His thoughts must have been enough to silence the outside world. The voices and steps and music. Because the next thing he knew, there was a hand on his arm, forcing him to turn around with a force that only matched an owner accusing him of theft.  

He was clearly shocked when he turned around. More shocked when he was met with the smiling face of you.  

"Oh, I knew it!" your voice was excited and bright. You touched a hand to your chest. "Oh, Benjamin, it's so good to see you!" 

Dmitry paused. Benjamin?  

You paused, a clear moment of disappointment pulling at your features that you clearly tried to mask. "It's me! Remember?" 

You said your name like Dmitry would have heard it a thousand times. It was still a mystery to him.  

"You have to be joking," you continued. "You're going to stand there and pretend that you don't recognize someone that you practically grew up with?" 

Dmitry could not have given a reasonable explanation for what came out of his mouth if someone had held him at gun point, "Ah, yes! I'm sorry! My eyes must be getting weaker with my old age." 

You scoffed and hit his arm. "You are the same age as I am and I recognized you from across the road, Benjamin. I appreciate your jokes and tricks even less now than I did when we were children." 

He took a beat to come up with the best course of action here, "You're right, I'm so sorry, dear friend." 

He didn't have a reason for the kindness that he was showing to this stranger, but he found it hard to care about such reasoning when you stepped forward and hugged him.  

The hug was warm. Familiar despite him having no true history with you. Was this your way? To hug people as if they were the most important person you had ever met? Dmitry was beginning to feel jealous of this long-lost Benjamin.  

"I have missed you so much," you mumbled to him. The words were so sweet he could have been convinced that honey was poured directly into his ear. He could have melted.  

You stepped back and his mind was still spinning.  

"Oh, I wish I wasn't so busy." you frowned at him. "My mother has given me a whole list. We must find some time to spend together." 

"Of course," he agreed, assuming that such a time would never come.  

"I have a great idea!" you grabbed his arm. Those words didn't always lead to the best conclusions for him. "Meet me in this spot tomorrow at this time. We can go great something from a nearby shop. How does that sound?" 

"Sounds perfect," he replied, already planning on how to avoid the area tomorrow. "I'll see you then." 

"See you then!" 

You gave him one more hug before rushing off again. And in a matter of fleeting seconds, you had left some kind of mark on Dmitry. One that he may never understand and may never want to.  

He never planned to go back to that spot. Never. He planned to spend the next several days avoiding the area with every ounce of his power.  

But something drew him back.  

Maybe it was some deep desire to show you kindness. Maybe it was his loneliness pushing him.  

All that he knew was that he somehow found himself walking slowly to that very same spot the next day.  

One of the most vivid memories he would have in his life would be the bright smile on your face when you saw him again. He got another hug that made it feel like whatever poor choice he was making was definitely worth it.  

You two spent the day roaming. Walking from place to place. You would tell stories. Dmitry would agree with them. Laugh in the right places, agree in the right places. It was an old skill for him at this point. Not something new for him.  

A good person would have never let it get to this point.  

A somewhat good person would have never let it go past the first day.  

Instead, Dmitry came back the next day.  

And the next.  

And soon he had met you every day for a week.  

You would walk at times. You would find small shops for treats and food that Dmitry would have never dreamed of stepping foot in. There was one day when you sat together and you simply read to him. For hours. And he loved every second of it.  

He continued to laugh and agree with your stories and memories. At some point, it began to feel less like lying and more like he simply was Benjamin. That he had stripped the skin from himself and wore this Benjamin's face around like a silly mask.  

He told himself every night that it would be the last time that he saw you. But every morning, he would find himself justifying turning that corner, walking down that road, smiling when he met your eyes. As if a force called him to you. As if you were some kind of siren creature and your song was kindness instead of calling Dmitry to his death.  

Dmitry had never planned on telling you the truth. Truly, he didn't. He thought that one day he would allow "Benjamin" to disappear into the crowd and never be seen again.  

And then, you invited him to dinner.  

It was after your day spent together. The second where you had spent most of the time simply reading to him.  

You had made it back to the usual meeting spot. At some point, he had grabbed your hand. Likely when helping you up from where you two had been resting before. He had no reason for why he had yet to let go. 

