during the discussion with the tailor, bringing up even the smallest details and once everything was settled, he told you to start heading back to the carriage while he settled the cost.

Once the door of the shop closed, Fyodor went back to the counter where many fabric samples were layed out."Sir, other than the two dresses we already agreed upon, I'd like to commission one that incorporates this fabric as well" He told the tailor, pointing to a fabric that was your favourite colour, but unfortunately a shade that wasn’t particularly popular that year, that’s why you hadn’t picked it. But he noticed your eyes lingering on it during the discussion. Of course he did, he always noticed everything.

"Three dresses, that will take a couple weeks" The tailor mentioned. Fyodor simply placed a generous amount of coins on the counter, considerably more than needed to purchase three dresses.

"I'm sure you can employ a couple more apprentices than you usually do, if I request it" he said calmly.

Just ten days later, a package was delivered to the study.

"любовь, come" Fyodor was quick to call for you.

When you went over to him you saw the two dresses you had ordered. They were so beautiful, elegant trim adorned the skirts while delicate lace decorated the bodices, every seam neatly stitched and every edge impeccably hemmed. And the thought that these dresses were yours, made specifically for you, it almost made you tear up.

“Try them on, любовь. If the fitting isn’t quite right, we’ll go back to the tailor” your husband encouraged. You tried on the first dress, then the second, you couldn’t quite believed how perfectly they fit you, how even the smallest decorations suited you so perfectly. Just when you were about to take off the second dress, you saw Fyodor holding up a third dress. It was in your favorite color. You could not believe your eyes.

“But...that...we only ordered two dresses…” you started saying but stumbled on your words.

“This is my personal indulgence, любовь. I wanted to see this fabric on you” He said so simply, as if this wasn’t one of the most kind and attentive thing that had been done to you in a long time. He saw your stunned expression and softly added. “Please, try it on”

So you did. There was something so charming about wearing one’s favorite color, as if it brought your soul to the forefront for all to admire, or maybe it was just your soft gaze, your bright smile, at the sight of the fabric you had eyed filling the mirror’s reflection, as all the meticulous seams accentuated your shapes perfectly.

“Like it?” Fyodor asked.

“I adore it” you replied, still overwhelmed by emotion.

“I’m glad. It suits you quite wonderfully” he whispered as he stepped closer. “So now...do you feel ready to come to theater with me?”

You simply fell into his arms, and held him tight.

“Thank you...for all you’ve done for me” you whispered, your voice still full of emotion.

“I’ve barely done anything for you, my love. Let this be merely the beginning” He kissed the side of your head as he said that.

The night at the theater was wonderful. Being the first time you had attended an exhibition as a proper spectator, you were left quite impressed.

“The costumes and the music...it was simply wonderful!” You told your husband as you were getting ready to leave.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, my love” he smiled at your joy. “But if you wish for my honest opinion, I believe your singing is much better”

You blushed at that. “Fyodor...Must you always fluster me?”

“I only speak the truth with no ulterior motive, my love” he offered you his arm as you made your way into the hallway, most other visitors had already left, only few patrons lingered.

“Do you think we could come here more often? ” You asked softly.

“I don’t see why not. It could serve as great inspiration for your singing, would it not?” he replied, keeping his tone casual. As he spoke, one of the patrons in the hallway looked like he was struck by lightning. He took a few hesitant steps, before he grew more confident and yanked Fyodor back by the shoulder.

“You…!” The patron exclaimed.

Fyodor was already shocked by the sudden hand on his shoulder, but when he heard the patron’s voice and saw his face he immediately recognized him. It was the boy. The boy he had tutored, fourteen years ago in Moscow. The boy he thought had died...was a 22-year-old man now.

"Mister Dostoevsky?" His ex-student exclaimed, his eyes full of confusion and hurt. Fyodor was silent, he knew he couldn’t pretend to be someone else now. "Why did you disappear so suddenly?"

“Grigorij, now is not the…” he tried deflecting, glancing at you, you were still beside him and as confused as ever. But the boy did not relent, did not even notice you.

“You left without a single word to my parents! I’ve been looking for you for years!”

He stared at the boy, still in disbelief, but there was no doubting it: it was his old student. The one he saw grow pale and tired with illness. After almost a whole minute of silence he finally managed to form words.“I thought you had long passed…” Fyodor admitted, his voice was pained in a way you had never heard before.

Grigorij just stared at him before continuing. "They told me they found holy oil on my forehead and a cross on my chest. And I got better after that day, right after you disappeared...nobody in that damn house knew who did it, so it was you! It must've been you!!"

"And what if?!"

"What if? You might've saved my life with your devotion... And look, it's been years, years, mister, and yet I remember you, because you were my best professor...I asked of you for a long time…” Grigorij did not look like a man at all in that moment, he looked like the child Dostoevsky remembered.

A million emotions where on Fyodor’s face. He still felt grief despite the revelation of the boy’s survival, but there was some undeniable fondness in it as well. "...Are you healthy and happy? That's all I want to know" he finally managed to ask.

"I am, professor"

"Good...then keep being that way" Finally both of them were starting to calm down.

Grigorij looked around and finally noticed you and the matching wedding bands. “I...I feel like you still have a lot to teach me, but I see you…” he trailed off.

“I did get married after all, yes.” Fyodor confirmed. “But I still teach.”

“Where do you live now? I’ll write you, I just...teachers like you are rare, professor, I’d like to keep in touch with you”

Your husband was surprised, conflicted even. Never did he have a student that appreciated his teachings to this degree. He had chosen to be a teacher because it was convenient...but what if that was what he was destined to do? Destined to be a guide, destined to meet you...to live as a teacher...and maybe his curse would lift too. If a miracle would happen, it would be besides you, he was sure of that.

“Fyodor?” You called out softly, noticing his silence. That pulled him out of his thoughts, his eyes looked brighter somehow, more relaxed. He gave his address to the boy, and soon after you went home.

***

It had been two years since that night at the theater. He and the boy exchanged letters every couple of weeks, he often asked Fyodor for his opinion on world events and the like. He enjoyed being his mentor even after years, but that was such a small part of his current life. The little feet of a girl ran across the floor to reach Fyodor, as he had just returned from church. He picked her up effortlessly.

“You’re up so early, my dear Sonja!” He smiled at the child, who just giggled, happy to be reunited with her father. Fyodor glanced over at you, as you made your way to greet him as well.

“She was getting very impatient without you around” you smiled before kissing him.

