#mathildaxspencer

Yuriy has mastered the art of ignoring others' eyes on him. Easily walking by as if he's clueless of their attention on him. Even if the fact that they were staring was something he noticed before the person themselves knew their eyes were trailing him.

Observant as he is.

During Yuriy´s early childhood, he’d get looks of hatred and disgust as he lived, or barely survived, in the streets. Wearing old and tattered clothes, pale skin almost grey because of malnutrition, and blue eyes desperately searching for help as passerbys continued to choose not to see him. At times, the hatred in strangers´ eyes was better than being ignored. When they pretended not to see the misery Yuriy was in he ended up feeling like he was already dead.

Soon, Yuriy learned of another kind of fear. The fear that came from those who were threatened by his skill in the bey dish, fear because of the harsh fates waiting for them if they lost to him in the days of the Abbey. Once that first child lost terribly to Yuriy, and was never seen again, his peers started to respect him. Respect born from fear.

As Yuriy and his brothers were manipulated and tricked to threaten the safety of the world, he was looked on as both a hero and a monster. A hero who´d give Russia the top spot in Beyblade again.And as something a little less than human, perhaps closer to a cyborg, leading the world towards its demise while being seemingly void of much emotion. Perhaps only rivaled by how power hungry Kai had gotten together with Black Dranzer. Or even by Boris after that match against Rei. Boris had been Balkov´s triumph card. The man is still recovering from the lack of love he got from a young age, and to learn to handle his growing emotions just as his rage.

Today the world knows how all of it ended, and who to thank for their safety and freedom: the Bladebreakers.

After the Demolition Boys´ loss, people started to look at them with yet a new set of eyes. The eyes of those who viewed them as victims of manipulation, of harsh childhoods. Often with pity. It never suited Yuriy. Being a victim. Rather, he aimed for them to be seen as young, free and brave men redeeming themselves and growing into something better. Growing into the people they want to be now when they have a real shot at it.

Survivors.

Today, Yuriy is well trained in observing strangers and deciding whether or not they´re sincere when approaching his team. If they truly want to get to know them, or if they want something from them. Regretfully the Russians often decide it's safer to assume people are out to hurt them than blindly letting strangers into their lives.

It´s a snowy and cold day in Moscow, Russia. The air is crisp, cold and dry. Chilling to the bone. A good winter's day, with a clear blue sky telling of an even colder night ahead. Probably with stars. The streets are busy with people. Families, couples, children playing around. At a corner of a smaller street a coffee shop recently opened, carrying a foreign brand of coffee to Russia.

To the untrained eye Yuriy´s pale face appears indifferent as he thanks the young woman accompanying him for holding the door open. He's carrying some of the things they bought today. Books. Clothes. Some new toys for his pet dog. However, even if he might look like he'd rather be somewhere else, his eyes tell of a new kind of warmth as he looks at his female companion. An attentiveness few earn from him.

Yuriy´s presence has stirred people to life it seems. Staff greets him with almost spooked expressions and “Hi!”s. They must be newly hired, since the shop has just been around for a few weeks. It instantly sours his mood, as he much prefers workers to treat him like any other customer. From that point Yuriy makes sure it seems like he pays little attention to the people around them, but only after he shows his appreciation with a slight nod of his head. There´s this middle ground he has found as of late. Looking strangers in the eye as they gawk at him while fighting nerves. Some are his fans, and they pay a bit of his paycheck through watching his matches. Supporting him and his family. No matter how Yuriy looks at it, his fans matter, they all do in beyblading. Not all of them are stalkers, or want to hurt him or those closest to him. Even if it is hard to remember that sometimes.

