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Nikolai's favourite flower was the carnation.
It wasn't for any particular reason, he just liked the way they looked, as vain as it was of him. He liked their deep red and their pure white, their pretty pink, but he liked the yellow ones the least. Red for love, white for innocence and pink for gratitude while yellow carnations only meant disappointment and rejection.
Nikolai would tend to the carnations, after changing into his work clothes, before then preparing to open up the café. The flowers sat on the counter, blooming in all its beautiful glory. As beautiful as they were, customers rarely batted an eye at them which Nikolai didn't necessarily care about. He knew humans to be ignorant and they weren't gonna come into a coffee shop to watch flowers.
Yet it didn't explain the man sitting at the counter, wrapped in a thick coat, reading a book in front of said flowers, as if he lived there. While the shop wasn't even open and the front door should be locked. He knew the stranger didn't get in through the backdoor because that required a keycard that only workers here had and that man definitely wasn't an employee. Nikolai would know, he had been working there for six months after all and there were only a total of five workers.
Nikolai stared. And stared. Then he rubbed his eyes and pinched himself. Nope, still there. He coughed into his hand, but the stranger didn't even acknowledge him.
"Excuse me."
Sharp magenta eyes immediately locked onto him and Nikolai slowly blinked. Then the stranger turned his gaze back to his book again. Nikolai shifted.
"How did you get in here?"
A short pause. The man turned a page.
"The door was open."
He should care and ask why and how the door was open, but he couldn't quite do that right now. He was still captivated by the unknown man reading. Nikolai would ask him about the door later though, he wasn't looking to get fired yet.
His focus snapped to the book and he stepped closer. He curiously peered over the vase of carnations, where the book sat on the dark wood. The stranger still made no qualms to move.
"What are you reading?"
The man ignored him, in favor of turning another page. Nikolai tilted his head and put his hands on the counter, so he was leaning over the stranger. With enough distance, mind you, he was not going to sexually harass a potential customer.
"You want to order anything?"
The guy hummed thoughtfully and finally looked up and into Nikolai's soul. Deep magenta eyes, sharp features and a bright, yet sardonic smile and Nikolai died on the spot because, oh my god, his smile was pretty. It was the kind of smile that would lull you into a false sense of security, the ones that hid everything, yet nothing from the world. Nikolai found himself mesmerized and interested, wanting to know a little more about the stranger. And all just because he saw a pair of pretty eyes.
"A cup of green tea, if you will?"
Nikolai hummed, then beamed at him. Although it probably looked more like a grimace, as the weariness, from it being early in the morning, still clung onto him. He grabbed a small plate, a cup and one of these little cards where the customer's name would be written. Then he pulled himself together and asked: "Can I have your name?"
They were the only ones in the café, it still being one hour or so before opening time, so it wasn't needed to ask for a name. They both knew. Yet the stranger smiled at him again, his finger plucking a petal from the magenta carnations.
"Fyodor Dostoevsky."
"What are you reading", Nikolai decided to ask again, after setting down the cup of tea on the counter. "And what is it about?"
This time Fyodor (his name was Fyodor, Nikolai will definitely keep that in mind) seemed to think that he was finally worth an answer. He drank the still hot tea without flinching, before setting it down.
"It's a philosophy book", he answered, adding a little bit of sugar into the cup. "About the meaning of death and what comes after."
Nikolai found his interest piqued and his eyes widened. He fiddled with his fingers, excitement bubbling up and onto the surface. Maybe he'd understand Nikolai? His eccentric world view? Or maybe he had a similar one and wouldn't judge? He felt a smile ghost on his lips and was quick to restrain himself.
"...And what does death mean?"
Fyodor folded his hands under his chin and his eyes seemed to glow in the dim morning light, watching him like that of a cat's. Nikolai waited in anticipation, as the corners of his mouth pulled into a knowing smile.
"It is to release the soul of the sin. Interesting, isn't it?"
He chuckled. Nikolai laughed hesitantly, a warm feeling in his chest blooming, a feeling he couldn't recognize. Contentment at being understood, at being able to understand? He wasn't sure, but he looked at the man, he now wanted as a friend, with glee.
"An interesting concept", Nikolai said. "Do you agree?"
Fyodor hummed, drumming his fingers on the page of the book.
"Do you?"
Nikolai paused and wondered, if he should lie. He was good at that, after all. But Fyodor watched him, as if he knew every thought that went through Nikolai's mind and he had never felt so exposed. The whispers of his mind, telling him He'll look at you, as if you weren't right in the head, grew around his heart like thorned vines, suffocating him to death. Tell him, he thought, and he was never more afraid to tell either lie or truth.
"We're like birds in a locked cage", he replied, staring at the bloody colored petals of the carnations. "Prisoners of our own world."
