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This fic is a collection of one-shot fic ideas and writing prompts I've done over the last couple years, below is a list of what each chapter contains and any content warnings:

Chapter 1 (cw: blood)

• Characters: Boris Kuznetsov, Takao Kinomiya, Yuriy Ivanov (mentioned)
• Pairing: N/A
• Prompt: “Of course it hurts, dipshit.”

Chapter 2

• Characters: Ralf Jürgens & Hitoshi Kinomiya
• Pairing: Ralf/Hitoshi (one-sided)
• Prompt: Mayblade 2023 Prompt #23: Glass(es)

Chapter 3 (cw: blood)

• Characters: Garland Siebald & Boris Kuznetsov
• Pairing: Garland/Boris
• Prompt: “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be good enough to beat me one day.”

Chapter 4

• Characters: Rei Kon, Max Tate, Takao Kinomiya (mentioned), & Yuriy Ivanov (mentioned)
• Pairing: Rei/Max
• Prompt: every time you taste my cooking you just say it's amazing (does it need more salt or not I stg)

Chapter 5

• Characters: Kai Hiwatari & Takao Kinomiya
• Pairing: Kai/Takao
• Prompt: Mayblade 2023 Prompt #25: Flame.

Chapter 6

• Characters: Ralf Jürgens, Michael Sommers, Johnny McGregor, Olivier Boulanger (mentioned), & Giancarlo Tornatore (mentioned)
• Pairing: Ralf/Michael
• Prompt: “how long? ” [a confused pause] “how long have you two been in a relationship?”

Chapter 7

• Characters: Max Mizuhara, Boris Kuznetsov, Takao Kinomiya, & Yuriy Ivanov
• Pairing: Boris/Max
• Prompt: "my love is your arm stuck in the claw machine. you were going to steal that prize for me?? oh my gosh. let me rescue you and also show you how to actually do this"

Chapter 8

• Characters: Max Mizuhara & Rei Kon
• Pairing: Rei/Max
• Prompt: a sledding scenario

Chapter 9

• Characters: Garland Siebald, Takao Kinomiya, & Boris Kuznetsov (mentioned)
• Pairing: Garland/Boris
• Prompt: “You won’t tell anyone… right?”

Chapter 10

• Characters: Kai Hiwatari, Max Mizuhara, Takao Kinomiya, & Yuriy Ivanov (mentioned)
• Pairing: Kai/Max
• Prompt: Kai being super soft and cuddly when no one's looking but jealous of how Max hugs everyone.

Chapter 11

• Characters: Yuriy Ivanov & Boris Kuznetsov
• Pairing: Yuriy/Boris (formerly)
• Prompt: "things you said after it was over"

Chapter 12: Predilection 

• Characters: Boris Kuznetsov & Garland Siebald
• Pairing: Garland/Boris
• Prompt: N/A

Chapter 13 (cw: implicit child abuse)

• Characters: Boris Kuznetsov & Yuriy Ivanov
• Pairing: N/A
• Prompt: “Back in the abbey, Boris and Yuriy around 9 years old. Yuriy is afraid of thunderstorms. Boris calms and distracts him before the caretakers find out and punish Yuriy for his vulnerability.”

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Chapter 1 (cw: blood)

• Characters: Boris Kuznetsov, Takao Kinomiya, Yuriy Ivanov (mentioned)
• Pairing: N/A
• Prompt: “Of course it hurts, dipshit.”

Takao kneeled over Boris, firmly pressing a wad of gauze against his neck, rolling his eyes and grabbing onto his shoulder with his free hand to keep him still as he attempted to recoil. Sometimes this arranged partnership had him feeling more like a babysitter than a comrade.  The older man inhaled deeply, eliciting a hissing sound as Takao continued to apply pressure against the oozing neck wound. 

“Sorry, I need to stop the bleeding… does it really hurt that much?” Takao inquired as he watched blood seep through the thick cotton sheet. 

“Of course it fucking hurts, what kind of stupid as shit question is that?” Boris ground out, as his lips curled into a sneer.

“I just thought it couldn’t hurt that much, since you constantly offered yourself up as an hors d'oeuvres to that vampire,” Takao replied nonchalantly, sure to press his fingers into the bloody gauze harder to convey his annoyance.

“As flattering as it is to hear you consider me a snack , Kinomiya, I wasn’t offering myself up,” Boris lied smoothly, grabbing onto Takao’s forearm and shoving his hand away, revealing the cotton gauze that remained adhered to his neck by the coagulating blood underneath. Takao sighed in defeat, holding his hands up in the air in surrender, he’d come to learn by now to pick his battles with Boris.

Takao collapsed beside the tussled man, allowing his head to fall back against the chain link fence that rattled loudly in the sleeping town. This was the second time in a fortnight he’d found Boris stumbling around a dreary abandoned park in the middle of the night covered in his own blood. And he was starting to think the other man was keeping a couple secrets from his comrades.

“Yuriy is going to kill you if he finds out,” Takao stated matter-of-factly, looking up at the hazy full moon that hung low in the sky.

“ Yuriy is never going to find out, ” Boris hissed out, causing Takao to glance over before he continued: “even if you did tell him, he’d never believe an outsider like you.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Kuznetsov… one you’re bound to lose,” was all Takao replied as he held Boris’ gaze. In Takao’s opinion, it wouldn’t be long before Boris sustained a lethal bite… or worse.

“Wouldn’t be the first, won't be the last,” Boris spoke with an ambivalence that unsettled Takao. Back home, there was no worse fate than becoming a monster, he and all his teammates would do everything in their power to prevent a vampire from obtaining even one drop of their blood. They had been taught their entire lives that killing a loved one who had been corrupted was an act of mercy. 

But when Takao had been shipped off to Moscow to help with what he’d been told was a small infestation, he hadn’t expected to be received by a group of ragtag misfits with few morals and nearly no sense of survival. The icing on top was that as it turned out, that small infestation that was objectively not small, and instead was a large coven that had been propagated by a particularly sadistic ancient vampire… Garland, he went by in this lifetime.  

Truthfully, Takao could have handled it himself by now. However, without fail, every plan he had come up with to corner the creature and put an end to it had been anticipated by the vampire. It had reached a point that Takao had begun to suspect one of the men had become a zealot. 

And now that zealot was currently looking him in the eyes, his face void of emotion. Making damn sure to remind Takao he was always going to be an outsider, and if he ever uttered a single word of this to the other three men that he’d be branded a liar and sent away in an instant.

