Habit

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴀ ʜᴀʙɪᴛ? ᴀɴ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ? ᴀ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ, ᴀ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ, ᴀ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴏʀᴛꜱ? ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰᴇᴇᴅꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪɴɴᴇʀ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴɪꜱᴛ, ᴏʀ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴɪꜱᴛ ᴡʜᴏ ɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴄɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍᴏɴᴏᴛᴏɴʏ? ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴋɴᴏᴡ? ᴏ, ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴꜱ, ᴏ ɢᴏᴅ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ᴏɴ - ɪꜱ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ʜᴀʙɪᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀɴᴅ?

. . .

When asked "which part of me do you want to eat," many people would get the wrong idea. Scratch that - everybody would get the wrong idea, some more perverse than others. Including yourself, but on that instance, you got back to your senses the very second they wandered astray.

"H-hair. Your hair," you stuttered. Frankly, to eat anything else wasn't appropriate, nor pleasant - even though the very thought of putting those elongated strands in your mouth seemed disgusting itself.

"I washed it yesterday, if that makes you feel any better," Ivan chimed. He snaked the hand away from your waist to flip his silver mane, a motion to show the pride he possessed for that particular part of his physique.

"Yeah, it does," you told him a blatant lie. "So what, you want me to eat it now or..."

"I'll make the cook - I mean, I'll prepare you something to eat with it. Would you like some... scrambled eggs? With smetana?" he suggested, to which you nodded - it didn't really interest you. You were unnerved however with the events that took place moments ago - the fact that you had to be separated from Ivan's narrow proximity. They formed a tint of spoiled behavior which you tried to diminish.

"Then wait for me here. I'll bring it to you," he moved away from you.

"Okay. But could I - could I come with you?" you found yourself asking before you could scold and stop yourself.

"Why? To take smetana from the fridge and watch me prepare eggs in five seconds?" He watched you with preservance, thick eyelashes evidently faulting his vision. You were left dumbfounded, but you still answered positively. With a short laugh, he offered you his hand to lead you to wherever the probable kitchen was. You took it and went on following right behind him.

"So you cook food for everyone here?" Your curiosity pealed.

"Depends on how many people there is and who they are," he gave you an uncertain answer, not before adding with eloquent pride: "However, I always serve Dostoyevsky personally."

"So, did you cook the breakfast that was left for me this morning?"

"Yes."

"Sweet. I now regret not eating it," you smoothly responded, which enticed a chuckle and a bashful statement coming from Ivan. "Don't be so cheesy, (Y/N). There's no need."

He took you to a room, who knows where in this maze, where a humble kitchen of sorts was established. All of essentials were there - nothing more, nothing less, and to your pleasant surprise it was quite tidy in overall. It reminded you of home.

The Russian went on to take a fine serving tray and glistening cutlery that was waiting for him on the shelf, but you remembered to remind him that there's no need for that. "I'm not your master, you know." He obliged and moved to the fridge to take the ingredients needed for making scrambled eggs - eggs. Before taking some of them, he checked the expiration date on the box, eyeing it suspiciously. "Is there anything you want me to add as a spice? We're a little short on them, but you might pick something available."

"Nothing, really. Don't bother yourself," you assured him. How does he even think of these things? He'd make an excellent husband. And not too long after, he brought the prepared dish to you. Smetana, scrambled eggs, and... (Author: Okay now I'll skip the eating part because I'm nauseous myself. My guts are simply too weak. Sorry)

. . .

It'll take some time before your ability starts kicking in. So Ivan decided to take you back to the hall, walking the same delirious path back. A reminder of the meal you ate was your full, heavy stomach. You tried your best to push away the memory of it, so the faint nausea was beginning to fade. In order to calm you down and make the time pass faster, Ivan turned on the radio again, playing classical music. It was turned on only a few seconds and a sudden expression of realization washed over his face. He recognized the composition evidently. He took you to the chair, something you were confused about since this was the, basically, hundredth time he did so. As if you were too dumb to go and find your own seat. However, he did something else, to your surprise. He placed you on his lap instead and locked you in that position by placing his head on your shoulder. "Could we stay like this for a while?" he whispered, which caused a shiver run down your entire static body. "Of course," you answered. Ivan's chest vibrated against your back as he laughed, carefree. "It relaxes me," he added and buried his nose into your hair. Those warm breaths of his began heating your neck. You had no idea what to think of it and you were grateful that he didn't see your face because you were beyond flustered. The music in the background didn't even reach your ears any longer.