The woman with him takes the lead to a small two-seater table at the back corner of the shop. Fairly isolated, yet with a view towards the street outside. She's always considerate like that. Sitting down with his back against the wall and a good view over the coffee shop, Yuriy´s eyes settle at the woman in front of him. The scent of sweet fruits washes over him. Nothing too overpowering. She takes off her coat, observant eyes darting around the place as she too notices the eyes on them. Unlike Yuriy, she can’t hide her discomfort. Yuriy has already deemed the room safe. The usual quick sweep of the eyes he does every time he arrives somewhere, especially somewhere new. Checking where the exits are, if there’s anyone suspicious around. Old habits are hard to break, and this one he won't try to: it has saved him before. Yuriy lets out a soft sigh as he allows himself to relax in his chair. Body grows heavier as he sinks into his seat. Knees falling apart ever so slightly. The only threat in this room seems to be awed struck fans, and those he can handle. At least well enough to make his friend enjoy their short coffee break.

Although Yuriy appears relaxed, his body language erects a barrier between his safe bubble with his friend and the people around them. Nothing about Yuriy is inviting. He leaves no room for strangers to think it's suitable for a quick chat or to ask about a signature: his focus is on his company. The girl in front of him tries to hide the fact that the attention from strangers gets to her, and Yuriy can´t help but imagine what the fans around them think as they see how she squirms in her seat. How they draw the wrong conclusions. The Russian offers her a hint of a smile in an attempt at making her feel more comfortable. If her attention is on him, Yuriy knows she´ll be able to relax and enjoy herself as well.

Ever since his brother started dating her, no one has seemed to want to accept their relationship for what it is. At first, not even Yuriy. The girl in the chair across from Yuriy is called Mathilda Alster. A young woman with a petite frame, big eyes and soft short pink hair. She is still red in the cheeks from the cold outside. Mathilda holds the hot cocoa she ordered tightly in both of her hands as if her fingers would turn into ice if she didn’t. That, or, it´s another sign of her nerves. Yuriy frowns slightly at the sight. Mathilda has been with them in Russia for over a week, and it seems like even the thick clothes he and his brothers helped her get doesn’t keep her warm enough out in the dry cold. It's the major reason why the two of them ended up shopping for clothes together.

Mathilda can't continue to wear her boyfriend´s shirts and hoodies once she gets cold. It works at their home, but not out and about, as most clothes that's supposed to end by the hips reach her mid-thighs or lower. Every borrowed t-shirt ends up a dress.

And Yuriy can't have her get sick.

”...I don’t really go to these kinds of places often, so it’s making them excited.” Yuriy says flatly, talking about the other people who keep stealing glances at them.

The fans are watching from a respectable distance so far, luckily. Yuriy is a very well-known face in Russia but he doesn't doubt people have realized just who is with him. The red haired man crosses a leg over the other and sips at his coffee, adding a bit of milk after a moment as he finds it just a bit too bitter for his liking. Something his teammates surely would judge him for. They always have their coffee black, black as their souls, as Boris says. A part of Yuriy regrets going to a crowded coffee shop during daytime. He loves coffee, but he´d normally have gotten it on the go or brewed it himself at home. However, Mathilda wanted to go for a snack after they were done with what they needed to do in town... so here they are. Not like Yuriy could deny her that when she looked so hopeful, so eager to spend just a little bit of more time together. Without really demanding anything but some of his time and company.

Before they set out this morning Mathilda had told Yuriy she'd keep him company, and that she had something she wanted to tell him. A secret. It made Yuriy curious. Mathilda might be someone who’d never tell someone else´s secret but she wouldn’t be able to hide that she is in fact, hiding something.

”So, you said earlier that there was something on your mind.” Yuriy asks at last.

Usually, the two of them have these kinds of conversations back at home. During Mathilda´s stays with them it has become a habit to gather around the kitchen table, having tea or coffee with something sweet and just talk. Even if she could just lock herself up in his brother's room and spend all the time with him, Mathilda put effort into getting to know all of them better. Never once voicing she thought their lifestyles were odd, but asking if she could help out with meals and chores while she lived with them. After a few days, they realized that all of them had breakfast, lunch and dinner together at the same hours a day. Even if their work, school, or individual practises were scheduled differently. Mathilda had observed, and made a good schedule that´d suit their hectic life-style. Before that, it had mainly been Sergei and Yuriy who were responsible for any home cooked meal. This change resulted in Yuriy and Mathilda growing closer, spending more time together, and learning each other's habits and likes and dislikes.