“How are you holding up, my love?” he asked as you all sat down on the sofa.

“I’m doing good, I just wish I could cuddle you both all day long!” you snuggled closer to your husband.

“Then let’s do that” he pulled you down so you were laying besides him. Your child was resting on his chest, giggling happily to be with her parents. You had had your daughter almost a year and a half ago, and Fyodor was absolutely delighted by it. He absolutely adored her: she had your beauty, your complexion and hair color and his calm demeanor and amethyst eyes. Not once did he think about his curse now, he was completely enamored with the life you had built together.

“You don’t have any lessons this afternoon?”

It was as average a day as it could get in Yokohama, Dazai had just come back from a small mission, nothing exciting, but Dazai was acting as if the mafia owed him the world just because he had put in the effort to raise a finger every once in a while.

"Ugh, being an executive sure is hard work!" He yawned and stretched as he went into the meeting room. Nobody was there yet, and he didn't expect anybody to be. Mori had called a meeting for 4 pm, and it was not even 3 yet. He slumped in his chair as he adjusted the bandages that had come loose on his wrist. Soon after he just sat back in his chair and waited. And waited. And waited.

"Being an executive is so boring!" He complained out loud with a sigh.

Suddenly, the chair in front of him turned around, and something was tossed hard at his chest.

"Open this bottle then, slave!" The figure sitting in chair said teasingly. It was none other than Dazai Y/N, his older sister.

"You didn't have to wound me so, onee-san!" He whined as he picked up the water bottle.

"Don't be such a baby! It won't even bruise! Open it, I'm thirsty"

"Ugh...you're so unfair, onee-san! You treat me worse than a slave and you can't even open a bottle on your own!" He twisted the cap and popped it off with a simple move.

"Hey, not my fault the bottles are closed with, I don't know, nuclear grade glue or whatever!" She complained as she grabbed her bottle and took a big sip, relaxing into the chair.

"You're not gonna leave me alone until the meeting are you?" He sighed exasperatedly noticing her attitude.

"Correct!" She announced. A moment of silence passed between you two. "Now bring me a bag of chips!" She said with a voice so strong it echoed in the room, all while having the intonation of a dictator, something he was extremely used to, ever since he was a kid.

"This is the worst, simply the worst!" He whined as he let himself slip out of the chair and dragged himself out of the meeting room, he had learned through experience that that tone was something he had to obey no matter what.

"Trained him well" she smirked to herself. He came back soon enough with a bag of chips. He lifted his arm to get revenge for the way she threw your bottle at him earlier. But he hesitated, obviously, so she quickly lifted a finger condescendingly.

"Ah-ah-ah! No throwing! Chips are fragile, Osamu!"

She could see he was getting seriously pissed off, but he still lowered his arm like she requested, slowly, trying to keep his fist from shaking.

"Slowly, slowly, good!" She instructed until her chips were safely in front of her. He was fuming and she just looked so proud of herself, which pissed him off even more, but he had to hold back, he knew his reaction was exactly what she wanted.

"You can sit back down" she said while opening the bag of snacks. Osamu looked like he was about to explode.

"I do not need your permission for that!" He complained as he walked back to his seat, holding back the urge to stomp his feet, not wanting to give her any more ammunition.

Another long few minutes of quiet followed, filled only by the sound of the chips being munched on.

"You know Kouyou will have your head if she finds crumbs on her seat, right?" He said after a while.

"She doesn't mind me! Even if not I'm not leaving a mess, I grew up doing my chores, unlike someone else!" She teased once more.

"Because you never assigned me any onee-san!" He screamed at her.

"Oh, is that a way to be grateful to your master, slave that doesn't even do my chores?" She retorted with a smirk.

"...grr...I hate you. You are simply the worst, Y/N" He slumped back into his chair. Ensued another long stretch of silence, which he was the one to break once more.

"Why are you here anyway"

"Why, can't I come see you a bit more often?

"You can, I'm asking why, slave master?" He used the name trying to hold back a smirk. He knew that would get under her skin. Her smile widened more in barely contained anger, as if to say 'What, using my weapons against me?'

"Well, slave, ever considered I like your company?" She asked back, enunciating the words a bit too hard.

"I considered it. I considered many options, and yet, none fit your character"

"You wound me! Absolutely wound me, Osamu! What kind of sister would I be if I didn't enjoy your petulant company!" She tried sounding dramatic, but her theatrics were more than obvious.

"You would be...well, I suppose I don't really know what other siblings are like..."

"Let me tell you, siblings are supposed to be just the way we are, the elders the gods, the young ones the ants!" She imitated a villainous laughter.

"Gods are supposed to be caring and rewarding, onee-san. What you are is the devil" he muttered, quite bothered by the statement.

"What? You think I don't care about you?! Did you already forget the discussions about the chores?"

"Just doing my chores is very little reward for the torture you put me through!"

"Ah, ungrateful child! Fine, I'll punish you by leaving you to the dark and overbearing silence, enjoy it, the other executives will probably be late anyway!" She walked to the door after quickly wiping the table of the chip crumbs. Osamu just sank deeper in his chair, pretending not to care, but he couldn't bring himself to lie out loud. "See you later" was all he muttered in response.

"At Lupin's, don't be late or I won't let you drink anything!" She teased one last time.

"...I do truly care about you though" she whispered after closing the door to the meeting room. And how couldn't she care? He was the only family she had left. She remembered the day he was born, and how she taught him how to pronounce words properly when he was two. She didn't get to teach him much else though, once he was able to read, there was no problem he couldn't solve.

But he also remembered those early memories. The high-pitched lullabies she sang him, the time she helped him build a tower out of blocks... There was no one else who knew him so well, for so long, even if she was a tease, and annoying. Deep down he knew she would give him her kidney if he asked, but that's just the kind of siblings they were. They'd give each other their literal heart, but saying 'I love you, I care, I'm happy to have you' was way too far. And that was just fine.

It was morning. The leaves on the trees outside the windows were turning different shades of orange and yellow as autumn neared. Fyodor awoke to the sound of teacups being placed on their saucers, and to his arms being empty of you.

"Good morning, love" you greeted him with a smile. You were preparing tea on the small table you used for your meals. It was big enough to only fit two people comfortably, a perfect representation of how you two lived so well in this isolated room of the palace, as if it was a small house only for you two. You were still in your nightgown, but you had thrown on an earth coloured robe over it for warmth and modesty. You were still barefoot and your hair was messy from having woken up not too long ago, but Fyodor, lovesick as he was, still saw you as the most beautiful woman on Earth.

