General RP ℂ𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 | Froshi & Sol

[Solaris-]

There were subtle changes in Rowan that Dmitri had taken note of over the course of their three interactions. Of course they still had their anxious tendencies, but today, there was something more steady about them, more open to the idea of following through with their plans they’d made. He was glad for it. It made him feel less like he was intruding on someone else’s life and space and more like they could exist as equals in each other’s space for a short amount of time. He chuckled quietly. “I feel better today. Lighter somehow. Like the world is pressing down on me less and it doesn’t feel like the sky is falling for once.” It was only a matter of time before that started again, but he would gladly sit in the calm and enjoy his peace for now. “Talking with you last night about everything helped. Sleep never really comes easily these days, but without so much weighing on my mind, I was able to rest.” At least a little for the short amount of time he had let himself sleep. Though he wouldn’t have traded the time they spent together for more sleep even if he got a second chance.

“You seem more relaxed today than I’ve seen you, Ptichka. Steadier somehow. It’s nice to see you like this.” Maybe relaxed hadn’t exactly been the right word, but Rowan seemed to fidget less and pulled away less from Dmitri’s presence.

They were walking now, and it was easy to keep Rowan’s pace. He still held both boxes carefully in his hands. “Yes, we were still dressed up in what we would wear in our respective host clubs, but since it was just the hosts and our bosses today, it was more or less just corporate bullshit and exchanging social media.” A gentle roll of his shoulders in a gentle shrug. “There was a big scandal involving a host club in Denver that allowed its hosts to sell more than just dates for money, and peddling sex is generally looked down upon in the community unless your club is specifically in a red light district. A lot of the meeting was making sure we understood that doing this outside of those districts could get us shut down.” So could dating patrons outside of the club or living with them, but they’d let that slide when it’d happened with Dmitri despite their reservations about it. He had worked hard to regain his status and reputation, so they looked the other way without another thought. “They’re finally getting more lax on their opinions about tattoos and other things of that nature, so that does bring me some hope that I can stop wearing long sleeves all the time.”

The place where Rowan was leading them was never a place he would have found on his own. If Rowan were a different person and not who he was, Dmitri might have assumed that they were trying to mug him or kill him by taking him out this way. But the quiet and still of the world around them felt pleasant. “I can’t wait to see them. I’m sure they turned out well. From what I’ve seen so far, I enjoy the shots you take.” Even if one of them was too real for his liking, he would still keep it. Perhaps it was too honest to post it online, but he wanted it for himself to look back on this window in time for the next time he needed a reminder that he actually mattered.

He’d almost commented, but as Rowan was still speaking, Dmitri allowed them to finish their thought. “Taking slow steps may not look like progress to you, but I can definitely notice it.” Most people wouldn’t; most people wouldn’t even care to take a second look. To most, Rowan might have seemed easy to get lost in a crowd and become just another blur among the faces. But Dmitri had noticed them even when the room was crowded. A familiar stranger who looked at him with kind, tired eyes.

“I’m glad I don’t make you want to run away from me.” The joke came at his own expense, and he knew that Rowan hadn’t meant it that way, but he had just wanted to lighten the mood a bit. “Thanks for staying even when it’s hard. I enjoy you being here.”

Dmitri stopped too and looked up at the wall covered in paint and graffiti. The artist behind the tag couldn’t have known the symbolism of what looking at it might entail to someone else, but the dark haired man felt it resonate with him in that moment. It was definitely a sign. That superstitious part of his mother that had rubbed off on him in some way reared its head again. He seated himself down next to Rowan and set one of the boxes closer to them and the other in his own lap.

“Today has been weird. I feel better about today, but there’s part of me that is a little uncertain.” He thought about how to explain this mixed emotion between small bites of sandwich. “It’s mostly because Marnie felt so… normal this morning. Not in the way she normally does, but the normal that someone might expect to wake up to. Breakfast, a smiling face. No anger or bitter words.” She had done normal girlfriend things for the first time in months and it was too weird for him to think about. It felt like a weird fever dream or an episode of a TV show that wasn’t real life. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up. I was really looking forward to speaking with you again today. I’d rather not think about something that makes my head hurt right now.” No, he’d rather focus on the here and now and be present.

“Ptichka, what’s your favorite color?”​

 

[Froshimaru]

​

The question caught Rowan off guard.

What's your favorite color?

It was such a normal question. The kind of thing people asked when they were getting to know each other, when they weren't trauma-dumping in parks at night or sharing the weight of their respective damage. Just a simple, human question about preferences instead of pain.

Rowan took a bite of their sandwich, using the moment to think. The food was good - better than they'd expected, though they'd been too nervous about today to eat breakfast and were only now realizing how hungry they were.

"Blue," they said finally. "Not like... bright blue. The kind you get right after sunset. Blue hour. When everything goes cool and quiet and the world is between states. That in-between color."

They glanced at Dmitri, at the way afternoon light caught on him.

"What about you? And don't say whatever color you think I want to hear. Real answer."

The comment about Marnie being normal that morning sat heavy in the space between them. Rowan knew that feeling - when something felt wrong specifically because it felt right. When the absence of chaos was more unsettling than the chaos itself because at least chaos was predictable.

"It's okay," they said quietly. "To bring her up. You don't have to pretend she doesn't exist just because we're trying to have a normal conversation. She's part of why your head hurts. Part of why you're here in Berlin telling a stranger about your life instead of... I don't know. Whatever people in healthy relationships do."

They took another bite of sandwich, watching the graffiti bird on the wall. Frozen mid-flight, trying to escape.

"The normal morning thing sounds like a red flag," they admitted. "I'm not an expert on relationships - clearly, given how I handled things with people in my past - but sudden behavior changes usually mean something. Either she's planning something or she's trying to make up for something or... I don't know. It just feels manipulative."

Their leg started bouncing. They forced it still.

"Sorry. That's probably not helpful. I'm trying to do the thing where I'm honest with you instead of telling you what you want to hear, but maybe I'm just making it worse."

They set their sandwich down on the box, suddenly less hungry than they'd been a moment ago. Their hands found their camera instead, fingers tracing the familiar shape of it.

"You said you feel lighter today. That talking last night helped." They looked at Dmitri directly now. "I felt that too. Feel it still. Like something shifted. Like I'm not carrying all of it alone anymore."

Their heart did that skip thing again.

"Which is weird because we've known each other for three days and I'm not good at people and you're dealing with your own mess and neither of us are qualified to help each other. But somehow..."

They trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"Somehow it helps anyway. Just knowing someone else gets it. That I'm not the only one who's tired of performing. Who's trying to figure out how to exist without breaking."

A cat wandered past, orange and fat, completely unbothered by the two humans having a moment on the low wall. It paused to sniff at Dmitri's sandwich box before moving on, tail high.

Rowan picked up their camera, capturing the moment without thinking about it. The cat. The graffiti bird. The afternoon light. Dmitri sitting next to them with his careful smile that was more real than it had been two days ago.

Click.

"I'm glad you don't make me want to run either," they said, echoing his earlier words. "That's... that's not normal for me. Usually by now I'd be planning my exit. Finding reasons to leave before things get complicated. But I keep showing up instead."

They lowered the camera, looking at the image on the LCD screen. Dmitri looked peaceful in it, despite everything. Like for this one afternoon he wasn't carrying the weight of a toxic relationship or years of performing or whatever else was pressing down on him.

Just existing.

"Dr. Vogler asked me this morning what I was afraid of," they continued, voice quieter now. "With you. With this. Whatever this is. And I didn't know how to answer because there's a lot of things I'm afraid of but none of them felt like the right answer."

Their hands tightened around their camera.

"I think I'm afraid that you'll go back to Portland and figure out how to leave her and be okay without... without needing to text a stranger you met in Berlin. That this will just be a weird blip in your life that doesn't matter long-term."

Too honest. Way too honest. But Dmitri had been honest about his girlfriend's sudden normal behavior feeling wrong, and Rowan was trying to match that vulnerability even though it made their chest feel tight.

"Which is selfish," they added quickly. "Because you should be okay without needing to talk to me. That would be healthy. That would be good. But I'm selfish and I want... I want this to keep mattering. Even after you leave."

Their heart was racing now. They picked up their sandwich again just to have something to do with their hands, took a bite they barely tasted.

"Sorry," they said around the food. "That was a lot. You asked about my favorite color and I made it weird."

But their eyes stayed on Dmitri, waiting to see if they'd just ruined this by admitting they wanted it to continue. By admitting they cared.

 

[Solaris-]

When Dmitri had asked that question, he had briefly looked down at the uncolored tattooed flowers that decorated his arms. They'd remained unfinished despite having been tattooed for years at this point. It had always felt right to leave them uncolored, but the significance of this brief interlude wasn't lost on him even though he didn't mention it to Rowan. For now, he wanted to leave the question as it was- innocent and curious. Rowan's favorite color was fitting for them; an introspective color that allowed for some mystery and whimsy. "Real answer," He assured his companion gently with the repeated phrase. "Is that mine is pink- but like a desaturated, sandy pink. Like the color of a more neutral shade of lipstick. Or like," He lifted a hand and reached over to lift a lock of hair from Rowan's shoulder gently. The way the color faded into their natural color was what he meant. "Like this. It reminds me of when the only thing I needed to worry about was getting in trouble for stealing my sister's makeup." Back when things were simpler than the many adult worries everyone dealt with on the daily.

Their conversation drifted back to the morning's events and Dmitri pulled his hand away slowly. "We're hardly strangers now, Ptichka." After three days of trauma bonding, he considered Rowan to be amongst the people he trusted enough to be open and honest with. In his mind, they were friends enough by now. "But you're right. The Stepford Wives routine is definitely weird. This is my first long term relationship, and well, you can see how well this is going." It wasn't healthy; it never had been, and he was coming to terms with the fact that she'd likely been this way the whole time even though he couldn't see it until well and truly after the fact that they'd been dating. "I think part of it is because she knows she upset me by coming with me on this trip rather than staying home and she's trying to make me forget that I'm upset with her. Being treated like a child that someone thinks they need to watch is humiliating." He was a grown man that didn't need to be under constant surveillance for every perceived slight.

Dmitri wasn't an angry person, didn't understand why people thought they needed to constantly watch their partners when relationships should be built on trust. At least that's what he'd always believed. Rowan was speaking again, and he let the brief moment of anger he'd felt for someone else dissipate into the ether. "You help more than you realize." Even if they couldn't do much or couldn't relate to the situation, what had been said were things that he had felt for some time.

His own sandwich was half-gone, but he didn't have the stomach to finish it yet. He closed the box and set it next to him. The quiet words spoken mirrored Dmitri's own feelings. Having someone who understood in a low point in their lives had made them both walk a little taller and their chin a little higher. "You don't need to carry the whole weight anymore on your own. I'm not always going to be here with you to spend this time with you, but I'm only a text away, a push of a button for a phone call if you ever feel like you need someone to talk to. I show up for my friends always no matter what you need." Even if all Rowan needed was to hear another voice, he would still answer. "I'm glad you keep showing up and being present. When I made these plans on the fly the other day, I half expected you to run then. But now I think I would be more hurt by the fact you felt like you had to run away from me if you weren't here right now." He would be disappointed and upset in himself in equal measures if he scared someone away like that.

He'd grown accustomed to Rowan snapping photos of him and didn't mind the candids. They showed a side of himself he rarely got to see even of himself.

He found himself moving a bit closer. The first time he'd touched Rowan other than to stop them from walking away, he'd been scared that his touch would scare them off, but now, even this was just something he'd grown used to. "Even if I leave Marina and go back to normal in Portland, you are still my friend and you definitely will still matter to me." Dmitri didn't mention that without a girlfriend occupying his time he would have far more time to spend with his friends than the little that he got now. With the free hand that wasn't wrapped around Rowan's shoulders, he pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans. Their contact number saved in his phone had been nicknamed that same gentle word he had started using for Rowan. "We are friends now, and you will always be important to me even when we can't hang out everyday. So please don't think I will forget about you or that your problems and your worries will stop mattering the second I leave." He'd no intention of that becoming the case.

His gaze had softened a bit- helped by the light that turned amber hues into that of golden honey- as he looked down at the person he was next to. "You may not be good with people, but you opened my eyes a lot in three days, have lifted some of the burden on my heart from me. You were scared and showed up anyway and that matters." ​

 

[Froshimaru]

Dmitri's arm was around their shoulders.​

Rowan's first instinct was still to freeze, to calculate whether this was safe, to prepare for flight. But his touch was gentle, and they'd leaned against him last night, and their heart was doing that skip thing that meant something they weren't ready to name yet.

So they didn't pull away. Just stayed there, aware of every point of contact, trying to remember how to breathe normally.

Pink. Dmitri's favorite color was pink - desaturated, sandy pink. Like the faded ends of Rowan's hair where the color had grown out and they hadn't bothered to refresh it. He'd reached out and touched it, so careful, like Rowan might break or run if he moved too fast.

Maybe they would have, a few days ago. Maybe they still might.

But right now they just sat there, Dmitri's arm around them, listening to him say words that made their chest feel too tight and too open at the same time.

You will always be important to me.

We are friends now.

You were scared and showed up anyway and that matters.

"Amber," Rowan said after a moment, answering the question about their favorite color. "That warm, golden light you get right before sunset. Golden hour. Everything looks softer, more forgiving. Better than it actually is."

They paused, realizing how that sounded.

"For photography, I mean. It's the best light for shooting. Makes everything look... worth capturing."

Their hand found their camera again, that familiar nervous habit. But they didn't raise it this time. Just held it, anchoring themselves to something concrete while Dmitri's words settled into the spaces where fear usually lived.

"Pink suits you," they added quietly. "The desaturated kind. Like when things were simpler. Before you had to worry about relationships that feel like surveillance."

Their leg started bouncing again. Dmitri's arm around their shoulders didn't stop the nervous energy, but it made it feel less urgent somehow.

"I half expected me to run too," they admitted. "That first night at the coffee shop, I almost didn't show up. Typed out like five different excuses. And yesterday, same thing. And this morning I woke up and my first thought was 'how do I get out of this without hurting his feelings.'"

"But then I thought about what Dr. Vogler always says - that running away from things doesn't make them less scary, it just means you never find out if they could have been good. And this..."

They caught themselves before finishing that thought. This could be good felt too loaded, too much like implying something they shouldn't be implying when Dmitri had a girlfriend waiting back at his hotel. Even if that girlfriend was manipulative and controlling and made him miserable.

"This friendship could be good. So I showed up."

Friends. Safe word. Boundary. The thing they were supposed to be even though Rowan's heart was doing complicated things that didn't feel entirely platonic.

But Dmitri was in a relationship, toxic as it was, and Rowan had no right to feel anything beyond friendship. No right to notice the way afternoon light turned his eyes honey-gold, or how his touch felt grounding instead of suffocating, or how their chest did that tight-open thing when he said they mattered.

They looked down at their camera, at their hands, anywhere but directly at Dmitri.

"You said you show up for your friends always," they said carefully. "Marcus used to do that too. Tell me when I was making stupid decisions. When I was staying in dangerous places too long or not taking care of myself."

Safer ground. Talking about Marcus instead of whatever complicated feelings were sitting in their chest.

"So I'm going to do that friend thing and tell you - the surveillance thing with Marnie isn't normal. The sudden change in behavior this morning, making breakfast and being sweet after being controlling... that's a red flag. People don't just change overnight. They change tactics."

They finally looked up at Dmitri, being careful to keep their expression neutral even though their heart was racing.

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do with your relationship. That's not my place. But as your friend, I'm worried. About you going back there every night. About what happens when you do leave and she realizes you're serious."

Their fingers found the edge of Dmitri's sleeve, gripping the fabric before they could stop themselves. Physical contact that meant too much and not enough at the same time.

"Just... be careful. Okay? When you go back to Portland and start making your plan to leave. People like her don't usually let go easily."

They released his sleeve, pulled their hand back, put safe distance between what they were feeling and what they were allowed to express.

"I'm glad we're friends," they said finally. "I'm glad I showed up. I'm glad you matter to me, even if that's scary. I haven't let anyone matter since Marcus died."

There. Honest but bounded. Caring but platonic. The truth without crossing lines they had no right to cross.

Even if their heart was doing that skip thing. Even if Dmitri's arm around their shoulders felt like something more than friendship. Even if every instinct was screaming that this mattered in ways they weren't allowed to acknowledge.

He had a girlfriend. They were friends. That was all this could be.

That had to be enough.

 

[Solaris-]

There was some guilt that Dmitri felt listening to Rowan now. He had been so wrapped up in his own excitement to spend time with someone that he had more or less forced three days worth of his own plans onto them without thinking that he probably shouldn't have. Saying no felt wrong, especially if it was to a stranger. It made him realize how weird or how much of a creep he must have come across asking even if he hadn't meant to be weird or creepy.

I'm sure most guys don't think they're creepy when they ask out random strangers on the street either.

Though he didn't voice the cynical thought, it remained at the back of his mind. "I'm sorry for dragging you along with my plans. I made them without thinking about respecting your boundaries and I really shouldn't have." Even if this was the result of all of that, the two becoming friends, sharing trauma, and enjoying the other's presence, he still felt as though he should apologize. Even giving Rowan a nickname they'd not asked for; he'd definitely let the lonely part of his brain take over when he'd suggested all of this. Maybe some day it could just be a funny story for them to look back on and reminisce about. "Don't think that you can't say no because I would be disappointed. The last thing that I want is to make you uncomfortable." That went especially so now that they were friends.

He'd heard the moment of hesitation in Rowan's voice before they finished their sentence. The way that Rowan wouldn't look at him anymore made Dmitri feel nervous in a way he couldn't explain. It felt as though there were something more that they'd wanted to say- something they just couldn't let materialize into the world for fear of ruining a good thing for the both of them. Dmitri could understand that; he'd done his best to ensure them that he wasn't chasing after them in a way that made them feel uncomfortable, that being friends was the only thing he wanted, and while that was technically still true, the longer that he spent with Rowan, the more complicated his feelings became about their friendship. He shouldn't feel this way about someone he wanted to protect from the world- for someone he'd known for less than a few days now. "For what it's worth, I think our friendship is a good thing. You're worth getting to know. Definitely some sort of weird- the good kind- happenstance of fate that we met."

Dmitri's hand around the other's shoulder gave his arm a gentle pet.

"...As your friend I'm worried. About you going back there every night. And what happens when you do leave and she realizes you're serious."

Those words accompanied by Rowan's worried expression made Dmitri heart ache. They were sweet to worry about him, to ask him to be careful when he was already wary of every action Marnie made towards him. It didn't take a genius to know that he was deeply afraid of what she might do if she found out. The first time he'd left it hadn't been a pretty sight, and she swore she'd change, go to therapy, but it'd never changed and she had only grown worse over time. The gentle hand that had found the edge of his sleeve made him flinch as he'd been lost in his own train of thoughts- trying to find the words to comfort Rowan to let them know that he would be okay and that they shouldn't worry. His first instinct was always to flinch away when someone else touched him now even though he didn't mind if Rowan touched him as he'd already been the initiator of such before.