Today Mathilda was a little bit too eager to help Yuriy with his errands. She seemed almost anxious to get away from the three other men as she spoke with him in a low voice in the hallway. Asking if she could come with. Mathilda would often be content staying back reading when her boyfriend was at his part time job, or hanging out with whoever was at home, but Yuriy didn´t mind that she wanted his company. He has come to enjoy hers, and found the way she seemed to want to rely on him quite endearing.

However, he's certain whatever she's trying so hard to keep a secret has something to do with her boyfriend. It had left him feeling a bit uneasy for a while, as he's concerned it´d be something negative. Yuriy might not be able to admit it yet but he would miss her if Mathilda ever broke up with his friend. His thoughts straying to if it would work staying in touch even if it happened.

Mathilda´s cheeks end up getting a bit redder at Yuriy´s question. Her embarrassment and shyness is always refreshing, especially since it has never stopped her from doing what she wants in the end.

Leaning his chin in the palm of his hand, Yuriy leans forward over the table. Elbow resting just at the edge. ”Do I … really want to know?” Yuriy asks at last, the corner of his lips turning upward in a smirk.

Judging by Mathilda´s expression this won't be about a break up.

Even if Yuriy´d consider Mathilda to be something like an addition to his family by now, it wasn't always that way. It was something that happened gradually over time, until she was included with no questions asked.

Yuriy had learned to be observant from a very young age. It didn’t take long for the captain of the Russian team to notice that someone was getting uncomfortably close to the tight, sturdy and often very solid barrier of safety he had erected around his team. The intruder was that of a young woman, a woman he knew almost nothing about, during a beyblade tournament where their teams were rivals. Every team was the enemy in a sense.

Yuriy´s eyes soon followed Mathilda every time she was around, looking for any signs of ill intent while a small lump of anxiety grew in his chest. That lump grew in size as he realized she had been around for much longer than he had known. Rude as he sometimes can be, he genuinely decided it must have been because of her lack of presence that he at first didn’t take notice of her. She was always in the background, quiet and didn't take up much space. Not an opponent he´d have to worry about in the dish, but if he was going to be fair, his focus had been on other players.

Eventually he was informed about her, and that they had actually been in the same tournament once before. Alongside the fact that her team had too been victims of greedy and manipulative adults.

As Yuriy continued to observe Mathilda, he noted yet again that Mathilda was neither tall nor had a strong build. Her body, and eyes, showed her emotions as if she was an open book for everyone to read. He also realized that Mathilda was always observing too. Always conscious, self-conscious. With a build like that, and emotions so easy to read, Yuriy concluded that Mathilda wouldn´t become a threat to them physically. Whatever she threw at them in the dish or outside of it they'd know ahead of time and be able to counter. Yet, soon, he also realized that she might come too close in a completely different way than he expected.

Mathilda had her eyes set on Sergei.

With a risk to sound egocentric, Yuriy thought of how there have been people in the past who had tried to befriend, for example Sergei or Ian, with hopes of getting let into the Russians´ circle for their own personal gain or to even end up in his or Boris´ bed. Ian has always been the teammate most strangers assumed to be the easiest one to get close to. Often getting played in return as Ian has through bad experiences learned how people wanted to use him. All it took was for the short man to get excited over a friendship only to realize he wasn't the one the person was really there for. Others thought Sergei could be their key in. For some reason, many interpreted his silence for lack of depth, and assumed he´d accept almost any positive attention shown his way. They often realized their mistake when the usually gentle giant showed signs of irritation, and they realized just how intimidating the oldest and tallest member of the team could be.

