[ kaz doesn’t press for a real answer right away, and nikolai is grateful for it, needing the lapsing silence to brace himself. kaz’s hand is cold — as it often is, as if it lives inside of his bones — but warms slightly against his throat. he doesn’t expect the honesty that comes so suddenly, raw and exposed, laid at his feet. swiftly, pieces begin fitting together in his head as kaz fills in the missing details that nikolai suspected but has never confirmed. i was with the dead for a long time. thrown into the sea with the corpses of plague victims. nikolai keeps his eyes steadily on him even when kaz shuts his, memorizing every detail — the pitch of his voice, the way the words come haltingly. the signs of honesty from someone disused to it. he resists the urge to cup his face in his hands, allowing kaz room to pull away. ]
You’re treading water every day. [ navigating the corpses that take up space in his mind, trying not to feel their icy touch. he can’t imagine the fortitude it must take to be kaz brekker. he slips his own gloves off and reaches out with one hand to slowly curl their fingers together. ] It took me some time to realize it wasn’t just when I touched you. It's when you look at me, too. It's always. I hope you know that I don't see it as anything less than a miracle that you let me in at all, much less allow me to kiss you. And I try not to believe in miracles, as a general rule.
[ but he's seen too much to rule them out entirely in the way he would like to. even now, he can't rightly say he isn't staring one in the face. it's a miracle that kaz is even alive, after everything he's put him through. his gaze slips to his shoulder before righting itself, a smile flashing across his mouth. ] What a dull thing to think of. Hopefully one day we can both have a leisurely swim in a very peaceful lake. No death. Just us. [ as if death doesn’t follow them both. something earnest pulls at his chest. ] Maybe you’d like to accompany me to Os Alta for a few days when this is over. I’d like nothing more than to show you the sites of my many excellent crimes, and the capital is quite beautiful this time of year.
[ a beat passes with kaz's question poised in the air. a hundred lies come to mind. an instructor, a university dalliance, a townie from any port city he's ever stopped at. a name and a story that never happened at all. kaz can't possibly know the difference. he takes his glass again, drained in one swallow. it doesn't hurt as sharply as several minutes ago, the brandy finally dulling a few of his unbearably jagged edges, enough that he can touch them now, even if they still draw blood. he gets up, his back to kaz as he takes the bottle by the neck, splashing a dash of liquid in his glass before deciding to forego the idea of cups altogether. ]
Dominik. [ the truth edges past his lips before he can stop it. there is the dry observation that perhaps this has been a long time coming. he clears away the lump in his throat with a swig from the bottle. ] His name was Dominik.
[ that's it. he answered the question. and yet slamming the lid on this again feels almost dirty in some way. he wouldn't be the man he is now if not for dominik, every single one of his foolhardy choices always leading back to him and the promise he made on the battlefield. has he fulfilled it? it doesn't feel like enough.
he turns, bringing the bottle to the bed as he settles down again, hands clasping kaz's leg like he needs to keep busy. he resumes his massage, his eyes faraway. what does he even say now? he has never attempted to put what they shared into words. years should have lightened this burden, but he can still feel the weight of him in his arms, how warm he felt even after he stopped breathing. he has never shed so many tears since that moment.
a quick inhale, and then — ] He was my first everything. Friend. Love. Loss. Ravka will bleed you dry no matter who you are — prince or peasant alike she'll acquaint with hopelessness. Dominik was the best of us, but — [ another breath, his hand stilling at kaz's thigh. ] War doesn't care about that. I made a promise to him that I would see our country to peace, to the prosperity that other nations have, and — we're on a steady path to something greater, but there aren't enough years in my lifetime to make Ravka the sort of place that deserves someone like him.
[ he marvels at how he keeps his voice steady, but it doesn't extend to his hands, tightening his white-knuckled grip on kaz's knee to stop the tremor that moves through his fingers before realizing how hard he's holding on. kaz's knee is then replaced with the bottle, liquid sloshing as he swallows down another mouthful before crawling higher on the bed and plopping down beside him with a rush of breath. ]
When you love a thing, the work is never done. [ if he closes his eyes he fears he'll immediately fall asleep, so he keeps them open, finding kaz's gaze from his unceremonious place on his pillow. it smells faintly of him, a fascinating mix of earth after the rain, dreary skies and dark leather. his scarred fingers wind loosely around the bottle, nestled against his side. why is he here when kaz is there? he adjusts his position, sliding his head into kaz's lap while he holds up the bottle to him, hair mussed, his cheeks quickly taking on a ruddy flush. ] Touch me. Not like that — just my face. Get used to the feeling. It doesn't always have to be about kissing or — anything, really. You can touch someone and have it be just that.