It was a staggering level of betrayal to behold, and for what?

“What is your end goal here?” Takao asked, as he shifted his gaze away from Boris and back to the black sky.

Boris snorted as he pulled a beaten up cardboard box from his coat pocket, retrieving a cigarette from it and placing it between his lips. Takao saw the flicker of a small flame and the smoke rise from his mouth in his periphery.

“There you go again with that shit, you always think people are scheming, you hunters are too fucking paranoid,” he said, taking a long drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling with a chuckle: “It’s the thrill of it, that’s all.” 

“You find it thrilling, you’re risking your life because it gets you off?” Takao spoke through clenched teeth, as he closed his eyes and slammed his head back against the chain linked fence again in frustration.

“Pretty much,” Boris said, bringing the cigarette to his lips again.

Takao felt sick. He wanted out of this place before he had to witness what would happen when Garland decided to utilize Boris’ thrill seeking to kill and betray the only people he considered family, driving him into an endless spiral of madness and bloodshed.

So Takao slowly rose to his feet, with gritted teeth and a cold stare, the full moon reflecting on the cold steel blade in his hand.

And he decided this was merciful .

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Chapter 2

• Characters: Ralf Jürgens & Hitoshi Kinomiya
• Pairing: Ralf/Hitoshi (one-sided)
• Prompt: Mayblade Prompt #23: Glass(es)

There was a sharp knock before the door to Ralf’s office swung open as a tall figure entered through the threshold without gaining permission, his eyes trained on the small stack of papers in his hand.

“Hey, do you think you’d be able to make copies of some items from the special collections?” Hitoshi asked, flicking the paper stack with his free hand as he looked up and was greeted by the sight of the other man sitting at his desk, book in hand, wearing a pair of rectangular glasses with a well trained frown on his face.

He paused as he watched Ralf correct the slight slouch in his posture, before gently placing a page marker between the novel's yellowed pages before shutting the covers with a sharp thump.

Hitoshi’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to recall if he’d ever seen the archivist wearing glasses before. He often prided himself in his attention to details, and he found himself deeply unsettled at the idea he’d miss something so obvious. Especially when he’d spent the better part of the school year fixating on the new addition to the libraries support staff.

Not that it was that big of a deal.

“It would depend on what you’re looking for, Dr. Kinomiya,” Ralf replied, his voice flat except for the familiar German lilt Hitoshi had recently become hyper aware of.

Hitoshi exhaled, silently marching over to the large oak desk, covered in books and neatly organized stacks of paper. He gingerly held out the small bundle of papers he’d been carrying to the man who sat on the other side.

Ralf accepted the papers, adjusting his glasses as he scanned through the document, his face emotionless as he shuffled the pages top to bottom, scrutinizing every requested item down to the page number. It made Hitoshi feel like a timid student again, standing before his academic supervisor waiting for them to tear his research to pieces and tell him to start all over. Realms away from the reality that he was a permanent lecturer at one of the oldest, prestigious universities in the world.

He watched as the younger man gently slid the final sheet of paper to the bottom of the stack before quietly setting the pages on the desk in front of him. Ralf intertwined his long slender fingers together. He exhaled almost inaudibly, closing his eyes as he was consumed by a quiet, contemplative thought.

Hitoshi shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and looked up at the office's plaster ceiling. He would never admit he was too scared to interrupt the archivists' thoughts. 

Because the last thing he wanted was for Ralf to tell him to fill out a special collection request like everyone else had to, and then he’d no longer be able to admire the old oak furniture, the endless books, or the way his long fingers readjusted those glasses…

“—should be reasonably accommodated.” Hitoshi’s gaze moved from staring at the office's gothic plaster ceiling design back to Ralf, hearing only the latter half of his words. 

“Great, just email me when it’s ready,” Hiro said, feigning nonchalance as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands still in his pockets.

“Of course,” Ralf replied simply, picking up the book he had abandoned earlier. Gingerly opening it to the marked page and removing the bookmark from between the pages. When Hitoshi failed to leave the office he looked up, an eyebrow raised slightly.  The two stared at each other in silence for a moment, before Ralf finally asked: “Is there something else?”

“Have you always worn glasses?” Hiro asked unceremoniously, before promptly clenching his jaw and internally berating himself for being so boorish.

“No, my new contact lenses were delayed,” Ralf said simply, his eyes moving to scan the novel in front of him, disinterested in the conversation.

“I see,” Hiro replied, as he continued to linger in the dimly lit office.

“Why?” Ralf inquired indifferently, as he flipped the page of the book.

“Oh… you know,” Hiro started, nervously backing towards the doorway, resting his hand on the brass knob before turning it and pushing it open before adding awkwardly: “You look good that’s all.”

As quickly as Hiro uttered those words he bolted out of the office, leaving the normally indomitable man with a bewildered expression on his face. 

Ralf grimaced as the office door slammed shut with such force the windows of the office rattled and he had to wonder.

What on earth had gotten into him today?

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Chapter 3 (cw: blood)

• Characters: Garland Siebald & Boris Kuznetsov
• Pairing: Garland/Boris
• Prompt: “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be good enough to beat me one day.”

Blood trickled down Boris’ face and a purple contusion began to form where his cheek had come in contact with the cold brick wall of the secluded alleyway he’d become familiar with these past few months. He thought of how much of his blood must be smeared across the building's facades, until the sharp pain coming from the tips of his fingers as his jagged, broken nails brought him out of his reverie. Snarling, he turned around, his hand outstretched, intending to grab Garland by one of his loose strands of hair. As his hand was about to curl around the pale locks he felt a hand wrap around his throat, forcefully shoving him back against the hard stone.

He exhaled sharply, and the hand on his throat tightened, obstructing his airway. His body's panicked reaction was immediate as he dug his broken fingernails into the other man's wrist, clawing at his skin in a futile attempt to get him to loosen his hold. Lightheadedness set in as his brain was deprived of oxygen and a confusing sensation consumed him as his hold on Garland’s wrist. He could only hope for this to be the end.

As quickly as Garland had gripped onto Boris’ throat with the intent to kill him, he released his hold. Boris braced himself against the cold brick face, attempting to maintain composure as the other man’s fingers glided across his injured cheek, admiring the dark red liquid that transferred. 

The bloody fingers moved to wrap around Boris’ chin, tilting his face upward before crashing their lips together in a kiss that was more a display of aggressive dominance than passion as teeth tore flesh and left a familiar metallic taste.