"How unkind, leaving your husband alone in a cold bed" his voice was monotonous as always, but you knew he was teasing, as he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. You couldn't help but smile shyly.

"You looked so tired, I didn't want to wake you! Plus, I thought you'd appreciate the freshly brewed tea"

"I appreciate it alright, but I appreciate having my wife in my arms quite a bit more" he stood up and walked behind you as you finished pouring the warm water in the cups, and proceeded to wrap his arms around your waist as if to make up for the loss he was complaining about.

"You stayed up dreaming awake again, didn't you?" You asked turning your face back slightly to look at him. His eye bags were noticeable even if he had just awakened.

"I wasn't dreaming, just thinking" he corrected you softly.

"Not much of a difference... How's your research going?"

"Slowly. I suppose I'm used to it. I've been working on it for years and I always come up empty..." He sighed as he took a seat at the table, you did too.

"Maybe not everything needs to be explained, curiosity is not a virtue after all..." You reminded him gently, knowing how important his faith was to him.

"... that's true. Curiosity is close to being a vice...but it's a topic that affects me, and I'm so used to humanity forming explanations for everything over the course of several decades, yet this matter hasn't had any explanation at all in centuries-" you cut him off by placing a hand on his forearm.

"Don't upset yourself this early in the day, please..." You asked softly. The heat in his eyes he didn't even realize had formed faded immediately.

"Forgive me, my love. You're right..." He apologized. You always had this power to improve his mood just by asking, just one of the many reasons why he loved you. He took a sip of the tea you had made, it was a chamomile brew. One of his favourites, although he had never told you.

"Igor seems to be late..." You muttered after checking the clock on the wall. The veteran servant had made it routine to bring you breakfast leftovers in your room, given neither of you ate much in the morning.

He lifted his gaze from the tea at your murmur. "Did you not hear? Igor got sick, he complained of a cough last night, he won't be working for a couple days"

"Is that so? I didn't know anything..." Your expression turned surprised.

"I heard him talk with another servant in the hallway yesterday evening, that's the only reason I know"

"Well... it's fine, I'll go get us something to eat then" you stood up quickly to get a bit more put together to leave the sanctuary that was the study.

"Love, you don't have to go, you can just ask another servant" Fyodor tried stopping you from slipping back into your old handmaid habits, but it was too late.

"It's fine, I'll be quick" you smiled as you swiftly brushed your hair and put it up in a bun. You'd definitely have to restyle it later, but for a quick escapade to get breakfast, it would suffice. You went to the kitchen and grabbed two plates of pancakes and jam, a simple but tasty breakfast. As you made your way back to the study, you met someone you were rarely fond of seeing: your ex employer, the princess. She was dressed in day wear, but her eyes were tired. It was probably an early morning for her, but that didn't stop her from shooting you a judgy glance, seeing the plates in your hands.

"I see that 'husband' of yours ended up using you the same way I did, huh?" she commented with disdain.

"Your highness, good morning, I'm merely doing him a favor because-" you tried explaining yourself politely, but she interrupted you.

"Oh please, enjoy it while it lasts, being married to such a recluse. A genius, but a recluse; he'll disappear and leave you alone one night only to appear at another palace pretending to have no past to speak of like he did when he arrived here" her words were quick and spiteful, it was clear she was frustrated and you were just unlucky enough to be the person she took her anger out on.

"Respectfully, my husband is not going to-" you tried defending him but she cut you off once more.

"I was trying to look out for you, you know! You were so young when you got in my service, and you are still young, and naive at that now! I did not want a maiden to have her heart toyed with by a man much smarter than her!" She said with fake care in her voice, you wondered if there was anything you could say to make her hate you just slightly less. There probably wasn't, ever since you came back to the palace, she always looked at you bitterly.

"I appreciate your intentions, but respectfully, after years and as an adult, I believe I know who my husband is quite well” you mustered up enough courage to defend yourself.

"You don't know that! You're so young, you don't know anything! You will regret having married someone that can easily outsmart you! By my side, you could've lived comfortably, by his you're just...!" She wanted to throw some clever name at you, but nothing came to her mind quick enough, for the door of the study suddenly opened, and in its frame your husband appeared with an unhappy expression. He had heard the whole exchange.

“I do not take kindly to disrespect towards my wife, princess. I know exactly how smart she is, for she was, and is, my student. And marriage is a sacrament where two souls are bound in life forever, I do not intend to break that promise. But our relationship is not something that should take away time from your precious day, your highness. After all, the marriage of servants should be the concern of servants alone" His voice was diplomatically calm, but in his eyes the indignation was clear. If it were for him, he wouldn’t even have wasted his breath on your ex employer.

“You’re right. I do not know why I’m wasting my time on someone so utterly ungrateful” she shot you a look before finally storming off to her quarters. Fyodor stared daggers in her direction. Her hairstyle was simple, her makeup wasn’t perfectly smooth like it was when you were serving her. “Serves her right.” he thought. You snapped him out of his thoughts when you stepped close to him. He ushered you back into the study and closed the door quickly, as if to lock the rest of the world out.

“I hope she didn’t ruin your day...” he muttered when he turned back to you.

“I’m...used to it, I suppose” you placed the plates of food on the small table before you both took seats. “I just don’t understand… why can’t she just ignore me if she hates me…” you poked at your food with a fork, your expression downcast. Fyodor hated seeing you so saddened, especially because of the princess of all people.

“Jealousy. And regret for letting you go on a whim.” He stated plainly while he poured you another cup of tea. “Did you not see how...simplistic her attire was? Her new handmaid must be hard to train, you could dress her and paint her face impeccably in less than half an hour when you served her”

“That...yeah, after years, I got pretty fast at preparing her for all the events she attended…” you conceded. “But jealousy? Why would she be jealous?”

“Do you really have to ask?” he prompted, genuinely surprised by your reaction. “Your beauty easily rivals hers. Your voice rivals the whole world. And your heart? I dare say it might put some saints to shame” he declared so calmly, so sincerely, as if he was stating an obvious fact.

“Fyodor...what are you saying…My beauty doesn’t rival hers, and my heart, it’s not...!” you blushed deeply.

“You don’t believe me? I’ve met countless people in my life, and you’re the most beautiful, the most noble soul I’ve ever come across” he stated again, his matter-of-fact way of speaking made you even more flustered.

“Stop saying stuff like that…!” you whined, not knowing whether to laugh or cry from the shyness.