It took Yuriy a while to realize that Mathilda was having a thing for Sergei. Even if her skin grew red with embarrassment, her voice cracking, she kept on approaching his brother with small conversations. Eyes were bright with delight as Sergei eventually started to return her greetings. Answered her questions, even if he seemed a bit put off balance by the attention and the fact that the girl didn´t stop approaching him.

Yuriy trusted Sergei to shoot her down if he felt she was overstepping, and he forced himself to let it go, only for him to see the two together more often. The lump of anxiety in his chest grew larger. Now, would this tiny girl, who sometimes stuttered out of nerves, be that cunning, to get close to Sergei with a false promise of.... affections... to later hurt him? Hurt their team? Yuriy didn´t want to take any chances. Yuriy knew Sergei had his walls up just like himself. He might seem approachable, at least the most approachable one out of his other teammates, just for the person trying to strike up a conversation feel like they're facing a cold brick wall. However, Yuriy could tell that Sergei´s walls were starting to crack around Mathilda.

Soon Sergei allowed her into his space, closer than any other stranger, and would expect Mathilda to be around. His steel blue eyes searched for her when she wasn't there when he expected her to be. How the quick meetings in the shared kitchen area of their hotel floor turned into longer and longer conversations over tea and coffee.

At one point Yuriy had felt Mathilda´s Captain Miguel´s eyes on him from across the dining area as they had both observed the same thing, and Yuriy felt annoyed. For once not so much over that Sergei and Mathilda were getting closer, but because of how cautious Miguel´s eyes had been. As if he was telling Yuriy to make sure his team behaved.

It didn't take long for Mathilda´s name to leave Sergei´s mouth around his team. It had made them grow quiet, because it had been rare for any of them to have plans with others outside of their small circle. Boris was the first one to break the silence as he made a crude joke about Sergei´s and Mathilda´s difference in size and that Sergei should be careful not to crush her. Boris deserved the death stare Sergei gave him after that.

Yuriy kept fighting his unease, believing that Sergei knew what he was doing, while also getting ready to act if things got out of hand.

The first time Mathilda ate with them she was very nervous, Yuriy could tell, the whole world could tell, but she still sat there with them and tried. Tried to keep up with conversations even if Boris was rude, and spoke mostly in Russian in a childish way to exclude her. Something Yuriy wouldn´t accept, as he instead used the lunch to talk to her. Gently poke her to see if there was any ill intent, testing the waters.

What in the end convinced Yuriy Mathilda was safe and good for his brother was the way she reacted to Sergei getting hurt. It was a minor injury: Sergei had stepped badly during practise and damaged his ankle. Leaving him with a swollen foot and a bad limp he tried to cover as well as he could among strangers. Somehow Mathilda saw through his pretense and realized he was hurt. The usually quiet girl had stopped Sergei as he and Boris were walking past her in the hallway. Voice a bit high-pitched as she asked about Sergei´s limp, and grew almost pushy as Boris told her it was nothing. As he told her to back off.

Mathilda had spent that evening sitting by Sergei’s feet cooling the swelling of his injury with ice and cold water. Yuriy had only realized this when he returned from a meeting with the BBA. The worry he saw on her face wasn’t an act. The challenge in her eyes as she looked at him and his team while staying by Sergei’s side, daring them to ask her to leave, was her true feelings.

Yuriy´s eyes narrow a fraction. He swirls the tablespoon in his now half-empty coffee cup, and tilts his head to the side while taking in Mathilda's sincere expression. Her face tells him that whatever secret she is hiding her nerves is from excitement and not out of anxiety.

“Our one year anniversary is coming up.” Mathilda starts slowly, her cheeks seeming to get even redder as she tries to word her thoughts as she wants them. “And I'm… trying to decide what I can do for him in celebration.”

Yuriy´s expression softens slightly, his concern fading. “...A year already?” He asks, feeling calm again. The thought that something between Sergei and Mathilda had turned bad had made him feel strangely uneasy. The man mentally sighs at himself. Focus returning to the current conversation and not what he dreads of the future. It feels like he met Mathilda just yesterday, at the same time as he feels as if they have known each other for several years already.