When Garland released him, he took a step back, watching him with an unsettling gaze. Boris scowled, pushing himself away from the wall and taking a disoriented step forward

“You… just wait until I get my hands on you, I’m going to kill you,” Boris ground out, his voice ragged as he bared his red stained teeth at Garland.

Almost instantaneously Boris felt himself falling, as a sharp pain travelled across his chest from the impact of Garland’s foot against his rib cage. He stumbled back, hitting the wall once again before sliding sideways onto the uneven cobblestone below. He scowled in the direction which the other man stood. And for a moment there was silence until he heard the nauseating and familiar voice.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be good enough to beat me someday,” Garland spoke with a calm that was only betrayed by the sadistic sneer on his face as stood over Boris looking down, relishing in his victory, and scheming what to do next.

And as he lay on the alleyway ground, Boris wondered why he had to be this way, why these clandestine meetings that resulted in physical fights, and ended in a familiar humiliation that always seemed to make his stomach churn in anticipation had consumed his waking thoughts. Or when it had become an acceptable risk to violate the trust of his closest friends, the only people he had ever considered family, despite that every possible ending was tragedy.

But what he did know was it was the first time he’d felt alive in a long time.

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Chapter 4

• Characters: Rei Kon, Max Tate, Takao Kinomiya (mentioned), & Yuriy Ivanov (mentioned)
• Pairing: Rei/Max
• Prompt: every time you taste my cooking you just say it's amazing (does it need more salt or not I stg)

“Hey, can you taste this for me?” Rei inquired as he carefully carried a spoon over to his boyfriend, his free hand underneath to prevent it from dripping onto the floor. Max smiled and leaned in allowing the older man to delicately place the spoon into his mouth before he closed his lips around the utensil.

Rei gently removed the spoon from his mouth and waited for a response from the other man who seemed to allow the sauce to rest in his mouth for a couple moments before finally swallowing it.

“So? How is it?” Rei asked when his boyfriend failed to comment.

“It’s amazing, everything you make is amazing,” he said with a brilliant smile causing Rei to frown slightly.

It was always like this, Rei was sure he could boil eyeballs and Max would give him the same feedback, always “it’s amazing”, never that it could use some more onion, or salt, or garlic. Sometimes it worried him that he was making no progress in developing his cooking skills being left unchallenged like this. Especially when Takao’s so very delightful boyfriend would occasionally grace them with his presence for dinner only to tell him his food was "fucking flavorless” like the peach he is, leaving him unsure if he was serious or just goading him.

Rei thought maybe he was getting lazy cooking for his friends who were mostly just happy to be getting fed without having to prepare it themselves, desperately wishing his boyfriend would give him some feedback once in a while.

“Well… it could use something,” Max said suddenly and Rei emerged from his reverie, perking up immediately at the thought that maybe he’d finally get feedback on if the dish was balanced or needed additions.

“Yeah?” He inquired, encouraging Max to continue his thoughts.

“Mayo!” He exclaimed cheerily, causing Rei to clench his jaw and close his eyes, trying to mask his irritation

“No, absolutely not, I’m not putting mayonnaise in it,” he said firmly, trying to remain neutral as to not insult Max’s love for the condiment.

“But… You asked,” Max spoke softly, his expression falling, and his lower lip trembling slightly, his big puppy dog eyes staring directly into Rei’s soul.

All of Rei’s resolve would crumble in an instant and he’d sigh defeated before taking one his boyfriends hands and rubbing the back of it with his thumb to comfort him

“Alright… we can add a little mayonnaise,” he conceded watching as the boy perked up and pulled his hand away from Rei, prancing to the fridge and throwing the door open dramatically, grabbing the off-white bottle from the door.

Rei looked on in crushing defeat as his boyfriend proceeded to squirt a quarter of a bottle of the mayonnaise into the dark rich sauce he’d spent the last hour preparing.

Sometimes it wasn’t a battle worth fighting.

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Chapter 5

• Characters: Kai Hiwatari & Takao Kinomiya
• Pairing: Kai/Takao
• Prompt: Mayblade 2023 Prompt #25: Flame.

“So let me get this straight…” Takao began as he stared at the scowling man in front of him, who was shivering as the cold misty rain soaked through his cotton shirt. 

“You set our apartment on fire,” he finished, peeling off his letterman jacket and throwing it at Kai.

“I did not set the apartment on fire,” Kai ground out through clenched teeth, the sour look on his face intensifying as Takao rolled his eyes in response. He muttered something under his breath as he slipped the discarded jacket on. 

“Alright sure, so then why did I get home to find you standing outside at a muster station while the fire department clears the building?” Takao asked, motioning towards the large truck with red flashing lights in the parking lot.

“Anyone could have done that,” Kai said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So when we’re allowed back inside, I’m not gonna find a saucepan charred to a crisp in the kitchen along with the new countertops and appliances we just got last year ?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in inquisition.

Takao watched as Kai opened his mouth to speak before closing it again, his jaw clenching as a red flush began to creep across his face. 

“Listen—“ Kai started

“I’m listening,” came Takao’s monotonous reply.

“—I wanted to surprise you,” Kai muttered, almost inaudibly as he turned his head away from Takao to hide the red staining his entire face.

An incredulous smile appeared on Takao’s face as he began to laugh softly at Kai’s quiet admission.

“Well, I am surprised,” Takao teased, watching as Kai’s crossed arms tightened and he looked back in his direction, the scowl reappearing.

“It’s not funny!” Kai bit out, his eyes narrowing as Takao’s laughter increased.

“No, it’s not, do you know how much it’s going to cost to replace the kitchen,” Takao replied, his laughter betraying his words.

Kai refused to humour the other man anymore. He turned around and stalked away from his partner in annoyance.

“Hey!” Takao began, calling after the retreating figure, who slowed his pace so he could hear Takao’s words: “What should I order for dinner since I don’t have a kitchen to cook?” 

If looks could kill Takao would be dead from the look Kai gave him over his shoulder before hastening his stride, leaving the other boy to laugh in the parking lot as he hightailed it out of there.

When Takao lost sight of Kai he sighed, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. This was the second time in a year their apartment had gone up in flames as a result of his boyfriend's culinary skills. And while he appreciated Kai’s rare attempts at gestures of affection.

He was so much more grateful that the apartment complex they lived in was owned by Susumu Hiwatari, and he wasn’t about to be homeless and blacklisted by every property management company in Tokyo.

