[ it’s harder to leave nikolai this time than the last (and the last wasn’t easy). crumpled in his arms, fingers curled over his glove, unspeakably vulnerable. kaz keeps watch at his bedside for an hour before he forces himself to stand, the memory of his night in novyi zem quickening his steps. thinks about penning a note, but — he can’t, leaving dimitri without instruction. he gave nikolai what he needed, what no one else can, and that’s enough. besides, nikolai hasn’t wanted for his help since kaz abandoned him in ravka, and his crows keep him informed of sturmhond’s whereabouts. strange that nikolai should stay in ketterdam at all, really, if he’s confident in his control, though the exact nature of his banishment from ravka remains unknown. perhaps zoya won’t abide monstrosity of any degree. shrewd of her, if so.
kaz devotes himself to business, non-stop in his dealings as the conflict he and inej’s initiated against the elite escalates. better to think of that than nikolai, no doubt mussing his formerly pristine abode. old tactics help him achieve distance and project strength even as he tires. someone draws too close, he throws a punch. if they touch him, he breaks a wrist, an arm, a jaw.
the offer of a promise halts this familiar rhythm. there’s but one that fits in this crevice, and it’s — not something he should indulge, if he wants to stand apart again. no reply comes because kaz convinces himself he’s ignoring it until the light dims in the city. hat low and cane in hand, he could be going anywhere through ketterdam’s myriad side streets. in fact, when he notices a tail two minutes out of the club, he ends up taking one in the opposite direction of the geldcanal. the air sticks close in the thick of the slanting buildings, his coat draped over his shoulders instead of snug against his arms. as soon as he clears the straat, however, the crisp harbour breeze threatens to carry his hat down the nearest canal. the geldcanal, as it so happens. his leg twinges with every step, a pain that’s both as constant as it’s always been and worse than he’s ever known. there’s nothing for it. zenik is away from the palace for another week, dismantling drüskelle alcoves. it would be unwise to leave nikolai unattended in ketterdam, too, after his last brilliant plan.
at sturmhound’s place, kaz picks the lock with precision and eases open the door. habit makes him linger by the frame, scanning the empty sitting room — well, empty but for the clutter of nikolai’s mind made physical. after a long moment, he steps forward and removes his hat, hanging it on a coat hook and tidying his hair in the hall mirror. he smoothes the suture above his brow that milena begrudgingly placed yesterday. you should let me fix the old bruises before you make new ones tutted at close range, her sigh warm on his face. should have told her off for that and touching him both, but he’d been too exhausted to protest. that night, kaz had medicated to sleep through the pain in his leg, sacrificing cogency in the night to achieve alertness in the day. consequently, the shadows gilding his cheekbones seem only slightly more macabre than usual.
his eyes land on the ugliest hat he’s ever seen, and his reflection quirks a smile at him that he swiftly flattens. you’re not staying for long. not for the promise, which ought to be broken. just to see how nikolai’s faring after collapsing in his arms and mumbling nonsense. another pause. he removes his coat and catches himself straightening his tie in the mirror, suddenly warm all over.
enough. kaz limps into the main room, cataloguing every piece of evidence to support nikolai’s presence and wellness. the adjoining kitchen has a dirtied coffee cup in the sink. can’t help but wonder if the stuff holds a candle to burga’s morning deliveries to the captain’s quarters. nikolai must hear him before he sees him, the thud of his cane steady on the wood floor. it stops when kaz does, tilted into the doorframe of nikolai’s bedroom/office (a natural counterpart to his sitting room/office and kitchen/office). it hasn't been long, but there are traces of nikolai everywhere. kaz supposes he’s the sort of person who creates an impression, like a footprint in the sand, wherever he goes — and whenever he leaves.
over a quarter of an hour late, he raps a gloved hand on the frame. ]
I recommend a deadbolt. [ so people like him can’t sneak inside. he’s trying very hard not to think of it as a welcome for him. the equivalent of a key hidden under the mat. with a tip of his head and arch of his brows, ] I’m impressed you can afford this. [ being exiled from a kingdom with war debts and all. he leans over the threshold, as if he can't enter without an invitation. ] There aren’t bodies or submarines in the basement, I trust.
