trigger warning: this scene contains depictions of domestic violence. Please skip to the first # if you feel that you might be triggered or disturbed by such depictions.

The screaming started an hour later. The other girls in the dining room with Kalani didn't react; to them, the screams just blended in with the others, but Kalani had been waiting for the sound. She rushed upstairs and threw open her bedroom door.

Nik was on the floor, thrashing as if his life depended on it.

"Mira!" The cry ripped out of his chest, full of grief and agony.

"Mira!!" His cry dissolved into a scream of his dead sister's name and the sight of Nik's face contorting in soundless shock and horror made Kalani want to cry. Tears rolled down his cheeks, glistening in the dim light, and Nik stopped kicking. As Kalani watched, frozen in sadness and horror, her love opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, empty and broken — gone.

He didn't talk about it, just pulled on his shoes and left. The shadow of his nightmare dogged Nik's steps as he walked out of the brothel, and his hands shook as he pulled on his shirt, buttoned it up and ignored his coat.

When he reached home, Nik's heart was heavier than the weight on his shoulders, pulled down with agony, all the guilt for what he'd done. He pulled open the front door, lifeless in his movements, and stepped inside the house, not even flinching when an empty bottle of diamohjin smashed into the door next to his head.

His grandfather's yells were dim in the background beneath the roaring voices in his head. It's your fault she's dead, they told him. Your fault Misha's all alone. It's all because you lost. You're such a failure. How could you even expect to win at anything? You're deluding yourself. Just you see, Misha will be dead in no time at all, and it will be your fault. Your entire, miserable fault.

Nik couldn't take it. Shut up! Shut up, just go away! I won't listen to you anymore!

Dead silence — both inside his head and around him. Nik blinked and realized that he'd said his thoughts out loud — while his grandfather had been yelling at him.

A heartbeat, and then:

"What did you just say to me, you useless brat?"

The cold voice sent shivers down Nik's spine. He flinched.

"I'll teach you how to listen to me, you worthless brat-"

"No!" Misha's shout made Nik's eyes fly open and his head jerk up. His sister — his only sister — had thrown herself in front of him, shielding him with her body. "No! Don't hurt him!"

"Get aside, bitch," Romanov said, still bound by his promise to Nik. "Get aside, or I'll be forced to take measures."

Misha flinched back against Nik. "N-No-" she stammered, body shaking with terror. "No, please — he didn't mean it-"

Nik grabbed her wrist and she stopped speaking. Stepping towards his grandfather's towering frame, he said, "She's wrong. I meant every word of it. You're annoying, and I hate your voice. I wished you'd shut up already-" a brief pause as he gathered the last of his courage- "you old man."

For a moment, stunned silence ensued as Romanov digested Nik's words. Then, his face contorted with rage and he grabbed Nik's hair, dragging him in and backhanding him across the face. Nik went staggering with the force of the blow, crying out as Romanov's grip on his hair yanked him back. Blood trickled down his cheek — the hard metal of one of Romanov's rings had cut into his skin. Another slap — his time on his other cheek, and then two more.

Then, it was a fist into his gut, his scream of pain muted by the hand on his throat that prevented him from doubling over and cut off his air. Nik choked. Wet tears dripped down his cheeks as he stared up into his grandfather's blue eyes that were dark with anger and empty of love or remorse, promising him his punishment.

"No!" Misha threw herself at Romanov, grabbing his hand from around Nik's throat and trying to pry his fingers away. Romanov's grip only tightened and Nik gasped, his vision blurring around the edges. His heart pounded with stark terror, a terror that was reflected on Misha's face as she tried to free him from their grandfather's grip.

"Get off, bitch!" Romanov flung Nik on Misha, and the two went staggering into a wall. Nik's knees gave out and he dropped to the floor, clutching his throat and dragging mouthfuls of air into his lungs, tears still dripping down his cheeks as his heart pounded out of his chest.