Now if only Kai would learn that just because he has an affinity to fire, doesn’t mean he can cook. Takao thought with a sigh before heading in the direction of the cat cafe Kai was surely sulking in.

He still needed to know what Kai wanted to order for dinner.

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Chapter 6

• Characters: Ralf Jürgens, Michael Sommers, Johnny McGregor, Olivier Boulanger (mentioned), & Giancarlo Tornatore (mentioned)
  
• Pairing: Ralf/Michael
• Prompt: “how long? ” [a confused pause] “how long have you two been in a relationship?”

Olivier and Giancarlo had told him he was overthinking, that there was nothing out of the ordinary going on. The two had made several jokes at his expense ranging from asking if they needed to buy him some aluminum foil, to if Nessie had been abducted by aliens and that’s why she hadn’t been photographed since the dawn of mobile phones. But no, he could feel it in his bones, something was different about Ralf.

Schloß Vietgest had been unusually quiet when Johnny set foot inside the estate one chilly late November morning. By this time of day the residence was normally bustling with staff as they tended to all the cooking and cleaning, but instead the place felt… unoccupied.

Johnny knew it was unusual for Ralf to give the castle staff extra time off, not when the indomitable man expected his home to be pristine and ready to entertain hypothetical guests at a moment's notice. So why was it that he didn’t hear any of the usual chatter from the maids he wondered as he removed his shoes in the foyer, before walking deeper into the home.

He heard the first sounds of life as he turned the corner into the corridor that led to Ralf’s study. It was a muffled, unfamiliar voice that sounded full of unbridled rage. For a moment, it crossed his mind this wasn’t a conversation anyone was meant to overhear, which would explain the absence of the normally dutiful staff. These thoughts were hastily replaced by the desire to know exactly what Ralf had been up to lately.

He rested his hand on the doorknob of the study, bracing himself to come face to face with whatever secret his friend had been hiding from them for weeks now. He quietly turned the knob and pushed the heavy oak door open slightly, hearing the voices more clearly as he peered into the dimly lit room.

“—And stop calling me fucking unworldly, whatever the heck that means,” came the heated words from a vaguely familiar blond man with a thick American accent.

“ But you are unworld —“ Ralf had begun to speak but was cut off by the mystery man grabbing him by his shirt collar and angrily pushing him back against the desk before firmly planting his lips against Ralf’s in a one-sided heated kiss.

Giancarlo and Olivier could eat it, he had been right.

He forcefully pushed the door open, allowing it to swing and slam against the wall. As the man pinning Ralf against the desk immediately created space between them, looking anxiously towards the door that had crashed open, Johnny recognized him as the American team captain, Michael.

An awkward silence descended upon the room before Johnny finally spoke

“How long?” He asked dumbfounded. Ralf raised an inquiring eyebrow slightly at the question, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning slightly. Whilst Michael seemed to find the knots in the hardwood flooring very interesting. “ How long have you two been in a relationship? ” Johnny elaborated with an exasperated voice.

“We are not in a relationship, as neither one of us has initiated a courtship,” Ralf spoke monotonously, only allowing his indignation to bleed into his words with a slight scoff.

“Come again?” Johnny said, tilting his head slightly to the side, knowing what his eyes had just seen.

There was shuffling off to the side and an awkward cough which caused both Ralf and Johnny to glance in its direction.

“Hey… I’m gonna leave,” Michael spoke his voice tight as he rubbed the palms of his hands against his faded jeans before shoving them into the pockets of his letterman jacket.

“You both should leave…” Ralf quipped, displeasure clearly evident on his angular facial features. When neither of the other two men made any movement towards the door he made an annoyed exhale before continuing: “ …Now .”

Michael spared no extra moments quickly scurrying out the door and vanishing from sight. Johnny looked back at Ralf, a slight smirk forming on his face, pondering how to use this newfound information. Ralf’s eyes narrowed and his frown morphed into a scowl letting him know he had overstayed his welcome

With a wave he turned his back to Ralf, before leaving the study, a feeling of vindication washing over him as he reveled in how he might embellish this story when he shared it with the others.

Because the only thing better than being right, was being able to trample Ralf’s ego in the process.

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Chapter 7

• Characters: Max Mizuhara, Boris Kuznetsov, Takao Kinomiya, & Yuriy Ivanov
  
• Pairing: Boris/Max
• Prompt: "my love is your arm stuck in the claw machine. you were going to steal that prize for me?? oh my gosh. let me rescue you and also show you how to actually do this"

Max tilted his head, staring at the man who stood in front of the claw machine, his back was facing the younger man and he was currently cursing and swearing to himself as he seemed to be struggling with something.

“Ohhhh looks like Boris got his arm stuck in the machine” Came his friend's voice from beside him, causing Max to glance over at Takao who was snickering at the sight of the man getting more and more agitated by the machine, kicking it and swearing loudly.

A loud thump caused them both to look back over towards the claw machine as Yuriy’s open hand slammed against the glass of the machine and he spoke in Russian with a taunting tone to Boris who snapped back at him. Both Japanese men stared at the two men bickering, completely unaware of what they were saying to each other.

Boris would twist his body to angrily gesture towards Takao, revealing his entrapped arm for the first time to Max who closed his eyes and sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, he was stuck.

Yuriy’s hand slid down the glass of the machine before dropping to his side and he walked away from Boris approaching the other two men.

“Well good luck with that. ” Yuriy directed towards Max before taking Takao’s hand and pulling him towards the exit, ignoring Boris’s shouts behind him.

Max would watch them exit before turning his focus back to Boris, skipping over towards where the man remained stuck in the machine. Boris glanced at him warily, resigning himself to another onslaught of teasing.

“What are you doing?” Max inquired cheerily, watching a slight flush appear on his face and ears.

“I just–” Boris started, the thick Russian accent hinting at his nerves, Max waited patiently for him to continue

“–Was just trying to get you the stuffed animal you were looking at earlier.” He mumbled awkwardly, looking at his feet, the flush on his face deepening.

“Oh!” Max said excitedly, a grin appearing on his face as he moved his hand to rest on the forearm of Boris’s trapped hand, Max would gently massage his forearm speaking affectionately: “Well let me help you with that!”

Boris looked bewildered as the younger man moved to guide his hand out of the machine, freeing him in seconds before he guided the older man towards the crane games control panel. Max would point at the buttons, guiding him to punch in a sequence to the machine, reluctantly he listened, raising an eyebrow when the claw came to life moving into place to be used.

