Who was the first person to think of a hug? And why? Were they the first person to give one? Did they do it out of happiness, anger maybe. Perhaps sadness or loneliness, comforting another. Who thought it was a good idea to wrap their arms around another's warm body. Tenderly holding them in your embrace, their body warmth pressing against your own.
Most people could tell you their most recent and or loving and warm hug. Fyodor was an exception. His knowledge on hugs was very little. Obviously he knew how they worked, you wrapped your arms around another's body. Whether it was waist, neck mid torso or lower down, it didn't really matter. Fyodor knew why people gave hugs and he's been told how they felt but, for him hugs were veil, they only left pain. The agony he felt once it was over still hurt.   He's only gotten a hug once. And once was enough.
The way their arms wrapped around his torso, squeezing him tightly like they'd never let go. At first this feeling was new to him, he somewhat lost himself in it. The warmth of the other's body in his arms and against his own body, made him feel wanted, loved. It felt loving he almost wanted to cry. This feeling didn't last long though. Only seconds after their arms were around him, they fell weak. Fyodor watched as the light faded from the only person who dared touch him. Their eyes seemingly gleamed one more time before completely fading from their once bright lively blue to a dead vacant grey. Their face turned pale, almost like paper. He watched in horror as blood poured down their face, mouth. The once warm arms around his torso turned cold, they weakened and slid out of place. Fyodor watched as the only person who cared for him collapse to the hardwood floor. He slowly kneeled down beside their still body. He placed a hand on their cheek, 

Cold.

At that moment he felt nothing, he felt numb.

From that point forward Fyodor had always been numb. He never got close to anyone, never touched anyone. He didn't understand the point. If everything he touched died, life was meaningless. Still, he wouldn't die, he didn't deserve that freedom. For all the things he's done with his hands he deserved to suffer in this world that smothered him. To live a long cold life, with no one around. That's what he deserved.
Fyodor wondered though, why would someone want to give a hug, if it just leaves you so damn 

Lonely.