"Nik!" Misha dropped down next to him, face pale with fear for his life. She shrank back as footsteps rang out and the two turned their gaze to their approaching grandfather.

"Mish," Nik said, voice cracking around her name with how raspy it was as he grasped her arm. "Go back to your room. Please don't interfere."

"Nik-" Misha's wide gaze darted from the blood on his cheek to the bruises forming around his throat and then to his eyes. Her own eyes turned watery on seeing the hard determination in his gaze.

"I'll be fine," he said, tightening his grip on her arm. "I've always been, haven't I? Please." I can't stand seeing you hurt.

The unspoken words hung in the silence between them, and Misha nodded. "Be strong," she whispered and hurried out of the room. Romanov let her go. He was still bound by his word, after all.

"This is going to be your worst punishment yet," he said, the words a promise, and then spent the rest of the night proving to Nik just how good he was at keeping his word.

#

"What happened to you?" Mikhael's eyes widened with shock and terror as Nik staggered into his flat, dripping blood after him. 

It was five am, and Romanov had just finished with him. Nik had fled before Misha could come and see his state. "Fuck, Nik-" Mikhael grabbed his arms and helped him to the couch, staring at all the cuts and bruises lining his chest in silence. He cupped a hand over his mouth, and Nik knew he was holding back bile. "God, what did he do to you? What has he done?"

Nik's smile was as broken as his body, giving Mikhael his answer. Then, everything went black.

When Nik woke up, it was morning and his entire body ached. He was snuggled beneath a blanket, but he was freezing still. He tried to move, and pain flared in more places than he could count, enough to make him bite back a scream. Desperate to distract himself, Nik cast his gaze around the room.

It was Mikhael's bedroom, and he'd only been inside once or twice. The walls were a creamy peach color, which was quite an unusual taste considering the kind of person Mikhael was, and the blanket over him smelled like his friend's minty aftershave and chocolate, with floral patterns of red and black roses. The walls of the room were bare, save for the constellations and stars painted on the black ceiling. There was a desk by the small nightstand, and Mikhael's box of chess pieces was on it. There was a window in front of the desk, through which bright morning light poured into the room, illuminating a huge, full bookshelf across the room.

Mikhael walked into the room at that moment, holding a tray. He didn't say anything on seeing Nik awake, instead setting the tray on the empty nightstand and helping him into a sitting position. Every small movement made acute pain rise and Nik couldn't stop the whimpers that left his lips. He was delirious and light-headed by the time he sat up, clutching onto Mikhael's arm as his vision spun.

"Easy." Mikhael was gruff but gentle in his movements, setting and balancing the tray on Nik's lap. It had a bowl of steaming, aromatic soup along with scrambled eggs, and Nik's stomach growled at the sight. He dug in, pausing every few moments as weakness and pain plagued him. Mikhael, who'd pulled up a chair by the bed, watched him in silence. When Nik was done eating, Mikhael set the tray on the nightstand again. "You're sick," he said. "High fever."

Nik nodded, looking down at his hands. They were the only part of his upper body left unscratched.

"What did he do?" Mikhael asked.

Nik swallowed. "I don't want to talk about it."

His friend's eyes flashed. "Nik, your entire body is covered in bruises and you were bleeding in more places than I could count last night. There are bruises and hickeys on your neck and handprints on your waist, wrists, and thighs. You woke up again at six this morning, delirious with fever and pain, and didn't let me even near you out of fear that I would hurt you. You kept on asking for Misha and begged me to tell you if she was okay. I almost called her up right then, but you passed out.

"At seven, I got a frantic call from Misha asking me if you were here and if you were alright. She was crying — sobbing with fear. At eight, you woke up screaming and thought I was Romanov and that I was going to rape you. By the time I convinced you that you were safe, you were so weak that you just passed out. Tell me what happened. I need to know." Mikhael's voice cracked at the end, betraying his fear.