“I won’t stop until you either smile, or start believing me” He stated, his voice a tinge softer. That made you pause, and you felt your heart stop for a second.

“...you’re flustering me, because you want me to smile?”

“Yes”

Your gaze softened completely. You managed a small, earnest smile, just because it was him who was asking. A small light flickered in his eyes at the sight, as if your smile was the key to his own soul, to his own happiness.

“Is it really true...in all your long your life...I’m the only one you felt this way about?” you asked softly.

He took a moment to really think over his entire life up until that point.

“The princess said you’d disappear one day, off to another palace, like you did coming here...is that what happened?” you prompted further.

“I don’t know who told her what exactly...when I came to this palace, I pretended to be 20 years old, around eight years ago. I said I had just obtained an education in Western Europe. In truth, I had spent half a decade quietly studying in Irbit, a town in your region of origin, I assume you know it. Before that I was in Moscow, I was pretending to be 29, I was a tutor for the children of a prince for a year. I hope nobody found out about that...” he reminisced. “But to answer your first question...it’s true. No person has ever made me feel like you have.”

“Not even one?”

“Not one…” He leaned back in his chair. “I remember when I was very young, when I didn’t know about my curse yet, I lived in a village. A couple girls caught my eye, but nothing came of it. I didn’t much care for finding love, if I was going to marry, I wanted to make the right choice, and if I didn’t find anyone to spend my life with, well, celibacy didn’t really scare me. So...the years passed, and I didn’t age, and I just...never met anyone who truly made me desire a relationship...well, not until you, that is” He lifted his gaze back towards you, a smile formed on his lips as he got lost in your eyes.

You were stunned, to say the least. Being called the first love of a man who had seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, that was quite the compliment. And the fact he had married you, tied himself to you, even though you wouldn’t have lived nearly as long as him, it truly drove home just how much he loved you. You toyed with the golden bracelet on your wrist, the one that had served as your engagement ring, as you finally began to believe that he had truly meant his every word.

“When I heard your voice the first time, and when I saw your face...I finally had no doubt in my heart about what poets were describing for centuries when they were speaking of ‘true love’. It’s truly something that happens once in a lifetime...and I intend to make the most of it, with you” he said softly as he took your hands in his.

He had promised your father after all, the night you went back to your village after you were fired. After the long conversation with your parents you had gone to sleep in your siblings’ room, as it wouldn’t have been proper to share a bed unmarried. You thought Fyodor had gone to sleep soon after in your now vacant room, but your father held him back for a moment.

“My daughter is very precious to me, young sir. I would be most happy if she got to marry someone like you, but as a father you must understand I am full of worries…We’re humble people, she barely went to school, you said you do not want a dowry but I do not wish for you to regret your decision down the line and for my daughter to suffer the consequences of that”

“Sir, I can assure you, I take my duties as a soon-to-be husband very seriously. Your daughter is precious to me too, and I promise I have no reason to regret my decision. As you heard earlier, I could sing her praise for days if given the opportunity” Fyodor tried reassuring him.

“Yes, I can tell you’re well-intentioned, but you have good looks, a good education and you come from a wealthy family, I just want to know why did you choose her of all the ladies you could have?” At your father’s worries, Fyodor couldn’t help a sad smile forming on his face. He knew this would be a reoccurring question for the both of you, for once he regretted having chosen to play the part of someone with a bit of status in this period of his long life.

“I chose her because she’s the first one who was willing to see my heart. And...I’m the first to say she deserves someone better than me, but it was her choice to remain by my side and to reciprocate my feelings. Worry not about me leaving her, for I cannot even think of a reality where I do; it would be wiser to fear her leaving me” he said self-deprecatingly. “I already told her: she has my heart in her hands, and it shall never belong to me again...Like I promised her, I now promise you, good sir, I will never abandon your daughter’s side for as long as I live”

That promise was all your father needed for his worries to fade.

After breakfast Fyodor sat at his desk and pulled out his books and newspaper cutouts, you went to your corner and started practicing a new song on the cello. He really loved the music you played, you had such a talent for finding new melodies, it was like he could hear your soul being turned into music every time you played. He flipped through his papers, rereading his research about his curse or “ability”, but he couldn’t concentrate like usual. The earlier conversation had reminded him of one of the boys he had tutored in Moscow. The youngest son of that prince, he was a curious little guy, but not for schoolwork. He much preferred to blabber about his day and be nosy than listening to Fyodor’s lessons about history and the like. He asked him a myriad of questions about his personal life, “why are you a teacher? Why is your hair long? Why don’t you court someone?”, Fyodor didn’t really know how to reply at the time without revealing too much about himself, so he gave simple, short answers in an attempt to bore him. Despite the initial awkwardness, he quickly grew fond of the boy, of his sincerity and enthusiasm. As he patiently tried to revert the boy’s attention back to the books after telling him about his day like he was asked, he found himself thinking seriously, for the first time in his life, about what it would be like to have a family...to live like a normal man. Would his children be calm like him or talkative like his little student? Would they be happy to see him come home after being away?...Would they too be cursed? The idea of a family felt like an impossible dream with his condition, that’s why he had started studying and researching his curse in the first place. But as he kept tutoring the boy, he found himself thinking about that dream so often, he almost found himself to be ridiculous. Until the little boy fell gravely ill after a mild winter. It was always mild winters that brewed the worst illnesses. The doctors were hopeless, the family was already grieving a child that was still fighting for his life, and Fyodor could not stand it. He left the job as soon as he could, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the news of the precocious death of someone so innocent, and the family’s attitude made it worse. That’s why he had went to Irbit and lived in hiding for five years at the house of an old friend, he just did not want to see people for a while, people that reminded him of how abnormal, how cursed he was. It was for that reason he maintained his avoidance even when he came to the palace. But now...he had you. Someone who accepted him, someone he did not want to shut out of his life.

Maybe, just maybe, you were the reward for years he had spent in isolation, hiding, pretending, but still trying to be an honest man that could use his knowledge to help others, if he couldn’t help himself. Maybe he could afford a break, enjoy the life he had, and pretend to be normal for a little while. He put away his papers and rose from his desk, he went over to where you were still playing the cello and took a seat besides you.

“Taking a break?” you asked, pausing your playing for a moment.