Anniversaries. Yuriy hasn´t thought much about it, but have they ever celebrated things like that, him and his family? They do keep track of a few dates, when things changed for the better for them. Boris is usually the one bringing out the alcohol. They always made sure to celebrate each other's birthdays as well. Celebrating they´re still getting older, living. Being free. Sergei was the first of them to get into a serious relationship. This is all new.

“Sergei probably won't expect anything…” Yuriy trails off slightly. “You have a good shot at surprising him, Mathilda.”

Mathilda has been patient and gentle as she guides Sergei through his first relationship. Yuriy thinks Sergei might not be Mathilda´s first love, but her first in many other ways, and they could experience it together at their own pace.

Sergei rarely wants something for himself, or expects others to do things for him. Emotions that Yuriy has seen grow since he started seeing Mathilda, as the man too learned he wanted her attention in different ways. Sergei had gone from only making sure others were alright to having someone, outside of family, who’d get worried sick about him. Who he would fight wars to keep happy and safe.

Mathilda smiles at Yuriy´s answer, and she seems pleased about what he just told her even if it didn't solve her problem of what to get Sergei in the end. Yuriy wonders what she has planned for her boyfriend. Warmth grows in him as he knows that Sergei now has more dates to remember and celebrate. Just like he too has a reason to spoil yet another person, Mathilda, when he wants to.

“I thought of… kidnapping him for a day, taking him to our favorite places, eat his favorite foods… “ Mathilda speaks, excited. “And-- … “ “You want us to be… somewhere else that day?” Yuriy asks with a slight smirk. The smirk is quite natural as he´ s amused imagining how Mathilda would ´kidnap´ Sergei.

“N-no!” Mathilda exclaims, understanding what her friend means. If they want some more privacy, just for them. “Well, it would be nice but--… “

“I'm sure I can get Boris and Ian out of the house for one evening…” Yuriy continues to playfully tease her.

A low buzz in Yuriy´s pocket makes him reach down for his phone, looking at the screen for just a moment.“Sergei´s off work, he's coming to pick us up on the way home.” Yuriy is thankful as he would rather not get on the public transport again today.

Mathilda nods, clearly thinking time must have passed quickly today, as she too checks her phone. Red cheeks slowly return to a normal shade as her embarrassment fades. Mathilda had neglected her phone simply because she was focused on Yuriy today, and there's an unread message from Sergei there waiting for her. The blonde Russian must have texted Yuriy too, due to the lack of reply on Mathilda´s part.

Just like Yuriy calls Mathilda when he can't get a hold of Sergei.

“I'll go and buy something for the others!” Mathilda says, getting her wallet before walking away. Blue eyes watches her as she checks out the display of different treats. Yuriy can already see Ian grinning at the gesture, and Boris not reacting much but whatever Mathilda gets for him will get eaten before next morning. For once, Yuriy isn´t the first one to notice Sergei. Instead his eyes follow how Mathilda rushes over to him, bag of sweets in hand. Taking in how Sergei´s tall and stiff frame softens as he leans down towards her: listening attentively to whatever she's saying. Yuriy gets up from his seat and pulls on his coat slowly, unable to look away at the sight. They look happy. It warms him, from inside out. He gets Mathilda´s things for her before he moves towards the couple. A long exhale through the nose.

The sun is bright against the almost cloudless sky on this hot summer's day. The humidity makes the heat feel hotter than it actually is, and most people out and about carry either electrical hand-fans or more traditional paddle-fans while crowding the soft drink vending machines that conveniently seem to be just about everywhere.

Japan´s summers are something else.

Mathilda has always been a spring and summer person, enjoying how good weather allows her to dress in some of her favorite clothes more comfortably. Shorts, skirts, blouses and cute tops. Even dresses at times. Today, she's even wearing a big hat, shielding her face from the direct sun. Her pale cheeks are decorated with light freckles, dots that in her case only appear in summer. The summer back home in the UK is a lot milder than those here in Asia, but she can't say she misses the wind or common and heavy rain that much.