Nik closed his eyes. The memories were already present, rendering him helpless and weak with terror despite sound knowledge that he was safe.

"The night before yesterday, I struck a deal with Romanov." Nik swallowed down bile and clasped his hands together to prevent them from trembling. "He promised he wouldn't hurt Misha for a week if I took his beating without making a sound. I kept up my end of the deal. He has kept his end of the deal as well till now, but it made him very... frustrated. Last night, I returned from Roses late after a nightmare, so he was yelling at me. I told him to shut up without realizing it, so he..." Nik touched his throat. He almost killed me.

"Misha intervened, but I convinced her to leave me and lied that I'd told him to shut up because his voice annoyed me so that he wouldn't turn his attention on her." His hands shook hard, and he sat on them so they'd stop. "He took me to the basement and punished me with a whip and-" his body.

Bile rose up Nik's throat and he swallowed it down. The memories, acute and horrible, plagued his mind so hard that he almost forgot where he was, cupping a shaking hand over his mouth and doubling over with a whimper as his stomach hurt, as upset as he was.

"Nik," Mikhael whispered, putting a hand on his back and making him flinch. "Nik, you're safe now. He's not here."

"I didn't want her to see," Nik said, his voice thin. "I didn't want her to see what he'd reduced me to, so I came here. I'm sorry I disturbed your sleep. I should've never come over in the first place."

"No," Mikhael said, fierce and furious. "No, Nik. Don't put this on yourself. I'm glad you trusted me enough to come over when you were in a state so bad you didn't want your own sister to see you. Don't apologize. You weren't — aren't a burden to me, Nik."

Nik nodded, blinking hard as he looked at his friend through watery eyes. "Thank you," he said. Thank you for being there for me when I needed you the most. Thank you for not judging me. Thank you for patching me up.

Mikhael's eyes were as soft as the hand that rubbed Nik's back. "You're welcome," he said, to the words said and unsaid. "Lie down now. Sleep."

"I don't want to sleep," Nik said with a whimper as he lay down. "I don't-"

But sleep was already consuming him, pulling him into the darkness. 

#

He dreamed about the previous night, about Romanov's hands violating him and hurting him, and woke up screaming for him to stop, sobbing in terror and in pain.

Mikhael's empty room greeted him and he cupped a hand over his mouth to hold in bile as the memories plagued his mind, rolling off the bed and onto the floor. The pain from the movement was so acute he would've screamed if not for the bile rising up his throat, using the bed to stand and stagger to the bathroom outside in the hall, dropping to his knees and emptying the breakfast he'd eaten into the toilet.

Nik didn't stop throwing up for what felt like hours and hours. Every time the wave of nausea passed, he'd think of yet another place where Romanov's hands had been and his stomach would roll again. After a while, he had nothing left to throw up, and dry heaves plagued his body. He didn't know which was worse - the burning in his throat as he dry heaved or the bitter taste on his tongue as he threw up the delicious breakfast Mikhael had thrown together for him.

Between each heave and the short intervals in between, Nik sobbed. He clung onto the rim of the toilet seat and cried in shame and pain, the bruises on his body making red swim in his vision, his dry heaves setting his throat on fire.

After a while, the heaving stopped and he collapsed on the floor, too weak to hold himself up as he sobbed and sobbed, unable to stop, each cry ripping out of his chest so hard he jerked with the force and curled into a ball.

He wept for his parents' death, for all the blasted circumstances that had led him and his sisters to his grandfather, for all the painful situations which turned their loving relative into an alcohol-dependent monster.

He mourned for each time his grandfather had hurt his sisters the way he'd hurt him; for Mira's early death and all the reasons for it; for Misha, who kept on trying to be strong but just couldn't because Romanov was so much more stronger; for [girlfriend], whom he'd loved with all his heart but had lost too soon, and for his own broken body, mind and soul.