And how much time would pass so? You hoped that you'd feel the signs of your ability coming to you soon. It was always followed with a silent "click" in your senses and afterwards it'd start working. But at the moment, you were having a sensory overload of sorts, and you hoped you won't miss that specific sensation. There was a handsome man who you adored sitting underneath you. You'd seen enough teenage movies to know where this is leading to - either huge disappointment or something more... drastic. Ivan though was an unique person so you weren't sure what to expect next. What if nothing were to happen? Your blank life would need some wrinkles on it in order to make it enjoyable anyway, so you persuaded yourself to relax and take in the situation, whatever the outcome may be. Ivan had taught you this after all and you tried your best to apply his ideology.

One thing had caught your attention - he didn't touch you. His hands were down and all he did was keep his face on that one place, occasionally moving a centimeter or two. During the minutes that had passed and the instruments that echoed around you, nothing more or less happened. Enjoy and relax, close your tired eyes, (Y/N). There was hope after all.

Then it came, uninvited, the dreaded "click" - you lost your consciousness for a mere second which was enough to make your body go limp and all of your senses to cancel out. The natural reflexive twitch that came after unsettled Ivan, who grabbed you and asked you if you're fine. "I am, don't worry. It's just that my ability has finally kicked in," you spoke, a little drowsy. There was something weird about your surroundings - as if you felt hyper aware of everything, now even more than before.

"Oh!" He lifted his chin and when he did so, a familiar cold settled over the area where his face had once laid. "Then we should better be going somewhere in the mine."

"Mine? There's a mine here?" You questioned and stood up.

"You aren't familiar with our location, are you? Never mind, you'll see for yourself."

"Where are we anyway?"

"Japan? Is that what you're asking?"

"JAPAN?" You almost screamed. You weren't any near to your homeland. What a surprise. Your inner weeb woke up.

"Yes? Japan? You didn't know that as well?" Ivan was a tad bit confused. "I'm starting to doubt the way Dostoyevsky's been treating you. Come now." He held your hand to take you to that mine - and you did need his support this time, as you were feeling dizzy. It didn't take long for your steps to become uncertain and sloppy, and you gently tugged on Ivan's hand to stop. "Ivan, please, I'm feeling dizzy... could you support me?"

"Of course," he didn't hesitate to assist you. He wrapped his arm around you and continued walking albeit slower than before. "Is it normal for your ability - Mooncalf's Chasity, is that what it's called? - to have these side effects?"

"I don't know... I've barely ever used it," you replied. "And what's your ability?"

"The Precipice. It allows me to manipulate earth and structures alike."

"So that explains it..." you now understood the source of sensations happening to you. He, or better said, you, had the awareness of the entire surroundings as you were underground. Since it was your first time getting accustomed to that ability, your senses were unable to redact the sudden expansion of their range. If you were on the surface, the effect wouldn't be as strong, you assumed.

"It's going to be okay in a while. Don't worry, really," you quickly added, deeply assured in your statement.

"If you say so," he shrugged.

. . .

And better you did feel. The mine Ivan was talking about wasn't any near, so it took you a while until you reached it by foot. However, Ivan entered the mine in a way completely unexpected to you - by using his ability. He created huge indent without any hardship, and a strange, hand-like structure to move you through the newly created hole. Once inside the poorly lit tunnel, you two didn't stop, and continued walking even further for a while. The composition of the air changed drastically - much to your nose's surprise - as well as the temperature, it lowered to the point you were beginning to shiver. You only then realized how in fact the complex you were kept in was actually very advanced, as it had heating, electricity, plenty of hallways and rooms, and to top it all, an entire kitchen. This place would definitely survive whatever peril strikes it, you concluded.