Mathilda`s plans are a bit different today. Hence her being slightly dressed up. After several nights of little sleep, and several days when she lost her words upon just seeing him, she managed to ask her crush if he wanted to spend some time together. Just her and him.

They already have, several times, met up by coincidence in the hotel-like apartment building rented for them during a long season of blading. For example while making tea in the shared kitchen. Making small meals. Sitting on the sofa, reading. Watching the matches on TV after they happened. Together with their fellow bladers, teams and friends.

Lately, … ending up staying in the joined area late until they were almost alone, or the only ones left.

Mathilda´s freckled cheeks turn a shade pink upon thinking of her date. Looking at her wristwatch she realizes she´s early, like she always is when nervous. Being late would leave a bad impression now, wouldn't it? The pink haired woman spends about 10 minutes gazing at people, meeting the eyes of polite fans a few times. Apparently, she's quite popular in Japan.

There he is.

Sergei.

Mathilda shifts so she´s facing him. Pale, tall and handsome. Dirty blond short hair. Strong nose and jaw. The heat seems to have made the Russian have to drop the vest he is always wearing, and today he has just a pair of cargo pants, a nicely fit black t-shirt and boots. Revealing his strong chest, and arms. The man is still fully clothed but the sight of him has her skin turn hot. Many seem to assume the tallest member of the Russian team looks least good, but… Mathilda´s eyes has never strayed, even if her attraction to him also didn't start with the way he looked in the first place.

“Hello.” Mathilda can't help but smile widely, then tries to calm herself down. “Hey.” Sergei answers, his voice deep and calm. Those steel grey eyes of his move over Mathilda. Just like she is used to seeing him with his vest, and hat, he is used to her own “battle gear”. Not a soft colored summer outfit, and just a little bit more effort with her hair and make up. All thanks to Julia. It's not like Mathilda doesn't care about those things, it's that she has always been someone who enjoys being without products as well. Mathilda likes being pretty, and Julia has helped her find a style that suits her well. Not as strong as Julia´s often so red and full lips.

“Let´s…” Mathilda starts, she needs to step up since she was the one to ask him out to hang out. “Start walking, the place I mentioned, is a bit further ahead.”

It's a nice summer's day. Birds chirp. Breeze is lovely. Mathilda is so happy she gets to spend today with her crush. Happy to realize they have actually gotten that far from being strangers, to having plans together like this. For a long while she had thought she wouldn't be able to pull it off but as always she didn't let her shyness stop her from at least trying. And there by her side is Sergei. The gentle giant.

The ones who are less happy about their growing friendship are people she could worry about later.

However, things change drastically just over a few minutes. Mathilda notices mid-sentence that something is wrong. Eyes darting up at the much taller man by her side only to get that gut feeling affirmed. Sergei has a queasy look on his face, and his forehead seems damp of sweat. He's squinting against the strong rays of the sun.

“Are you ok?” She tilts her head, looking up at him.

Sergei avoids looking at her. “Hm.” He makes a sound through lips pressed together. “You look… paler than normal.” Mathilda continues. “My body feels… heavy.” Sergei grumbles. “My head… “

“Did you get something to drink before this..?” Sergei looks at her. “No.”

Mathilda´s expression turns more concerned. Especially when guilt washes over her. She had asked Sergei to hang out with her outside in this hot weather that's so unlike what he's used to. Not considerate at all. All she had done was walk ahead chatting because of her nerves, while Sergei had been feeling ill.

If Sergei fainted here, or fainted anywhere, Mathilda would not be able to catch and support him properly because of his size. The man would hit the concrete ground and get hurt no matter if she just stood there, or had him fall over her as she tried to hold him. The mental image of the Russian falling backwards and hitting his head makes Mathilda´s throat go dry. Skull cracked open. Blood. Mathilda forces herself to stop thinking about that.