“It’s some testing code, it gives you unlimited plays, now you can win me that plush.” Max answered his question with a cute smile on his face as his arm remained on Boris’s arm.

“I– yeah thanks.” Boris muttered as he started to operate the claw, struggling and swearing in his mother tongue while Max remained close beside him, cheering him on.

Eventually Boris would succeed in capturing the toy in the machine's hook, giving a little fist pump as it fell into the hole and was dispensed in the slot.  He bent down and pulled it out of the machine, before clearing his throat, speaking awkwardly.

“Uh– for you.” He aggressively shoved the plush to Max who giggled, taking the toy and hugging it to his chest before leaning towards Boris and giving him a small peck on the lips

“You shouldn’t have, I love it.” Max said with a big smile before taking his hand and pulling him away with surprising force causing the other man to make a confused grunt

“Where are we–” Boris asked before he was cut off by Max

“We gotta get out of here before they realize I’m here and call the police, I’m banned after all!” He said between giggles, completely unbothered, leaving Boris bewildered as he matched Max’s frantic rush to the door, both in awe and terror of the small ray of sunshine he’d fallen in love with.

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Chapter 8

• Characters: Max Mizuhara & Rei Kon
• Pairing: Rei/Max
• Prompt: a sledding scenario

Rei looked at the imposing snow covered hill towering over them and then back to his cheery partner, a look of apprehension on his face.

“So we’re going to walk to the top of the hill…” he began, watching the younger boy nod in confirmation before he continued:

“… and then we’re going to slide down it, completely uncontrolled, on this wooden thing you call a toboggan?” He finished, watching Max nod again.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fun!” Max exclaimed as he grabbed onto Rei’s hand,  beginning the trek up the hill, dragging him and the sled up the snow covered hill behind him.

He tried to calm his nerves, focusing on something other than what felt like an imminent demise or disfigurement. This was not what Rei would necessarily consider fun , quite the opposite in fact. And yet, Max had looked at him with his pleading puppy dog eyes that they came here because he hadn’t been downhill sledding since he moved back to Japan from America and Rei didn’t have it in him to tell the man no, he would rather face inevitable death in fact.

The warmth from Max’s hand radiated through his mitten providing him a small comfort as they reached the hilltop and he envisioned them careening out of control down the slope at nearly 30 kilometers an hour.

They were going to die.

“This is your first time, so you should sit in the front!” Max’s happy chirp came from beside him as Rei shifted his gaze between the hill and his boyfriend, who now had positioned the sled facing downhill.

Rei was about to protest when Max tugged him by their intertwined hands, leading him to sit in the front part of the toboggan. Instead he slowly lowered himself into the sled, figuring at least if he was going to die, maybe his corpse would act as an airbag for Max.

Unconcernedly Max climbed in behind him, gently pushing the ground with his hands causing the sled to slip over the edge it teetered on and begin its decline. He laughed and wrapped his arms tightly around Rei’s midriff leaning against his back, his unadulterated joy in complete contrast to Rei’s horror.

He gripped tightly onto the front of the sled, tucking his head as much as he could as he clenched his jaw waiting for the inevitable impact with the ground or a tree as they sped down the steep incline, his soul nearly leaving his body when they hit a small rock that jostled them sideways, at least that last thing he’d hear was his boyfriend giggling with unbridled happiness.

And then, just as quickly as it began, they slowed, coming to a complete stop at the bottom of the hill, alive and intact, Max still holding onto him tightly, laughing cheerily into his ear.

Slowly, Rei relaxed, and as he released his death grip on the front of the toboggan he also began to laugh, more from relief and the adrenaline pumping through his veins than joy. 

As he straightened his back he felt the man behind him shift closer, his breath on his cheek, he tilted his head to the side to look at him and was met by Max leaning in to place a chaste peck on his lips before he grinned widely and spoke:

“Let’s go again!” He said cheerily, scrambling to his feet, waiting for the other man to follow him. Rei sluggishly crawled out of the sled as the adrenaline wore off and he sauntered towards Max gently grabbing him by his scarf and pulling him close, brushing his lips against the other mans.

“Only if I get to sit in the back this time,” Rei replied playfully between several kisses.

Without hesitation Max grabbed him by the hand again, dragging him back up the imposing snow covered hill, the sound of their laughter echoing through the crisp winter air.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

• Characters: Garland Siebald, Takao Kinomiya, & Boris Kuznetsov (mentioned)
  
• Pairing: Garland/Boris
• Prompt: “You won’t tell anyone… right?”

“You won’t tell anyone… right?”

Takao exhaled in frustration as he heard Garland ask that question immediately after having found his hiding place in the stadium. He was just so tired of knowing too much, or seeing things he wasn’t supposed to see. Exhausted by having to play secret keeper to keep everyone around him happy. He looked in the direction of his acquaintance, who stood there with an unusual awkwardness, shifting his weight and gazing at Takao apprehensively. He was relieved at least that this time no one was threatening to kill him.

“Your secret’s safe with me, don’t worry,” Takao said, flashing Garland a little grin that caused the tension he was carrying in his shoulders to visibly dissipate. It wasn’t like Takao was one to sow divisiveness amongst his peers anyway, not when what he wanted the most was to get through a single season without a massive betrayal or dramatic twist.

“Thanks, I owe you for this,” Garland said politely, bowing forward ever so slightly, his eyes cast down at the ground, breaking the uncomfortable eye contact.

“Doesn’t everyone,” Takao replied offhandedly, gesturing vaguely with his hand for Garland to sit in one of the many seats of the stadium's nose bleeds. Garland straightened his posture and stepped towards the vacant row of seats behind him, and slid into one.

“Yes, but I especially owe you,” he replied. Takao observed a slight flush of his skin, while his eyes were still fixed on the floor.

“Why? Because I caught you having a heated discussion with Boris at the hotel last night?” Takao inquired nonchalantly, lifting an eyebrow as he continued: “Because if that’s all, then not to alarm you but you’re not the first, and not the worst.” 

He didn’t know what on earth had compelled Garland to meet up with Boris under the staircase in a secluded part of their hotel the night before. He didn’t know why neither of the two men had bolted of the sound of heavy footsteps on the staircase as Takao had sleepily descended to the main floor to get a snack from one of the vending machines nearby, and he certainly had no clue which of them had had the bright idea to risk discovery so they could angrily trade saliva.