He was ready to say his goodbyes and continue on his way. He would probably do the same thing as last time: promise to not go back tomorrow but be there bright and early to keep you company.  

But you spoke before he could even entertain that plan, "I should have asked you earlier, but my mother is making a lovely dinner tonight. She asked me to invite you." 

Dmitry's voice failed him for the first time in a long time.  

"Obviously, if you do not want to go, then you don't have to, but I would like for you to," you added.  

He took a breath.  

His momentary hesitation was enough to get you to attempt to escape the silly idea, "You know what? Never mind, ignore what I said-" 

"I need to be honest with you." 

Dmitry didn't let go of your hand, unable to unclasp his fingers to allow you a chance to leave him if you were angry. You stared at him with big, expectant eyes.  

He paused. It was as if the wide-eyed look you gave him was enough to stop him dead in his tracks for a few seconds.  

"What," you asked.  

He took a breath. "I'm not Benjamin." 

It was your turn to pause. Just for a few moments before you spoke up again, "I must be honest with you then." 

His eyebrows furrowed at your sentence.  

"I knew that already." 

Dmitry's jaw fell slack at your confession. "You knew? How could you have possibly known?" 

"I had my suspicion on the second day when you seemed to hate that pastry we got," you explained with a simple shrug of your shoulders. "Then, I started slipping in a few... telltales about our- or my childhood and you would just agree with everything." 

He ran his free hand over his face. Again, he had never pulled his hand out of yours.  

"My parents are aware, as well," you added.  

"Why never confront me? Why not say something?" 

You tilted your head, as if studying him. "You seemed as if you needed it." 

He looked confused.  

"You seemed lonely," you admitted. "Every time I saw you, you seemed lost. And who would keep up such a ridiculous act where the only prize was company, if they weren't lonely?" 

There was no response.  

"Come," you said, tugging on his hand. "My mother has spent ages making sure dinner was good enough to impress you." 

The idea of someone putting so much thought into doing something for him- to impress him- was enough to shock Dmitry into simply following along as you guided him.  

You twirled him through turns and crowds as if you had choreographed the walk beforehand, and he had merely missed rehearsals.  

"Wait!" his voice was sharp enough to spook himself. You too had hit a barren stretch of road.  

You turned around with a small laugh tickling your lips. "What could you possibly need now? Have we not gone over- Oh!" 

He dragged you into a hug. A strong hug. Almost stronger than the one that you had given him on that first day you had seen him in the street.  

There may never be a time when Dmitry feels safe enough to explain everything to you. The story of Ana and Vlad and the great con that almost was. About fleeing and the ballet and being left alone on that bridge. But he was beginning to believe that you would never ask him to. Not until he was ready.  

Because for now, you were hugging him back. Holding him as if he were an old friend. As if he hadn't lied about who he was. As if he hadn't given you every reason not to show him an ounce of kindness.  

And that one action may be enough to keep him out of that fog that he had spent so long stuck in. 

------------------------

Tag lists:

Overall - @daisydark @geeksareunique @qardasngan

------------------------

Some Important Causes:

GLAAD - LGBTQIA+ Organization

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

CHIRLA - Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights

Before I could even respond, he was practically dragging me further into the alley, his hand tight around my wrist. Once I had gotten my feet under me, I followed him easily as we wound through the buildings, the noises growing more and more distant.

Finally Dmitry slowed to a walk and released me. Without a word, he led me to another dilapidated building and pulled back a loose board covering an opening in the wall. He motioned for me to go in and I ducked through the hole.

Inside was minimal furniture; a table with one leg that was shorter than the others which caused it to tilt, two chairs, and a makeshift bed made of a pile of blankets.

“What the hell were you doing out there?!” Dmitry demanded, his jaw tense as he pulled his gloves off and tossed them to the side. His dark eyes never left me, though, waiting on an explanation.

“I-I was walking home from work and got distracted,” I stammered.

He mumbled something incoherently as he shook his head. “You know you can’t lower your guard out there. They may say it’s a new Russia, but we both know it’s just as dangerous as before.”

I didn’t know what to say in return so I turned my attention to my hands, my fingers twisting the fabric of my coat. Dmitry just let out a sigh and moved over to a corner of the room, retrieving something from a cabinet that I hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, his voice no longer harsh.