“Yeah. For a little while. Please, continue” he asked gently as he leaned back against the wall as you resumed your practice as requested. He felt fulfilled in that moment. Just your music, the orange leaves outside the window, the dirty dishes of breakfast still on the table, and most importantly you, sitting besides him. In that moment, he was truly, utterly grateful for his life, simply because after centuries he got to meet you, and he got to be with you, on this calm autumn morning. You started singing a soothing song as you kept playing the instrument, and he felt even more blessed. Damn it all. Damn the planning and the researching and the feelings of not belonging, the next couple decades of his life were only going to be about you. About…

It was so cold that winter in Saint Petersburg. You had just arrived in town from your little village tucked away in Siberia. At 13 your parents sent you to Yekaterinburg to work as a maid: you worked for a middle class family at first, before a noblewoman heard you singing as you were doing laundry one afternoon. She immediately went and took you off that family's hands, as you served her you learned fast, and eventually became her handmaid. After a couple years she received a marriage offer from a prince, she was to move to Saint Petersburg for the wedding. Of course, she demanded to bring you along, and paid your parents a good amount of your yearly pay in advance. The night before you were to leave you cried in your parents' arms. You knew your family needed the money, but Yekaterinburg was already a hard adjustment, you were only able to see your family once a month, now that you were going to Saint Petersburg, you probably wouldn't see them for years.

The royal palace was vast, and so beautiful. Though you didn't have much time to stand and stare at the golden decorations, the endless paintings, for the noblewoman turned princess you served had become quite demanding. You were always running around, getting her ready, getting her water, adjusting her gowns at the last minute. She'd have you sing every time you did a task that allowed it, you were used to it. But someone in the palace wasn't, someone in the palace had never heard such a beautiful voice before. That someone was called Fyodor, he lived with the royal family as a teacher, given his knowledge was scarily vast. He rarely engaged with people unless necessary, he was quiet and kept to himself. So it was a surprise to see him leave his study in search of the source of that angelic voice. A servant that had been at the palace a long time noticed.

"I suppose miracles do happen! I never thought I'd see you leave your cave without being forced!" the servant, namely Igor Pavlov, prompted. Fyodor barely registered him, still under the spell of your voice.

"Igor...this voice...whose is it?"

"Don't you know? It's the new princess consort's handmaid. She's been singing since the day they arrived, it's a miracle she hasn't lost her voice yet!"

"A handmaid you say...not a singer by trade?"

"just a handmaid! Though she must earn a pretty penny by working for the princess, she's better off as a servant, if you want my opinion!" Fyodor didn't hear the last part of what Igor had said, still entranced by your voice. He started following it, until he reached the closed door of the princess's quarters. Right at that moment your singing stopped, at your lady's request. The "curse" was lifted from Fyodor.

"How... foolish... What am I doing..." he muttered, trying to shake away the remnants of his stupor, and went back to his study.

From that day forward whenever he'd hear you sing, he'd crack his study's door open, to hear you more clearly. He would brew more tea than necessary and leave it in the servants' kitchen, hoping you'd find it and drink it, to keep your throat healthy. Every time he didn't hear you for more than a day he was afraid you had gotten a cold, he'd say an extra prayer for you on those nights. He couldn't help but want to hear your voice closer to himself, not just from behind the closed doors of the princess's quarters. He kept imagining what you could look like, maybe you were truly a siren like your voice led to believe, with captivating eyes that could send entire vessels to ruin... He tried shaking those thoughts away as quickly as possible, but it was a futile endeavor when he heard you sing. He'd sit by the door, listening with his eyes closed... And he wondered, how on earth did he bear to live in that palace before your arrival?

Then one faithful day, the princess was walking in the gardens, with you in tow. She asked you to sing. And he heard you, of course he did. He went out to the gardens, he wanted to hear your singing up close once, just once in his life. He kept his distance of course, but god, you sounded so beautiful, so divine. And then...he saw you. You were no siren, your beauty was more innocent, modest, but beautiful nonetheless. He felt himself fall even deeper for you. He was entranced once more, following behind you... until the princess noticed.

"Ah Dostoevsky! I haven't seen you in a while, what brings you to the gardens?" she asked.

"Just...stepped out for some air...the weather is lovely" he quickly made up an excuse.

"It is indeed. Say, I've been meaning to ask you, do you have any spare time lately?"

"Spare time for... Teaching?"

"Yes. Y/N, this is a teacher that lives in the palace, would you like for him to provide you an education?" She asked you.

"I would be honoured" you bowed at meeting Fyodor for the first time. You couldn't deny he looked fascinating, with his raven hair, and purple eyes.

Fyodor swallowed hearing that. Time with you...was he dreaming?

"I do have a couple spare hours on Mondays and Wednesdays. If it's alright with you, your highness?" He offered after clearing his throat.

"It's quite alright. Two hours on each occasion, I want her knowledgeable about literature and current politics"

Fyodor frowned slightly. "Wouldn't an education in music and art fit her better, with a voice like hers?"

"She's 16, she won't become an opera singer! Besides her singing is beautiful enough as is, I don't need her playing another instrument, I need her to be able to do her tasks first and foremost. Knowing the politics will be useful, so I don't feel like I'm talking to a wall every time I mention the other nobles!" She complained. "Literature for refinement of her speech and politics to help advise me. That will be enough"

"As your majesty requests" Fyodor agreed reluctantly before taking his leave. Then it hit him, one of the things the princess had mentioned. You were just 16 years of age. Dammit... You were young, too young for him. He might've looked young but he had lived centuries in secret. He shouldn't dream of you and your voice at night. He really shouldn't.

When the classes started with you he tried his best to keep his composure and not be entranced by your looks alone. He tried staring at the books and not at your face while he explained the complexities of politics and the depths of poetry to you. But whenever he'd read you a poem of love, he couldn't help but sigh, because poets centuries before your birth had managed to perfectly describe the kind of otherworldly beauty you had in his eyes. Sometimes he'd ask about your past, you told him of your childhood in the village and your early adolescence in Yekaterinburg.

"Your singing...where did you learn?" He asked one day.

"I just sang what my parents did while they worked"

"And did no one tell you in your village you had talent?"

"Talent? Well, they told me I sang well..."

"And do you like singing?"

"I... love singing" you smiled shyly. Fyodor slammed the book filled with Shakespearean poems closed, and pulled a codex of songs off a shelf.

"Then let me teach you some new songs...and maybe some techniques."