But here they were, with Takao knowing too much. Boris had already pulled him aside after a warmup and threatened to sever his vocal cords with his blade in their next match if he told any other living soul what he saw.

Takao shifted his focus to Garland, wanting a distraction from those thoughts. Garland’s eyebrows were furrowed, and Takao was curious what he could possibly be thinking about. However he wouldn’t ask, Takao figured if he felt it worth sharing he probably would at this point. Garland was silent for several minutes, as if he was trying to wrap his mind around what Takao’s comments meant, around the entire situation.

“Look… I just want to avoid any unnecessary drama between teams this season,” Garland said, eventually causing Takao to snort incredulously.

“We’re in agreement then!” Takao exclaimed, raising his voice slightly, allowing it to reverberate through the empty stadium. He continued, allowing some irritation to be present in his words: “Then maybe you should have considered doing the opposite of what you’re doing!”

“…Maybe,” Garland said with a frown, sounding reluctant, which caused Takao to abruptly stand up.

“Or don’t, I guess lovesick is a good look for you too,” Takao snarked, before exiting the row and descending the stadium stairs. 

Leaving behind a bewildered Garland to wonder if he really came off that pathetic.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

• Characters: Kai Hiwatari, Max Mizuhara, Takao Kinomiya, & Yuriy Ivanov (mentioned)
• Pairing: Kai/Max
• Prompt: Kai being super soft and cuddly when no one's looking but jealous of how Max hugs everyone.

“Happy new year!” The blond man said with a bubbly cadence as he flitted through the busy room greeting all of his friends as they arrived at the party.

It had been Max’s idea after all to host an “American” New Years Eve party, whatever that meant and however it differed from a normal New Years party, no one knew. But meticulously the man had decorated the apartment with twinkling lights and silver and gold decorations before preparing various snack plates and ordering an excessive amount of alcohol and food.

And as the first guests began to stream into the apartment, Max joyfully greeted them with a beaming smile before pulling them into a crushing hug, of which many happily reciprocated, wishing him too, a happy new year.

Kai scowled from where he’d holed himself up in the corner of the room, antisocial as always, his eyes narrowed into slits as Max shared an embrace with Hiromi, which in his opinion lasted far too long. He turned his gaze towards the window, taking a sip of his wine as he redirected his ire to the city below.

“Takao! You made it!” Max chirped excitedly from across the room, Kai didn’t need to turn his head to hear the thump of the blond leaping into his best friend's arms. He simply clenched his jaw and attempted to ignore the swell of jealousy in his stomach.

“Sorry we’re late, it took some coercion…” Kai heard Takao’s voice across the room and it caused his head to snap in the direction of it instantaneously, that could only mean one thing .

Kai focused in on the two men just in time to watch Max wrap his arms around the tall stoic Russian man who looked generally disinterested, his hands remaining at his sides.

Without thinking Kai stalked over to where Max stood with the other two men, grabbing his arm firmly and pulling him away from his two former teammates.

Both men looked unsurprised at Kai’s sudden, rude arrival as Max looked bewildered and gave an apologetic smile as he allowed himself to be pulled away by the other man.

Kai opened up the bedroom door and pulled Max inside before giving the door an aggressive push causing it to slam shut, not caring if it drew attention to the scene.

“Is something wrong?” Max said, tilting his head to the side, curious and a little concerned.

“You know damn well what’s wrong. You’re always hugging people,” Kai grumbled his arms crossed over his chest

“Isn’t it normal to hug your friends?” Max questioned, his brows furrowing slightly

“Sure but you don’t always have to do it, to everyone,” Kai huffed his hands balling into fists.

Max sighed softly before he grinned at the older man, he understood the problem, Kai was greedy and selfish, and most importantly he was jealous.

So he did what he did best, he sauntered over to the shorter man and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Is this what you wanted?” Max said laughing as he felt Kai relax into the hug and press his face against his neck, muffling a quiet yes.

Max began to rock the two of them back and forth, indulging in their private shared moment, wishing Kai would just be more open with his affections instead of bottling them up and then exploding on everyone else for interacting with their friends normally.

He was a difficult man, Kai was, but Max wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Come on, we should go back out before the countdown, I am the host,” Max said as he coaxed Kai to the door.

“Fine, but no more hugging people,” Kai spoke with acidity, his irritation still present on his face.

“No more hugging people, I’ll only hug you for the rest of the night, maybe I’ll even smooch you!” Max replied with a laugh and one more squeeze before he pulled away from Kai, watching him sputter a bit, his face turning red.

And as promised, Max would keep his physical affections with the the partygoers down to brief side hugs and shoulder squeezes before finding Kai sulking in his corner as the clock struck midnight and giving him a small peck on the lips

“Happy New Year.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

• Characters: Yuriy Ivanov & Boris Kuznetsov
• Pairing: Yuriy/Boris (formerly)
• Prompt: "things you said after it was over"

The front door slammed, causing the house to shake slightly as Boris stomped through the entryway of the small apartment into the living area, his dirty boots tracking snow across the hardwood floors. He peeled off his leather jacket, throwing it aggressively onto the sofa before a figure sitting in an old worn chair caught his eye.

“What are you doing here, Yuriy?” Boris asked, a tired sigh escaped his lips as he gave the intruder and unconvincing glower.

He took a drink of the beer he had helped himself to, causing Boris to frown at Yuriy’s audacity. They hadn’t seen each other in over six months, at times they had been so contentious their mutual friends had been forced to split their time between them like children going through the painful, bitter, divorce of their parents.

“I had nothing better to do, figured I’d finally bring back all the shit you left at my place.” Yuriy said, slouching back in the chair and forcing Boris into an uncomfortable and direct eye contact.

“And why didn’t you just dump it on the floor and leave?” Boris asked, gritting his teeth, thinking whatever items Yuriy was returning now were better destined for the trash then returned, forever tarnished by painful memories that he’d sooner forget.

Boris heard his sharp inhale and cocked an eyebrow slightly, before finally moving from where he’d stopped upon discovering the intruder and grabbing himself a drink from the fridge and dropping into the old sofa across from Yuriy, waiting for a response.

“I thought maybe we… could talk?” Yuriy eventually replied, his voice was strained and slightly shaky.

“About what?” Boris asked, channeling the anger rising in his chest into twisting the cap off his beer. He heard the shaky exhale as Yuriy suppressed an irritated laugh,

“Everyone else is miserable because of us,” Yuriy spoke, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice and the scowl on his face.