Carefully, Dmitri took Rowan's hand in his own- offering a gentle squeeze of the warm palm. "Thank you for worrying about me. I'm not going to pretend like I know what the future holds, but I can promise that I will be careful and will look out for myself during these last few months." He let out a sigh. Marnie wasn't likely to let him go without a fight and he knew it was inevitably coming that he would have to tell her truthfully that he was leaving for good this time. "For the last two days I didn't want to leave. No matter how tired I was from the convention, I felt being here with you was somehow more important than going back just to argue and go to bed and wake up just to do it all over again the moment my eyes are open. It's been four years too long, but this will only be a few more months and then I can go back to trying to live my life again." What that entailed, he wasn't entirely sure.

That hand was pulled away, and Dmitri released it- though he had yet to pull his other arm from those slender shoulders. Not wanting this moment to end just yet even though he would inevitably have to return to his hotel room. Back to the weird Stepford Wives routine his girlfriend was putting on in order to try to win over his affections again. It wouldn't work on him as he knew he was determined come hell or high water to get out. "Remember to take care of yourself too though, alright, Ptichka? Even if it's scary, try to do it anyway if you can. Things won't always be daunting forever if you just take it one day at a time."

He opened the camera application on his phone and as the previous night- leaned closer so that the two could fit in the frame of the shot. The graffiti bird above them on the wall. "One more photo before it gets too dark."​

 

[Froshimaru]

Dmitri had flinched.

Just for a second, when Rowan's hand found his sleeve, Dmitri had flinched away. The same way Rowan flinched at sudden loud noises, at doors slamming, at anything that reminded them of mortars and airstrikes. The same instinctive pull-back that came from being hurt too many times.

And then Dmitri had taken their hand instead. Held it. Squeezed it gently like he was trying to prove to both of them that touch could be safe.

Rowan's chest felt tight in that complicated way again. The way that meant something they shouldn't be feeling, not when Dmitri had a girlfriend waiting back at his hotel. Not when they'd known each other for three days. Not when Rowan had no idea what was normal friendship behavior versus what was crossing lines they couldn't see.

"You didn't drag me into anything," they said quietly. "I could have said no. Should have said no, probably, given my track record with people. But I didn't want to. That's not on you."

They looked down at their hand in Dmitri's, at the way his fingers wrapped around theirs. Warm. Steady. Real. And way too intimate for people who were supposed to be just friends, except... was it? Rowan had seen men holding hands in Syria, in Yemen, walking down the street together as friends and it meant nothing beyond platonic affection. But this was Berlin, not the Middle East, and Rowan not exactly a man, and they had no frame of reference for what was normal here. Was holding hands okay? Was the arm around their shoulders okay? Or was Rowan reading into things that didn't mean what they desperately, guiltily wanted them to mean?

God, they were a mess.

"And the nickname is fine. Ptichka. I like it, actually. Makes me feel less like I'm just running and more like... I don't know. Like I'm supposed to be able to fly instead."

Their thumb brushed against Dmitri's palm without thinking about it, a small movement that felt significant in ways Rowan wasn't ready to examine. They pulled their hand back carefully, heart racing, trying to put safe distance between whatever this feeling was and what they were supposed to be feeling as a friend.

Because friends was what they were. Friends was what they had to be. Rowan had no business feeling this skip in their chest every time he touched them. No business wanting more time with him. No business noticing the way afternoon light turned his eyes honey-gold or how his arm around their shoulders felt grounding instead of suffocating.

Except they did notice. They did want. And that made them feel like they were doing something wrong even though they hadn't actually done anything except exist in Dmitri's proximity and develop feelings they had no right to have.

"You said you didn't want to leave. The last two days." They looked up at Dmitri, at his face so close to theirs with his arm still around their shoulders. "I didn't want you to leave either. Which is... that's new for me. Usually I'm the one looking for excuses to leave."

Was that okay to say? Was that crossing a line? Rowan had no idea. They'd been alone for so long, had avoided people so consistently, that they didn't know the boundaries anymore. Didn't know if wanting someone to stay was friendly or something more. Didn't know if the way their heart was racing meant friendship or feelings or some complicated mix of both that they weren't equipped to navigate.

They forced themselves to add:

"Because you're a good friend. Because talking to you helps."

Safe words. Except they felt like lies even as Rowan said them. Because yes, Dmitri was a good friend and yes, talking helped, but that wasn't the whole truth. The whole truth was messier - that Rowan's heart skipped when Dmitri smiled, that they wanted to lean into his touch instead of pull away, that they were starting to wonder what it would feel like if this was more than friendship.

And then the guilt hit. Sharp and immediate and crushing.

Dmitri had a girlfriend. Was in a relationship, complicated as it was. And here was Rowan, developing feelings after three days like some kind of disaster who didn't understand human interaction well enough to know where the lines were. What if they were misreading everything? What if Dmitri's touches were just normal friend behavior and Rowan was being inappropriate by wanting them to mean more?

What if Rowan was becoming part of the problem - another complication in Dmitri's already difficult life?

"A few more months," they said, trying to focus on something concrete instead of the mess in their head. "When your lease is up. And then you can start living your life again."

Without her. And then what? Would Dmitri be free and Rowan could... what? They'd known each other for three days. Three days wasn't long enough to know if these feelings were real or just Rowan latching onto the first person who'd been kind to them in years. Three days wasn't long enough to know if Dmitri felt anything beyond friendship or if Rowan was projecting their own damage onto someone who just wanted a friend.

God, they wished they understood people better. Wished they knew what was normal and what was crossing lines and whether the way Dmitri held their hand meant something or was just comfort between friends.

"I'll take care of myself," they promised. "One day at a time. Small plans. Show up even when it's scary."

Dmitri was opening his phone's camera app now, leaning closer so they'd both fit in the frame. The graffiti bird loomed above them on the wall - frozen mid-flight, forever trying to escape.

Rowan shifted, leaning into Dmitri because that's what they'd done last night and it had been okay then. Closing that distance again, choosing closeness even though they didn't know if it meant what they wanted it to mean or if they were just being a friend who happened to have inconvenient, inappropriate feelings.

Their head tilted slightly toward his, not quite touching but close. Close enough that it felt intimate. Close enough that Rowan's heart was doing that skip thing again and they couldn't tell if it was hope or guilt or both.

"Ready when you are," they said quietly.

The afternoon light was fading, golden hour giving way to evening. In a few hours Dmitri would go back to his hotel where Marnie was waiting. And Rowan would go back to their sublet alone, carrying these feelings they had no right to have and no idea what to do with.

Part of them wanted to know if there could be more. If these three days meant something beyond friendship. If Dmitri felt even a fraction of what Rowan was feeling.

But that part felt selfish. Wrong. Like Rowan was taking advantage of someone in a vulnerable situation, someone who was trapped and exhausted and looking for connection. Like they were no better than the girlfriend who controlled and manipulated, except Rowan's manipulation was subtler - leaning in, wanting more, hoping for something that wasn't theirs to hope for.

They didn't know where the lines were. Didn't know if what they were feeling was normal friendship or something more. Didn't know if leaning against Dmitri right now was okay or if they were crossing boundaries they couldn't see.

All they knew was that this felt important. That Dmitri mattered. That these three days had changed something fundamental in them.

And they had no idea what to do with any of it.

So they just leaned in a little closer and tried not to think too hard about whether they were being a good friend or quietly hoping for something more while pretending they weren't.​

 

[Solaris-]

The quiet noise of the phone's camera filled the quiet space. Once more he had leaned his head against Rowan's. It had been so long since he'd enjoyed the closeness of another person or the touch of someone else. Their touch was gentle, reassuring, and non-intrusive. All things he'd not felt with his own girlfriend in the entire time he'd known her. Three days didn't seem to be enough time for a friendship to form much less an odd sense of attraction that scared him more than anything else. What he felt had to be some sort of emotional cheating even if he tried to keep his thoughts to himself and not let them wander too much about what could be. Even if there was a chance for anything more than this, even if he was single right now, Rowan deserved better than a person who had learned to fear the touch of others or even intimacy as a whole. It wouldn't be fair to lead them on even if he were to voice these thoughts aloud- promising that one day they could do more than just sit there together and hold hands as friends.

The warm afternoon light in the liminal space where they were seated made the photo of two damaged humans seem softer. It was helped that both of them, while still holding onto emotions that were bigger than they could hold on their own, seemed to be a little happier even if just by a thin margin. Where yesterday's photo had captured them both in the aftermath of an disaster of an emotional roller coaster where they'd more or less trauma bonded their way into being more than acquaintances, today's photo seemed far more optimistic. They were both still troubled by pasts and present that haunted them, but at least there seemed to be a little hope left for whatever future lay in front of them even if they carried out their lives in different places.

He lowered the device- locking it and putting it back into his pocket. There were strangely no texts demanding to know where he was or who he was with or what he was doing, and it was a strange relief even though he expected to see at least one. For now, he was happy to turn his attention back to Rowan who he was still gently leaning against. "I think today we should stay a little longer if you're okay with that. I'm in no rush to leave just yet. Even when we talk about heavy things, I enjoy talking to you. Being present and in the moment for once feels nice." This was the last day he'd made plans for the two of them to spend time together, and even if the other didn't have plans for the next two days, he didn't want to bother them too much and impose himself onto Rowan for fear that they would get tired of seeing him so many days in a row now.

There was a moment of silence between the two before he allowed himself to break it. "Did you want to do anything tomorrow or Friday before I leave? We didn't make plans, but I can understand if you'd rather give yourself a break from me." Rowan had gone along with his plans up until now, and Dmitri would be happy to do whatever they suggested as they knew Berlin better than he did.

The light from the sky behind them faded into darkness and the light from the streetlamps flickered on leaving long shadows against the wall behind them. "You mentioned you've traveled a lot, but are there any places you'd ever go back to to see again? Or would like to visit that you haven't seen?"​

 

[Froshimaru]

Click.​

Another photo. Another moment captured and saved. Rowan wondered what they'd see when they looked at this one later - if the complicated feelings sitting in their chest would be visible somehow, or if they'd just look like two friends sitting together in the fading light.

Dmitri's head was still resting against theirs. Rowan didn't move, didn't want to break whatever this moment was. His arm was still around their shoulders and the warmth of him was grounding in a way that made Rowan's heart do that skip thing again.

Stay longer. Dmitri wanted to stay longer.

"Yeah," they said quietly. "I'm okay with that. More than okay with that."

The streetlamps were flickering on now, casting orange pools of light that made the graffiti bird on the wall look different. Less like it was trying to escape and more like it was frozen in the moment before flight. Before freedom.

Tomorrow or Friday. Dmitri was asking about tomorrow or Friday, offering more time, and something in Rowan's chest seized up. Part of them - the part that had learned to care about Dmitri over three impossible days - wanted to say yes immediately. Wanted to make plans for every remaining hour before he got on that plane. Wanted to hold onto this for as long as possible.

But the other part - the part that knew better, that understood boundaries and complications and the fact that Dmitri had a girlfriend no matter how unhealthy the relationship was - that part was screaming at them to pull back. To protect both of them from whatever this was becoming.

"Maybe," they heard themselves say, and it came out wrong. Hollow. The kind of maybe that meant probably not. "I mean, I might have... I should check if I have anything. With Dr. Vogler or... yeah. I'll text you. If I'm free."

Lies. Empty promises. The kind Rowan had gotten good at over the years - vague enough to seem possible, noncommittal enough to escape from later. They felt sick saying it, felt their chest tighten with guilt, but this was safer. This was protecting both of them from whatever line they were dancing around.

Dmitri was asking about travel now, about places they'd go back to, and Rowan forced themselves to answer even though their brain was spinning.

"Portugal," they said, voice steadier than they felt. "Sintra. It's got these old palaces and forests. Felt less real than real life. I'd go back there."

But they were barely tracking their own words anymore. Their mind was too busy fighting itself - the part that wanted to stay versus the part that knew they should go. The part that wanted to lean into Dmitri versus the part that knew he wasn't theirs to lean into. The part that had developed feelings in three days versus the part that understood how inappropriate and complicated and wrong those feelings were.

They'd surprised themselves. That was the thing. Rowan had spent years perfecting the art of not caring, of not letting people matter, of staying just distant enough that leaving didn't hurt. And here they were, three days in, wanting someone to stay. Actually wanting it. The realization was terrifying in a way that had nothing to do with panic attacks or war zones or any of the usual things that scared them.

This was different. This was wanting something they couldn't have and knowing it and wanting it anyway.

The sky was almost completely dark now. Their sandwich sat forgotten beside them. The graffiti bird watched from above, forever mid-flight, and Rowan felt too much like that bird - trapped between wanting to escape and wanting to stay.

Dmitri was still talking, asking about places he wanted to go when he was free, and Rowan should have been listening but all they could focus on was the warmth of him beside them. The way his arm felt around their shoulders. The three days they'd had and the two days they could have had if Rowan wasn't such a coward.

Except saying yes wasn't brave. Saying yes when Dmitri was still with someone else, when these feelings were too new and too complicated and too much - that wasn't brave. That was selfish.

Rowan was being selfish anyway just sitting here wanting things they had no right to want.

"I should probably go," they said suddenly, the words tumbling out before they'd fully decided to say them. "It's getting late and you probably need to get back and I have... things. Tomorrow. With Dr. Vogler."

More lies. Their therapy session was in the afternoon, not the morning, and they had no other plans. But they needed to leave before they did something stupid. Before they said something they couldn't take back.

They started to pull away from Dmitri's arm, started to stand up, but something made them pause. Some reckless part of their brain that was tired of running, tired of protecting themselves, tired of not having what they wanted.

They turned to face him instead. Dmitri was so close in the orange streetlight, his expression soft and open and real in a way that made Rowan's heart skip and stutter. They leaned in without thinking, without planning, just moving on instinct and want and three days of accumulated feelings they didn't know what to do with.

Closer. Close enough to feel Dmitri's breath. Close enough that if they moved another inch their lips would meet and Rowan would cross a line they couldn't uncross.

And then reality hit.

Dmitri had a girlfriend. They'd known each other for three days. Rowan had no idea if these feelings were real or just trauma bonding or desperation for connection. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair to either of them.

They changed trajectory at the last second, wrapping their arms around Dmitri instead. A hug. Safe. Platonic. The kind of thing friends did when saying goodbye.

Except it didn't feel platonic. It felt like holding onto something they were about to lose. Like trying to memorize the shape of him, the warmth, the way he fit against them in a way that felt inevitable and impossible at the same time.

"Sorry," Rowan whispered against Dmitri's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I'm overstepping."

They pulled back, not meeting his eyes, already reaching for their camera bag. Their hands were shaking again and they couldn't tell if it was anxiety or adrenaline or the crushing weight of wanting something they couldn't have.

"You have time," they said, words coming out rushed now, desperate to say something meaningful before they ran. "You have tomorrow and the day after and months after that. Time to plan, time to leave, time to figure out who you are when you're not performing. What you do with that time matters. Not just in the moment but... but beyond it. Into whatever comes next."

They shouldered their camera bag, finally looking at Dmitri's face. Trying to memorize it - the honey-gold eyes, the careful expression, the person who'd somehow become important in three impossible days.

"Use it well," they finished quietly. "The time you have. Don't waste it on people who don't deserve it."

And then they were walking away before Dmitri could respond, before they could change their mind, before they did something even more stupid than almost kissing someone they had no right to kiss. Their legs carried them down the darkening street, past the graffiti bird that would probably be painted over soon, toward whatever came next.

Their phone buzzed in their pocket. Probably Dr. Vogler checking in. They ignored it, kept walking, hands shoved deep in their jacket pockets to hide the shaking.

They'd done the right thing. Pulled back before ruining whatever fragile friendship they'd built. Protected both of them from complications neither of them needed.

So why did it feel like they'd just made the worst mistake of their life?

---

Hours later, Rowan lay in their sublet bed, staring at the ceiling, laptop open beside them. They'd been editing the photos from the last three days - the balcony shots of Dmitri in his Prince costume, the selfie from the coffee shop, the two photos of them together at the fountain, the one Dmitri had sent of them by the graffiti bird.

The last was devastating to look at. Both of them leaning into each other, the bird frozen above them, the fading light making everything look softer and more hopeful than it had any right to be. You could see it in their faces if you knew where to look - the exhaustion, yes, but also something else. Something that looked dangerously close to caring.

Rowan's chest felt tight looking at it. They'd almost kissed him. Had leaned in with every intention of crossing that line before pulling back at the last second. The memory of it made them feel sick with want and guilt in equal measure.

They'd done the right thing. They had.

Their phone sat on the nightstand, screen dark. They picked it up, pulled up Dmitri's contact. Just his name - Dmitri - and the photo they'd set without really thinking about it. One of the shots from the balcony, Dmitri without the performance, just existing in that moment of honesty.

Rowan's thumb traced across the screen, following the line of his face in the photo. The careful expression. The exhaustion he tried to hide. The person who'd somehow become important in seventy-two impossible hours.

They stared at it for a long moment, memorizing features they'd already memorized in person. Trying to understand how three days could feel like so much more. Trying to reconcile the fact that they'd walked away from something that mattered because it was the right thing to do.

Finally, they opened a new message, attached all the edited photos - the balcony series, the coffee shop selfie, both fountain photos - and typed:

'couldnt sleep. finished editing these. theyre yours'

They paused, cursor blinking, thumb still resting on Dmitri's contact photo like they could somehow reach through the screen and touch the real version.

'thank you for these three days. they mattered'

Send. Done. Now Dmitri had proof that this had happened - that they'd met and talked and built something fragile and important in the span of three days. That Rowan had cared enough to document it.

Their phone buzzed again. Still unread. Still waiting.

And then something broke.

Rowan curled into themselves, knees pulled to their chest, face pressed into the pillow that smelled like cheap detergent and loneliness. The tears came suddenly, violently, the kind of crying they hadn't let themselves do in years. Great heaving sobs that shook their whole body, made breathing impossible, left them gasping and choking on grief they'd been carrying for too long.

For Marcus. For the photograph they'd taken instead of helping. For three years of documenting horror and calling it important. For eight months of bleeding out slowly in this Berlin sublet, trying to convince themselves they were healing instead of just hiding.

For three days with Dmitri. For honey-gold eyes and careful touches and someone who'd made them feel human again. For the almost-kiss they'd pulled away from. For the friendship they'd probably just ruined by running away. For wanting something they couldn't have and knowing it and wanting it anyway.

For all the ways they'd failed. All the people they'd lost. All the moments they'd documented instead of lived.