***

The princess asked where you had learned the new songs you were singing as you brushed her hair, you said you overhead other servants singing them. Fyodor made you swear you wouldn't tell the princess he was teaching you things she had not requested. You obliged with a smile, always a smile when it came to him. He taught you new melodies in between talks of current politics, he would always make the tea with extra honey when he knew you were coming. You had fallen for him too, for his gentleness, his knowledge, his kindness in teaching you about art and music, not just politics, and how he would read you books and poems he knew you'd like. You started reciting love poems back to him, hoping he'd understand...he pretended not to, for a long time. Until one day you asked him. "Does your heart already belong to a maiden?"

"No...it doesn't." He replied.

"Then...why do you not see, I like..." He cut you off.

"You're too young." He said, although that was only part of the reason he couldn't act on his feelings.

"But you're only what, 24? 25?" You asked innocently. Oh, if only you'd known his secret.

"...too young." He repeated harshly. You tried being understanding, tried to suppress your feelings, as you diligently followed his lessons. You only spent four hours together every week, but to both of you, they were everything. When you turned twenty-one, and he was still teaching you, you tried confessing your feelings once more, but he cut you off again. "My lady, you cannot be with me..." He said through gritted teeth.

"Why not? I'm an adult now and my feelings... they have not faded, they've only grown..."

"...it wouldn't be right for us to be together"

"Why not?

"Because!" His voice was harsher than intended, he took a second to compose himself. "Because... I'm a cursed man..." He admitted quietly.

"Cursed? But you... you're healthy, and intelligent, you have no curses..."

His body became rigid. He pulled you close by your shoulders. "promise me, swear it, that I'm the only man that has my eye on you, and I'm the only man you fancy"

"I swear it, both of those things"

He took a deep breath and pulled you even closer. "I love you, Y/N... I really do... I love your voice, your singing, and the way your eyes light up when I read you a story you like...but I was cursed...I was cursed with a long life" he whispered with a chocked voice.

"That's a curse...? Not a blessing?"

He let out a somber laugh. "Everyone I ever told, which were quite few, thinks that... But I've lived more life than you ever will, and I'll still be here when you'll be gone..." He paused for a moment. "How will I survive the grief I do not know...And you, you deserve better than tying yourself to a cursed man." His voice was tinged with pain. You knew he was being sincere. You stepped closer and held him, god it felt so nice to hold him, and gently whispered in his ear. "You're a blessing to me, not a curse..." His hold on you tightened hearing that. "I'm no blessing, you are... you have the voice of an angel, the smile of a princess, the heart of a saint, I do not deserve such goodness in my life..." His purple eyes looked like their glow had dimmed, softened when he looked at you, after years you still had that effect on him.

"You're the only one who didn't compliment my voice alone..." You whispered. "And the only one who looked out for me truly, the only one who thought about what I would like to learn, not just what I needed, and the only one who I ever felt truly enjoyed my company" you confessed oh so softly, so sincerely, every wall of restraint Fyodor might've had left crumbled.

"Whoever doesn't enjoy your company is a fool" he whispered. You stared at each other a long time, before he gave in finally, and kissed your forehead gently.

"моя любимая" (my beloved) he whispered.

From that day on, instead of spending those weekly four hours studying, you'd spend at least half of them holding each other, curled up on his bed. He loved you, so deeply, now that you hadn't rejected him after knowing about his curse he could admit that to himself. But this way another issue had arisen: you were a handmaid, he was a teacher. Your teacher. The princess wouldn't take kindly to discovering your closeness. So those hugs and cuddles were all he allowed himself. Sometimes you'd sing songs you only learned for him, and when you did, god, he felt like he was in heaven. He wanted to kiss you so badly every time you hummed into his chest, but he was afraid if he did, he wouldn't be able to hold back anymore. So you just cherished the closeness whenever you could, pretending it was enough.

***

Eventually the princess found out. She noticed after your lessons, the scent of your teacher was surprisingly strong around you, more than usual. She eavesdropped on one of your lessons, and burst into the room when she had heard you start to sing. She found you two cuddled up together, the notes froze in your throat, you looked terrified at being found out. Fyodor on the other hand looked resigned, as if he knew this day would come eventually. What ensued was the yelling of the princess and pleading on your part, Fyodor stood up and said: "I take full responsibility for disobeying your highness's orders, let all repercussions fall on me" but the princess couldn't be convinced.

"You're employed by the tsar, I have no power to punish you! You, Y/N, on the other hand, you are employed by me, and for disobeying me, and even worse, keeping secrets from me, I'm terminating your contract and you're to go back home to your parents!"

You started crying asking for forgiveness, just one more chance, but the princess wouldn't hear it.

"If she leaves the palace, I'm leaving too out of my own volition" Fyodor said sternly.

"Am I supposed to care? When I get a new handmaid the last thing she will be is being educated by you!" The princess retorted. "Y/N, pack your bags. You leave in the morning, be grateful I'm kind enough to arrange you a ride"

She left the room enraged. You were still crying, Fyodor knelt next to you.

"Forgive me, my love, it's my fault" he said quietly, his eyes held so much pain. You simply shook your head.

"I'm not sad because I lost my job, I'm crying because I won't see you anymore" you sobbed. He held you close at that. "No...no... don't cry for me, my heart is yours anyway, in all my years of life, you're the only one who managed to see it, you conquered it, and now...it rests in your palm, everyday, since the day I first heard you sing, my heart will never belong to me again. I'll find a way, I'll leave with you if I must, but I'm not leaving you on your own" you calmed down at his words, your cries becoming soft whimpers. You kissed him, for the first time since meeting him, you felt you deserved it, if you were leaving the next day anyway. He felt the same way, for he melted into your lips immediately, and when you both ran out of air, he pressed his forehead to yours, his hands came up to cradle the back of your head. "Go pack your bags... By the time you must leave I will have found a way" he said reassuringly. You couldn't help but trust him. After you left his study he got to work immediately, there was plenty of sorting out to do.

***

The palace was quite, only the servants whose job was stoking the fire were up this early in the morning. A letter rested on Fyodor's desk, one he had entrusted the veteran servant Igor to deliver to the tsar sometime during the following week. It read as follows: "To His Imperial Majesty: I regret to not have informed you sooner, but I have to absent myself from the palace and my educational duties for the following month, due to circumstances that were outside of my control, there are matters I must turn my attention to immediately. With Regards: Fyodor Dostoevsky".

You had just finished loading your suitcase on the carriage, you were about to climb in it, when a voice stopped you.

"Y/N!" It was a voice you could never mistake to be someone else's.