Then he hesitated, looking at Fyodor who looked to be listenting intently. That gave Nikolai the drive to continue talking.
"And the key to freedom", Nikolai smiled at Fyodor, "is death."
Fyodor's eyes lit up with something Nikolai could not recognize and the former stood up, tea finished. Nikolai could only watch, as Fyodor slowly packed up his things.
"I see. How intriguing."
He pushed the cup to Nikolai and turned to leave. Somehow Nikolai felt, as though he had just made a deal with the devil.
"I'll be back, do remember me."
Then he left into the cold, freezing streets, fading with the snow.
"Gogol-san."
"Nikolai, boss, please. You make me sound ancient."
The older woman's eyebrows knitted together in frustration, a scowl forming on her face. Nikolai smiled, but his stomach churned with something that he refused to call fear. Fear of being fired again. Of being rejected because his something was nothing to the people he worked for. It wouldn't be anything new. But Nikolai refused to call it fear, no, he wasn't afraid and he didn't care either.
"Gogol-san, this is not a topic that you can poke fun at. Could you please take this a bit more seriously?"
He snapped back to a reality that made him naseous. A sliver of guilt was buried within all that numbness and weaved in between, was a need to torment his boss even more. Maybe he could. Maybe he could sweeten up his words more to the point of passive-aggressiveness. Or he could grab onto that guilt and pull it up into reality. He was more in favor of playing mindgames with the woman, a rather offensive, but also hurtful, remark on his tongue. His finger twitched and he opened his mouth, yet before his words could escape, sharp magenta eyes that he longed to see again, flashed in his mind and he stilled.
"You let a customer in at 7 in the morning, Gogol-san", she said.
"And what do you think our regulars would think, when they see a strange man sitting in our café before opening hours?"
"...Um, that we open earlier now?"
She glared at him.
"Come now, Gogol-san. You like riddles and it would be in your best interest to answer this one."
He was quiet, his mind still racing with thoughts centered around the pretty pair of eyes that he wanted to see again and he bit his lip.
"That we make exceptions to certain customers. That we favor others."
She remained quiet, expression stony. Nikolai chewed on his lip.
Remorse, he thought. I am remorseful, guilty of a small crime that could cost this entire café a bit more of its non-existent reputation. His eyes teared and he bowed, his head low.
"I am deeply sorry for my actions, boss. I must have caused you a lot of trouble."
He took a deep breathe. His voice broke.
"It won't happen again."
A silence, as great as an elephant, spread through the room. Nikolai was almost sure that the boss heard him swallow. He still stood there, head bowed to his waist. The clock ticked. One. Two. Three.
The older woman sighed.
"You're on thin ice already, Gogol."
Then she stepped out of the room with one last sentence directed at him.
"I will be cutting your pay check."
The door slammed shut and the clock ticked. One. Two. Three.
Nikolai rose back up, a gentle breeze of relief flooding him. And then he stood there, empty, empty, empty, with a mask in his hand that he had no use for anymore. His emotions dulled back down and now he merely existed. He blinked once. Then twice. Carnations, magenta eyes and a sardonic smile. And suddenly, somehow, he felt a little more alive.
Fyodor was there again, at the counter seat, reading a book and still wrapped tightly in a thick coat. And it was 7 a.m sharp, two hours before the shop opened. It was a different book this time, the pages a lot newer and the letters a lot smaller than the other book. Nikolai couldn't find it within himself to chase the man away, his mind conflicted.
"The tea you make is quite good", Fyodor said, looking up from his book, shooting him that fucking smile again. "If you could make me another cup?"
Nikolai stood still, trying to come up with a solution. Should he kick Fyodor out? That would be better, if he wanted to keep this job, to be able to meet said Fyodor more. But what if he wasn't going to come here anymore because of that? Then what? The only answers left, would be...
Nikolai decided to think 'Fuck it'.
He made tea in record time, remembering to add sugar, grabbed Fyodor's hand who yelped quietly in surprise, pulling him with him and sat him down in the 'Staff only' room, slamming the tea on the table. Nikolai then stood, hands on his hips, in front of Fyodor who blinked slowly. He had the feeling that this was the only time that he'd see the other even remotely surprised.
"I'm not looking to get fired again, Dos-kun."
He saw Fyodor's eye twitch slightly and let himself fall into the seat next to him. There was a short silence that was less awkward than Nikolai thought it'd be. Rather, it was calming and comforting, as Fyodor calmly sipped his tea. Nikolai grinned at him, supporting his head on his hands.
"However, I do enjoy your company. So why don't you answer me this?"
He paused for dramatic effect.
"Children love to talk using it, but hate to work with it. I am the child who wants to receive it from you. What is the answer?"
Fyodoe laughed, setting down his tea, before pulling something out of the pocket of his coat. A piece of paper with something written on it. He layed it on the small table, smiling.