[ he's not coming. the thought loops ceaselessly through his head while he paces in front of his bedroom window and crudely twists a length of wire in his gloved hands into the shape of a jellyfish. it's all right. better that he doesn't, really. it was a foolish idea moored in sentiment and kaz would likely have stalked — limped — off when he heard it anyway.
his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he hears the thump of kaz's cane. the wire goes clattering across the desk when a familiar figure darkens his doorway, the scent of blood immediately rushing to his senses, but his mouth pulls into a hopeful smile on its own. kaz looks impossibly out of place here, and yet nikolai can picture him in every room, looking over his drafting desk, sitting at the breakfast table, nestled in his enormous bed. ]
Sturmhond does quite well for himself. He's not bound by things so petty as rules and laws. [ before, he would have invited kaz in. he would have pulled him into his arms, onto the bed, christened it with languid kisses. but he keeps distance between them now, standing by his desk and letting his eyes linger too long on the angles on his face, over his mouth, the impeccable knot of his tie around his throat. ] You'll find nothing unsavory hidden here, except perhaps the idea I'm about to present you with. You'll have to come out of some of those clothes first.
[ don't touch him. and yet his feet move on their own, crossing the room to slowly reach out and carefully unknot his meticulously done tie. he keeps talking as if that will somehow distract from his actions. ] I promised you a swim. Now — don't look at me like that, Brekker — I'm sure you've been holding up remarkably well, being who you are, but I unfortunately remember the exact moment of my claws making their way into your leg, so even though you've been rudely avoiding me as of late, I know how bad that wound is. [ the tie slides away, tossed carelessly over his shoulder to flutter to the plush rug behind him. he starts on the buttons of his tailored jacket next, pausing briefly before he slides it off his shoulders. ]
I know what you're thinking. This is a poor time to make good on this particular promise, but trust me. The water will take the pressure off your leg. [ the jacket lands in a heap on the bed. his fingers linger at the front of his snug vest, slowly undoing the buttons one by one while his eyes flicker up to settle on kaz's blues. ] It may offer you a measure of much needed relief.
[ it happens too quickly. nikolai standing there, stealing the air from his lungs with a smile, then occupying the whole of his vision. so this is what called him here: nikolai’s inability to leave a broken toy alone. (because he cares, because he’ll be crushed by guilt if he doesn’t mend something, and kaz is the only one around to accept his attentions.) it doesn’t have to be more than that. his breath hitches as nikolai unknots his tie. can’t even unstick his gaze to see where nikolai tosses it, transfixed by the careful concentration in his face. the crease in his brow pulled by focus and not distress, for a change. he tips his cane against the nearest wall to allow nikolai to tug his jacket free.
a swim, as he suspected, though he hadn’t anticipated nikolai touching him just so he’ll get in the damn water. ]
Nikolai. [ his gloved hands cover nikolai’s, stilling them over his vest and steadying himself in the process. he attempts to dull the harsh edge of his voice. his eyes drop to trace the bruises on nikolai's wrists. ] I thought you were avoiding me. [ a huffed breath of air threatens to become a laugh, if only kaz would let it. ] Last time, you were.
[ chained outside the city and starving himself all by his lonesome. this is an improvement, undoubtedly, but one he hasn’t the faintest idea how to navigate. i know what you’re thinking. does he? when kaz thought he decided to smother this infatuation and meet nikolai as — whatever they were before. uneasy allies. ]
Now I’m thinking…that you weren’t. [ gently mocking himself and nikolai. funny, that they’re so fallible when it comes to each other, all cleverness forgotten. ] Also, that I have a lot of enemies in this neighbourhood. [ in every neighbourhood, but the rich and powerful live along the geldcanal. ] That someone tried to follow me here. [ he slides his grip down nikolai’s arms to his elbows and gives a curt nod, inviting nikolai to continue. ] And, of course, that you’re either very optimistic or very foolish to believe I’m capable of swimming with this injury. [ floating, maybe. his hands wander, skimming down nikolai’s sides and gripping firm at his hips. nikolai is touching him — undressing him, like it’s nothing — it’s only fair that kaz has the same freedom. ] But I thought those things already. All the way here.