"Fyodor?" You looked back immediately, and sure enough, the man you loved so sincerely was standing in the shadow of the night, his purple eyes glimmered in the moonlight. You had left each other only a couple hours ago, and yet it was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. You were in your traveling clothes, he had only ever seen you in your work uniform before. It wasn't a fancy outfit, and yet, you looked as beautiful as ever to him.

"моя любимая, get in, we're traveling together" he urged you. Saying you were shocked by his words would be an understatement. "What? What do you mean?"

"Worry not, the coachman is aware, I'll explain everything while we travel" He helped you to sit inside the carriage and he settled next to you in the small space. The horses began galloping, and soon you left the palace's premises. Fyodor began explaining how he had paid off the coachman to allow him to travel with you in secret, and how he set up Igor to deliver his letter about his leave a few days late, so it would raise less suspicion. The only luck they needed was for the princess to keep her mouth shut about the reason of your firing.

"And you figured this all out in a night's time?" You asked, surprised at how clearly he seemed to have thought of everything.

"It took me less than an hour, really. I just needed to get my belongings in order. And I needed to find this" He pulled out a bracelet from his pocket. It was golden, with gemstones decorating its whole surface, it sparkled even in the faint moonlight that peered inside the carriage.

"It's so beautiful...! Where did you find this?" You inquired, in awe of the jewel's beauty.

"I got it as a prize after winning a cards game many decades ago. My opponent thought I was crazy for gambling all my belongings for a single bracelet, but I was quite confident I would've left victorious." He smirked at the memory. "I know a ring or a flower would be more customary in such a situation, but perhaps, for now, this can suffice" he handed you the bracelet. You felt tears in your eyes, having a feeling where this was going.

"I can't accept such a precious jewel, I'm just a handmaid!" you exclaimed.

"You're not anymore, and I don't want you to be that again. Instead, please, I'd like you to become my wife" he asked with a voice so soft you barely heard it. That last sentence did the trick, and you burst into tears.

"You didn't need to offer me jewels to ask me that! You should've known my answer would've always been yes!" You buried your face in his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around your shaking body.

"I did not want to assume, and you deserve all the jewels in the world anyway" He smiled softly as he stroked your hair. He slipped the bracelet on your wrist, you swore in that moment you'd never remove it.

It was almost night time again by the time you reached your village. You got out of the carriage and grabbed your belongings. The coachman left for the nearest town to find an inn to stay in, Fyodor was carrying your bags as he followed you to your house. Your mother saw you arriving from the kitchen window, she immediately dropped what she was doing and ran out to hug you.

"My darling daughter! What happened to you? We did not see you for so long!" she called your father, they were both overjoyed to see you, hugging you and asking you questions. They were so absorbed in the joy of the unexpected reunion that they didn't even notice Fyodor for a while.

"And who might this be?" Asked your mother when she eventually registered his presence. Fyodor stepped forward and politely bowed.

"My name is Fyodor Dostoevsky. I'm a teacher, I work in the same palace as your daughter. We came to visit, because I would like to marry her" he explained quite bluntly, as was normal for him. Your parents nearly fainted. They sent you to Saint Petersburg to work and you return with a could-be husband?

Your parents spent the whole night talking with Fyodor, to get to know this could-be son-in-law that appeared out of nowhere. He pretended to be in his mid-twenties, because that's what he looked like, and explained how he had been in the tsar's service for many years due to his good memory and intelligence, and made up a story about coming from a wealthy enough family to begin with to justify his wealth, which a teacher so "young" could never amass all on his own. When your parents brought up the issue of your dowry being extremely limited, Fyodor politely shook his head. "I need no dowry from your family, I will set it up myself, I just wish to live in her company the rest of my life" he explained. His gaze was soft, but with a hint of melancholy at the thought it wouldn't be his entire life in reality, not even close, but still, the next several decades, he wanted them to be with you. Your parents saw how calm you looked in his presence, how content. Of course, they gave their blessing, and you got married in a small ceremony a week later. The next month was the happiest you had ever been in your entire life, you were together openly, you could kiss and hug whenever, sleep besides each other. The beauty of your singing was amplified by your joy, as you spent your days in the peaceful countryside, Fyodor truly believed he had found heaven on Earth.

A month after your wedding, as Fyodor had planned, he had both of you return to the palace. The tsar was not displeased with his absence, he was such a good teacher after all, it would've been foolish to punish him for such a thing as leaving the palace without prior permission. And surprisingly, he didn't mind he had returned with a wife.

Who minded was that princess you had served, she was fuming the second she saw you walking next to Fyodor, with that stupidly happy smile on your face. To see the maid she fired come back to the palace with a higher status than before irritated her, but there was nothing she could do.

You lived with Fyodor in his quarters, you tried helping with his researches at first, but the material he was studying was much too advanced for you. Instead you started learning to play different instruments, making up short melodies you hummed along too, to keep him company as he worked. Your favourite instrument became a cello that had been abandoned in one of the basements a long time, its deep and gentle notes calmly resonated through the room as your husband studied. You never knew just how much he appreciated your music.

At night, you would go to bed at the same time, but he stayed awake much longer than you. As he held you close, his mind was restlessly thinking about his research. He was trying to figure out the reason why he could never die. He studied texts ordered from western Europe, where some societies were talking about so called "abilities". He found that too positive a definition. His ability was a curse. He had to see the world change so often, and people he cared about wither away. And if someone killed him, he'd reincarnate in their body, the body of the person who took his life. Though you didn't know about this, he had only told you he had a much longer lifespan than was normal. At this point, his conclusion was that abilities were a divine punishment, a trial of sorts, that needed to be passed in life. He needed to get rid of his ability somehow.

You shouldn't have fallen for him. You, a justice-hungry member of the ADA, shouldn't have fallen for a demon. The demon. But maybe that's the whole point. The heavens like to act in unexplainable ways. You had spoken to him just once, for less than a few minutes before he disappeared in the dark of that moonless night. Dazai and Ranpo had figured out where the demon could've been hiding and called you immediately. You had left work early that day, they knew you lived near where they suspected Fyodor's hideout to be. Of course you rushed over, but what you found was a nearly empty building, the only thing left being Fyodor. You exchanged a few words, he was calm, merely telling you you arrived a little too late for a fight, before he slipped away.

"I did not expect the agency to have such a fast moving member, you're like a hare" his Russian accent was very noticeable in his condescending tone. "You should've run little faster though." He smirked, and a chill ran down your spine. You saw he was the only one left there, but who knows where he had hidden his servants.