“Astute observation, Yura, can’t believe you managed to get your head out of your own ass long enough to notice other people's suffering! That’s some real character development!” Boris replied sarcastically, dopamine flooded him as he watched Yuriy’s eyes narrow and his grip on the glass bottle tighten.

He had some nerve showing up here to talk about the suffering they were causing everyone when it was him who would fall off the face of the earth for months at a time in an attempt to run away from the shadows that kept him awake at night. 

Everyone else had started the healing process years ago, it was only Yuriy, only his fucking hubris , that had refused to be helped.

“I deserve that.” Came the soft reply, and when Boris’ vision refocused on the man sitting across from him the irritation had vanished off his face, replaced with a pensive look. This was new, he thought.

“Yeah you sure fucking do,” Boris said, not hiding his pleasure at Yuriy’s admission, it felt like their first step forward in a decade, like maybe, finally, the stubborn asshole was making some progress.

“Anyway… I was hoping maybe we could try to put an end to the aggression between us so that the others aren’t constantly walking on eggshells and scheduling shit to make sure we don’t catch sight of one another.” Yuriy spoke thoughtfully, and Boris recalled how he had loved how he looked when he was focused on something, how the way his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched used to evoke a fluttery sensation in his chest. Only now, the same sight made him feel nothing.

“Yeah sure, but only if you’re going to try too, and not just expect me to be your fucking doormat or whatever.” Boris replied flippantly after some thought, he figured it would be in poor taste to refuse the olive branch being offered.

“So how about we uh, all hang out this Saturday instead of the weird split custody thing we’ve been doing?” Yuriy inquired, tapping a fingernail against the glass of the bottle he’d barely touched since Boris had come through the door, before the other man could reply he’d continue, disinterestedly: “As a test run or whatever.”

“Yeah.” Boris agreed, shifting on the sofa as the conversation began to make him feel restless. As if reading the room, Yuriy glanced at his watch before getting to his feet, prompting Boris to raise his eyebrow slightly before asking: “Leaving so soon?”

“I have plans this evening.” Was the simple reply as Yuriy moved across the room to retrieve his jacket from the otherwise empty coat rack by the door.

“Are you insane? What the hell are you doing going out on Valentine's D—“ Oh he thought: “—You’ve met someone,” Boris concluded, watching as Yuriy straightened his back

“I have,” he replied simply, not turning to look at the man on the sofa behind him.

“Neat,” Boris said awkwardly, his eyes staring at the other man's back as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, thinking about how in the past few months both Sergei and Ivan had commented that Yuriy seemed healthier, happier, and more cognizant lately.

“I’ll see you Saturday.” Yuriy's voice came from the door as he looked back at Boris, his hand resting on the already turned handle, waiting to push it open and make his exit.

“See you Saturday,” Boris confirmed with a slight nod as he watched the man look away from him and retreat from the tiny apartment.

Boris remained frozen for a moment, before leaning forward, setting the bottle on the floor and resting his head in his hands. He exhaled loudly, a bitter laugh followed as his hands twisted into fists pulling at his hair slightly. It was complicated, it was stupid, he was happy, he was agonized.

Their relationship had been long beyond reconciliation, every altercation between them had just further driven a resentful wedge between them, and it had started long before it had ended. By the time it was finally over, there was nothing left to salvage from the charred remains of their relationship, Boris hadn’t even been sure he’d ever be able to look Yuriy in the face again without wanting to put him in the hospital or worse. And it all had come from one thing, they had all moved forward and Yuriy had remained the same, unwilling to change, unwilling to be helped, always fucking unwilling.

And yet, at some point while Boris was consumed with overwhelming animosity towards his once best friend, and completely blinded by his disdain for everything Yuriy had ruined , their friends had began to comment that things seemed different, that he was disappearing less, that he was drinking less, that he was more himself again, and Boris had ignorantly thought, it was just wishful thinking from two people desperate not to watch someone they loved die. 

Because he had been there, he had seen it at its worst, behind closed doors and away from everyone else, he had watched the vestiges of their past consume Yuriy and turn him into an empty shell with no future but pain and death, and no desire to escape it.

But something had changed, while Boris was avoiding Yuriy, consumed by rage and regret he had failed to notice that someone else had appeared, who without any second thought jumped right into the madness and chaos of Yuriy’s inner world and steadfast and stubbornly remained until he was able to finally reach him and take his hand and pull him out of the nightmare that had consumed his every waking moment.

And Boris was happy, relieved even, that Yuriy had finally found something, someone , that he felt was worth fighting for…

But damn if it didn’t hurt that that thing hadn’t been him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: Predilection. 

• Characters: Boris Kuznetsov, Garland Siebald
• Pairing: Garland/Boris
• Prompt: N/A

“Does the sun ever shine in this city?” Garland asked casually. He walked with his arms outstretched, balancing himself on the large rocks at the rivers embankment. A gust of the cool mid-may air easily penetrated his dark green windbreaker, sending a chill through his body. He placed his foot down onto the uneven stone and there was an unsteadiness in his footing, causing him to shift ever so slightly in the river's direction.

“Of course it fucking does.” Garland felt a rough hand grab onto the loose emerald nylon of his jacket and correct his posture. “It’s not my problem you always bring bad weather with you,” Boris continued with a snarl.

“Do I?” He stopped, lowering his arms before effortlessly pivoting on his heel to face the tall man who currently stood almost a metre shorter than him. Boris’ grip on the jacket loosened as Garland towered over him. He smiled and continued, a hint of mischievousness in his voice: “I’ll have you know the weather was quite lovely in Milan when I boarded.”

Boris scoffed, tilting his head slightly upwards allowing Garland to see his skeptical expression. A tan hand ruffled badly faded pink hair and incredulity morphed into a scowl. He aggressively swatted the hand away on instinct, before panicking and hastily reaching out with his own to grab on for dear life. 

With a small sigh and a morose smile Garland lowered himself to the ground in a single clean movement, his hand never leaving its place in Boris’. The tension in the other man's body almost immediately melted away when Garland was back on solid ground. It left Garland with another question he didn’t dare ask the answer for.

It felt surreal that he could know so much about Boris now and still feel it was just a single drop of water in a boundless ocean. For every trauma Boris would speak candidly of, no less than a dozen were left unshared. And Garland didn’t know whose sanity it was to protect.