[ yet he came, heart in his throat. kaz edges forward, walking nikolai backwards until his knees hit the bed. ] Talk me through what you’re thinking. [ after all kaz’s half-truths about the demon and cruelties in the cellar, no, after peering inside his chest cavity and finding it hollow. ] Mind if you say there’s nothing but selfless consideration for my health in your heart, I’m leaving — and taking your ugliest hat with me when I go. [ with conviction, ] Jes will be moved by my thoughtful gift. [ and wylan will hate it. ]
[ excuses litter the space between them, but kaz doesn't pull away — almost pulls closer instead, his hands finding purchase at his hips, maneuvering their bodies until nikolai feels the press of the bed behind his knees. his heart stutters with impossibilities, caught in the net of his wants. it would easy to be reckless in this moment, to toss reason and care to the wind, but the aftermath would be a brutal, ugly thing, more cracks in the fragmented pieces of what has become of them. how many times can he reel kaz in just to cast him back out before he stops coming entirely?
no, he won't. he'll stick to his plan and let kaz turn up his nose at his selfless consideration for his health. there are far more selfish — and stupid — reasons at play, but he doesn't have to give voice to them. there's risk involved in everything. he'll be careful. no skin contact unless absolutely necessary. ]
You can hardly expect me to take up residence in the Barrel. The beds are far too small, and the water is hazardous for swimming. [ he tilts his head, smiling, eyes flickering briefly to the sutures above his brow. ] Tell me, is there a place I can go where you don't have enemies? You're very good at irritating people into wanting to murder you.
[ his hands resume the work of stripping his vest off, throat bobbing in a swallow, a shock of reddish-gold hair falling into his eyes as he concentrates on the buttons. he's dressed casually himself, the sleeves of his cream shirt pulled up, dark brown trousers cuffed at the ankle as if he already went wandering in the water earlier in the day. a tiny notebook peeks out of his pocket, bits of paper haphazardly stuck inside, a pen tucked beside it that looks like it may spill ink over his clothes at any moment. he's taken to scrawling down dreams and thoughts that don't feel like his own, memories that come to him unbidden, flashes of yearning and the strange desires that he wants to pin down as the demon's and not his own. kaz's name appears in it more than anyone else's. sometimes he reads it back to himself and it chills him to know he wrote any of it at all.
the vest slides down kaz's shoulders, and nikolai resists the urge to go rooting through his pockets to see what might be hidden there. weapons, jewels, magic. he never knows with kaz. his gloved hand lingers a moment at the small of his back. ] Well, if you go into the water kicking like a damned mule like you usually tend to do, you'll almost certainly worsen your injury. I was thinking perhaps I could teach you a gentler method. The whole idea is to take some of the stress off your leg. [ his vest rustles to the floor, nikolai's palms briefly wandering along kaz's sides, his crisp shirt tucked neatly into his trousers. ] And if you don't trust the water enough to let yourself go in it, then trust me. I won't let you go.
[ their faces are too close. his heart is too close. nikolai wants to open his collar and see if the scratches at his collarbone left marks behind, but he pulls back delicately instead, pacing to his desk to gaze through the open window, the taste of blood in his mouth as he runs his tongue along his teeth. he picks up a glass of wine that he suspects he poured at least a day and a half ago and swallows down the dregs. ]
I bought a boat. [ he turns, bright smile back in place. ] A sailboat. She's cozy. Made for nothing but lazy days drifting at sea. I packed some things on her already — some spare clothes, fresh dressings for your leg, some very warm blankets some poor furry things died for. We'll go far from the neighborhoods so we'll have privacy. You can't sneak up on people on the open waters unless you happen to have a submersible invented by the former king of Ravka, and none of them were made available to your criminal ilk here in Ketterdam. I won't bring the hat, but I can be coerced to change my mind if you insist on being rude about it. Dimitri bought it for me. Not by choice, mind you, but I think he did an exceptional job at understanding Sturmhond's specific sense of style. So, what do you say? [ he leans his hip against the desk, swaths of warm sunlight silhouetting him as his eyes turn hopeful. ] Please say yes. I've been looking forward to seeing you frown at me all day.
Everyone in fifth harbour murders for me. [ deadpan, but it’s a rare joke. ] It’s friendly.