"You knew we'd sniff out your hiding place...!" You exclaimed. How was he always two steps ahead?!

"You think I wouldn't know if the location of my phone was leaked to someones who shouldn't pry?" He showed you his phone which had been tucked away in his sleeve up until that point, before dropping it. It was already broken before it hit the ground. There would be no recovering anything that was on there. "You should know by now if I wanted to see you detectives, I'd simply show myself. But I don't wish to see you right now. And I don't have the time either. So, goodbye"

"Surrender, Dostoevsky. I'm not afraid to fight you!" You pointed your dagger at him. You had left your firearm at work, what a foolish move on your part.

"I've no interest in fighting you, it would just be a waste of time, for both of us. Perhaps some other time, I'll entertain you. For now, goodnight"

A bloody bullet hit your dagger, knocking it out your hand. You blinked from the shot, and just like that, Fyodor was gone. The servant who shot the bullet was gone to. The building was completely empty. A single thought was in your head. "Why'd you spare me when you could've killed me?"

The next couple days you started feeling weird, something was bothering your throat. You started coughing one day at work...and you found petals in your palm. Your heart sank. Because you knew exactly who the reason was for the disease. You sat still for an hour, then two. Just trying to make sense of it. You liked...Fyodor. But why? How could you? You were on opposite sides of a war. You didn't know much about Hanahaki, it was so rare after all... what you knew was that it could only develop in people that were meant to cross paths. You could see why. You'd never admit to yourself you liked him. But why was it him of all people?! And why were you the one with the disease? Why wasn't it him who got it? Maybe it would've been too easy to kill him that way, you would've simply not returned his feelings and let him choke on those damned roses. Maybe it was cruel irony. He spared you that night only to still kill you indirectly. As reality set in, as you realised what the end stage of your illness could be...god you didn't want to die for him. Not him. Why him of all people?The first few days you had a fire in you, you wanted to find him and take him down as quickly as possible, all while hiding the petals from your co-workers. But as the days passed, you choked up more petals, as you laid awake in your bed at night, you started thinking. You hated him. You hated his actions. Deeply.

Maybe that's why you got ill and not him.

Could it be possible he didn't hate you? Could it be possible he didn't have any ill feelings towards you at all? If he simply felt nothing towards you, developing feelings wouldn't clash with his established beliefs. You on the other hand hated him. You could accept the fact...you could love him. That way you'd be cured.

You burst into tears in your bed. You heaved as the flowers choked you from inside, but it was nothing compared to the realization; could you really love a monster? He was a terrorist. He killed many. He didn't act the way your religion commanded at all. But what if his motives justified it, somehow? What if he had a really good reason? A reason nobody knew...No, it didn't make sense, but you needed a way to accept your feelings. And yet you simply found no way to.

Your health declined. Eventually your co-workers started to notice, eventually Yosano took you aside. "What's your deal? You've been coughing up a lung for weeks now!"

"I've been coughing up more than just a lung..." You muttered, too tired to hide anymore.

"what do you mean, Y/N?"

"This." You said through gritted teeth while showing her a flower you had hidden in your pocket after coughing it up. "This is what I mean." You confessed, voice strained. Yosano was shocked.

"I knew you loved deeply, but deep enough to develop Hanahaki?" She asked quietly. You nodded, although you didn't love him, did you?

"You know there's only one cure ...do you think...?"

"I'll try."

"Trying isn't enough, Y/N. Succeed. We can't lose you" her voice turned very serious.

"just ... keep my condition secret" you muttered.

Weeks went by, you stopped going in to work. You'd lay down in a clean bed at night, only for it to be filled with petals by the next morning. Why did God's plan for you include falling for him? You spent days crying. Then you got up and went out. You roamed the streets for days. Searching. Looking.

Until you finally saw him. You didn't know where he was headed. You didn't know where he came from. But it was him. You had tunnel vision, you walked to him, dagger in hand, even if you were too weak to use it. He heard your steps and turned around.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, he looked uneasy. He didn't expect to be seen, least of all by you. "How did you find me"

"I looked...I looked for you... because you must die..."

"Me? Why do you threaten me so, when you look so weak?" Just as he said that, your dagger slipped out your hand, blood started dripping from your lips.

"Because it's your fault..." You mumbled through gritted teeth, your voice broken. You coughed flowers out your mouth. "This is your fault." Your eyes were teary, desperate.

And for the first time since knowing of his existence... He looked surprised. Shocked, even. You leaned against the wall behind you and sunk to the floor, too in pain to stand. You closed your eyes, blood and flowers dripping from your lips. You were ready to exhale your last breath. You heard him step closer, then kneeling in front of you. "Great," you thought, "He'll kill me with his own hands..." But then you felt first, a touch of fingers on your cheek, your skin quivered under the cool digits. Then you felt the warmth of his lips replacing them. He kissed you. He kissed your bloody lips, and bit down on the petals still hanging from your mouth, dragging them out before swallowing them, like a unique kind of eucharist.

"Who am I to deny the will of god?" He smiled. "They say sharing burdens makes them lighter, or in our case, disappear altogether" he brushed his fingers against your cheek again. You inhaled once, twice and...you could breathe again. All the flowers, petals and thorns, all gone. You looked at his face. He looked calm, too calm, as your blood colored his lips. But he didn't look malicious. He looked sincere, for once. You just stared at each other as you caught your breath, then slowly, you sunk into another kiss. So soft, and quiet, and in a way, pure. His hands didn't feel cold anymore. His purple eyes glimmered with humanity, feeling, not the cold logic that usually defined him. And when he held you? You felt at home, for the first time in forever.

***

The next couple days you spent them together. You had gone back to your apartment, where he saw just how many flowers rested on the shelves.

"All your doing" you muttered.

"You didn't throw them out? The cause of your suffering?" he inquired, quite surprised.

"I felt...bad for them, after a while. I wanted to at least make my space a bit nicer looking."

"You keep surprising me" he said softly. Those couple of days you spent talking, understanding each other. You'd fall asleep when you were still talking under the covers. You'd hug him close, so you'd feel at home. You loved him, you truly did. And he loved you too, he was completely different when it came to you. He quietly made you disappear from society, hiding you in his shadow. He didn't ask for any information about the ADA, you weren't a bargaining chip to him, you were simply his lover. He would always leave for his missions at dawn, when you were still asleep, and he'd come back in the evening just before you fell asleep. Even if your time together was limited, it didn't seem to matter, you just simply enjoyed every spare minute together.