[ he gives kaz an encouraging smile, the corners of his mouth tilting slyly. ] What do you feel for Inej Ghafa? I'm no idiot, Brekker. Anyway, Captain Sturmhond is long overdue for a visit to her ship.
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You’re treading water every day. [ navigating the corpses that take up space in his mind, trying not to feel their icy touch. he can’t imagine the fortitude it must take to be kaz brekker. he slips his own gloves off and reaches out with one hand to slowly curl their fingers together. ] It took me some time to realize it wasn’t just when I touched you. It's when you look at me, too. It's always. I hope you know that I don't see it as anything less than a miracle that you let me in at all, much less allow me to kiss you. And I try not to believe in miracles, as a general rule.
[ but he's seen too much to rule them out entirely in the way he would like to. even now, he can't rightly say he isn't staring one in the face. it's a miracle that kaz is even alive, after everything he's put him through. his gaze slips to his shoulder before righting itself, a smile flashing across his mouth. ] What a dull thing to think of. Hopefully one day we can both have a leisurely swim in a very peaceful lake. No death. Just us. [ as if death doesn’t follow them both. something earnest pulls at his chest. ] Maybe you’d like to accompany me to Os Alta for a few days when this is over. I’d like nothing more than to show you the sites of my many excellent crimes, and the capital is quite beautiful this time of year.
[ a beat passes with kaz's question poised in the air. a hundred lies come to mind. an instructor, a university dalliance, a townie from any port city he's ever stopped at. a name and a story that never happened at all. kaz can't possibly know the difference. he takes his glass again, drained in one swallow. it doesn't hurt as sharply as several minutes ago, the brandy finally dulling a few of his unbearably jagged edges, enough that he can touch them now, even if they still draw blood. he gets up, his back to kaz as he takes the bottle by the neck, splashing a dash of liquid in his glass before deciding to forego the idea of cups altogether. ]
Dominik. [ the truth edges past his lips before he can stop it. there is the dry observation that perhaps this has been a long time coming. he clears away the lump in his throat with a swig from the bottle. ] His name was Dominik.
[ that's it. he answered the question. and yet slamming the lid on this again feels almost dirty in some way. he wouldn't be the man he is now if not for dominik, every single one of his foolhardy choices always leading back to him and the promise he made on the battlefield. has he fulfilled it? it doesn't feel like enough.
he turns, bringing the bottle to the bed as he settles down again, hands clasping kaz's leg like he needs to keep busy. he resumes his massage, his eyes faraway. what does he even say now? he has never attempted to put what they shared into words. years should have lightened this burden, but he can still feel the weight of him in his arms, how warm he felt even after he stopped breathing. he has never shed so many tears since that moment.
a quick inhale, and then — ] He was my first everything. Friend. Love. Loss. Ravka will bleed you dry no matter who you are — prince or peasant alike she'll acquaint with hopelessness. Dominik was the best of us, but — [ another breath, his hand stilling at kaz's thigh. ] War doesn't care about that. I made a promise to him that I would see our country to peace, to the prosperity that other nations have, and — we're on a steady path to something greater, but there aren't enough years in my lifetime to make Ravka the sort of place that deserves someone like him.
[ he marvels at how he keeps his voice steady, but it doesn't extend to his hands, tightening his white-knuckled grip on kaz's knee to stop the tremor that moves through his fingers before realizing how hard he's holding on. kaz's knee is then replaced with the bottle, liquid sloshing as he swallows down another mouthful before crawling higher on the bed and plopping down beside him with a rush of breath. ]
When you love a thing, the work is never done. [ if he closes his eyes he fears he'll immediately fall asleep, so he keeps them open, finding kaz's gaze from his unceremonious place on his pillow. it smells faintly of him, a fascinating mix of earth after the rain, dreary skies and dark leather. his scarred fingers wind loosely around the bottle, nestled against his side. why is he here when kaz is there? he adjusts his position, sliding his head into kaz's lap while he holds up the bottle to him, hair mussed, his cheeks quickly taking on a ruddy flush. ] Touch me. Not like that — just my face. Get used to the feeling. It doesn't always have to be about kissing or — anything, really. You can touch someone and have it be just that.
[ he gives kaz an encouraging smile, the corners of his mouth tilting slyly. ] What do you feel for Inej Ghafa? I'm no idiot, Brekker. Anyway, Captain Sturmhond is long overdue for a visit to her ship.