"My number."
Nikolai quickly collected himself, picking the paper from the table. It was, as if Fyodor had already expected him to ask such, having prepared the number in advance already. Nikolai laughed startled.
"You really are something, Dos-kun."
Fyodor's eye twitched again and it didn't go unnoticed, as Nikolai's smile resembled that of the cheshire cat.
"If it bothers you that much, Dos-kun, you can give me a nickname too."
He tilted his head.
"How about, darling? Or sweetheart? Or is honey more your cup of tea?"
Fyodor shot him an unamused look at the pun, before it shifted to something that you could call mischievous. It was an expression that only a person as nasty as a rat could make.
"Alright, my dear."
Nikolai's heart stuttered and he blinked surprised. Then flustered. Fyodor set the cup to his lips, drinking his tea while Nikolai's brain short wired.
"And Dos-kun is just fine to me."
It wasn't long, before 2 months had already passed, no one except for Nikolai knowing of Fyodor's existence. He didn't know how the latter did that, but he somehow did and no one ever scolded Nikolai for 'letting a stranger in at 7 in the morning' again. Now Fyodor's new favourite place to drink tea at, was the staff room. Nikolai knew he could get in trouble twice as much as before for this and Fyodor, that bastard, probably knew too. And he still didn't stop coming to the café at 7 a.m, somehow only when it was Nikolai's turn to open the coffee shop.
Nikolai shifted in his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of his boss and how she'd react and that he should probably tell Fyodor off. But he honestly didn't even have to pretend to not care anymore, he just didn't. Because anytime he thought of the café, the café he had been working in for 6 months, his thoughts circled back to Fyodor.
Fyodor and his magenta eyes. Fyodor and his black hair, his stupid thick coat and hat. His nimble fingers, when they caressed the carnations or turned a page. His pretty smile, no matter how sardonic it was sometimes. His voice that echoed in Nikolai's ears, as if trapped in a labyrinth. And with a startled laugh, Nikolai realized.
Oh.
He had fallen in love.
"Okay, but how did you actually get into the café?"
"I told you that the door was open already, didn't I?"
"Well, it wasn't."
A pause.
"How would you explain me getting in then?"
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you."
Fyodor laughed.
"Dos-kun, please."
"Fine then, I picked the lock. It wasn't very difficult."
Nikolai spluttered
"Wha- but why?!"
"It looked quiet and empty in here which I find comfort in, in the mornings."
"Dos-kun, it's a crime."
Some days were nice and warm. But it was Winter, so days were also cold. Nikolai didn't necessarily like those days, his showcase of emotional vulnerability making him feel embarrassed more than anything. But it was time with Fyodor, so it still counted as nice, no matter how hard it made him cringe.
Nikolai sobbed into Fyodor's coat who patted him on the head, stroking his hair. Next to them stood a bottle of wine, as they lied in midst the snow.
"I feel like I don't know you", Nikolai admitted, Fyodor stilled. "I feel like I don't know anything about you, but you know everything about me."
Fyodor was quiet and Nikolai feared that he had said too much. Then Fyodor put his arms around Nikolai's torso, hugging him back.
"I want to get to know you more, Fyodor", Nikolai said, voice muffled. "Is that fine?"
"Okay", Fyodor whispered. "Okay."
The flower shop was small, a flower sitting in every corner. In the far back, Nikolai could recognize his favourite one, the carnation, a color close to Fyodor's eyes. He took a few of them. Next to the carnations, were camellias that he also took, rearranging them, so they looked prettier and more organized.
"Ah, that's a good choice, if you want to tell someone you love them, I think."
Nikolai snapped towards the voice, startled, only to find golden-purple eyes staring back at him, sheepishly. The young man rubbed his neck and smiled apologetically.
"Sorry about that. Do you need help?"
Nikolai laughed and shook his head.
"It's fine. I'm just looking to, you know, give someone I know a nice boquet."
Nakajima, his name sign read, nodded.
"Alright. Just yell, if you need me, alright?"
"Yep, will do."
It wasn't long before Nikolai's eyes fell onto a white flower. Chrysanthemum, he vaguely noted. A very beautiful flower, yet the meaning, at least in Japan, was rather morbid. Death, the flower stands for. Something people leave at a grave, at a funeral. He hesitated, but then grabbed a few of them too.
"Dos-kun, my dearest friend!"
Fyodor turned his gaze away from the river under the bridge and the sun made him look frozen in a picture straight out of a dream. Nikolai came to a stop next to him, flowers in his hands, heart racing and breaths quick. It was like he forgot how to take in air.
"Good evening", Fyodor greeted with a nod, leaning forwards on the railings. "The sunset is quite bright today."
"And a bit more purple than yesterday, don't you think?"