The sobs wouldn't stop. Their chest hurt. Their throat burned. Their whole body shook with the force of finally letting go of everything they'd been holding in.

They stared at their open computer, at the messages from Dr. Vogler encouraging them to continue seeing Dmitri while he was in town. At the images again. Rowan just curled tighter into themselves and cried for the boy who'd allowed them to feel human again, even for just three days. Even when they didn't deserve it.

Eventually the tears slowed. Not stopped, just... less violent. More exhausted. Rowan lay there in the darkness, face wet, chest aching, phone still buzzing occasionally with messages they wouldn't read.

Progress, Dr. Vogler would say.

It felt like falling apart.

But maybe that was progress too.

 

[Solaris-]

That moment felt like time had stopped for Dmitri. The way Rowan had moved to be closer to him. The way their faces were only inches apart and how he hadn't been able to stop his eyes from drifting along pleasant facial features to rest on the lips that lingered near his own. He'd been careful to try to keep himself from catching these feelings, and now, looking at them so close, so tantalizingly close, there was a part of him that wanted to step over the line. To destroy whatever boundary he had set in his own mind because this was the first time in so long he had wanted someone to kiss him- had wanted to feel what it was like to be looked at like this rather than something to be owned and kept locked in a cage he couldn't escape from. But the logical part of his brain told him not to- screamed that this would be wrong, and so when Rowan had hugged him instead, he was grateful even if there was also disappointment in his expression that he was grateful the other didn't get to see. The hug was too brief- over too quickly. It wasn't lost on him now how avoidant Rowan was of making plans, but he didn't have the right to pry or ask questions, so he would accept the answers that he was given for now.

"Da svidanya, Ptichka. Text me if you find the time." He'd struggled to find the words to say- unsure of what would even come out of his mouth. Dmitri had never really struggled finding the right thing to say before, and he honestly didn't know how to cope with that information that someone almost kissing him had left him tongue-tied.

And then, he was left alone there, watching them walk away. It felt like a mistake- a bigger mistake than kissing them would have been. But he didn't stop them, and only when they were gone, did he leave as well to go back to what was normal for him to experience. His girlfriend who was still trying to play into his emotions that he still had no emotional bandwidth for.

--

TW/CW: Domestic abuse, Threatening harm against one’s self, suicidal ideation, attempted murder, blood.

Berlin had been a peaceful interlude into his otherwise tumultuous life. Meeting Rowan had opened Dmitri's eyes in many different ways. He'd been isolated from his friends and his family to protect them from Marina's angry outbursts, so meeting someone new that allowed him to be himself and didn't ask for anything other than who he was made him long for something other than platonic friendship. But he was also scared to cross a boundary he couldn't cross and didn't want to give Marnie the ammunition to cement that he'd even for a second thought about cheating on her with someone he barely knew. He'd left Germany even more unsure and uncertain than he'd been while he was there. One thing was for sure though, he would have to use his time wisely as Rowan had said. People who didn't deserve his time or treated him poorly were no longer people he wanted in his life, and the more time he spent around Marina, the faster he wanted out.

The fighting had started only a month after returning home from their trip. The routine she'd projected could only last so long. And now it came with violence. Never on Dmitri's part as no matter how angry he was toward her or how much he hated her, the thought of hitting her in retaliation turned his stomach. Bruises were covered and rarely mentioned. And he couldn't even look at her anymore without feeling a mixed bag of emotions. He'd endured five months of her torment since the last time he'd had a peaceful night with another person- since the last night he'd seen Rowan. Thankfully, there wouldn't be much more even though it was a struggle everyday to even drag himself from their bedroom to go to work and pretend to be happy and enjoy conversations from clients. It felt like there wasn't a day that didn't go by now that the thought of taking the easy way out didn't cross his mind at some point during the day.

He still sent texts to Rowan even if they were never responded to. Simple messages about making progress and about hoping they were alright. Just to check in or see what they had gotten up to since then. After posting the photos that they'd taken of him- just the convention photos as the others were far more personal and deeply sentimental to him- he'd eventually given up on updating his socials. The headache he got from it wasn't worth it, and he needed the energy to focus on trying to find an apartment on the other side of the city without others knowing. Ashe texted Dmitri often, but he could barely find the will power to open her concerned messages much less make up excuses as to why he couldn't see her that week. From just one look at him, she would know this had escalated further and that was the last thing he wanted.

He could hear quiet footsteps against the carpet as Marina approached him. Unluckily, he'd not been fast enough to hide the fact that he was looking at one of the images that he'd taken with Rowan before she entered. "You're always looking at that boy. Don't tell me you're actually a f-"

"Marina!" Dmitri's voice came out louder than he'd intended it to. He knew what was coming out of her mouth. In truth, he'd only opened the photo because he'd been hoping for a new message that was unlikely to come and had scrolled up to see the last time he felt like he truly smiled in lifetimes. It made his heart ache to look at the photo for too long and it made him feel like he'd missed out on something else that could have been good. His phone was snatched from his hands quickly as she leaned over him. He'd sat up- brows knit in angry frustration that she'd taken his belongings yet again. Though there was something in her eyes this time that made him flinch under her icy stare.

"Ever since you've met this person you've been different. Who is he to you?"

The accusation was loud, but he didn't know how to answer. All his practiced charisma and charm didn't help him in that moment. A friend? That didn't sound right to him, but Rowan was a friend- only a friend and nothing more. "Just the photographer from the convention six months ago." Those words didn't sound convincing coming from him, and he could hear it in his own voice as he lowered his tired gaze. "Just a friend that I miss talking to who won't come to see me because he's afraid of you." Where he got the balls to say that surprised even him in that moment. He stood and grabbed her arms firmly- attempting to free his phone from her iron grasp. She dropped it on the floor.

Crack.

The sound of the glass screen shattering to pieces filled the room and Dmitri immediately released her to pick it up from the floor. "I'm going home tonight. To my parents'." He specified immediately after.

"Wait, Demi. I didn't mean-"

"You never mean to, Marnie. I'll be back tomorrow to get the rest of my stuff, but I am leaving. Leaving you and this apartment. I've had enough. It has to be over." It had to end now or he would find the nearest traffic to stand in and hope it ended quickly.

She was crying now. Big, crocodile tears he'd grown numb to seeing. "I can't do this anymore." Was the last thing he said before he turned his back to her.

Before he'd made it to the door though, he felt a sharp, angry pain in his back. Adrenaline and surprise and anger filled him at the same time. The white hot pain radiated from his shoulder in searing waves and when he turned back to face her, she pulled the long bladed knife from where she'd hilted it inside of his body. She was shorter than him, but even despite the fact that she lacked height and strength on him, she was quick to shove him back down on the bed. Blood leaked from the wound on his back staining everything it touched and when he looked up at her again, she was straddling him with the knife still in her hands. Once more it came down into his chest this time and he felt it more this time. The agony of the knife being driven deep into him. Sharp, stinging, hot and freezing all at the same time. Was this really how this was going to end?

By now, his eyes were unfocused from the pain and bloodloss both. Both of them were covered in red, sticky blood that continued to stain and she pulled the knife free again- holding it above him one last time. Right above his heart. Wrapping a hand around the blade and not caring if it cut into his palm in that moment, he said the words he knew would get her to stop what she was doing. He felt as though he couldn’t breathe and his breathing came out in quiet panicked bursts.He’d not even had the time to register the tears that leaked from his face at that moment- likely from the pain and betrayal both. "Marnie, I love you. Please."

He could feel her grasp on the blade waver and she all but collapsed onto him- resting her head against the shoulder she had not stabbed. Much like his phone, the blade clattered to the floor loudly. And then her weight from him was gone as she rushed from the room- leaving him there reeling with what had just occurred between them. This woman- the woman he’d loved deeply and with unwavering faithfulness for four years too long when she'd not deserved it, his first love- had betrayed him in the worst of ways.

- -

Three days later

Dmitri had lived through all of that somehow. He was still in an immense amount of pain from the experience, but alive and resting in his bed at home after being discharged from the hospital. Unbeknownst to him, Ashe had reached out through instagram to speak to Rowan. She had sent them a message:

'Hey, this is going to be super weird of a request from me. I found you through Demi's tags here, and he showed me some of the other photos you guys took, so I know you guys are friends. He hasn't responded to my messages in months and I'm really worried. Could you please reach out to him for me just to check on him? It really isn't like him to leave me hanging when we were just making holiday plans before this.'

Since his hospital release, Dmitri had quit his job at Verdigris, broken his lease on the apartment he'd had with Marina, and all but holed himself up in his room at his parents' house. They knew what happened to him and did their best to be supportive, but he didn't want to speak about it at that moment. Everything was still very fresh and painful in his mind.

The days he spent hiding in his room made him wish that he no longer existed; perhaps that would be easier on everyone at this point.

He was scrolling through messages on social media- attempting to keep himself from drifting to the suicidal thoughts that had taken hold of him lately. Any distraction was worth it at this point, he supposed.

His phone dinged- the cracked screen lit up with something he hadn’t seen in months.

Ptichka. Even through the spiderweb of lines across the screen, saw the name he’d affectionately called Rowan when they’d first met. Dmitri wondered if they would still remind him of a little bird. He hesitated on opening the message, but ultimately his curiosity won out in the end.

‘I came to visit that place you talked about- Verdigris- but they told me you don’t work here anymore. Was hoping you’d still show me around.’

Fuck.

They’d come all this way from their busy life to meet up with him only to be met with disappointment. Dmitri didn’t need to look at himself to know what kind of hot mess he looked like, but he still responded to the text quickly. Perhaps too quickly with his parents’ address.

‘Can we talk? I don’t wanna do this through the phone. I would be happy to see you again. This is my parents’ place if you can make it here.’

No matter how he looked now, it was nothing a shower and a change of clothes couldn’t fix despite the deep sadness and tiredness that filled those deep amber hues.​

 

[Froshimaru]

The address came through on Rowan's phone screen like an accusation. Not Verdigris. Not some trendy Portland cafe where they could pretend this was just catching up with someone they'd met at a convention six months ago. Dmitri's parents' place.

Rowan stared at the message for longer than was probably normal, thumb hovering over the keyboard without pressing any keys. The phone felt heavier than it should, weighed down by Ashe's worried message from two days ago and six months of radio silence and the fact that they'd flown halfway across the world on an impulse that was probably therapeutic self-sabotage disguised as reconnection.

"omw"

Three letters. Sent before they could overthink it and decide this was a terrible idea and book the next flight back to, where? Thailand had been six weeks. Japan another month. Mongolia when Ashe's message came through, photographing herders and trying not to think about all the ways they kept choosing to leave instead of stay.

The Uber driver didn't try to make conversation, which was good because Rowan's brain was too loud for small talk. They watched Portland slide past the window, all overcast skies and rain-slicked streets and the particular quality of Pacific Northwest gray that made everything look softer than it actually was. Dmitri had told them about this city during one of those long Berlin nights, back when sharing coffee felt like sharing confessions and neither of them had known how to leave well enough alone.

Back when Dmitri still worked at Verdigris and smiled like he meant it and hadn't been stabbed by someone who was supposed to love him.

Rowan's hands tightened around their camera bag. They'd gotten the basics from Ashe's follow-up messages after that first worried text. Hospital. Marina. Dmitri alive but not okay, never going to be okay, not really. The kind of details that made Rowan's chest feel too tight and their thoughts spiral back to other people they'd known who'd survived things they shouldn't have survived and carried the weight of it forever.

The house was small, neat, suburban in a way that felt both foreign and oddly comforting. Rowan paid the driver, shouldered their bag, and stood on the sidewalk for a full minute trying to remember how to be a person who showed up for other people. They'd gotten so good at leaving. Arriving was supposed to be their thing, but arriving with purpose, arriving because someone needed them, that was different. That required not running the second things got complicated.

Their hand was shaking when they knocked.

Six months ago they'd spent three days with Dmitri in Berlin. Three days that felt like more than three days, the kind of temporary that Dmitri had said could feel like lifetimes. Then he'd flown back to Portland and Marina and a life Rowan had no place in, and they'd tried to convince themselves that was fine. That temporary was what they did best anyway.

Then Elena had happened. Met her at a coffee shop a week after Dmitri left, and for three months Rowan had tried to be someone who could stay. Someone patient and kind had sat across from them and didn't ask about the haunted look in their eyes, and Rowan had almost believed they could learn to be normal if they tried hard enough.

Until Elena asked them to meet her parents, and every panic response Rowan had went into overdrive. Meeting parents meant future. Future meant staying. Staying meant being there when everything inevitably collapsed, and Rowan had spent three years documenting collapse and couldn't survive being part of one.

So they'd left. Another note, another apology, another person who deserved better than what Rowan could give. The pattern was exhausting and they knew it was exhausting, but knowing didn't make it easier to break.

Two months of movement since leaving Berlin. Thailand, Japan, Mongolia. Dmitri's texts coming through sporadically, unanswered. Simple messages about making progress, about hoping they were alright. Messages Rowan read and never responded to because responding meant acknowledging that those three days in Berlin had mattered more than they wanted to admit.

Then Ashe's message had cut through all of it like a knife, sharp and clean and impossible to ignore.

He hasn't responded to my messages in months and I'm really worried.

The door opened.

Dmitri looked different. That was Rowan's first thought, clinical and observant in the way their photographer brain catalogued details before their heart could catch up. Different in a way that had nothing to do with the absence of cosplay makeup or convention lighting. The tiredness in his eyes was the kind that didn't come from late nights, it came from surviving something that should have killed you and waking up every morning wondering why it didn't.

Rowan knew that look. Had seen it in mirrors, in other journalists' faces after bad assignments, in their own reflection during those first months in Berlin when getting out of bed felt like an accomplishment worth celebrating.

"Hey." Their voice came out quieter than they meant it to. "I know this is weird. Showing up like this. Ashe messaged me and I was already thinking about that sandwich place you mentioned and I just. I got on a plane."

They were rambling. Definitely rambling. Their camera bag's weight was familiar against their shoulder, grounding them when everything else felt too sharp, too real, too much like standing in front of someone they'd cared about more than was smart and realizing six months was both forever and no time at all.

"You look like shit." Honesty had always been easier than pretending, and Dmitri had never asked them to perform. "Which is. I mean. Given everything, that makes sense. Ashe told me some of it. Not details, just. Enough to know that showing up was better than not showing up."

Their hands found their camera strap, fingers worrying the worn leather the way they always did when they didn't know what to do with the nervous energy threatening to crawl out of their skin. Six months of texts Dmitri had sent that they'd never responded to. Six months of him here, trapped, surviving something Rowan couldn't photograph or document or make sense of through a viewfinder while they'd been running through Southeast Asia and East Asia pretending that distance made anything better.

"Can I come in?" The question felt heavier than it should. "Or we could go somewhere. I don't know what you need right now. I'm not really good at this part. The showing up and being useful part. Mostly I'm good at arriving and then leaving before things get complicated."

But they were here. They'd flown across an ocean and hadn't booked a return ticket yet because some part of them that was braver or stupider or more honest than the rest had decided that Dmitri mattered. That six months of silence didn't erase those three days in Berlin or those quiet conversations about performing versus being real or the way he'd looked at them on that last night like maybe they were both standing on the edge of something that could have been important if either of them had been brave enough to fall.

The Portland rain was starting up again, soft and persistent. Rowan's hair was getting damp, pink ends darkening. They didn't move from the doorstep, just stood there with their camera bag and their inability to run this time and hoped that showing up was enough.​

 

[Solaris-]

Dmitri had showered after he'd sent the text- not wanting Rowan to see him post three days from the hospital without a shower. The hot water made his wounds ache, but he at least was clean. His parents knew he was inviting someone over, and they had already agreed to let the two of them to have space to discuss what they needed. Bandages were changed and he dressed himself in a t-shirt and loose pajama pants as he had no intention of leaving the safety of his parents' home for however long they would be there that night. The quiet knock at the door brought him downstairs, and he knew it could only be one person even before he opened the door.

Six months had felt like an eternity since he'd seen Rowan, and he knew he would look different. This was once again, the glasses wearing Dmitri in comfortable clothes. Unpolished, not pretending to be anything other than a man who had survived when he probably shouldn't have. Soft brown eyes were red both from tears he'd shed from the last three days and from lack of rest and dark circles had taken up residence there underneath his eyes. The unfinished flower tattoos on his arms were colored in deep blue, amber, and soft pink- like small sunsets in each bloom. The colors were intentional and significant even if Rowan didn't remember their innocent conversation about their favorite colors. His hair which had been shorter then fell in messy drying waves of cherry cola slightly past his shoulders. Tussled and messy- just how he felt at that moment. He regretted not crossing a boundary with Rowan all those months ago, and seeing them now in front of him brought back those complicated feelings he'd wanted to protect the other from. But they had showed up to see him, and he certainly wasn't going to turn them away now even if the selfish part of him wondered if Rowan still thought about kissing him.

"Come in. Get out of the rain, Ptichka you'll get sick if you stand out there all night." He moved out of the way so that they could enter the house. "I feel like shit too, so I'm not surprised." He let out a quiet chuckle. Almost dying would likely make anyone look like shit he supposed. "I didn't expect you to to not tell me you were coming until you were already here, but I am happy to see you."

He had hoped that Rowan would have come under better circumstances so that he could show them the quieter side of Portland, but much like everything that had happened in the last few months, this was just another thing that hadn't happened according to plan. Dmitri shut the door behind them and placed the towel that had been around his own shoulders over Rowan's wet hair. "Don't catch a cold on me. I'll make us something to drink and we can go upstairs. My parents and my sister are out right now with friends, but they'll be back later so it's just the two of us here right now."

Dmitri busied himself for a moment with the coffee maker in the kitchen- listening to what Rowan was saying. He didn't know if it would be appropriate now to be as close as the two had been when they were being far too honest with each other as strangers in Berlin, but part of him wanted to. Wanted to wrap his arms around them tightly and pick up from where they'd left off, but he was quick to dismiss it. Rowan deserved better than someone who the concept of love and relationships had become complicated for. For five years, those things meant he belonged to someone, and the thought of that happening again was likely not something Dmitri would come out the other side alive again.

"It makes sense that Ashe messaged you. This shit has been all over the news and I can't get away from it. I made sure to tell her I was alive, but didn't really tell her everything." The admission was a guilty one as he'd barely spoken to her in months. They had been making plans of some sort though it escaped him what they were for in that moment. He pulled two mugs down from the cupboard- momentarily forgetting the throbbing pain that still existed in both of the wounds on his chest though they were covered by his shirt. He winced- letting out a quiet hiss of pain through his teeth and filled both with coffee. One with sugar and one without.