My stomach rumbled and I quickly pressed my hands against it. Dmitry was like me; I knew he didn’t have much and I didn’t want to take even a portion of what he had. He had already done enough for me.

I shook my head, “I’m fine.”

He gave me a look as he cracked open a can of beans and set it down on the table, gesturing to the other seat. “Sit.”

I didn’t argue and quickly claimed the seat, giving him a small, but grateful smile as I took a bite. Then I pushed the can towards him so he could have some, too.

“Where were you going?” he asked after he’d taken a bite, noticeably smaller than mine.

“Home.”

“And where’s that?”

“The old Malevitch palace.” Dmitry lowered his spoon and his eyebrows furrowed once more, but I ignored it. “My old place got ransacked so some of the girls from work invited me to stay with them. It’s crowded sometimes, but it keeps me out of the streets,” I shrugged.

We ate some more of the beans in silence until there was only the sound of my spoon hitting the bottom of the can. Now that the food was gone, there was nothing to do with my hands so I once again fiddled with the hem of my jacket.

“Well, um...I should head out. Thanks for the beans and uh...you know, helping me out back there,” I stammered, my eyes intently glued to the table. I managed to look up and send him a quick, tight smile before pushing the chair back to stand. The legs made a horrible scraping noise against the stone floor.

“You’re not going out there,” Dmitry spoke calmly, pausing me in my place. “It’s too dark out there now for you to be walking alone.”

I laughed without humor and rolled my eyes. “I can handle myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

But he already knew that. We’d met when we were young; he was at the key selling stolen souvenirs to unknowing tourists, using his charm and that dimple to sucker them in. I, on the other hand, was singing for whatever money I could get in hopes of managing enough for a decent meal. I hated having to steal.

Now here we were, two orphans now turned into adults still scraping by and trying to survive in this “new” Russia.

“I know you can,” Dmitry scoffed. “But it doesn’t mean you have to. Stay here tonight and you can head home tomorrow.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he gave me a look that had me clamping it shut again. There were just times that you didn’t argue with him. “You can have the bed,” he nodded towards the makeshift pallet before stepping over to poke at the small fire he had going. It didn’t heat the place much, but it was something.

I gave in and did as he told me to, walking over to sit on the pallet so I could untie my boots. By the time I’d laid down and pulled a blanket over myself, Dmitry had slipped back on his coat and was sitting in one of the chairs, arms crossed tightly over his chest. I would’ve said something about him sleeping there, but again...there were times you didn’t argue. So I just closed my eyes and sleep found me quickly.

I didn’t notice that I was shivering that badly; it was an almost nightly occurrence. But apparently my teeth starting chattering loud enough that it woke Dmitry. I only stirred when I felt the blanket lift behind me and I cowered from the cool breeze it let in. But then it was around me once more and there was a new warmth pressed against my back. I cracked my eyes open and peeked over my shoulder, only to be met by a head of shaggy, brown hair.

It wasn't immediately after his departure that (Y/n) started to worry, but by midday, they were pacing. The cold seeped beneath their skin, the snow obscured their vision, and the wind rattled (Y/n)'s thoughts as though their worries were two spiders in a jar, only waiting for a reason to tear the other apart. What was once a layer of snow became a mountain, the storm having deposited so much weather, walking through it would be like wading through water. By now, the ice was thick and the wind was terrible - all it would take is one small step in the wrong direction, and Dmitry would never come home.

Part of (Y/n) insisted that Dmitry was strong and stubborn, and he was especially bullheaded when it came to them. Not even Death himself could stop Dmitry from coming home - a blizzard like this stood no chance. Not when Dmitry's smile was like the sun itself - able to quell any storm into submission, able to burn the frost off of (Y/n)'s aching heart, able to bring something as beautiful as summer in the dead of winter. 

For Dmitry, the snow would be a minor inconvenience in a world pitted against him from the beginning. One storm was nothing to worry about.

But another part of (Y/n), a more conniving and sinister force within them, said otherwise. This world was cruel to people like them; hope could turn its back on them easier and faster than breathing. Rarely did the world take pity on the likes of them, and even rarer did it give them the smallest of sympathies. Dmitry had been a boon against the ceaseless tide of misfortune; perhaps (Y/n)'s blessings had run out. It wouldn't be the first time (Y/n) lost someone, and it wouldn't be the last.