[ kaz watches, enraptured as ever by nikolai securing his mask. his tells haven’t changed, eyes flickering to kaz’s injury but avoiding his penetrating gaze, hand lingering at the small of his back like it belongs there. for tantalising seconds, he thinks nikolai might touch him, leather to skin. his arms have been empty since he left nikolai at the safehouse, and his bed has been bereft even longer than that. there’s only forward, but he wishes he’d never known what it was like to have nikolai in those aching gaps, if he hadn't intended to fill them.
at the feeling of nikolai pulling away, his focus pins on neutral ground, the edge of a pad and pen visible in nikolai’s pocket. more half-written letters? no, that’s a fool’s hope. mad drawings are more likely. once he’s gone, kaz organises his thoughts. ]
I told you my terms. [ a warning edges into his rasp. nikolai’s true intentions in exchange for his compliance in this whim. since nikolai deigns to evade him, kaz retrieves his vest and slips it back over his shoulders, brows raised in challenge. never should have come here, hope sparking in his waterlogged heart — all for the privilege of being nikolai’s beloved pet project. it’s a thoughtful proposition, one with affection and protection woven in every detail, from the blankets to the bandages. unfortunately, kaz can’t imagine anything worse than only touching nikolai through the humiliating rituals of care. the only contender plagues him now: standing here, unsteady on his feet, without his cane or nikolai for support. after his circuitous walk, his leg pangs angrily, so he sits on nikolai’s bed uninvited and uses both hands to extend it. a wince crinkles his features before he schools them into a fierce scowl.
when he looks up, something destabilises him again: nikolai, haloed by light, shining like nothing else in this world. if kaz has to watch him, enlivened by the sea — laughing in the setting sun — he’ll drown himself on purpose. ]
[ stroppily, ] I know how to swim, Nikolai. [ when he isn’t thrust into rivers so cold they freeze the blood or dropped in open waters by a demon, crimson leaking from his shoulder into the ink-black sea. he starts re-buttoning his vest, movements precise. ] And I don’t need you to tend my injuries. I pay Milena handsomely for that. [ sometimes, he even lets her do the damn job. kaz adjusts his collar, withering gaze narrowed on nikolai. ] If you’d like to be a caretaker, get a dog. I can even break its leg for you, so it’s adequately needful. [ you don’t need me anymore, as if that was ever the point of this. ]
[ you’re being cruel comes a small voice, one he can’t place in the moment. so what if he is? nikolai has had plenty of unkindnesses ready in the matters of kaz's abandonment, lies, and inadequacies since he came to the city (not to see him, but to follow nazyalensky’s orders and sulk). he stretches to retrieve his tie and hangs the fabric around his neck. ] If that’s all this is…my answer is no. [ saints, he hates how his rhythm falters. ] You'll have to commit my frown to memory and make do.
Edited (typos every day of my life) 2022-01-31 15:06 (UTC)
[ he watches kaz redress and ignores the way his heart sinks at the sight, preparing himself for what he knows is coming. what he should have known all along. could have spared himself this entire conversation if he’d just explained himself in a note and let kaz ignore it or send dimitri with some excuse. he’s busy. he’s away. he’s on a job. it would have been better than this stinging rejection for something as simple as — what? a balm for his loneliness. a way to fool himself into believing their tether hasn’t unraveled completely.
he exhales. keeps his easy demeanor as he shifts away from the desk and tries not to think about how badly he wanted to keep this promise, how he wanted to nestle with kaz in his boat afterwards and watch the stars while pretending he was home again. the smile falls away from his eyes but stays firmly on his lips, fiddling idly with the wire jellyfish he doesn’t remember picking up again. ]
I had a dog. On my ship — years back, when I first started out as Sturmhond. She was very sweet, but she liked to bite and she did take off the occasional finger if I asked her politely. [ he goes to the window and flings the jellyfish outside, then pulls the shutters closed. he won’t beg. it isn’t in his nature to do so, even when all he wants to do is kneel by kaz’s feet and relinquish the words rattling around in the cage of his chest. ] I suppose I’ll go on my own, then. Zoya did mean this as an exile, after all.
[ whether it’s true or not is of little importance. it’s what it feels like most days, away from everything that matters to him and unable to navigate the only thing here that does. he’s left alone with thoughts that feel more harrowing as the days pass, the strange pulse of darkness that beats in time to his own heart. can’t ask for help. he crosses the room and picks up kaz’s weighted cane, tossing it expertly in his direction. ] I’m sure you can manage locking up after yourself.
[ and then he means to walk away, but his feet suddenly won’t cooperate, stuck to the floor as if welded there. he’s positioned his bed so that the sunlight falls directly across it, and it gilds kaz’s hardened edges now, casting him in warm shadows, a strip of orange across his cheekbone, burnished yellows and pinks coloring his shirt. his eyes are pale when they’re lit up like this, cat-like, boring into him in a way that nearly makes him shrink back for fear that kaz might see the ruinous thing creeping deeper into his bones each day. ]
I can’t — touch you. [ hushed and breathless, the words come unbidden as they often do these days, like he’s running out of space to keep his secrets. ] Not with my bare hands. It might be everyone, but I haven’t extensively tested that theory, so I just know it’s you in particular that’s the worst. I don’t know how you bore this for so long, Brekker. I feel like I might go out of my mind these days. [ he finally turns, inhaling sharply to cover the way his voice shakes. ] I don’t know how else you expect me to ask you.
