please comment along the way as it really motivates me

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PAST (when they just met)

THE BOY WAS STRANGE. Someone Y/n had never encountered—he was beautiful, even at first glance. The sort of beauty that made people stare and ogle at; his youthful face held the promise of a once in a lifetime sort of handsomeness. Y/n found himself staring at the stranger and his mouth opened, then closed.

"Who are you?" He demanded angrily, yet his voice was too weak to be threatening. "Are you someone sent to kill me by them?"

Kill? Y/n thought to himself. Why would I even do that?

"I told you," Y/n persisted stubbornly, feeling annoyance flare up within him. "I'm Y/n. My father's visiting and he told me to get lost, so here I am. What about you? What's your name?"

"Why should I tell my name to a total stranger?"

"We exchanged a few words," Y/n fired back, crossing his arms. His eyes surveyed the room—it was obviously expensive; the furniture in the room was luxurious unlike his own home, but it was surprisingly empty and bare. It lacked any sort of personal touch to it. "Just answer the question."

"You spoke to me first," the male muttered under his breath. Y/n was still rather appalled by the state he was in: bandaged, obviously hurt—he had been subjected to some violence. And violence was something that had already been ingrained in his brain from young. From his father's searing touch, his mother's cold, cold voice that was beginning to feel distant from him...Y/n was no stranger to it at all. The only thing he didn't know was how to put a name on it.

"You asked me who I was, so I answered." Y/n flopped on the window ledge. It was a beautiful day, and the sunlight streamed in and shined upon the boy's golden hair. And it made Y/n curious to wonder what eyes laid behind the blindfold. "How old are you?"

The boy stiffened and hesitated. Y/n wasn't expecting him to answer, but to his surprise, he did.

"Eleven."

"You actually replied."

"What are you doing here? Go bother someone else," he turned his back towards Y/n, his tone sharp and filled with distrust.

"I'm not intending to bother someone else. They'll punish me," Y/n said thoughtfully, "more like, my father will punish me. He says I get into his way too often."

"...Your father does?"

"Yeah," Y/n confirmed loosely, "and here seemed like a safe bet. We are both the same age—I'm eleven, too—so why can't we be friends?"

"Because the son of the Pakhan and one of the future possible heirs to be Bratva couldn't possibly mingle with you."

A quick answer that had flowed off his lips like it had been rehearsed. Y/n was offended.

"I mean," Y/n sighed, "I don't get what you're saying, but you must be lonely. You're secluded from everyone else."

He hit a nerve. Y/n couldn't see the boy's eyes, but he could see how his jaw became taut and his fingers curled into fists.

"I'm Andrei Ivanov," he spat with sudden viciousness in his tone: so unbridled and strong that Y/n was terrified for a brief second: "there. You have my name. Happy now?"

"...I'm sorry," Y/n said after a small stagnant pause. "I just—"

There, he did it again. His father always said he tried too hard, he talked too much, he was annoying and unneeded. Y/n had seen this as a way to rebel and to prove him wrong, and for what? It was useless.

"Next time," Y/n opened his mouth, his voice soft. "I'll bring ice cream next time. Everyone likes it, right? I mean, I liked it. I'll bring it as an apology. I'm sorry."

"Just stop talking," Andrei hissed. "I don't need ice cream. I could have a factory made if I truly wanted one."

"What flavor would you want?" Y/n ignored him.

"...The pink one."

"Oh, strawberry," Y/n was excited by his answer. "Do you want it with sprinkles? With chocolate sauce? My mother has it in the fridge sometimes. Or we could sneak out and head to the store nearby. Are you allowed to sneak out?"

"So many questions," Andrei muttered. "My father doesn't care where I go. And what's the point in decorations? I can't see, anyways."

"But it's not permanent, is it?" Y/n raised an eyebrow. "It'll get better soon."

"That's what the doctor said months ago. Apparently the maids are supposed to give me the medication but all they care about is my other brother. The more likely heir," Andrei clenched the blanket, gritting his teeth. It was morbidly fascinating, to Y/n, to see the extent of Andrei's twisted rage; the way its edges sharpened and its fangs gleamed. At such a young age—eleven—he already bore so much wrath and hate for the world. But how could Y/n begrudge him? He was the same.

"I'll give you the medication," Y/n offered.

Andrei paused.

"You don't even know how to—"

"I have to take medicine sometimes when I get sick," Y/n shifted. "Truthfully, I used to get it all wrong. I thought the round pills were for colds, and it turned out all wrong. Half the time I would get even more sick, and I would hope that would turn the heads of my parents. It never did, obviously. If they cared, they would wonder where I disappeared off to."

Andrei stayed silent. Y/n wished he could see his eyes so that he could decipher just what he was thinking about. Some said eyes were the windows to the soul and it was getting awfully difficult for Y/n to truly see what Andrei was. Who he was. All Y/n could really see was the bruises on his knee Andrei got when he bumped into things due to his eyesight.

"Your parents are like mine," he said at last. "...you'll help me? For what?"