"You said you didn't know what I needed right now. But I think this is exactly what I need at the moment." Someone who cared enough about him to put down their busy life to come and see him without saying anything. Someone to share coffee with him while they commiserated and shared in their troubles. "I missed you, Ptichka. Even if that's stupid to say. I still think about our conversations and how those three days felt like lifetimes until reality pulled me back into it." Even if Rowan hadn't really texted him back, he'd still wished them well and silently hoped that they had moved on from what they'd nearly done even if he hadn't. They deserved progress and happiness no matter where in the world they chose that to be.

He handed the mug without sugar over to Rowan and motioned for them to follow after him up the flight of stairs towards the room at the end of the hall. Dmitri set his cup down on his desk and pushed some of the things his parents had managed to get back from him from his apartment out of the way and turned on the lamp in the corner. His eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, but with another person here, they probably shouldn't sit there in the black void that was his bedroom. On the walls, there was a small photo collage hung there of different photos. Different times in his life with different people. All three of the photos they'd taken with Rowan were pinned there as well. Flanked by a few with his parents and with Ashe. Happy memories or moments in time that he remembered well.

"Sit wherever you like." There was a desk chair if Rowan would prefer not to sit on the bed with him. He held his own cup between his hands as he took a seat on the unmade bed. "I guess I should tell you everything." It was something he'd kept from even his parents, but Rowan deserved to know. "A month after we got back from Berlin, things started to get worse. When she asked me for affection, I could never bring myself to do it, and she started hitting me. After a while, I barely came home which only pissed her off more." It was deeply humiliating to think about letting someone push him around when he was normally better at standing up for himself. "The other night, I was laying in bed, sending you a message, actually, and she took my phone away from me mid-sentence. Always the same old accusations again and again and I just... had enough?"

Rowan would know from how tired he'd been in Berlin that he had already grown tired of her venomous words and actions. Even the simple act of taking his phone had been enough to push him over the edge of finally just giving up on the relationship and ending things that night. There was only so much he could endure, and it'd been far too much for far too long. "When I told her it was over and that I was done, I tried to get some things to take with me to my parents' house so I could have a night of peace before work, and then..." He lifted his shirt enough to where Rowan could see the bandages on his chest that covered up ugly stitching and bruising from the wound he'd received. "She stabbed me twice and I really thought I was going to die there that night."

Dmitri could feel the tears, hot and fresh in his eyes now and he lowered his gaze from Rowan to hide his face behind his hand. Fuck it was embarrassing to be like this. Vulnerable and way too talkative after not really telling anyone anything in six months. Being left alone with his thoughts that were not kind to him if he were left alone for too long had made him forget what it was like to fake confidence and a smile. "I'm sorry, Ptichka. I'm okay." He wasn't, but he hadn't sounded convincing when he'd said it. "I'm just glad you're here. I'm sorry you had to see me like this though." Like a hot fucking mess- no better or different than he'd been those three days in Germany, but somehow worse at the same time. ​

 

[Froshimaru]

The house was warm. That was Rowan's first real observation once they stepped inside, shaking rain from their jacket. Warm in a way that felt lived-in, comfortable, the kind of space where people actually existed instead of just passing through. Family photos on the walls. The smell of coffee starting to brew. Everything about it screamed permanence in a way that made Rowan's chest feel tight.

But none of that mattered the second they actually looked at Dmitri.

The photographer part of their brain catalogued details automatically. Hair longer now, cherry cola waves falling past his shoulders instead of the shorter style from Berlin. Glasses instead of contacts. The tattoos on his arms finished now, colored in deep blue and amber and soft pink like small sunsets blooming across his skin. Rowan remembered that conversation, remembered Dmitri asking about favorite colors like it mattered, like he'd actually been listening.

But it was the tiredness that hit hardest. The red-rimmed eyes, the dark circles, the particular quality of exhaustion that came from surviving something that should have killed you. Rowan had seen that look before. In mirrors. In other journalists after bad assignments. In people who'd made it out of buildings that collapsed behind them.

They recognized it immediately, and something cold settled in their stomach.

"Ptichka." The word came out soft, almost fond despite everything. "You remembered."

They followed Dmitri inside, let him drape the towel over their damp hair, watched him move through the kitchen with careful movements that suggested pain he was trying to hide. The coffee maker gurgled to life. Rowan's hands found their camera strap again, then forced themselves to let go. They needed to be present for this. Actually present, not hiding behind observation and documentation.

"Ashe was worried." Their voice came out steadier than they felt. "She said you went quiet. That's not. That's not like you."

They accepted the mug when Dmitri handed it over, no sugar, exactly how they took it. The fact that he remembered that detail from six months ago made their heart do that complicated skip-flutter thing they'd been trying to ignore since the convention.

Following him upstairs felt significant somehow. Like crossing a threshold they couldn't uncross. Rowan's eyes tracked the photos on the wall immediately, and there they were. All three of them. The selfie, the candid shots, proof that those three days had happened and had mattered enough to pin to a wall alongside family and best friends.

Their throat felt tight.

They chose the bed. Not the desk chair, not maintaining distance, but sitting on the unmade covers a careful foot away from Dmitri because being close felt necessary in a way they couldn't articulate. Like the distance of six months and several countries needed to collapse back into the space of a Berlin park where they'd almost done something they couldn't take back.

And then Dmitri started talking, and Rowan's training kicked in.

They'd interviewed trauma survivors before. Knew how to listen without flinching, how to stay calm when someone was falling apart in front of them, how to be steady when everything else wasn't. The hitting. The phone. The accusations. Rowan's jaw tightened but their expression stayed carefully neutral, giving Dmitri space to say what he needed to say without performing composure he didn't have.

Then Dmitri lifted his shirt.

The bandages were stark white against his skin, covering what Rowan knew without asking were knife wounds. Stab wounds. The kind that killed people more often than not. Their photographer brain catalogued the placement automatically, chest and presumably back from what he'd said, close to vital organs, close to arteries that could bleed you out in minutes.

Marina had tried to kill him. Had actually, literally tried to murder him, and he'd survived by saying he loved her.

Something hot and furious flashed through Rowan's chest, but their hands stayed steady on the coffee mug.

Dmitri's voice cracked. His hand came up to hide his face. And Rowan couldn't maintain the distance anymore.

They set their mug down on the nightstand carefully, deliberately, then shifted closer on the bed. Not touching yet but close enough that their knee brushed Dmitri's leg. Close enough that the warmth between them felt like it had in Berlin, when temporary had felt like lifetimes and neither of them had known how to want something they couldn't have.

"Ты в порядке?" The Russian came out rough, unpracticed, probably mangled. Rowan had picked up bits and pieces from their time in conflict zones but never enough to be fluent. (Are you okay?)

Their hand hovered near Dmitri's shoulder, hesitant. Touch had always been complicated for them. Too much history of temporary, too much practice at leaving before closeness became permanent. But Dmitri was crying and hurt and apologizing for things that weren't his fault, and Rowan couldn't just sit there and do nothing.

They let their hand settle on his shoulder. Light pressure, grounding. The kind of touch that said I'm here without demanding anything back.

"You don't need to apologize." Their voice stayed calm, steady, the same tone they'd used in Syria when talking to people who'd just lost everything. "Not for this. Not for surviving. Not for any of it."

Their eyes tracked the bandages again, the placement, the evidence of how close this had been. How easily they could have gotten a very different message from Ashe. How six months of unanswered texts could have ended with I'm sorry, but Dmitri and they would never have gotten the chance to show up at all.

The guilt hit hard. All those messages they'd ignored because responding felt too much like caring, too much like admitting those three days had mattered. All the times they'd read his texts and wanted to answer but convinced themselves that distance was kinder than honesty.

And he'd been here. Trapped. Bleeding. Barely surviving.

"I should have responded." The words came out quieter. "To your texts. I read every single one and I should have. I'm sorry."

But apologizing felt inadequate. Selfish, even, to make this about their own guilt when Dmitri was the one who'd almost died.

Their hand was still on his shoulder. They could feel him breathing, alive, present, real. Could feel the slight tremor that came with crying and trying not to. Part of them wanted to close the rest of the distance, wanted to pull him into the kind of hug they'd given him in Berlin when everything felt too big and too complicated. Wanted to be close enough that the six months collapsed entirely and they were just two people who understood each other sitting in the dark.

But the other part remembered why they'd left Berlin. Remembered Elena asking them to meet her parents and the panic that followed. Remembered every time closeness had turned into expectation and expectation into obligation and obligation into the feeling of being trapped.

Dmitri had just escaped someone who treated him like property. The last thing he needed was Rowan's complicated feelings about almost-kisses and attraction they'd been running from for half a year.

So they stayed where they were. Close but not too close. Hand on his shoulder, steady and present but not demanding anything he couldn't give.

"You're allowed to not be okay." Their thumb moved slightly against his shoulder, unconscious comfort. "You almost died three days ago. Being okay would be weird, actually. Concerning, even."

They picked up their coffee with their free hand, took a sip to buy themselves a moment to think.

"I'm glad you're alive." The words came out more raw than they intended. "I'm. Really glad. That Ashe messaged me. That you answered when I texted. That you're here and breathing and. Yeah."

Eloquent. Very smooth. Definitely not revealing the fact that their heart was racing and their hand on his shoulder felt simultaneously like the most natural thing in the world and also terrifying in its implications.

The rain picked up outside, steady percussion against the windows. Rowan's hair was still damp under the towel Dmitri had given them, pink ends probably dripping onto their shoulders. They should probably move the towel. Should probably drink more coffee. Should probably do literally anything other than sit here wanting to be closer while simultaneously fighting every instinct to run.

But they didn't move. Just sat there, hand on Dmitri's shoulder, trying to be the kind of steady presence he needed instead of the kind of person who left notes and disappeared when things got complicated.​

 

[Solaris-]

It wasn’t like him to ghost his friends- to completely avoid them and fall off the face of the planet with no warning whatsoever. He’d always been dependable and was known as the type who showed up no matter what for the people he cared about. Ashe had every right to worry to the point she’d reached out to someone she didn’t know to attempt to check in on him. She was a good friend like that and that filled him with a whole other feeling of guilt in that moment. “I was… embarrassed. Having her see me when I was barely a person and couldn’t do more than get out of bed most days was not something I wanted.” Dmitri let out a deep exhale and removed his hand from his face. Not even the prescription Tylenol was doing much for the migraine that had formed behind his eyes from the lack of rest, but despite that, Rowan was here with him, was close enough to touch and hold like he’d done for three days in Berlin.

After a few shaky breaths, he felt as though he could breathe again though his chest still felt tight, still ached from pain and tears both. He could feel Rowan’s gentle hand on his shoulder now- comforting him. Dmitri’s love language was touch and physical affection, and being given such a simple act of that without requesting or demanding more from him made him want to cry all over again. It’d been a long time since he’d been able to deal with another person’s touch without flinching or pulling away, but this was so different than demands for intimacy and fists and somehow it made him feel undeserving of such a gentle action. “Если бы твоя девушка тебя ударила ножом, как ты думаешь, ты бы выглядел хотя бы наполовину так же хорошо, как я?” (If your girlfriend stabbed you do you think you’d look half as good as I do afterwards?) He laughed at the half-assed attempt at a joke. Even if Rowan didn’t understand the entire sentence, he had just attempted to lighten the mood even if by a fraction.

Dmitri broke their contact for a moment to leave his own cup on the nightstand, but he returned quickly- returning to the easy affection that Rowan so openly gave him and he leaned over to rest his head on the other’s shoulder- taking their arm tentatively and drawing it closer to his own body. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Even though I thought of our conversations frequently, I knew you were busy making your own progress with your own life. I figured your time was better well spent than on a weird stranger that had commandeered three days of your time to complain about their problems because they were lonely.” Even still, he would have liked to know what Rowan had spent their time doing- what they’d seen and experienced in the last few months or if they’d captured anything interesting along the way. He decided not to pry as it wasn’t really his business what they got up to.

“I was told I was lucky to be alive. If she’d stabbed me just a few centimeters lower, it would have severed a major artery, and I would have bled out in the apartment. I lost a lot of blood by the time the paramedics had shown up already. I heard she confessed everything to the cops when they showed up which surprised even me.” Whether it was out of some sort of twisted love she actually did have for him, he wouldn’t know why she’d bothered to confess. At least she was far away from him and unlikely to bother him again until the police would eventually come knocking asking for a statement from him in the coming weeks. “I’m just glad I won’t have to see her again and that she won’t threaten my loved ones.” Dmitri had given up caring if she threatened him as that had become normal over the course of their time together, but he had purposefully kept her from his friends and family because of her temper. At least if he was the only one who endured her wrath, it somehow made it okay.

Turning his head on their shoulder slightly- just enough to be able to look up at them. “I’m glad you’re here. That I have people like you and Ashe and my parents. I probably wouldn’t have been here this long if I didn’t.” The admission was quiet, but it did make him happy to know that the people that mattered to him most were still in his corner despite Marina’s antics. Despite her attempts to isolate him and keep him away, they had stayed, had worried about him, and continued to check in on him even if they were busy. “I’m also glad you decided to visit me now even if I look and feel like shit. If… this hadn’t happened, and I was for whatever reason still with Marina, I would have told you to leave. I wanted to protect you from her because I knew if she met you, then it wouldn’t be me in this situation.”

The fingers of his hand had drifted down- sliding into Rowan’s warm palm as he wrapped his own hand around the other’s. The bandages on his own hand a strange contrast to Rowan's smooth palms. He was silent for a moment- trying to form the words he wanted to say in his mind. To continue talking, fill the silence. Anything was better than silence. There had been six months and three days of silence before he could speak to someone so honestly. “She told me the next person who touched me that wasn’t her, she would kill them, and I knew she would hurt you if she knew that… if she knew that I had nearly become what she accused me of being the whole time. If she knew that I had nearly kissed you that night.” Dmitri could still see the way Rowan had looked at him, how his own eyes had drifted along Rowan’s face, admiring their features until his eyes had rested on their lips. Expectant, but afraid. They’d both hesitated, and he’d felt disappointed in that moment even if it was for the best. “Which now, I wonder if that’s why you had avoided me until now. If it is, then I don’t blame you for being uncomfortable. You only knew me for three days, so it was stupid for me to even have that thought cross my mind. I'm really sorry that I almost let the lonely thoughts take over my brain. I didn't mean to ruin our friendship in that way.” He shook his head gently there against Rowan’s shoulder- trying to get rid of the memory so it didn’t invade his mind again.

“Can we talk about something a little less depressing, Ptichka?”​

 

[Froshimaru]

The Russian caught Rowan off guard, and it took their brain a second to parse what Dmitri had said. Something about his girlfriend and stabbing and looking good. They huffed out something that might have been a laugh, surprised that he was making jokes at all.

"Your Russian is better than mine." A weak deflection, but it bought them a second to process the fact that Dmitri was leaning against them now, head on their shoulder, pulling Rowan's arm closer like this was easy. Like six months hadn't passed. Like they hadn't spent half a year ignoring his messages and running from the memory of almost.

Rowan's body made the decision before their brain caught up. They shifted slightly, adjusting so Dmitri's weight settled more comfortably against them, then carefully leaned back until they were both resting against the wall. Their free hand hovered uncertainly before settling on Dmitri's arm, fingers light, worried about pressing too hard near the bandages.

The contact felt significant. Warm. Necessary in a way that made their chest tight.

"A few centimeters. That's nothing. That's luck and chance and..." Their voice trailed off quieter. "Fuck."

They could feel Dmitri breathing against them, alive and present, and the reality of how close this had been hit differently now. Not abstract. Not a message from Ashe. Actual bandages covering actual wounds that had almost killed someone they cared about more than they'd admitted to themselves.

Then Dmitri's fingers slid into their palm and Rowan's breath caught. The bandages on his hand were rough against their skin, evidence of grabbing a blade, of fighting to survive. They squeezed gently, careful, trying to communicate something they didn't have words for.

"I would have been devastated if Ashe had messaged me and it was... if you weren't... I would have..."

They couldn't finish the sentence. Didn't know how to explain that the thought of Dmitri not existing anymore made something in their chest feel like collapsing.

And then he said it. The thing they'd both been dancing around for six months.

I had nearly kissed you that night.

Rowan's hand tightened involuntarily around Dmitri's. Their heart was doing that complicated skip-flutter thing again, except now it felt less like fear and more like free-falling.

"That's not why I avoided you. That's not... Dmitri, that's not it at all."

They took a breath, trying to organize thoughts that felt too big and too complicated for words.

"I wanted to kiss you. That night in the park, I was the one who leaned in first. I wanted... I thought about it for months after. Still think about it, if I'm being honest, which is probably complicated given everything."

Their thumb moved against Dmitri's palm, unconscious nervous movement.

"I didn't avoid you because I was uncomfortable. I avoided you because I was scared. After you left Berlin, I met someone. Elena. She was kind and patient and didn't ask questions I couldn't answer. We were... it wasn't dating exactly but it was something. For three months it was something."

The rain outside picked up, covering the pause while Rowan tried to find the right words.

"She asked me to meet her parents and I panicked. Left her a note and disappeared because that's what I do. I run before things get real, before people start expecting me to stay. I've been doing it for four years. Since I left conflict zones. Just moving. Never staying anywhere long enough for it to matter."

They could feel Dmitri's warmth against them, solid and real, and it made the next part harder to say.

"Your texts scared me because they mattered. You asked how I was doing and told me about your progress and it felt like caring. Like connection. And I didn't know what to do with that. Every time I started to respond I'd think about that night in the park and how close we came to something, and then I'd think about Marina and how you were trapped and how you deserved better than someone who can't stay in one place for more than a few months without losing their mind."

The guilt sat heavy in their chest.

"So I ran. Kept running. Thailand, Japan, Mongolia. Kept moving because that's easier than admitting that those three days in Berlin mattered more than three days should matter. And then Ashe messaged me and I realized I'd been running from the wrong thing. That the scary part wasn't caring about you. The scary part was the thought of you not being here anymore and never getting to tell you that those three days weren't stupid. That me almost kissing you wasn't something either of us needed to apologize for."

Their heart was racing now. They'd said too much. Definitely said too much. But Dmitri had almost died and Rowan was tired of running from things that mattered.

"You didn't ruin anything. I just didn't know how to want something without it feeling like a trap. Still don't, really. But I'm here. Showed up. That's progress for me."

They sat there for a moment, hand in Dmitri's hand, his weight warm against them, wondering if they'd just made everything more complicated or if honesty was supposed to feel this terrifying.

"Less depressing topics, yeah. Okay." Their brain scrambled for something, anything that wasn't trauma or almost-kisses or feelings they didn't know how to handle. "I saw a lot of birds in Mongolia. Golden eagles. The herders use them for hunting. They're massive, wingspan wider than I am tall. And there were these little birds, demoiselle cranes, migrating through. Thousands of them."

Their thumb was still moving against Dmitri's palm, nervous energy finding an outlet.