The railway which you were following came to a dead end some time later. Once there, Ivan suggested that you try it out on the wall in front of you. "It's not like you should do it, you must do it," he told you in a grim voice. You stepped in front of him, your legs feeling less wobbly than before, and stared at the rocks ahead. Knowing Ivan was watching you didn't help you. "You can do it. Just relax. I won't judge, whatever you do," you heard him speak.

With a tremor you redirected your thoughts to the boulders. How do you even make them move? You sensed them all too well, thanks to the ability itself, but you can't remember the last time you in fact had to apply the power you've copied from someone. So you went with a simple wish of compressing the wall. As quickly as you thought of it, the idea came true, and a wide grin emerged on your face as soon as you saw the earth move just as you imagined. What a simple, yet powerful gift! Not stopping there, and feeling the opportunities open, a surge of creativity came. You remembered the times when you'd sketch and doodle before, and thinking of the hardest thing to draw, you made the rocks and dirt move, condensate and form a... a beautifully sculpted hand, reaching towards you with its gentle, nimble fingers.

"You're getting a hang of it at an astonishing rate... a work of art worthy of Michelangelo himself," Ivan awed at your skill, therefore further cheering you up. "Really? Thank you!" You turned around to look at him, a huge smile still evident, when you were struck by an shadowed entity that was walking somewhere behind Ivan. At the sight of it, not sparing a single thought, you ran between Ivan - who spread his arms for some reason - and its form. You were ready to use Ivan's ability, when the silhouette spoke: "That looks pretty."

And right there, you felt your heart sink. You'd recognized the slimy voice of that one rat anytime.

"Master?" you whispered.

Indeed it was him. He emerged from the darkness, that Russian demon - his soundless footsteps only confirming his tight relation with the shadows. The violet of his dull eyes seemed to spark with low interest at the sight of you two, and he spoke, keeping that lethargic connotation unique to him: "I can see you're doing well. Congratulations. I didn't expect anything less of you."

"Thank you," you answered, astonished by the praise of sorts, and you couldn't help but ask: "What will be of me now?"

"You'll be used well, have no worries. I'll give you a meaningful life to flash before your eyes once you're on the verge of death," he smiled slyly, knowing that he hit a note you couldn't resist. "But for now, you rest. We first need to gain enough material from a specific ability user in order to execute your operation," he began and frowned. "But that means that I have to find him and discover when he's going to the hairdresser's, since he rarely ever goes out of his apartment and I can't gather enough of him otherwise. Unless I chop his leg off, nice and quick. But sadly you're not a canibal." Oh, poor Dostoyevsky, you're making things hard for him.

"I'm sorry to hear that and I really hope that your search will soon come to an end!" You responded anxiously. Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands land on the either side of your shoulders, alongside a chest pushing against your back, and another man joined the conversation. "But the job she is to do is harmless, isn't it?" Ivan asked.

"This one is, of course. I'm glad she can adapt so quickly to new abilities. That was the key factor." Since when has Dostoyevsky been so openly supportive of you? This was a flustering oddity.

"Master, in that case," Ivan asked, "there is no need of keeping her here?"

"Oh, it's quite the opposite, I won't have her face seen in the daylight anytime soon." The demon's answer made you swallow hard, even though you truly didn't wish for so-called freedom.

"Whatever the reason you have for doing that, I understand," you almost gagged at Dostoyevsky. You felt Ivan's grip strengthen - he must've noticed that you were getting uneasy. He leaned in above you and spoke: "But a fish is unaware of the horrid dimension above until it is caught by the otherworldly hand of a human. And soon after, it dies, the harsh air killing it. Do you too want to die the very moment you step into the cruel world... the same world that has already strapped you of your well-being?"

"I don't want to die, at least not for now" you bluntly answered. The small conversation you led with the grey haired male made Dostoyevsky laugh. "Lets get going then. Ivan, (Y/N)," the master motioned for you to move. That stalled your mind for a while since Ivan was still holding you, but the confusion disappeared as soon as he let go of you and walked in front of you, abiding Dostoyevsky's command. You followed after him, positioning your path so that the dearer Russian could stand between you and the master.