It was quiet for a few minutes and Nikolai's mouth was as dry as the desert, cold sweat forming on his back.
Fyodor hummed thoughtfully. "You seem to be afraid of something."
Nikolai's heart stuttered and he forced a laugh. "I'm not, I'm not afraid."
They both knew it was a lie.
The silence that followed, was anything but comfortable, awkwardness hanging in the air, so thick, it was suffocating.
"Here", Nikolai was embarrassed to realize that he squeaked. "...Have some flowers."
He shoved them into Fyodors chest who stumbled a little, yet not an ounce of surprise was given away on his face. Fyodor then looked at them, sorting through the petals.
"They're rather beautiful."
Almost as beautiful as you, Nikolai doesn't say.
It would sound too genuine at the moment with the phenomenal sight and the faint ache in his heart.
"Yeah", he said instead, his voice breaking slighty. "Yeah, they really are."
"Thank you."
Nikolai chuckled nervously.
"Anything for a friend?" He sounded too unsure and he knew that Fyodor knew.
Silence.
Fyodor laughed, shaking his head. "We're not friends, "
Nikolai's heart stopped for a good second.
"I think our friendship ended, the moment you declared your love to me."
Nikolai chuckled, his heart pounding up to his ears. Suddenly he felt sick.
"Right", his voice broke. He didn't want to be here anymore, here where he could clearly see the magenta eyes of the man in front of him, here where Fyodor looked like an angel from hell, where his everything was so mesmerizing and simultanously painful to look at. Nikolai didn't know what he had been expecting.
Fyodor only smiled, his expression calm and so dull, so empty at the same time, that it physically hurt Nikolai to keep staring at him. He wanted to turn away, to leave and forget everything about Fyodor, but he couldn't. It was, as if, leaving meant that he would never see Fyodor again.
In his hands he still held the red flower boquet, as he tapped his chin in thought. Nikolai's heart sunk deeper.
"Red carnations for 'My heart bleeds for you', red camellia for deep love and white chrysanthemum for loyalty, but also death."
How Fyodor knew even that, was lost to Nikolai, but he wasn't surprised. He was half-expecting Fyodor to just laugh at him again, turning away and leaving disgusted by Nikolai, but he smiled at him, almost amused. Then he turned away to the sky, leaving Nikolai dumbfounded, his heart wrinkling up and dying even more.
"Hey Nikolai."
Nikolai stopped breathing.
"The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?"
Moon? What moon? Nikolai followed Fyodor's stare and there the pale moon hung. Oh.
Then he looked back to Fyodor. On his face wasn't the sharp smile or the knowing gaze. Rather he stared at Nikolai, his expression gentle and Nikolai swore he was in heaven, falling again and again and again. He felt something like hope rising in his chest that he was quick to kill, but Fyodor just stared at him, eyes everything but hateful or uncaring.
He proceeded to pluck a white chrysanthemum and a red carnation from the boquet and lay it into Nikolai's limp hand, Fyodor's skin warm against his. Then he smiled brightly and if Nikolai had looked closer, he would've seen the faint rosy colors on Fyodor's cheeks.
"Till death do us apart."
Good things, Nikolai realized once again, were never made to last.
He sat in front of a river that reflected the full moon, not caring about getting his pants wet and cold from the snow. Nikolai was still in his work clothes, even though he should have returned them already. He watched the snowflakes slowly falling into the water, before disappearing. He counted one, two and then he gave up. Phone in his hand, he stared at Fyodor's contact name, wondering about what if Fyodor was here. What if Fyodor were sitting next to him, also looking at the river, the snow and the moon. Before he knew it, he was calling said Fyodor.
"Dos-kun."
His voice broke. The other line was silent, likely still waiting for him to talk.
"I'm an ant, kicked out by the other ants. What's the answer?"
"I'll be right with you, Nikolai."
He then heard shuffling and a door closing. Nikolai, Fyodor had called him. And it was like a warm fire place, in a freezing, empty home. Nikolai stared at the water, eyes and limbs feeling heavy.
"I want to be free today, Dos-kun."
"I know, Gogol. But it's not time yet, okay?"
He heard footsteps getting closer and stood up. A few seconds away, was Fyodor, phone to his ear, his steps slowing. Nikolai smiled and he heard Fyodor inhale, through the phone, his expression not giving anything away. He then took a breath, his expression shaky.
"Hello, Dos-kun."
Fyodor smiled back and for a second Nikolai saw something flash in his eyes. It was gone, the next moment.
"Hello, Nikolai."
His voice echoed under the starry night and Nikolai fell into his arms.
Nikolai's favourite flower was the carnation.
They reminded him of the first time, he longed to have someone in his embrace, the first time he wanted to feel someone else's warmth again and the first time he fell in love.
They reminded him of Fyodor.