"Made me think about you calling me Ptichka. Little bird. I looked it up after Berlin. The translation. It's a nice nickname. Better than most things people call me."

They were rambling now but it felt safer than sitting in the weight of everything they'd just admitted.

"Thailand had these sunbirds. Tiny things, iridescent. They'd hover like hummingbirds but they're not related at all. Convergent evolution. I took probably three hundred photos trying to get one in focus. They move too fast. But when you finally catch one it's worth it."

Worth the patience. Worth the waiting. Worth staying in one place long enough to see something beautiful.

They didn't say that part out loud, but it hung there anyway.

"What about Portland? You mentioned wanting to show me around before. What's here? Besides rain and this."

They meant the house, the safety, the fact that Dmitri was alive and healing and not alone. But also maybe they meant this specific moment, sitting together against a wall with their hands intertwined and six months of silence finally broken.​

 

[Solaris-]

There was a moment of confusion that crossed Dmitri's thoughts. If his actions weren't why Rowan had avoided him, then why? He didn't need to ask for an explanation as it followed quickly after and it left him more stunned and surprised than anything else. He'd thought back on that night so many times now that perhaps his perception of what had happened had been skewed by his own mind. Dmitri had thought for certain he'd been the only one to want what his deluded, lonely mind had told him to do, and that surely that was the reason Rowan had offered him a hug and ran away from the situation before he made a stupid choice. "Even as much as I wanted to just give in to the selfish desire to kiss you, I think I would have been equally as confused and concerned about why you would want to kiss me. Why me when you should give your affection to someone that isn't damaged goods. Someone who is far more deserving of what you can give them and not someone you trauma bonded with over coffee and commiserating over the worst parts of your lives."

He felt much the same about himself now as he was hardly worth Rowan's time if they still held these feelings toward him. It had only been three days since he'd been single for the first time in four years, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint someone he cared about by not wanting to be in another relationship immediately after. Commitment in and of itself had become scary because that meant being trapped for god knew how long this time. Love felt like a foreign concept wrapped in lies, threats, and violence. Dmitri could feel the nervous tension from the gentle touches against his hand as Rowan spoke about Elena and not being able to commit themselves to that despite how gentle she'd been. It seemed like the sort of thing that could have worked well for them, but they'd chosen to leave it behind. He understood that hesitation to commit now better than he'd ever understood it. Though his palm and fingers were stiff from the bandages, he did his best to return the small gestures Rowan gave to him- running his thumb gently across the back of their hand and showing they were listening.

"My mother always says that the people who matter most to you aren't always going to be the ones you've known forever. Sometimes the people who matter are the strangers who show up for you when you needed someone the most. She's incredibly superstitious, but I can't help but feel she's right most of the time." Dmitri’s fingers slipped further down- maneuvering his slender digits through Rowan’s- intertwining their fingers. “I can understand that you’re scared of being asked to stay, of being asked to settle down when stability isn’t something you’ve been granted before. So, Ptichka, what do two commitment-phobes do when they still have feelings that they can’t ignore even though the thought of acting on them terrifies them both?” He’d turned his gaze upwards towards Rowan curiously. This had never been a situation that he’d thought he’d find himself in. Even the crush on Ashe he’d had as a teenager had gone away relatively quickly. For this crush or affection that he felt towards Rowan to not have gone away, and for it to still fill him with giddy anticipation when they were in such close proximity of one another made him wonder why he felt this way.

For just a moment, Dmitri allowed his eyes to close as he listened to Rowan speak about their travels. Different countries, different kinds of birds. A quiet chuckle escaped him. He hadn’t thought birds of all things would have been such a significant topic of interest. “I didn’t think much about the nickname when I gave it to you,” Dmitri admitted. “It was the first thing that came to mind when I saw you run face first into the convention center wall that first day. You looked so panicked and nervous. Like a little bird learning to fly for the first time. I’m sure being surrounded by weirdos in costumes didn’t help either.” Another quiet chuckle left him. If he hadn’t been deeply embroiled in that life himself, it would be weird to be surrounded by men and women who looked more strange and ethereal than they did human even under harsh convention lights. “I wanted to talk to you and see if you were okay, but when I saw the unfocused look on your face and how you were trying to calm yourself down, I figured my presence would only cause you more stress than comfort. So that, and all your nervous fidgets trying to keep yourself from running when we spent time together, it just made sense to call you that.”

The thought of birds had calmed him somewhat. “You should show me the photos sometime. Of the birds.” The request was gentle.

“Portland has been how it always is. Cold, grey, rainy. But still beautiful, weird, and haunted all the same.” The weather had reflected how he felt for some months now. “At least the snow is gone. It was so heavy this year that the train didn’t run and I wanted to spend the holidays with Ashe and her brother this year. They said they had something planned for my birthday, but I missed that too.” With everything that had happened Dmitri had forgotten he’d recently had a birthday. It’d just been another day he’d spent barely functioning. “There’s a nice twenty-four hour cafe near the college that’s never busy except in the mornings. I used to work there and the coffee is good. If you ever spent more than a few days in Portland, I was going to take you to Avalon with me on the train so we could go bother Ashe for her cinnamon rolls. Apparently, they’re famous now. Or we could go walk around the historical district of Portland which is rumored to be haunted.” There were many things the two of them could do, and all seemed pleasant to him. Just the two of them enjoying the moment and the company much the same as they were now.

“But right now, as nice as those options are, I don’t think I’m in a state to show you anything other than the inside of my parents’ house. I haven’t slept in three days and you’ve been the best interaction I’ve had in months.” Even as unexpected as their arrival was, he was glad for their presence beside him. “How long are you planning on staying for?” Dmitri didn’t specify if he meant Portland or if he meant here in his room in the safety of this suburban home. “If you have plans you don’t have to stay even though I appreciate immensely that you’re here.”​

 

[Froshimaru]

"Don't do that."

The words came out sharper than Rowan intended, but they didn't soften them. Their hand tightened around Dmitri's, fingers pressing more firmly between his.

"Don't call yourself damaged goods. You're not. You survived something that should have killed you and you're still here and still making jokes about it and still... you're not damaged. You're just hurt. There's a difference."

They shifted slightly, adjusting so they could settle more comfortably against the wall, pulling Dmitri closer in the process. Their free arm wrapped more securely around him, less hesitant now, less worried about overstepping. If Dmitri thought he was broken beyond repair, the least Rowan could do was hold him like he wasn't.

"And for the record, I didn't want to kiss you because I thought you were easy or convenient or because I was looking for someone to trauma bond with. I wanted to kiss you because you were the first person in years who made me feel like I could stop running long enough to breathe."

The admission felt raw, exposing, but Dmitri had just laid himself bare too. Fair was fair.

"You made me want to stay. In Berlin. For the first time since I left Syria, I wanted to stay somewhere. That terrified me more than anything I'd seen in a war zone."

Dmitri's question hung in the air between them. What do two commitment-phobes do when they still have feelings they can't ignore?

Rowan huffed out something that might have been a laugh.

"I don't know, make each other matching friendship bracelets that say 'I'm scared of feelings' and call it a day?"

The deflection only lasted a second before they sobered.

"Honestly? I have no idea. I've spent four years running from anything that felt like this and you just got out of something that almost killed you. Literally. Three days ago." Their thumb moved against his hand, that unconscious nervous gesture. "I think maybe we just... figure it out as we go? No expectations. No pressure to be anything other than what we are right now. Two people who care about each other and are both kind of a mess but showed up anyway."

They listened as Dmitri talked about the nickname, about seeing them panic at the convention, and something warm settled in Rowan's chest. He'd been watching them that whole time. Had seen them falling apart and decided they were worth approaching anyway.

"I remember that. The wall." A small, self-deprecating laugh. "Very graceful first impression. And yeah, the costumes were a lot. I'd photographed conflict zones but somehow a convention center full of people dressed as anime characters was more overwhelming."

The request to see the bird photos made them smile slightly.

"Yeah. I can show you. I have them on my laptop. Probably a few thousand photos from the last few months. Fair warning, a lot of them are boring. Street scenes, people waiting for trains, that kind of thing. But the birds are good. The eagles especially."

Portland sounded like the kind of place Rowan would photograph. Cold, grey, rainy, beautiful, weird, haunted. All the contradictions that made a city interesting.

"Avalon sounds nice. And bothering Ashe for cinnamon rolls sounds like exactly the kind of thing we should do." They paused, considering. "The haunted historical district also sounds right up my alley. I've been to a lot of places with ghosts. Seems fitting to add Portland to the list."

But Dmitri was right. None of that was happening tonight. Maybe not for a few days, given how he looked. How he'd admitted he hadn't slept in three days.

"You need to sleep." The observation was gentle but firm. "I know that's probably easier said than done right now, but you look like you're about to fall over."

Then came the question. How long are you planning on staying?

Rowan was quiet for a moment, thumb still moving against Dmitri's hand, trying to figure out how to answer honestly.

"I don't know." The admission felt significant. "I didn't book a return flight. Didn't book a hotel either, actually. I just got on a plane and figured I'd deal with logistics when I got here."

They shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to look at Dmitri properly.

"I'm good at arriving, terrible at planning. Usually I'd have already mapped out three exit routes and a backup plan for leaving, but I don't... I don't have that this time. I just know I'm here and I'm not leaving tomorrow."

Their heart was doing that complicated thing again, racing and steady at the same time.

"I can find a hotel. Or a hostel. There's probably something cheap near the college district. I don't want to impose on your parents or take up space when you need to recover."

But even as they said it, they weren't pulling away. Weren't letting go of his hand or shifting out of the comfortable weight of him leaning against them. Their body was making promises their brain wasn't sure how to keep.

"But I'm here. For however long you want me here. Or need me here. Or can tolerate me being here." They tried for lightness and it came out more sincere than intended. "I don't have anywhere else I need to be. No assignments, no deadlines. Just me and my camera bag and apparently a very poor sense of planning."

The rain was still steady against the windows. The lamp in the corner cast everything in warm, soft light. Dmitri's weight against them felt right in a way that should have terrified them but somehow didn't. Or maybe it did terrify them and they were just choosing to stay anyway.

Progress.

"You should sleep." They said it again, quieter this time. "I can stay until you fall asleep if that helps. Or I can go find a hotel and come back tomorrow. Whatever you need."

They meant it. For once in four years of running, they meant it when they said they'd stay. Even if staying felt like standing at the edge of something they couldn't see the bottom of. Even if every instinct they had screamed that caring this much about someone was dangerous.

Dmitri had almost died. Rowan had flown across an ocean. They were sitting here with their fingers intertwined and months of unspoken feelings finally said out loud.

That had to count for something.

"For what it's worth, you've been the best interaction I've had in months too." The confession came out soft, honest. "Even with everything. Even with you looking like you haven't slept in three days and me showing up unannounced like some kind of disaster. This is. This is good."

Good didn't feel like a big enough word for what this was, but it was the only one they had that didn't feel too heavy to say out loud.​

 

[Solaris-]

He’d flinched at the sharp reprimand. His body reacting in automatic response to the threat of violence it thought was coming that never did. Instead, there was comfort when there was usually none. This felt strangely backwards from how it normally was between them. Before he’d been the one to remind Rowan that they were worth the effort and worth getting to know when they had fidgeted and jumped at every interaction, and now they were the ones returning that to him. Dmitri leaned into the warmth Rowan offered. This would take some getting used to- being comforted by another, but he wanted to try even if it was daunting. He couldn’t live the rest of his life jumping at every loud noise or unexpected movement. Couldn’t live his life thinking everyone was going to treat him the same way Marina did because that wasn’t fair to Rowan and that wasn’t fair to himself either. Rowan wasn’t telling him what he wanted to hear, didn’t feed into the self-depreciation, and he was glad for it. Both of them had had this conversation before, and they’d actually taken what he’d asked to heart. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

They were both afraid, but both were here. Both holding hands so casually like nothing else mattered. Rowan was holding him like he was important- precious even, and Dmitri couldn’t imagine a place that felt safer than in that moment even if he was terrified of opening himself up to someone else. Rowan had seen Dmitri on both of his worst days and he’d seen Rowan panic so hard they’d run face first into a wall, had heard them tell him of documenting the death of a loved one rather than being present, and still neither of them had thought whatever tenuous friendship that had formed between them was more trouble than it was worth in that short amount of time.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Dmitri agreed. No commitment, no labels, no expectations other than to just be present and enjoy each other’s company. “It’s okay to be a mess sometimes though. It makes you feel like a real person worth getting to know.” He couldn’t always promise he would pick up the pieces especially when he was still doing the same for his own life, but he would be there for them when it happened regardless of his own struggles. For now though, it was a new feeling they could explore in their own time without any pressure to be anything other than what they were.

Dmitri allowed him to sit up for the first time in some minutes since he’d leaned against Rowan. He didn’t pull away completely from the warmth of the other person next to him- just enough to sit up. Fighting back the small wave of vertigo that had made the world spin momentarily. When the world had stopped spinning, he’d leaned his forehead gently against Rowan’s and moved the hand that was not holding their’s to rest against their face gently. Thumbing slowly against the side of their face. “I will sleep. I’m too tired to fight it anymore. But,” He finally did the thing the two of them had wanted to do that night. Lowering his face down a fraction to allow their lips to meet in a gentle and curious kiss. It wasn’t demanding or hungry or overly eager- just something they’d both wanted to do, and he didn’t want to delay it any further. There was a warm tingle of nervous excitement than ran the length of his spine. This was the first time he had kissed someone and meant it in nearly two years without being repulsed by the thought of someone invading his personal space. “I wanted to do that first.” A quiet laugh left him through his nose and this time, his lips pressed a gentle one against Rowan’s forehead.

“You don’t have to rush off. Even if it’s just for tonight, you can stay here. In the morning, we can find you a place to stay nearby.” His hand had tightened almost reflexively around the one he was still holding. Even if he would be asleep when Rowan left and they would return the next day, he still wanted them close- though he did offer them the out in the morning as it was likely uncomfortable to not have their own space. “It’s late and it’s raining really hard outside. If not just because I want you to stay, then at least for your own safety tonight, just stay here. And if meeting parents scares you, they’ll probably just be too concerned with trying to feed you than anything else.” They weren’t the type to ask a million questions, and knew Dmitri wouldn’t invite people here whom he didn’t trust.

“Tomorrow though, I’d love to see your photos. Even if you think I would be bored, if I wasn’t interested I wouldn’t have asked.”

Tomorrow, he hoped that he would be better equipped to handle going outside since leaving the hospital. Hopefully, his sleep would be uninterrupted by nightmares and memories of the traumatic event he’d nearly not survived. “For the record, Ptichka, you matter more to me than someone I just ‘tolerate’. You may not have noticed, but even just a simple conversation meant so much to me that I made it permanent on my body.” He pointed at his arms with a soft, tired smile.

He allowed himself to pull away from the warmth and released the hold of the hand that he’d still held onto. Slipping the glasses from his face, he set them down next to his unfinished coffee and laid down against the soft pillows of his bed. With one arm, he held the blanket up- looking over at Rowan. “Come lay down with me. We can both get some rest.”​

 

[Froshimaru]

​

---

The kiss happened before Rowan's brain could catch up to what was happening.

One second Dmitri was leaning his forehead against theirs, thumb brushing their cheek in a gesture so tender it made their chest ache. The next, his lips were on theirs, soft and careful and asking a question Rowan had been trying not to answer for six months.

Their breath caught. Every thought in their head went static-white and blank.

Then their body made the decision their brain couldn't, and they were kissing him back.

It wasn't desperate or hungry or anything like the kisses they'd had with other people in other places that never mattered. It was curious. Gentle. Like neither of them was quite sure this was real but they were both willing to find out. Rowan's free hand came up without conscious thought, fingers threading into Dmitri's hair, cherry cola waves soft between their fingers.

Six months of wondering what this would feel like. Six months of running from the possibility. And it was somehow better and more terrifying than anything they'd imagined.

Dmitri pulled back first, pressing another kiss to their forehead, and Rowan's eyes were still closed, trying to remember how breathing worked.

"Oh."

That was all that came out. Just oh, like their entire vocabulary had been reduced to a single syllable. Very eloquent. Extremely smooth. Definitely not revealing the fact that their heart was trying to beat its way out of their chest.

"You. We. That was." They opened their eyes, met Dmitri's gaze, and had to look away because the warmth there was too much. "You wanted to do that first. Right. Okay. Good. That's. Yeah."

They were rambling. Definitely rambling. Their hand was still in his hair and they should probably move it but they couldn't quite make themselves let go.

Dmitri was talking about them staying, about safety and rain and his parents feeding them, and Rowan was trying to process words while their lips still felt warm and their brain was screaming you kissed him you kissed him back you can't take that back now.

"I can stay." The words came out steadier than they felt. "If you're sure. I don't want to. I mean. Your parents don't know me and you just. We just."

Their brain finally caught up to something Dmitri had said earlier. About the tattoos. About permanent.

Their eyes tracked to his arms, to the flowers colored in deep blue and amber and soft pink. Their favorite colors. The ones they'd mentioned casually over coffee in Berlin, not thinking it mattered, not realizing Dmitri had been listening like every word was important.

He'd made it permanent on his body.

Something hot and sharp twisted in Rowan's chest, equal parts overwhelming affection and terror at what that meant. That they'd mattered enough to become part of someone's skin. That those three days had been significant enough to carry forward in ink and color.

"You remembered my favorite colors." Their voice came out quieter, raw. "You put them. On you. Permanently."

They didn't know what to do with that information. Didn't know how to hold the weight of being remembered like that, of mattering enough to become art on someone else's body.

Their hand was shaking slightly when they pulled it from his hair.

Dmitri was settling into bed now, holding the blanket up, looking at them with those tired amber eyes and asking them to lay down with him. To stay. To be close in a way that felt more intimate than the kiss somehow.

Rowan should probably think about this. Should probably consider the implications of getting into bed with someone they'd just kissed, someone who'd almost died three days ago, someone who made them want to stay when staying was the thing they'd been running from for four years.

But their body was already moving, already making decisions their brain was too overwhelmed to argue with.

"This is a terrible idea." They said it even as they were toeing off their boots, setting their camera bag carefully on the floor. "We both know this is a terrible idea, right? You almost died. I'm a flight risk. We're both disasters."

But they were sliding under the blanket anyway, hyperaware of every inch of space between them and Dmitri, trying to figure out how close was too close and how far was too far.

They settled on their side facing him, leaving a few inches of space that felt simultaneously too much and not enough. Close enough to feel his warmth but far enough that they weren't presuming anything. Their heart was still racing from the kiss, from the implications of staying, from the flowers on his arms that carried their favorite colors like proof that they'd mattered.