He grieved, for his parents, who never deserved to die the way they did; for Mira and for Kimani, both of whom would've never have died if it weren't for him, and for all the ways he'd fucked up before and kept on fucking up. The tears just didn't stop, his sobs loud and broken in the small bathroom.

At one point Mikhael returned home and found Nik weeping in the bathroom, helping him to his feet.

Nik could barely stand. He fell against his friend, clutching onto his shirt and muffling his sobs by burying his face into his shoulder. Mikhael responded by wrapping a strong arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer, holding him up. His shirt soaked through in seconds and Nik's knees gave out with exhaustion. He swayed, eyes rolling for a brief moment.

"Come," Mikhael said in a low whisper, guiding him back to the bedroom. They sat on the bed and Nik clutched onto his friend's sinewy shoulders, needing an anchor to keep him in place because everything was falling apart. Fear and terror rendered him to a husk of his former being, bawling and weeping, a complete mess. He sobbed and sobbed until his fever and exhaustion lulled him into unconsciousness.

Nik woke up an hour later, his cheeks damp with tears. He'd never cried so much at a stretch, ever, not even when Mira had died. Sure, he'd shed tears, and a lot of them, but only for a couple of minutes at a time because he hadn't wanted to worry Misha too much.

Mikhael sat by the bed, weary and exhausted. He was staring at the constellations on the ceiling, but Nik knew he'd noticed him sit up.

"I'm sorry," Nik said, his voice a broken rasp after throwing up and crying as much as he had.

Mikhael straightened his head, looking at Nik with confusion in his gaze. "For what?"

Nik swallowed. His throat was parched. "For breaking down like that. You hate it when I cry, don't you?"

"No," Mikhael said, and his voice was quiet. "I don't hate your tears. I hate the reason behind them."

"Oh." Nik looked away.

"When will you leave him?" Mikhael asked, his tone bitter. "He's breaking you, Nik. I hate seeing you like this."

Nik flinched, hunching in on himself as fear clogged his throat and lungs. "I can't," he said, voice a low whisper, as memories of the first and last time he'd tried to run away with his sisters flashed in his mind. "He's too strong. He'll come for us. He-" His voice cracked, and he wrapped his arms around his cold body. Romanov would kill Misha. Even if the two of them escaped, he'd never be far behind. He'd always be too close, too close on their heels. No one could help. The police wouldn't want to since they were all bribed and even the Shadows or Mikhael wouldn't be able to stand still in the face of Romanov's rage. He'd kill them. He'd kill them all. He'd kill Misha. He'd kill Nik.

"Nik-"

"No." Nik cupped his hands over the back of his head, hunching into himself. His voice thinned and rose in pitch with cold, stark terror. "No. Please — he'll kill us. He'll kill both of us. He'll kill her. He'll kill her!" His voice broke and tears rose to the surface. He couldn't lose Misha, too. She was the only reason why he fought through each day, the only reason he breathed and walked and lived. He couldn't stand to see her hurt. He wouldn't survive seeing her killed.

"Nik." Mikhael put his hand on his shoulder, making him flinch. "Nik. Listen to me. Look at me."

Shaking, Nik straightened and looked into his friend's comforting gaze. "Look, I'm sorry for saying that. I was angry. You don't deserve this, but I understand that you're in greater danger if you flee. It's okay. You'll make it through this. I'm right here. I'm here for you, okay? Don't fear." 

He pulled Nik into a tight hug. Nik relaxed, panting as his panic subsided. His tears sank into Mikhael's shoulder and he closed his eyes. He was safe. Mikhael would keep him safe. 

* * *

Raise your hand if you crave the bromance between Mikhael and Nik! ✋✋

Looks like Nik's argument with Kalani triggered some violent memories and consequences for him :/ Do you hate her right now?

What are your thoughts on Nik turning to Mikhael instead of Misha for help? Comment down below ⬇

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See ya!

*leaves to write another evil scene*