She extends her hand, and even if holding hands with him would normally make her a nervous mess, she takes his bigger one in hers and tugs at it.

“There's a bench over there..”

Sergei looks at her in silence for a long moment, as if it takes longer for him to register what she is saying in this heat, before he shifts his body and allows her to pull him along. Slow steps. A low, drawn out sound leaves Sergei´s lips as he lowers himself down on the bench. In the shade, it's still hot, but a clear difference from before. Mathilda´s eyes rest on his face for one long moment before she turns away.

“I´ll be back soon, promise.”

Mathilda jogs over to the vending machine closest to them, across the street, and digs in her pockets for some Japanese yen coins. Luckily, she has enough for drinks and after a bit of struggle to understand which drinks are cold and which are hot she manages to buy cans of cold bubble water. Both for Sergei. The moment she returns to Sergei´s side she hands him one of the bottles.

Sergei accepts the bottle, unscrews it and drinks almost greedily. Water running down the side of his mouth, down his jaw and onto that black t-shirt. Mathilda sits down by his side while trying to not seem too worried, even if her emotions are easy to read on her face. Sitting is better than her walking about.

After a moment of slow silence Sergei speaks up. “I am sorry, Mathilda.” His voice is tired. “I think I won't make it to the shop in this heat.”

Mathilda can hear in his voice that he had thought about what to say for a while. Nodding her head, she agrees, she understands. “Let's rest a bit then I will walk you back.” She says, wanting to know Sergei will be alright. After a moment of silence the girl nudges Sergei at his side before she gestures to her lap.

“What..?”

Mathilda´s cheeks turn pink. “One time offer… you know?”

Sergei´s eyes soften ever so slightly as he understands just what she is offering him. The gesture seems to make him feel a bit self-conscious, but not out of dislike. Perhaps because this is a first.

“...I am sweaty.” He says, voice low, as if it is the last negative point he can find.

“I don't mind.” Mathilda says patiently with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

Even if her heart is beating really loudly in her chest she knows this isn't something to get excited for. Sergei feels sick, and needs to rest. If she can offer him some calm and comfort she´d be happy to.

Awkwardly, Sergei lowers his body onto the bench. His head soon rests in Mathilda´s lap. It's obvious this makes the man self-conscious, but after a few moments pass, he exhales deeply and his body grows heavier against her as he relaxes.

Could he have been worried about putting his weight on her?

Up this close, Mathilda notices just how grey his blue eyes really are. Almost silver, steel. His hair is on the border of being brown, dark dirty blonde. A strong jaw, big defined nose and thin pale lips. Those eyes close, as if the moment got too intimate, and Mathilda lets out a soft huff of a giggle.

He even has long eyelashes.

Mathilda is unaware of the slight wetness moving down the side of her face as they sit together so closely. She's getting a bit sweaty as well.

“You're hot.” His words are low, deep.

The way Sergei´s voice breaks the silence has her flinch, just a little bit. Mathilda feels a hot wave of emotion wash over her as she realizes what he just told her. Sergei´s cold, steel gray eyes, looks a bit confused at Mathilda´s reaction. Meeting his eyes, she realizes he wasn't trying to hit on her.

Maybe he had meant to say “warm.”

Mathilda blinks, luckily not feeling too bad about the mistake, and decides to lighten the mood. “So… I am hot..?” She chuckles quietly, reaching for the second bottle of water to help herself to some. Being a native speaker of English, she can understand how some would mistake words like that, having a second meaning appear out of mistake. The way Sergei looks at her was out of concern, not out of something else. “Hot” and “warm” can mean similar things, yet have different meanings in different situations.

“I mean…” Sergei must have realized his mistake. “You look… very warm too.”

At that, Mathilda can't help but let her smile grow wider and warmer as she looks down at the man resting in her lap. Her painted nails softly move into his short hair as she strokes him. Trying her best to make him relax, and feel better. How lovely it´d be if… they could do this in different circumstances. Resting together. Mathilda´s smile fades a little, and her lips turn playful.