"I don't know how to do this." The admission came out whispered, honest. "The staying thing. The being close to someone thing. I'm probably going to panic at some point and you're going to wake up and I'll be having an existential crisis in your parents' kitchen at three AM."

They were giving him an out. Giving him the chance to say actually, maybe this was moving too fast, maybe Rowan should go find that hotel after all.

But they didn't move. Just lay there in the lamp-light, watching Dmitri's face, memorizing the way he looked tired and alive and close enough to touch.

"But I want to try." Quieter now. "Trying to stay. Even though it terrifies me. Even though I don't know what I'm doing. I want to try."

Their hand found his again under the blanket, fingers intertwining like they had been all evening, like this was already becoming muscle memory.

"You should sleep." They said it for the third time that night, but this time there was something softer in it.

Their free hand moved almost without thinking, fingers sliding gently through his hair, pushing cherry cola waves back from his face. The gesture felt intimate in a way that made their chest tight, but they couldn't stop. Didn't want to stop.

"I'll be here when you wake up. That's. I can promise you that much. I'll be here in the morning."

The words felt heavier than they should. Like a vow. Like the opposite of every note they'd ever left, every time they'd disappeared before dawn.

This time they were promising to stay until morning. This time they were choosing not to run.

Their thumb moved against his palm, that unconscious gesture that had become comfort for both of them, while their other hand remained in his hair, gentle and grounding.

"Thank you." The words came out almost too quiet. "For. Everything. For texting me even when I didn't respond. For remembering my favorite colors. For wanting to kiss me even though we're both a mess. For asking me to stay."

The rain was steady against the windows. The lamp cast everything in warm gold. Dmitri's hand in theirs felt right in a way that should have sent them running but somehow made them want to stay.

Rowan had spent four years documenting other people's temporary moments, collecting evidence that the world had gentleness in it. Maybe this was their turn to be in one. To be the story instead of the one telling it.

They were terrified. They were staying anyway.

That had to count for something.​

 

[Solaris-]

The kiss and their closeness both had filled Dmitri with a warmth he'd forgotten how to feel. It had been him this time to truly step over what imaginary barrier they'd once put in place to protect their friendship. It was a scary thought to get this close to another person again, to tell them his honest thoughts without faking a smile and pretending to be happy when he was around. For it to just be okay to break down and cry, to be tired and in pain without pretending he wasn't. Even just the act of holding hands like they were teenagers on their best behavior rather than two damaged adults who had seen and witnessed their fair share of trauma was enough without the need for more.

"It's okay, Ptichka. If you need to fly away, I know you'll come back when you're ready." His words were quiet, but he'd meant them. He wasn't going to keep Rowan there if they didn't want to be or felt that they couldn't stay. They would be back on their own time even if that meant he had to wait another six months, he'd already waited this long to kiss them, to be this close, he could wait even longer if it meant their comfort. He lowered the blanket around them both. His arm wrapped loosely around Rowan's side while the other one was occupied by the soft hand that once more threaded their fingers together like it was nothing. "Even if you fall apart at three am, we can just sit there together until you feel better." He knew it was difficult to be asked to do the opposite of what you were normally asked to do. But he appreciated Rowan trying more than he could ever say aloud.

A hand brushed away now dry waves of hair from his face and Dmitri finally settled close. The top of his head resting just under Rowan's chin and his face gently pressed against their shoulder. "You should rest too. You had a long trip." Across the ocean- away from the safety of the temporary hostel they'd been in while photographing birds in various continents and countries. They had to be just as tired as he was. For the first time in three days, Dmitri allowed himself to close his own eyes to attempt to sleep- wrapped in the safety and warmth of another body close to his own. He was too tired to fight his body's need to sleep anymore- too tired to argue that he wanted to be awake for just a few seconds longer to enjoy this moment.

Whether it was exhaustion or something else that kept his sleep blissfully uninterrupted, Dmitri would never know. Not even the quiet voices of his parents as they came home woke him up. Only when the first few streaks of light that filtered in through the blackout curtains and the noises of their neighbors going about their morning routines outside did he finally open his eyes. Blinking away the sleep, he looked up at Rowan's sleeping face. A gentle hand moved from their side where it'd remained throughout the night and gently placed it on their cheek- brushing away faded pink and brunette strands. It was surreal to wake up together like this- like them sleeping next to one another was just something they did regularly and not something that'd happened for the first time that night. He'd half expected Rowan to be gone when he woke up- to have decided that this was too much for them, but they'd stayed even when they didn't know how.

Dmitri almost didn't want to wake them- to untangle their limbs and start the new day because some part of him felt as though this too was a dream somehow. But the dull, painful ache in his back and chest reminded him that he would need to get up eventually. His body was screaming at him for pain relief, but this moment was one he wanted to stay in for just a few moments longer. From downstairs, he could smell whatever it was being cooked on the stove, and that too reminded him that he'd barely eaten since leaving the hospital. Slowly, both so he didn't scare Rowan by getting up too quickly and also because it hurt to move too quickly from a laying position, he was able to prop his weight up on his elbow. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss against Rowan's forehead. "Ptichka, good morning. Thank you for staying." The last sentence was whispered quietly against their hair. He still felt tired, but at least the few hours of rest he’d gotten hadn’t been plagued by nightmares and horrible, unpleasant thoughts. Still, he felt better than he had despite the pain, and seeing them still there was enough to ease his worries at least for a moment.​

 

[Froshimaru]

Rowan woke up to warmth and the ghost of a kiss on their forehead.

For a few seconds, their brain hadn't caught up to where they were. Just registered soft blankets, the smell of something cooking downstairs, cherry cola hair tickling their chin. Then Dmitri's voice, quiet and close.

Ptichka, good morning. Thank you for staying.

Their eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the pale morning light filtering through the curtains. Dmitri was propped up on his elbow above them, looking tired still but better than last night. Alive. Here. Real.

"Morning."

The word came out rough with sleep, but there was a small smile tugging at their lips. They'd stayed. They'd actually stayed. Slept through the night in someone else's space, in someone else's arms, and hadn't woken up at three AM with their heart racing and their bag packed.

Their hand came up without thinking, fingers brushing against Dmitri's jaw, thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone.

"You slept." The observation was soft, pleased. "How do you feel? Do you need your pain meds?"

Practical questions, but their hand was still on his face, still touching him like this was normal. Like they woke up like this all the time.

They shifted slightly, making room for Dmitri to settle back down if he wanted, or space for him to sit up if he needed to move. Their body felt loose, relaxed in a way it hadn't been in months. Years, maybe. No tension coiled in their shoulders, no impulse screaming at them to check exit routes or calculate how fast they could grab their bag and disappear.

Just. Comfortable.

"I can smell whatever your parents are cooking." They said it without anxiety, just stating a fact. "Smells good. Are they going to be weird about me being here? I should probably... I don't know, introduce myself? Not hide in your bedroom all day?"

There was no fear in the question. Just genuine curiosity about the logistics of the situation they'd found themselves in. Meeting parents usually sent them running, but right now it just felt like the next reasonable step. Dmitri's parents were downstairs. Rowan was upstairs. Eventually those two facts would intersect and they'd deal with it when it happened.

Their fingers slid from his face down to find his hand again, intertwining naturally.

"Thank you for asking me to stay." They said it quieter, meeting his eyes. "I'm glad I did. This is... this is nice. Waking up here. With you."

Simple honesty. No complications, no buts, no voice in the back of their head screaming about commitment and traps and what happened with Elena. Just the truth that this felt right.

"We should probably get you those pain meds though." Practical again, but their thumb was doing that unconscious movement against his palm. "And coffee. I definitely need coffee. Then we can figure out the rest. Hotel, showing me Portland when you're feeling up to it, meeting your parents without it being weird."

They stretched slightly, careful not to jostle Dmitri, working out the stiffness from sleeping in their clothes. Their hair was probably a disaster, pink ends going every direction. They probably had pillow creases on their face. They hadn't brushed their teeth or washed their face or done any of the normal morning routine things.

And somehow none of that mattered.

"Is it okay if I use your bathroom?" They asked, already starting to sit up slowly. "I probably look like I got hit by a plane. Which, technically, I was on a plane, so close enough."

There was lightness in their voice. Easy humor. The kind of comfortable morning banter that came from actually wanting to be where you were instead of counting the seconds until you could leave.

They leaned down before fully sitting up, pressing a quick kiss to Dmitri's temple. Casual affection, given without overthinking it.

"I'm here." They said it like a reminder, like making sure he knew. "Still here. Not going anywhere yet."

Yet implied there would be a time when they'd leave, but it wasn't now, wasn't today, wasn't anytime soon. Just an acknowledgment that eventually they'd need to figure out the logistics of hotel rooms and travel plans and how long "staying" actually meant.

But that was future problem. Right now was just morning light and the smell of breakfast and Dmitri alive and warm next to them and the strange, unfamiliar feeling of peace.

They could work with this.​

 

[Solaris-]

Dmitri had half expected to wake up in the middle of the night to feel Rowan pulling away- leaving an empty spot where their warmth had been. He hadn't had to convince them just to stay there until he fell asleep- that after four years of someone sharing his bed with him it was too hard most nights to sleep alone. The hand that reached towards his face normally would have sent him reeling back, but the touch was gentle and curious in its nature, and he found himself leaning towards it rather than away. "So did you it seems." He let out a quiet chuckle as one of his hands moved up to gently brush down their messy bed-head being careful to not pull on any tangles but rather comb through them with his fingers. He couldn't help but think Rowan was extremely cute disheveled as they were from sleep- though he kept that thought to himself for now. "It feels weird to sleep through the night without any interruptions." Not just nightmares of that night or the feeling of the ice that had run through his veins the moment she'd plunged the knife into his chest, but of the last four years in general. He'd not had those thoughts- just a pure, uneventful rest.

Slowly, he sat himself up. The stitches under the bandages felt tight today and he winced from the effort it'd taken to get up. Dmitri had had half a thought to pull Rowan back down onto the bed so they could cuddle for just a few more moments longer, but it was probably in their best interest to get up now. His hand pressed against his chest over his shirt as though touching at the tender spot would somehow ease the dull throbbing in his chest. "I'm not sure if it hurts more today or if this is the first time I'm feeling it." His body had been occupied with other things for three days- like trying to stay conscious despite it quite literally begging him to close his eyes. Likely the effort it'd taken to remain awake for so long had made this more easy to ignore. "I'll take them soon," He reassured Rowan- knowing that moving around too much without them would be impossible today and he was eager to get out of the house even for a few hours.

The idea of introducing Rowan to his parents had been a thought on his mind. It was clear by their body language towards one another and how normal it felt between them to hold hands that there was something more to them than friendship, but he wasn't quite sure that introducing them as his partner was necessarily appropriate either. "Only if you're sure that's something you want to do." Dmitri returned the gentle gesture of his thumb moving against the top of Rowan's hand reassuringly. "If you would rather not or you'd be uncomfortable, I can just bring you food and coffee." It could just be the two of them for a little while longer though he knew that once they were ready to leave, Rowan would likely meet them anyway on their way out. He knew that this was not a comfortable situation for them as meeting his parents brought with it expectations most people might have. But he only wanted their comfort in the end and nothing else mattered.

He reached to the nightstand and picked up his glasses- sliding them onto his face so that he could properly see and opened a drawer to produce a small bottle of the prescription Tylenol he'd been given by the doctor. "I will take them I promise." Dmitri raised the hand in his to his lips- pressing a light kiss against the back of Rowan's hand. "You don't have to thank me for that though, Ptichka. I'm happy you stayed. Happy I got to wake up next to you." Part of him wished it could be more frequent than a one time thing, but Rowan needed their own space even if he occupied it occasionally and he wasn't about to ask them to stay for however long they were here in this house. Even he needed his own space, and moving out for the second time would be his next priority once he was healed enough.

Dmitri unscrewed the cap of the pill bottle and took two with what remained of the coffee he'd left on the nightstand the previous night. "The bathroom is just down the hall on the left. You have clothes with you right? If not, I might have something that fits you. Why don't you take a shower and then let me know if you feel up to going downstairs with me." He did this partially so that he could change his bandages without them seeing the the ugly wounds that would inevitably leave scars once they were fully healed. "Later, we can go to the college district and spend some time outside. I think it will do me some good to walk around a bit and the weather seems nice today." With how the sunlight filtered in through the curtains, it would be a waste to spend the day trapped inside even if it was cold.

The kiss to his temple flustered him in a way he didn't know how to describe. Such a soft gesture of intimacy given without prodding and without initiating it himself. It wasn't strange, didn't feel weird. Just made him feel appreciated and cared for. "Go take your shower, Ptichka before I change my mind and we end up cuddling in bed all day." Dmitri let out a quiet laugh at the playful tease and leaned forward to return the simple gesture of affection to Rowan- brushing his lips against theirs briefly. ​

 

[Froshimaru]

Rowan smiled against Dmitri's lips, that brief kiss sending warmth through their chest that had no business feeling that good this early in the morning.

"Dangerous." They murmured it against his mouth before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "Kissing me before coffee. That's how you end up with us not leaving this room all day."

There was something playful in their tone, teasing, but also honest. Part of them wanted exactly that. To stay in this room where the world outside didn't exist, where it was just the two of them and morning light and the strange, terrifying comfort of actually wanting to be somewhere.

But Dmitri needed to move around. Needed pain meds and food and to not spend another day trapped in this room recovering alone.

"Shower first. Then I'll decide about meeting your parents." They said it gently, not a refusal but not quite a yes either. "I want to. I do. Just need like twenty minutes to look like a person instead of something that crawled out of a hostel in Mongolia."

They sat up fully, stretching, then reached for their camera bag on the floor. Their go-bag was still downstairs by the door where they'd dropped it when they came in, but they always kept a change of clothes in the camera bag. Habit from years of sleeping in airports and missing trains and ending up places they hadn't planned to be.

"I've got clothes. Always prepared for the 'slept in my jeans and shirt' walk of shame." A wry smile. "Though I guess it's less shame and more... I don't know. This feels different."

Different because they wanted to stay. Different because waking up next to Dmitri felt right instead of suffocating. Different because some part of them that had been running for four years had finally gotten tired enough to stop.

They stood, slinging the bag over their shoulder, then paused at the edge of the bed. Leaned down and pressed another quick kiss to his forehead, fingers brushing through his hair one more time.

"Take your meds. Change your bandages. I'll be back in twenty minutes and we can face the world together."

The words came out softer than intended. Face the world together. Like they were a team. Like this was something that would continue past this morning.

The thought should have scared them. Would have scared them yesterday, last week, any time in the past four years.

Right now it just felt like the truth.

"Bathroom's down the hall on the left?" They confirmed, already moving toward the door. "Don't change your mind about the cuddling all day thing. I have very little willpower when it comes to warm beds and you apparently."

The admission slipped out before they could stop it, but they didn't take it back. Just shot him a small smile and slipped out of the room before they actually did crawl back into bed and derail any plans of being functional humans today.

The hallway was quiet. They could hear voices downstairs, soft conversation in what sounded like Russian mixed with English. Dmitri's parents. Real people who would have questions and probably opinions about the stranger who'd shown up late at night and stayed in their son's room.

Later. They'd deal with that later.

Right now they just needed hot water and clean clothes and twenty minutes to remind themselves that this was okay. That staying was okay. That the warmth in their chest every time they looked at Dmitri wasn't a trap, wasn't a mistake, wasn't something they needed to run from.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind them and Rowan set their bag down, catching their reflection in the mirror. Pink and brown hair sticking up at odd angles. Pillow creases on their cheek. Eyes that looked less tired than they had in months.

They looked like someone who'd actually slept. Someone who'd woken up somewhere they wanted to be.

"Okay," they said quietly to their reflection. "We're doing this. We're staying. It's fine. It's good. It's..."

Terrifying. Wonderful. Everything they'd been running from and everything they'd been looking for at the same time.

They turned on the shower, letting the water heat up, and started to strip off yesterday's clothes. In twenty minutes they'd go back to Dmitri's room. After that, they'd meet his parents. Then maybe they'd go walk around Portland, see the city he'd told them about in Berlin when temporary had felt like lifetimes and neither of them had known this was where they'd end up.

The world outside could wait a little longer. Right now, in this moment, everything that mattered was contained in this house. In the room down the hall where Dmitri was changing bandages and taking pain meds and hopefully not second-guessing the fact that he'd kissed them.

Rowan stepped under the hot water and let themselves smile.

For once, they weren't planning their exit route.

For once, they were planning to stay.​

 

[Solaris-]

If it were still pouring rain, his mind would have easily been swayed. Would have given in to the impulse of staying in bed all day, but for once, the skies didn't threaten angry storm showers at least yet. Still, the invitation was a dangerous one that he would enjoy indulging in at some point. Perhaps once Rowan was settled in their own space, the two of them could enjoy doing just that. The pleasant thought brought a gentle warm heat to Dmitri's face. It was interesting for him to be so easily flustered by such innocent thoughts and feelings. Even the way Rowan's lips brushed against his own made his heart beat a little faster. "Together, then," He repeated, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Not a practiced smile that he'd perfected from years of performance, but a softer one. Hopeful that this would last more than just today- for however long the two of them decided to continue it.

He'd nodded at the question before Rowan left the room- leaving it empty feeling once more. In their absence it made him realize he should probably clean up his space at some point. It looked as much of a disaster as he'd looked and felt the night before. But that was a problem for the future when the two of them hadn't agreed to spend the day together doing things that should probably terrify him. Introducing Rowan to his parents hadn't been on his proverbial bingo card in any of their near futures, but neither was almost dying so he supposed it was a moot point. Rather than dwell on these thoughts any longer, Dmitri pushed himself slowly up from the mattress to stand- stretching sore and tired limbs. The dull ache in his chest had started to subside at least a little- a little more manageable now than it had been before when he'd just been sitting there.

Part of him couldn't believe what was happening. Yesterday, he was terrified of what the feelings he'd retained for Rowan might entail. Scared of kissing them and ruining whatever tenuous friendship they had. And now, he didn't want to be without these simple pleasures he'd experienced. Between their careful touches, the way they brushed their fingers through his messy hair, and even the way they kissed him and held his hand without being asked. There was no regret or room in his mind for second guessing in kissing Rowan the night before- no regret in laying his feelings bare even though he'd expected rejection. Him wanting this reminded him that he'd once chased this feeling of acceptance from Verdigris before, and he was cautious not to let himself get burned in that endeavor again. Even if Rowan didn't stay long, there was always a chance that they would let him come too even as terrifying as it was to give up this permanence and safety of a familiar city.