So he filed it away, wondering if someday he’d ever find out who it was that Boris had let go of.

“If my grandmother was still alive she’d be clutching her fucking prayer beads and calling it an omen,” Boris said nonchalantly, withdrawing his hand from Garlands and shoving it into his coat pocket. 

“Grandmother?” Garland’s eyebrows shot up. Boris seldom spoke of familial relationships, especially blood relatives.

“Yeah, I wasn’t born in a test tube,” Boris quipped, running his other hand through his shaggy hair, disheveling it to his preference.

“W—well obviously,” Garland stuttered, his face flushing. Boris laughed and Garland crossed his arms over his chest, wrinkling his nose slightly.

“All I remember is she was a pious, superstitious old witch who drew batshit conclusions from dumb shit,” Boris muttered, restlessly shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Well I think she was taller than you,” he added, a shitfaced grin appearing on his face when Garland pushed past him.

Garland, who was raised too proper for expletives or other vulgarities, just marched down the cobblestone path grumbling what Boris could only assume were creative insults in a language he didn’t understand. He wordlessly followed the irritated man at a short distance, knowing his dogshit sense of direction would eventually get him lost if he was left alone.

“Do you actually remember your grandmother?” Garland abruptly spun on his heels and stared Boris down, a thinly veiled accusation in his question.

“Yes,” Boris replied, continuing his stride until he closed the gap between them.

“And she’d really think I was an omen?” His voice had an almost inaudible unsteadiness to it, but at this point Boris had spent years obsessing over Garland's most minute details.

Boris shook his head slightly, lifting his arms to place them on Garland’s shoulders, slowly sliding them across their length and up his neck. Garland shuddered slightly as Boris’ calloused thumbs came to rest on his cheeks. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against the shorter man's, shutting his eyes.

“Who cares? I couldn’t give a fuck what the people who gave up on me think,” Boris whispered against Garland’s skin. 

Garland chewed on his lip for a moment, eventually inhaling deeply and closing his eyes. He moved his hands to gently grasp Boris' forearms, accepting the exceedingly rare public display of affection.

Then as suddenly as Boris had held him, Garland’s grip on his forearms tightened and with all the strength that came from his years of martial arts training he shoved Boris backwards, causing him to stumble and lose his footing, falling ass first onto the stone walkway. 

Boris looked at Garland in bewilderment as he towered over him. He glared in indignation before, to Boris’ delight, he finally snapped:

“I am not short.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 13 (cw: implicit child abuse)

• Characters: Boris Kuznetsov, Yuriy Ivanov
• Pairing: N/A
• Prompt: “Back in the abbey, Boris and Yuriy around 9 years old. Yuriy is afraid of thunderstorms. Boris calms and distracts him before the caretakers find out and punish Yuriy for his vulnerability.”

The wind howled as it hit the worn window panes. His tiny body trembled fiercely as he cowered in the darkest corner of the dormitory, as far away from the predatory gazes of the other children that searched for the weaknesses of their peers. The child residents of the monastery had learned that playing the role of rat would garner them special treatment, often in the form of a fresh piece of fruit with a meal, or some other tiny luxury like new socks. 

Volkov and his associates had bred a culture of disloyalty between their charges. A strategy designed to assure every single child looked at each other with a definite feeling of disdain. There was no need for camaraderie within these walls, only fealty to their handlers, and a desire to be at the top. It was an assurance there would be no revolutions.

Stringy red hair clung to the side of his face, as he clenched his jaw so hard his damaged, infected teeth hurt and kept his body rigid. Yuriy hated storms, and if anyone were to ever find that out, his bruised, frail body would meet the handle of a pastoral staff.  So veiled himself in darkness and held his body taut, as his mind rehearsed the right words to say if he was ever confronted. 

Not that there were right words to say.

A loud thunder crack made Yuriy dig his fingernails into his palms and curl his toes in his worn shoes. He swallowed hard and slinked further into the shadows, threatened by the bright flashing light that illuminated the barren room through its windows.

“It’s more obvious when you do this.” Yuriy jumped, instinctively throwing a closed fist out in front of him to punch the intruder. The taller boy just grabbed onto his wrist with strength no nine year old should have. But Yuriy relaxed, because despite the rules and politics within Volkov monastery, this person would always be safe. 

“What’s obvious?” Yuriy asked, playing dumb as he pulled his hand away from Boris. However the storm unleashed another loud boom that rattled the whole building and made Yuriy fall back into the stone wall, betraying the confidence he feigned. 

Boris sighed, loud enough it was audible over the whistling of the wind. He dropped to the floor, sitting cross legged, he rooted around in his pants pocket for something before holding a closed fist out to Yuriy, beckoning him with his middle and index finger. Yuriy’s curiosity got the better of him as he slowly approached Boris, kneeling in front of him.

“Do you think if I put these under the bed the mouse¹ will come?” Boris asked, opening up his fist to reveal a small pair of milk teeth that definitely didn’t belong to him. There was a childlike wonder to the question, an innocence that had yet to be stripped away.

“I think you’re better to bring them to Vladimir Anatolyevich and tell him who was stashing them, they’ve been giving apples for good behaviour,” Yuriy’s reply came as a whisper. Milk teeth were contraband, not because they carried any innate value, but because they were a connection between an individual and identity. 

And Volkov had put so much effort in stripping away every one of their identities. 

“You’re no fun.” Boris puffed his cheeks petulantly, closing his fist around the tiny pieces of bone in his palm. “… You can do it, if you want the apples,” he muttered eventually, thrusting them into Yuriy’s hand, who looked at him with wide eyes.

“But you found them—” Yuriy began, fully intending to argue that Boris should reap the spoils of his discovery. 

“I got one yesterday,” Boris interrupted.

The two bickered back and forth over who should claim the reward of favorable treatment for quite some time. Not realizing it would become a game they would master in their teenage years. A push and pull, a fragile balance, an equilibrium just even enough that both boys maintained the same value to their handlers. 

He eventually conceded, closing his hand around the teeth. He abruptly froze, and his gaze shifted towards the old window. The wind no longer howled, and the skies were no longer illuminated by lightning flashes, instead rain pattered against the glass; a ferocious storm was now a gentle shower.

Allowing Yuriy to relax for a moment.

¹ The reference to a “Mouse” is a Russian tradition where placing milk teeth in an area a mouse could find them is an offering to grow strong adult teeth, in more modern times it’s also common for children to receive ₽5-10.