"We're friends," Y/n grinned. "Starting from now, at least. I'll bandage any wounds you have, I'll give you the medicine and make sure you get better. Then you'll be able to see how I look, too."

"What's in it for you?" Andrei said after a stretch of silence. "You help me, and what's in return?"

Y/n smiled. It was a pity that Andrei couldn't see how sincere and gentle it was: but perhaps the blonde haired boy could feel it. The sudden lightness in the atmosphere. The two had lapsed into silence with Y/n mulling over his answer.

Why was he offering to help, actually? Why was this beneficial to him?

"I just want your company, that's all." Y/n said at last. "I just needed a friend."

Deep down inside, Y/n knew it was terribly hard for him to make friends. No one wanted a friend with scruffy shoes, a father that always shouted, and a mother that never appeared. No one wanted a friend who was awkward, useless or weird.

"...What about you?" Y/n hurriedly changed the subject. "Besides wanting to see, what do you want?"

Andrei's answer, unlike him, was swift. "I'll become the next head of the family. I'll prove my parents wrong and everyone who has ever doubted me in their life."

"How noble." Y/n smiled.

"Are you teasing me?"

"No," Y/n laughed softly, excitement brimming within him. A friend, he thought to himself, I've gotten a friend. A friend... "I thought it was cool to see how much you would go to get things you wanted."

"Isn't it normal?"

"Well, not everyone can do that."

And it was true. Andrei really did go—venomously, cunningly, sweetly—after things he wanted.

And as years passed and his feelings evolved, Andrei found out he wanted Y/n.

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Andrei.

I remembered more of him.

There was pitch black for a while, before his vision swirled and Y/n found himself on a bed, with a throbbing headache. Words were hard to get out and he found his body burning, and yet Y/n felt like he had been doused in cold water. His nostrils felt tickled—his eyes were rather red and watery, and...

"I told you to use the umbrella and not stay out so late, Moy Sladkiy," Andrei was leaning against the door, a fondly exasperated smile on his face. "You were like this when you were young, did you know? Always so stubborn. But that's something I find endearing."

Y/n felt his voice hoarse and cracked. He struggled to speak. "I...fainted?"

"You got a cold." Andrei said disapprovingly, "and with the remnants of the poison still fighting in your body, it was inevitable that a cold would cause you to faint. I told the butler to make sure you stayed safe, and yet..." His fingers drummed against the door. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap...

"I was too bothered," Y/n muttered. "I didn't think of bringing an umbrella."

"You didn't think about yourself, Y/n," Andrei sighed, before he went over to his side, his hand gently pressing against Y/n's forehead. "What a troublesome habit. You let other thoughts plague your mind far too much. And it is at the cost of your health. What must I do to finally make you care about yourself?"

Y/n relaxed against the feel of a cold palm against his burning forehead. Andrei's words were indistinguishable to him: his brain was far too muddled to make anything out. But instead he opened his mouth and rasped out, "I remember something."

Andrei stiffened.

"Our first meeting," Y/n said slowly, "you were really unapproachable. I've no idea how you became—this. And you did achieve your dream of beating your brother, in the end..." he trailed off when he saw the pure delight and ecstasy on Andrei's face.

"Oh, Moy Sladkiy," Andrei cooed sweetly, "you are so adorable. You wonder how I've changed? It was you, Y/n. You made it all possible: you helped me, you healed me, you saved me in so many ways. My brother? He was a mere obstacle. It was easy, so easy to kill him."

The boy in the dream had been merciless and cruel. Yet he was not a monster yet: he did not know yet how to wield such power or violence or cruelty. Violence begot violence and somehow the most violent act Andrei had committed was falling in love with Y/n and that was the catalyst of such acts. Because for Y/n, Andrei had killed; and killed, and killed...

"You disappeared so fast. After three years of knowing you, you disappeared, like air. Like nothing. I was cured of my blindness when I turned twelve and I had two years of seeing your face, and I didn't think then," Andrei paused. "I didn't think then I would have had to remember your face for so long before I found you again."

"Then?" Y/n's voice was painfully quiet, like a string about to be pulled so taut it would break. "Then? You..."

"I waited by the window ledges for two weeks. I would have searched you sooner—it would have been easier—but I thought you would come. I thought perhaps you would try to find me too. But you seemed so unbothered by my absence in your life, and that killed something inside of me. So I waited for two weeks, and..." Andrei closed his eyes. "Then I learned that you had unknowingly gone. That your mother had disappeared and your father had run away."

"The window ledge..." Y/n exhaled. "I did remember that. It always did make your hair look splendid."

"You did say once that my hair was a favorite trait of yours. That you liked it."

"I still do."

"Hmm," Andrei kissed him on the cheek gently. "I'll prepare you some warm soup. Get well soon, my dear."

"...Thank you," Y/n shifted, before he grasped Andrei's arm. "Wait, before you go..."

Andrei tilted his head to the side.

"Strawberry ice cream," Y/n murmured, embarrassed, "do you want to eat that together?"

Andrei's smile was like the sun—it shone so brightly one could have marveled at it.

"Of course, Y/n," he said softly and sweetly. "Of course."

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hope it was okay 🎀