Lifting his shirt from his slender frame, he grimaced at the sight in the mirror as the bandages were removed. The swelling had gone down substantially at least, but the bruising and the stitches that held the wound closed still made the area feel tight, itchy, and uncomfortable. It wasn't infected thankfully, and he was quick to redress the wound so that he would stop staring at it hoping that it would heal faster. The one on his back was done much the same though it was a little more difficult to reach for him. When he pulled the tight bandages from his hand, he flexed his wrist. The deep cut to his palm burned and made him realize for the first time just how hard he had gripped the blade to keep her from stabbing him a third time. Despite his recent dark thoughts, he clearly hadn't wanted to die in that apartment and this was evidence enough of that. It too would leave an ugly reminder, but something that gave him some sudden perspective and realization in this moment.

When he was finished dressing his injuries, he pulled a pair of jeans and a loose fitting back button down out of his dresser and pulled them on. Something loose enough where it wouldn't rub against his wounds but still warm enough for the chilly early-spring weather in Portland. A brush was pulled through messy cherry cola tangles- taming the tussled waves just enough to make him look presentable and like he cared about his appearance. Being a naturally vain creature who valued what he appeared like to others, it'd certainly been a while since he'd cared enough as the energy had been spent elsewhere. But now that he had nowhere to be other than here, waiting on Rowan to finish their shower, he wanted to do better. This felt like progress in a way.​

 

[Froshimaru]

The water was too hot but Rowan didn't adjust it.

They stood under the spray, letting it burn across their shoulders, watching steam fill the small bathroom until the mirror fogged over completely. Their hands braced against the tile, head bowed, pink-tinged water swirling down the drain as temporary dye washed out of their hair.

Their body ached in the familiar way it always did after long flights and sleeping in clothes. But there was a different ache too, something in their chest that had nothing to do with physical discomfort.

Dmitri was safe. Alive. Down the hall getting dressed, probably wincing as he changed bandages over wounds that should have killed him.

Rowan's hand moved without thinking to the scar on their left side, just above their hip. Puckered skin, slightly raised, about the size of a quarter. Mogadishu, three years ago. Stray bullet from a firefight they'd been documenting. Through and through, nothing vital hit, but they'd bled enough that the fixer they'd been working with thought they were done for.

They'd photographed the aftermath of that firefight the next day, stitched up and running on adrenaline and spite.

That's what scars were in conflict zones. Proof you'd been there. Proof you'd survived. Proof that violence was real and left marks even when you were just supposed to be observing it.

Their fingers traced the line of it, then moved to the other marks. Shrapnel scars on their right forearm from Aleppo, small and scattered like someone had pressed hot gravel into their skin. The jagged line on their collarbone from falling through a partially collapsed building in Yemen, rebar catching them on the way down. Burns on their left palm from a car fire they'd gotten too close to documenting in Kabul.

A roadmap of every place they'd been, every time they'd gotten too close, every moment they'd chosen the photograph over their own safety.

Rowan had always thought of their scars as... proof, maybe. Evidence that they'd been there, that the stories they'd documented were real, that they'd earned the right to show the world what was happening in places most people would never see.

But Dmitri's wounds weren't like that.

His weren't from being an observer who got too close. His were from someone who was supposed to love him deciding he was better off dead. Intimate violence. The kind that happened behind closed doors, in apartments that should have been safe, from hands that should have been gentle.

The water beat down on Rowan's shoulders and they tried to reconcile the two things. Their scars from documenting horror. His scars from surviving it personally.

Both of them marked. Both of them carrying proof that the world was dangerous in different ways.

The difference was Rowan had chosen to walk into war zones. Had chosen to point their camera at violence knowing the risks. Dmitri had just been trying to leave a relationship and almost died for it.

Their chest felt tight thinking about those bandages, about the stitches holding him together, about how close it had been. A few centimeters. That's what he'd said. A few centimeters between alive and dead.

Rowan had seen people die from wounds like that. Had photographed them. Had watched medics try to save people who'd been stabbed and failed more often than they succeeded.

And Dmitri had survived it. Had grabbed the blade with his bare hand and stopped a third strike and told his attacker he loved her to make her stop.

The manipulation of that. The survival instinct. The horrible, practical calculus of knowing exactly what words would keep you alive even if they were lies.

Rowan understood that in a way most people probably wouldn't. They'd talked their way through checkpoints, lied to soldiers about where they were going and why, said whatever needed to be said to survive another day in places where truth could get you killed.

Different contexts. Same desperate need to make it through.

The water was starting to cool. Rowan needed to actually wash their hair, get clean, get ready to face Dmitri's parents and pretend they were a functional human being who hadn't just flown across the ocean on an impulse.

But for another moment they just stood there, hand pressed against their side where the bullet had gone through, thinking about scars and survival and the fact that Dmitri was down the hall putting on clean clothes over fresh wounds.

They were both damaged. Both carrying marks from different kinds of violence. Both still here despite everything that should have killed them.

And somehow that made this feel... possible? Like maybe two people who'd survived impossible things could figure out how to be gentle with each other. How to exist in the same space without either of them breaking.

Rowan finally reached for the shampoo, working it through their hair, watching pink foam run down the drain. The dye would fade completely in a few more washes. They'd need to decide if they wanted to redo it or let it go back to natural brown.

Small decisions. Normal decisions. The kind of thing that mattered when you were planning to stay somewhere long enough for your hair color to matter.

They rinsed, conditioned, actually washed their body properly. The routine was grounding. Familiar. By the time they turned off the water, their hands had stopped shaking.

Dmitri was safe. Rowan was here. The world outside could wait a little longer.

They dried off quickly, pulled on clean clothes from their bag. Black jeans, a soft grey henley, clean socks. Ran a towel through their hair until it stopped dripping. Looked at themselves in the mirror, wiping away the condensation.

They looked... tired, still. The kind of tired that didn't go away with one good night's sleep. But less haunted than they had in months. Less like they were running and more like they'd finally found a place worth stopping for.

Their hand went to their side one more time, pressing against the scar through their shirt.

Proof of survival. Proof that dangerous things left marks. Proof that you could get hurt and keep going anyway.

Down the hall, Dmitri was probably ready by now. Dressed, bandaged, waiting.

Rowan took a breath, grabbed their bag, and opened the bathroom door.

Time to face the world. Together.​

 

[Solaris-]

The sound of the shower stopped and Dmitri opened his bedroom door to let Rowan know that he was presentable and that they wouldn't be walking in on him half-dressed. His thumbs typed out a quick message to Ashe through the spider web of cracks on his phone screen that he would give her a call later that evening in hopes that she would still want to speak with him. It'd been so long since they'd interacted, and he missed his friend who had cared enough about him to message a complete stranger to herself to check on him when she couldn't. For now, he just wanted to let her know that he was alive, relatively well despite the pain, and doing his best not to hole himself up in his room to sulk. Where most people might've been content with several days of staying in bed to recover, Dmitri was used to being busy- used to keeping his mind occupied and there was only so much doomscrolling he could take without driving himself mad. Especially now that the news had reported on the story of his trauma even without naming him. Seeing the comments saying that the woman in jail was too pretty to be there and that she didn't deserve prison infuriated him. It was safest to stay away from social media for a while despite his recent return to his professional page.

His stomach was quick to remind him that he'd not yet eaten and he set the phone back down on the nightstand when Rowan returned to his room. Dmitri rolled up the ends of his sleeves to his elbows. He was as ready as he would ever be. "Ready, Ptichka? Let me know if you want to leave at any time." His hand wrapped loosely around theirs and he stroked the top of it with his thumb while the other moved to brush damp strands of pink and brown that had stuck to their cheek behind their ear. They both were hungry and there was no sense waffling about anymore.

Their footsteps were quiet against the carpeted stairs. Dmitri still held onto Rowan's hand and the other carefully slid down the handrail as they descended. Quiet conversations in Russian between Yana and their father filtered in above the shuffling of newspapers and the sound of silverware against a plate. Both she and their father were business minded, and Dmitri had envied her success when he was younger, but now to him, even though he understood them plainly, it sounded as though they were speaking a language he did not understand. Too complicated for him now- though he was happy that she sounded excited about it.

His sister was the first one that had pulled herself away from her portion of the newspaper to look at them. "Good morning, Dima," Seemingly her conversation from before forgotten as they found themselves in the threshold to the dining space. Her accent was thicker than Dmitri's. Evidence of her being in her twenties by the time their family had moved the the state they now resided in. The siblings looked like their parents- Dmitri his father in that the two both had dark hair and Yana looked more like their mother. Though they both had the same distinguishing eyes. Soft amber hues that looked like pools of liquid honey when the sunlight filtered in through the unshuttered window of the kitchen in the right way. "Your friend is still here?" Yana smiled as she tilted her head curiously at the brunette behind him. Her question wasn't accusation, but more of a curious observation in their presence. If she'd taken note of their clasped hands and linked fingers, she didn't mention it.

"Morning, Yana," He'd greeted her in return. "It was raining pretty hard last night when they got it. I wasn't about to kick them out into a city they aren't familiar with in the cold rain." Even if Rowan had felt as though they were intruding on Dmitri's space, he would have still insisted they stay the night. Even if he hadn't been brave enough to say anything about almost-kisses and lingering feelings.

"Приветик," (Colloquial term for good morning used for close friends and family) It was the older of the women that spoke now and she placed a plate of draniki on the side of the table where they were still standing and a small ramiken of sour cream. Unconsciously, his thumb once more brushed against the Rowan's hand. "We thought you would sleep longer, Dima, but we're happy to see you moving around. Let me make you breakfast." She stood and pulled another chair closer to the one that Dmitri stood behind so that Rowan could sit as well. "Since Dima isn't going to introduce us, you can call me Katya. This is my husband Misha and my eldest Yana." She let out a quiet laugh at her playful tease and turned the stove back on before flipping the switch on the coffee maker. These were the names they often used in the company of those who didn't speak Russian as they were easier to pronouce and spell.

Dmitri offered a gentle roll of his shoulders- shrugging. Clearly they were just excited for Dmitri to not be spending his time by himself and was in the company of someone he was quite obviously fond of. He took the seat next to Yana and left the other for them to take when they were ready. "This is Rowan. Try not to scare them off, won't you?" His words were equally as playful as his mother's, but he did mean what he said. The last thing he wanted was this to suddenly become overwhelming. ​

 

[Froshimaru]

Rowan's hand tightened reflexively around Dmitri's as they descended the stairs, hyperaware of voices speaking Russian below them, of the smell of coffee and something cooking, of the fact that they were about to meet the parents of someone they'd kissed last night and slept next to and still weren't entirely sure how to define.

But Dmitri's thumb was doing that gentle stroke against their hand, grounding them, and the peaceful feeling from this morning hadn't quite dissipated yet.

The sister spoke first. Yana. Amber eyes like Dmitri's, thicker accent, curious but not hostile. Rowan catalogued details automatically - the way she tilted her head, the newspaper in front of her, the fact that she'd noticed them immediately but didn't seem surprised.

"Good morning." They managed, their voice steady. "Yeah, still here. The rain was pretty convincing."

A weak joke, but it was something. Their photographer brain was taking in everything - the kitchen layout, the light through the windows, the family dynamic playing out in small gestures and comfortable silences. This was Dmitri's normal. His people. The place he'd come back to after almost dying.

Then his mother was up, placing food down, pulling out a chair, and Rowan felt that familiar flutter of panic that usually preceded running. Meeting parents. Elena had asked them to do this and they'd left the country instead.

But Katya wasn't asking anything of them. Just offering breakfast and introducing herself with easy warmth that didn't demand anything back.

"Rowan Castellanos." They offered, then attempted, "Приятно познакомиться." (Nice to meet you.) Their Russian was rough, accented, definitely not native, but they tried. "Sorry, my Russian is pretty bad. Picked up some in Syria but never got fluent."

They took the seat Katya had pulled out, not letting go of Dmitri's hand until they physically had to in order to sit down properly. Even then, their knee pressed against his under the table, maintaining that point of contact.

"Thank you for letting me stay last night." They addressed this to Katya and Misha both, trying for polite without being overly formal. "I showed up kind of out of nowhere. Dmitri's friend Ashe messaged me and I just. Got on a plane. Probably should have planned better but planning isn't really my strong suit."

Honesty felt safer than trying to construct some elaborate explanation. These were Dmitri's parents. They'd just watched their son almost die. They probably didn't need Rowan's carefully crafted photographer persona.

Their eyes caught on the draniki, stomach reminding them they'd eaten airplane food at some point yesterday and nothing since.

"What are these?" Genuine curiosity in their voice. "They look good."

They were aware of Dmitri next to them, of the way his family was clearly happy to see him up and moving, of the careful way everyone was pretending not to notice that he'd brought someone home who'd stayed the night. The dynamic felt... gentle. Protective but not smothering.

Rowan's hand found Dmitri's again under the table, fingers intertwining naturally. They weren't hiding it exactly, but they also weren't making a big deal of it. Just two people who needed the contact, who'd figured out that being close helped somehow.

"Dmitri said something about showing me Portland today." They addressed this to the table generally, testing the waters. "The college district? If he's feeling up to it. Promised him I'd make sure he actually rests and doesn't overdo it."

There was something almost protective in the way they said it. Like they'd appointed themselves Dmitri's keeper for the day, making sure someone who'd been stabbed three days ago didn't push himself too hard trying to seem fine.

Their photographer eye caught details they filed away without meaning to. The way Katya moved around the kitchen like she'd done this a thousand times. The newspaper split between Yana and Misha. The amber eyes that ran in the family. The easy way they switched between Russian and English. The care in how they looked at Dmitri, checking on him without making it obvious.

This was what family looked like when it worked. When it was safe.

Rowan's own family had been... different. Military strictness from their father, exhaustion from their mother, constant moving that prevented any real roots. This kitchen felt lived in. Permanent. The kind of place where people came back to even after everything went wrong.

"I'm a photographer." They offered when the silence stretched a bit. "Travel documentary stuff mostly. That's how Dmitri and I met - I was shooting a convention in Berlin six months ago. He was there for work."

They left out the panic attack and the wall and the three days that had felt like lifetimes. Left out the almost-kiss and the six months of unanswered texts. Just the basic facts that explained why some stranger had shown up at their door last night.

Their thumb moved against Dmitri's palm under the table. That unconscious gesture that had become their thing somehow.

"Your son's very good at showing up when people need him." The words came out quieter, honest. "Even when they're too stubborn to ask for help."

They meant it as a compliment to Dmitri but also as an explanation for why they were here. Why they'd flown across an ocean. Why they'd stayed the night instead of finding a hotel. Because Dmitri had shown up for them in Berlin when they were falling apart, and turnabout felt like the least they could do.

The coffee maker beeped and Rowan's attention tracked to it automatically. They definitely needed coffee. Needed the ritual of it, the grounding familiar taste.

But they stayed seated, hand in Dmitri's, trying to be present instead of planning exit routes. Trying to be the kind of person who could sit at a family breakfast table without their brain screaming about all the ways this could go wrong.

Progress came in small moments. This was one of them.​

 

[Solaris-]

So far, this was going differently than he'd expected. Not that he'd expected them to throw a million questions this way about how the two seemed to drift closer to one another even when sitting there at the table. The simple touching of their knees or the way Rowan's hand found his own once more under the table. Not a secret by any stretch of the imagination, but not overt either. "If you're familiar with latkes, then that's what these are, Ptichka." Dmitri lifted the hand that was not linked to the other person that sat next to him and tore off a piece of the pancake made of grated potato and offered it to Rowan. "It's just that we aren't Jewish, so we eat these pretty regularly and not on holidays." It wasn't lost on him his mother had taken the time to prepare something she knew would bring him some comfort in eating. They might not have held cultural significance to any of those present, but it reminded him of when he was younger and money was tighter in their house.

The attempt at a pleasant greeting was unpolished, sure, but there was something a bit endearing about Rowan attempting the family's native language even without their lack of practice in it. When Dmitri caught his mother's knowing glance and the hint of smile she hid behind her glass. "You should have Dima teach you. I'm sure he would appreciate a conversation with someone who isn't us." She wasn't wrong, but she made it sound like he hated speaking with his parents and that was certainly not the case. Just meeting them for the first time, he knew it could be overstimulating for someone else. Though he wouldn't mind teaching Rowan more words and phrases if that was something they were interested in.

There was the rustling of a newspaper closing and the coffee maker letting them know that it was finished. Dmitri offered a gentle squeeze of Rowan's hand to let them know he'd be back in a moment before he released it to stand. His mother had started towards it, but even wounded, he was faster to it than she was. "I got it, Mamulya." He reached into the cabinet, being careful to not repeat what he'd done last night when he'd momentarily forgotten his injuries when Rowan had showed up and set two mugs on the counter- filling them with the warm liquid. Like usual, one without sugar and one with just enough to curb the bitterness.

"I don't think you can really plan these things out." It was Misha who spoke now. Making plans to show up when someone was injured would have been suspicious to say the least. This had been something no one really had accounted for or knew how to plan for. "We were all working when the hospital called us to tell us what had happened. When we got there, we reached out to Dima's friend to let her know and also ask her to be there since we were emotional and English was difficult." That was something Dmitri could relate to as well. When he had been overly emotional in his younger years, all the knowledge of English seemed too hard to grasp onto fully. Words slipped away and sentences broke down. He realized it must have been difficult for his parents to see him in that state- barely clinging to life after the tenuous world he'd built for himself had shattered into pieces from the actions of a single person. "Ashe said that her grandparents were ill and couldn't make it even though she wanted to. We had to call Yana to be here, but we are glad to know he has good friends who can show up when they're needed."

Dmitri didn't know that Ashe's grandparents were ill. It made sense to him now why she'd texted Rowan in such a panic. They both had other mutual friends, sure, but she wanted someone to check on him that she knew he wouldn't just give half-assed answers to so that they didn't worry. He returned to his seat- placing Rowan's mug down in front of them before his hand once more found familiar ground. Squeezing it lightly. "Stay a couple of days if you like." She was plating the eggs and bacon she'd made for both of them on separate plates now and turned the burner off once more. "If you being here has him in such good spirits, who are we to send you away." Katya placed their breakfast in front of them. "He wouldn't call you such cute pet names if he wasn't fond of you."

Somehow this felt more embarrassing for Dmitri. She wasn't showing Rowan his baby photos, but this was a close second down the line of embarrassing things parents could do. "Mamulya," The vowels at the end of the word stressed. Somewhere between embarrassed and slight annoyance for her teasing words- though his feelings weren't malicious. Her hand gently ruffled already messy cherry-cola waves before she went back to her seat.

There was something in Rowan's words that surprised him and filled him with a gentle warmth in their protective nature. He'd felt that too back in Berlin, but it had been Dmitri who had been so over them back then. "I will be fine. You all worry too much." Though he'd smiled when he said it- happy to know that they were looking out for him in their own ways. "It's a short walk there and back, and as much as I enjoy Rowan being here, they aren't used to having so many people in their space. If they're going to be in Portland for a few days, they shouldn't have to be cooped up in a house full of people already." That, and he did not want to give his mother the opportunity to embarrass him further by actually pulling out old photos to show Rowan since she was so keen on teasing them both.