The way back was kind of awkward, for you at least. You didn't even realize you had gotten used to having your way led by Ivan's loose grip around your hand, and now that his attention was focused on Dostoyevsky, you felt quite lonely. The two of them talked about what not, excluding you with the complexity of the matters at hand - things you gave up on listening to. Funny thing, what success does to one's awareness. Sometime soon you came to a conclusion that you didn't really care about their conversation - instead, you were reminiscencing of the one time you actually felt powerful. With an ability like that, Ivan was unbeatable, and you were too now. And once you realized this, your thoughts went wild with the possibilities - you had the power to kill these two men standing in front of you. What was the boundary that prevented you from doing so? A single thought.

However, you subdued yourself. Dostoyevsky would certainly let you go on a carnage someday - like it or not - and all you had to do was wait. You had a strange feeling that, if such an event were to come true, it'd be your last, and that the mission of such kind would be your gateway to death. Although you'd probably devastate a block or two with not Ivan's ability only, but the abilities of other users combined - who prevented you from... eating their hair? You should get used to it and iron your stomach, and the sooner you do that, the better.

You came back to the familiar hallways in no time. A minute later, Dostoyevsky left your company, leaving you and Ivan alone. To start the conversation, you asked him how he was.

"Completely refreshed," he told you, and as if you woke him up from his thoughts, he twitched and looked at you, furrowing his eyebrows as if to focus on you better. To your pleasure, he took your hand again, caressing it gently. "And how are you feeling?"

"Great! Really great," you beamed which in turn forced out a smile from Ivan. "I'm glad you are. You should, after all... you're very important to us for a reason," he inhaled deeply.

"Am I, really? I'm happy to hear that, thank you."

"Yes, of course, and you're welcome. I hope that now, now you'll no longer degrade yourself. Do you understand?" He asked, his eyes widening along with that pure smile of his. "I am so happy because of you."

"Thank you... you're too nice, as always."

"Oh, I could never offer you the kindness you deserve, my dear," he wailed. Before you could tell him anything, he said you two are to part ways now, since he had much more important business to discuss with Dostoyevsky. "He demanded so. And I believe I won't be available for the rest of the day, sadly," he added, hanging his head low.

"It's alright. We can see each other anytime tomorrow, right? Since the both of us live here, it shouldn't be a problem."

"You're right. Of course! Now then, dear, I really should get going," he lifted your hand, kissed it softly, and with a murmur of goodbye, he left.

And you, well, you have never felt this good.

. . .

"There is one specific thing I have to ask you, as a friend. And I hope you'll answer it the same way, as a friend," Fyodor turned to Ivan who had just entered the room, and who was surprised by that gesture. "Yes?"

"What do you feel towards (Y/N)?" He narrowed his eyes quizzically at the silver haired man.

"Oh. I care deeply about her," a nonchalant answer came.

"So you feel towards her the same way you feel towards me?" he innocently questioned.

"No! Of course it's different, by a mile different," Ivan shook his head.

"I know it is. However, it's amusing to see you obsess over her," he chuckled, causing Ivan to cringe and respond, uptight: "Master, if you deem it bad, then do tell me directly."

"No, no, oh, of course I don't think so. I'm glad you found someone for yourself. I'd gladly offer you advice if I were in the position to, but there's no need. You seem to be doing everything perfectly on your own."

"Thank you very much," the assurance made Ivan feel good indeed.

"You're welcome. Also, why did you ask me about that symphony?"

"Isn't it evident, master? I value your opinion above all else."

"Alright. I'll satisfy myself with that answer for now. Now, if you will, prepare us some tea. And then I'll tell you about the labor we're supposed to have done today," Fyodor landed on the chair, the same one (Y/N) used to sit on often for the past two days. "A lot of electronics is heading our way... it'll be a mess," he sighed.

"Oh? As you wish. I'll make sure to help you as much as I can."

"Thank you," the dark haired man eyed Ivan as he left to do as he asked. Not a minute has passed, and he was already biting his thumb, a horrendous activity even he himself viewed as one - what a lowly, human habit for a god as himself.