But could they survive losing Dmitry? Or would he steal everything they were, with his swift departure?

Already, (Y/n) could feel themself slipping away, just like Dmitry had, that morning.

Thud.

Something hit the door with a force that could knock the old wood off of its hinges, had Dmitry not fortified it with everything he had. (Y/n) jumped at the abrupt sound, and their heart ran a marathon in their chest.

Thud.

(Y/n) unbolted the door and the wind knocked them back, whistling and moaning, ushering in frozen snow and icy sleet. Dmitry, wrapped in the thinnest of coats, stumbled in, and together they pushed the door shut.

The door clicked in place, but the wind still battered against its frame. For a moment, all (Y/n) could hear was heavy breathing and the wails of a ghostly, vengeful wind.

Dmitry, his cheeks so cold they almost looked purple, breathed against his curled fingers. When he caught (Y/n)'s stare, still panicked despite his presence, he offered a lame smile. "Back before the worst of it?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and shaking.

(Y/n) breathed out, a mix between relief and exasperation, "You...Dima..." He turned to them, laughter in his eyes, and (Y/n) could feel the tension in this chest start to dissipate. He was safe, and somehow in his usual spirits. How was it that he managed to nearly die and laugh all the while? (Y/n) shook their head, trying to stuff down the happiness that was growing in their chest. "I'm going to kill you."

"Oh?"

(Y/n) lunged to the side, moving to grab him by his collar, but Dmitry shot forward and quickly turned around, putting his freezing hands on the back of (Y/n)'s neck. They cringed and cried out a string of shrill expletives and Dmitry pulled (Y/n) to his frigid chest, his clothes stiff from frost but thawing already.

Dmitry kissed their cheek - just like he had earlier that morning, and his lips were cold and chapped.

"You promised you'd be home sooner."

"I recall saying 'before the worst of it' and seeing as there's no way to tell exactly what the worst of it is—"

"Dima!"

He chuckled, and (Y/n) could feel the rumble in his chest, the feeling somehow warm, despite it all. (Y/n) closed their eyes and allowed for their fear to melt off of their heart, for their thoughts to calm to contentment. Standing there, (Y/n) waited until all they could feel was the beat of Dmitry's heart.

"We need to get you out of these clothes."

"That's rather forward of you."

(Y/n) smacked the arm that was wrapped around them and he laughed again, the sound loud enough to cover the wind.

They rolled their eyes. "So you don't get sick, Dmitry."

"That's not nearly as fun."

But Dmitry untangled himself from their embrace and got to work stripping off layers of wet clothing - jackets, scarves, and socks - and (Y/n) found him another set of clothes to wear. It was still cold, and with little else to do, (Y/n) and Dmitry settled into bed prematurely, talking in hushed voices. It was dark and peaceful, and while (Y/n) couldn't see Dmitry's face, they could tell by the sound of his voice that he was tired.

After hearing about Vlad's latest adventure, sneaking valuables from the abandoned palace, (Y/n) closed their eyes with a smile. Silence wrapped the two souls comfortably, shielding them from the weather that raged above and the uncertainty that swirled around. For a moment, (Y/n) thought that Dmitry had fallen asleep, but then he spoke, his voice almost dreamy - thick and far away, soft but sure.

"I'm the happiest I've ever been."

(Y/n) hummed, not daring to open their eyes, lest the spell be broken and they find out it had all been a dream.

"I blame you for it."

(Y/n) opened their eyes and shifted to the side so that they could see Dmitry's smiling face, his gentle features reflecting a pure, and beautiful bliss. "You blame me?"

Dmitry dipped his head in a nod. "I mean, I could blame my good looks for it, but that's not nearly as fun." (Y/n) scoffed, and in the dim light of the storm, they thought Dmitry winked. 

"Well, I blame all of you for my happiness - good looks included."

"I'm glad," Dmitry murmured, and he leaned forward to kiss them gently, like the sun kissing the earth; all the universe seemed to pause for Dmitry to pull away so that the two might have calm in their precious moment.

Dmitry closed his eyes to sleep and (Y/n) came closer, kissing his eyelids before allowing themself to drift off, as well.