"The photos of me in the black suit in my portfolio were some of the ones they took." Dmitri offered a frame of reference to them after a bite of the food that had been set in front of him as they'd seen those shots when he'd updated it after returning from Berlin. His portfolio stayed at his parents' place since he'd been terrified to leave something so important laying around in his apartment with Marina. Her jealousy likely would have her destroying something that meant so much to him.

There was a brief silence. "He's always been like that." Misha began. "We were worried when he started working at that venue. Even more worried when he brought... her home." It was obvious who he meant.

"сука," (Bitch) Yana interjected. No one corrected her or scolded her for her bad language.

"But meeting you and Ashe lets us know he's not always getting into trouble." The man finished his thought. They'd liked Ashe when he brought her around. Definitely, they liked Rowan who was far more soft spoken. Their presence there at the table, present, holding Dmitri's hand under the table made him feel calmer about a situation that should be embarrassing- should be awkward. It was that in a way, he supposed, but not in a way that made him feel like they should immediately leave. They could at least finish breakfast before making good on their other plans. ​

 

[Froshimaru]

The piece of draniki Dmitri offered them was warm, crispy on the outside and soft inside. Rowan took it, the gesture intimate in a way that had nothing to do with the food itself and everything to do with the casual ease of it.

"Like latkes, okay. Got it." They chewed, considering. "These are really good. Thank you."

The comment about Dmitri teaching them Russian caught them off guard, but in a good way. It implied future. Implied ongoing. Implied that Katya saw this as more than just someone who'd shown up for a night.

"I'd like that." The words came out before they could overthink them. "Learning more Russian. My Arabic is better but that's not particularly useful in Portland."

Dmitri got up to get coffee and Rowan felt the absence of his hand immediately, which was ridiculous. They'd spent four years barely touching anyone and now thirty seconds without contact felt wrong.

Misha's explanation about the hospital, about Ashe's grandparents, about calling Yana - it painted a picture Rowan hadn't fully considered. That Dmitri's family had been just as terrified as Ashe had been. That they'd been trying to navigate a crisis in a language that got harder when emotions ran high. That they'd needed support too.

"I didn't know about Ashe's grandparents." Their voice was quieter. "I'm glad she reached out to me. I'm glad I could be here."

And they meant it. Even though "being here" meant sitting at a family breakfast table doing something they'd actively avoided for years. Even though every instinct they'd honed since leaving Syria said this was too much closeness, too much permanence, too many people who could have expectations.

Dmitri returned with coffee - no sugar in theirs, perfect - and Rowan's hand found his again immediately. That anchor point that made the rest of this manageable.

Then Katya was inviting them to stay. Not just tonight but days. Plural.

Rowan's chest did something complicated. Tightened and loosened at the same time.

"I don't want to impose." The deflection was automatic, but their hand was squeezing Dmitri's under the table, holding on. "I was planning to find a hotel or hostel somewhere nearby. Give you all your space back."

But even as they said it, they didn't want to. The thought of leaving this house, of putting distance between themselves and Dmitri when he was still healing, when they'd just figured out how to be close - it felt wrong.

The "pet names" comment made heat creep up the back of their neck.

"Ptichka." They tested the word, glancing at Dmitri. "Little bird. He called me that in Berlin after I ran face-first into a wall having a panic attack. Very graceful first impression."

They were deflecting with humor but there was fondness in their voice. The nickname had stuck because it fit. Because Rowan was always ready to fly away, always perched on the edge of leaving. And Dmitri had seen that immediately and named it something gentle instead of something broken.

[color=<span></span>#B8956A]"The nickname stuck. He's good at reading people, I guess."[/color] Honesty felt safer than pretending. "I'm not really good at this. The staying thing. The people thing. I've spent four years moving around photographing strangers because that's easier than actually connecting with anyone."

Their thumb moved against Dmitri's palm, that nervous gesture.

"But your son showed up when I was falling apart in Berlin and didn't ask me to be anything other than what I was. So when his friend told me he needed someone, I got on a plane. And I'm trying really hard not to panic about the fact that this feels... good. Being here. With him. With all of you."

The admission cost them something. Rowan didn't do vulnerability like this. Didn't admit to wanting things, to caring about people, to letting themselves be part of something that could hurt when it ended.

But Dmitri had laid himself bare last night, had kissed them and asked them to stay and told them about the tattoos that carried their favorite colors. The least Rowan could do was be honest about the fact that they were terrified and staying anyway.

When Misha mentioned Marina - when Yana interjected with that single sharp word - Rowan's hand tightened protectively around Dmitri's.

"I know what happened." Their voice was steady, quiet. "Ashe gave me the basics and Dmitri told me the rest last night. I've seen a lot of violence in my work. Photographed a lot of aftermath. But this was different. This was personal and it was someone he trusted and it shouldn't have happened."

They looked at Dmitri, then back to his family.

"I don't know how long I'm staying in Portland. I don't know what I'm doing after this or where I'm going next. I'm not good at plans or commitments or any of the things that normal people are good at." Their fingers laced tighter with Dmitri's. "But I'm here now. And I'm not leaving today or tomorrow. And if he'll let me, I'd like to stick around until I'm sure he's okay."

It wasn't a promise of forever. Rowan couldn't make that promise, didn't know how to make that promise. But it was a promise of now. Of choosing to stay when every part of them usually chose to run.

They picked up their coffee, took a sip. It was perfect. Too hot still but perfect.

"Thank you for the invitation to stay here." They addressed Katya directly. "I'll probably still get a hotel room. Not because I don't appreciate it, just because I need my own space to decompress and I don't want to be in the way while Dmitri's recovering. But I'd like to come back. For breakfast. For dinner. Whatever works."

It was compromise. The most Rowan could offer. A hotel room they could retreat to when things got overwhelming, but proximity enough to be present. To show up. To be the kind of person who didn't just disappear when things got complicated.

The mention of the portfolio photos made them smile slightly.

"Those were good shots. He's very photogenic. Made my job easy." A pause. "The other photos we took that weekend were better though. The ones that weren't for work. Just us in Berlin, being people instead of performing."

The ones pinned to Dmitri's wall upstairs. Proof that those three days had mattered, that they'd been real, that something had started there that had carried forward six months to this kitchen table in Portland.

Rowan ate their breakfast, drank their coffee, let themselves exist in this moment. Family breakfast conversation flowing around them in a mix of English and Russian. Dmitri's hand in theirs under the table. The morning light coming through the windows.

This was what normal people did. Ate breakfast with their person's family. Made small talk. Existed in domestic spaces without plotting exit routes.

Rowan had photographed moments like this a thousand times. Street photography, documentary work, capturing ordinary life in extraordinary places. They'd always been on the outside looking in, documenting other people's connections, other people's families, other people's peace.

This was the first time in four years they were part of it instead of just witnessing it.

It was terrifying. It was good. They were staying anyway.

"Dmitri's right though." They said after a moment. "About getting out of the house. I'm not used to being around this many people. No offense, you're all wonderful, I'm just... better in small doses until I get used to things."

Honest. Direct. The best they could offer.

"So yeah. Portland. College district. Coffee shop that's never busy. Maybe bothering Ashe for cinnamon rolls when he's feeling up to the train ride. I'm good at walking and taking photos and being quiet company."

Good at being present without demanding anything. Good at existing alongside someone without needing constant interaction. Good at the kind of companionship that came from shared silence and parallel existence.

They finished their coffee, set the mug down, and squeezed Dmitri's hand one more time.

"Thank you for breakfast. And for not asking me a million questions about my intentions or whatever parents usually ask." A small smile. "I appreciate that you're just letting this be what it is."

Whatever "this" was. Whatever they were figuring out together. Two people who'd almost kissed six months ago and finally stopped running from it.

Rowan was here. They were staying. That was enough for now.​

 

[Solaris-]

The way Rowan spoke with honesty about their meeting and their time in Berlin surprised Dmitri. Not because it bothered him that his parents knew all of this, but because it'd taken three days for them to warm up to him enough to be this honest. Them opting to do it when they'd known his parents for less than an hour was nothing short of a surprise. Rowan was really trying to make a good first impression even despite all their earlier nervous energy, and he would have to be sure to let them know later that he appreciated the effort even though they didn't need to do all of this just for him. His parents too were forthcoming about their words- offering them the ability to stay or come and go as they pleased for however long they would be here. It was so unlike the one time he'd brought Marina here to meet them. That had been painfully awkward in other ways he didn't want to remember.

But for now, there was a comfortable warmth that filled him. Equally in part from the breakfast and coffee he finished and the pleasantness of the conversation. Now that his food was finished, he shifted his weight some in his seat. Just enough to lean his shoulder against theirs. "I'd spent nearly five years learning how to read people pretty well. It's hard to turn that part of your brain off once you get used to that sort of thing." Being hyper-vigilant of other people's smallest most minuscule reactions and expressions usually got him a good read of how to interact with someone. "I know if it had been me having a breakdown in a crowd I would have wanted someone to reach out to me, so it made sense to offer someone what I would have wanted in that moment." Seeing the panic in their face had been how he'd felt every moment of every day for four years too long without outwardly showing it unless he was alone.

"The people who show up for us aren't always the ones we expect." Katya's soft words mirrored the ones Dmitri had said before. "It's funny how life works sometimes."

His other hand had moved now to rest on the other side of the hand he already held- offering a bit of comfort to let them know he was alright. He didn't know if "trust" was the word he'd use there; he hadn't "trusted" Marina for a long time, but perhaps he did have some trust that she wasn't completely a psychopath that wouldn't stab him when he walked away from her for the last time. There was some justice in knowing she'd confessed to her crimes still covered in his blood that night and that none of them would have to see her again. "Ptichka, for as long as you're in Portland, you're welcome here." The way Rowan spoke made it sound like they thought they were intruding on Dmitri's space even though he certainly didn't feel as though they were. He'd told them to come here, had been the one to ask them to stay. The rain had been a convenient excuse when he'd really just wanted them to hold him like he was worth more than someone else's discarded and damaged property while they slept.

"There's a smaller hotel that allows for longer term stays with pretty inexpensive rates on Second Avenue. About ten minutes from the cafe." Dmitri was familiar with the one his father was talking about. It was still a manageable walking distance to the house and far enough away that Rowan wouldn't be smothered. "We're going to work soon, but Yana will be home all day if you two need anything."

Both of them got up from the table. Katya picking up plates and putting them in the dishwasher and Misha going about his normal morning routine like it was a normal day.

"We should get going too," Dmitri offered Rowan a soft smile. As nice as this was, he was eager to be outside for the first time in three days. "There's really nice street art over that way you might like to take photos of too." Peaceful memories to remember Portland by. Chalk art and murals done by art students by a quiet cafe made Portland sound more quaint than the weird place it really was.

Before his mother fully left the kitchen, she bent down to give Dmitri a gentle hug. "Bring them back for dinner or I will be very upset." Though her tone was light and playful. Doing her best to make light of a situation they were all navigating through. "And be careful both of you." She rested a hand on Rowan's shoulder lightly- offering a gentle touch without invading too much of their space.

His parents left and Yana offered a pleasant good bye before she went upstairs to her own room and the two of them were left there in the kitchen by themselves. "Sorry if that was weird for you." Dmitri offered a quiet apology- slowly brushing his thumb against Rowan's hand. If anything, it was Dmitri who had been embarrassed by how much they'd been willing to tease him in Rowan's presence. But it hadn't been a bad interaction, and no one had left unhappy, so for that he was grateful. "Let's get some fresh air." ​

 

[Froshimaru]

The conversation kept flowing around them and Rowan kept nodding, kept responding, kept holding Dmitri's hand under the table like everything was fine.

But their chest was getting tighter. The kitchen felt smaller. Too many voices, too many people, too much warmth and acceptance and expectations they didn't know how to meet.

They'd just told Dmitri's family they were staying. They'd admitted to caring. They'd let themselves be vulnerable in front of strangers and now their brain was catching up to what their mouth had done and screaming that this was too much, too fast, too permanent.

"I need to use the bathroom."

The words came out more abrupt than they intended. They stood, pulling their hand from Dmitri's maybe a bit too quickly, and didn't quite meet anyone's eyes.

"Sorry. Just. Be right back."

They walked toward the stairs, keeping their movements controlled, casual, like their heart wasn't trying to beat its way out of their chest. Up the stairs. Down the hall. Into the bathroom. Door closed. Locked.

The panic hit the second they were alone.

Rowan braced their hands on the sink, head bowed, trying to remember how to breathe. Their reflection in the mirror looked pale, eyes too wide, and they couldn't look at it. Couldn't look at the person who'd just sat at a family breakfast table and made promises about staying.

What the fuck were they doing?

They'd met Dmitri's parents. Had breakfast with his family. Talked about staying in Portland for days, plural. Had admitted out loud that they cared, that this mattered, that they were trying.

Their hands were shaking. They slid down to sit on the bathroom floor, back against the door, pulling their knees up to their chest.

Four years. Four years of successfully avoiding this exact situation. Of keeping things casual and temporary and surface-level. Of never staying long enough for anyone to expect anything from them.

And they'd just blown that in one breakfast conversation.

Their phone was in their hand before they consciously decided to reach for it. Muscle memory. Dr. Vogler's contact, still saved even though they'd left Berlin months ago.

"having a moment. met someone's parents. told them i was staying. don't know why i said that. can't breathe properly."

Send.

The regret hit immediately. It was the middle of the night in Berlin. Dr. Vogler was probably asleep. And Rowan had never told her they'd left Germany.

Had never told her they were leaving at all.

They'd just stopped showing up to appointments four months ago. Stopped responding to the gentle check-in texts. Disappeared like they always did, like they'd done to Elena, like they did to everyone who got close enough to notice when they were gone.

Dr. Vogler had no idea Rowan wasn't in Berlin anymore. Had probably assumed the silence meant they were struggling, maybe relapsing into old patterns, maybe avoiding therapy because it was getting too hard. She'd probably worried. Had probably left the door open, kept Rowan's appointment slot available for weeks before finally giving it to someone else.

Their therapist thought they were still in Germany. Thought this panic attack was happening in the same city where they'd been working together for six months. Thought this was about Elena, the patient kind architecture student who Rowan had run from because meeting her parents felt like too much commitment.

Dr. Vogler had no idea that Rowan had run from Berlin entirely. Had spent four months ping-ponging between Thailand and Japan and Mongolia, trying to outrun the guilt of leaving another person without explanation. Had no idea they were now in Portland, Oregon, having a breakdown in a stranger's bathroom after meeting a completely different person's parents.

Same pattern. Different continent. Nothing learned.

The response came within two minutes.

'Rowan. I'm glad to hear from you. Breathe with me. Four counts in, hold four, out for four. You're safe. You're allowed to panic. You're also allowed to stay if you want to.'

Another message followed quickly.

'Is this about Elena? Or someone new? Either way, meeting parents is a big step. I'm proud of you! My door is open whenever you're ready to come back to sessions.'

I'm proud of you.

Rowan stared at those four words until they blurred.

When was the last time someone had said that to them? Their father certainly never had - military discipline didn't leave room for praise, only corrections on what could be improved. Their mother had been too exhausted from constantly moving, constantly adapting, to notice when Rowan did something worth being proud of. Their editor at the wire service had valued their work but never them as a person.

Dr. Vogler was proud of them for meeting parents. For trying to stay. For doing the thing that terrified them most.

Except Dr. Vogler thought they were still in Berlin. Thought they could just walk into her office for their next appointment. Thought this was about Elena maybe giving them another chance. Thought Rowan had actually stayed somewhere long enough to work through their commitment issues instead of running to three different countries in four months.

She was proud of someone who didn't exist. Proud of a version of Rowan who'd stuck around Berlin, who'd maybe even gone back to Elena and tried again, who'd been brave enough to keep showing up to therapy sessions instead of ghosting their therapist the same way they'd ghosted everyone else.

The real Rowan was sitting on a bathroom floor in Portland having a panic attack because they'd had breakfast with someone's family and couldn't handle it.

Nothing to be proud of there.
They closed the messages without responding.

Couldn't explain right now that they'd run again. That they'd been running for four months straight. That this wasn't about Elena, it was about Dmitri, and somehow that made it worse because it meant Rowan hadn't learned anything. Still getting close to people and panicking the second it felt real.

Four counts in. Hold. Four counts out.

Their heart was still racing but the tunnel vision was starting to clear. They pressed their palms against the cold tile floor, grounding themselves in the physical sensation.

This was just breakfast. Just one meal with three people who'd been kind and hadn't asked for anything unreasonable. They could leave whenever they wanted. Could get a hotel. Could book a flight back to anywhere tomorrow if this got to be too much.

No one was trapping them here.

Except they'd told Dmitri they'd stay. Had held his hand and kissed him and promised to be there in the morning. Had admitted in front of his family that they cared.

Their chest felt tight again.

More breathing. In for four. Hold. Out for four.

They stayed on the bathroom floor for another few minutes, letting their heart rate settle, letting the panic drain away enough that they could stand without their legs shaking.

By the time they looked at themselves in the mirror again, they almost looked normal. A little pale. A little haunted around the eyes. But functional.

They could do this. They could go back downstairs and pretend the last ten minutes hadn't happened and get out of this house into open air where they could breathe properly.

The walk back down the stairs felt longer than it should have. Their body wanted to flee - out the front door, to the airport, to anywhere that wasn't here with expectations and family and the weight of having admitted they were staying.

But Dmitri was waiting.

They returned to the kitchen where everyone was wrapping up breakfast, saying goodbyes. Rowan stayed near the doorway, not quite entering the space fully. Their hands found their camera bag strap, fingers worrying at the worn leather in that familiar nervous gesture. The same fidgeting they'd done in Berlin when they were barely holding it together.

When Katya touched their shoulder, Rowan managed not to flinch, but it was close.

"Thank you." Their voice came out quieter than before. "For breakfast."

Then his parents were leaving and it was just them and Dmitri and Yana somewhere upstairs and Rowan needed out of this house immediately.

They stayed near the wall, a few feet of space between them and Dmitri now instead of the constant touching from before. Their shoulders were tense, weight shifted onto the balls of their feet like they were ready to bolt. Their fingers kept moving against the camera strap, fidget fidget fidget, the same tell that had given them away at the convention.

Flight animal. Little bird. Ready to run.

"Fresh air sounds good." The words came out too fast, too eager. "Yeah. Let's go. Outside. Now would be good."

They weren't quite meeting Dmitri's eyes. Couldn't quite manage the casual warmth from earlier. Just needed to move, needed space, needed to not be in this house with its family photos and comfortable domesticity and evidence that people could stay in one place and be happy.

Their hand tightened on the camera bag strap, knuckles white.

"Ready when you are."​