[ his traitorous feet finally carry him from the room, hands shifting to his pockets where his right nudges against his pen, pulling it out just in time for bright blue ink to spill across the white leather of his gloves. a muttered curse as he stalks to the kitchen and thrown it down atop the marbled counter, along with the stained notebook, stripping off his dirtied gloves. a cursory flip through the pages tells him the words are intact. how does one clean stained leather? he’s never missed the palace launderers more, magicking away his many messes with ease. after a brief consideration, he throws his gloves in the sink and drenches them in water, watching them get… not worse, exactly, but certainly not better. ]
[ kaz wields the rejection with a sharpness he thought lost after nikolai invaded his head. the regret slams into his chest immediately. a breath stays suspended in his throat. although nikolai doesn’t blanch, he dims. those clever hands keep twisting the wire, and it occurs to him that nikolai never wears his gloves when they’re alone. that he’s been removing them more since telling the story of his transformation to his people. that’s how far he is from you, wanting him no closer than he had as a snarling half-man half-beast. that's how far you are from here, failing to notice vital details.
trained reflexes help him catch the cane (strong there, if nowhere else). it takes him longer than he’d like to stand. by the time he does, nikolai’s abrupt confession has filled the lonely corridors of his mind. even before this development, no one has ever understood him like nikolai, his gloves hiding a twin shame. and now — there's no malintent in nikolai's delivery, though it cuts him all the same. it’s worse with you, so like his attempt to fray their tether in ravka. this punishment, he deserves. a hundred questions choke out any reply until nikolai has gone.
tie slack and jacket abandoned, kaz grits his teeth and marches into the kitchen. when he sees nikolai bowed over a bubbling sink, notebook pressed open, his path charts itself. in a few painful strides, he has the book, looking without seeing. incomplete phrases. (his name.) violent images. (his name.) half-familiar thoughts. (his name.) none of it matters as long as nikolai hurts because of him. you’re careless with him because you don’t know how to be anything else, but that’s an excuse. he’s honed his cruelties, certainly. they’re just not the whole of him. ]
It’s not how you ask. It’s why. I’m not something to be fixed. [ a wound that’s forever raw. he emerged from the harbour changed and isolated. smaller than the other boys, sewing pockets into his shirts so that he could save some coin when they shook him down. broke his leg not long after, laying on the sofa in per haskell’s office and staring at that godawful chandelier — wondering if he’d be cut loose for the injury. all those things made him stronger. adaptation led him to his cane, his fearsome image. ] Switch spots with me. [ commanding as an overconfident schoolboy, even if he never was one. he holds up the notebook like a bartering chip, the implicit threat being he’ll dunk the strange diary if denied. once nikolai acknowledges him, kaz shoves it and his cane at nikolai as he passes. avoiding all other contact, he leans against the sink, rucks his sleeves to his elbows, and peels off his gloves. ]
You wouldn’t even be here, if you had a choice. [ it’s a relief to expel that thought. bracing, like a shot to the chest. he lacks the capacity for what nikolai desires, needs, holds inside him. the monster knows nikolai and kaz both, doesn’t it? a silent observer that’s recently chosen to take an active role in their entanglement. kaz fishes out nikolai’s gloves and twists the tap until it runs cold. ] But you could at least admit to desiring my company. [ bone-dry, ] As a last resort. [ rather than playing at being his hero. so what is he? the person who emboldened him with desire and shielded him from the corpses. someone he cares for very much. someone he can’t help but harm and doesn't deserve. of course he has you on a string. one pull — his wire creature tossed aside, the admission of unwilling distance — and kaz swings back to him.
snatching a nearby washcloth, he dabs at the glove bearing the largest stain while the other hangs on the side of the counter. he measures the length of the silence in drips. ]
This will only help a bit. [ quite the stilted offering, eyes set on the task in hand. ] Saddle soap is needed for leather. [ a shrug, too tense to convey carelessness. ] Farmer’s trick. [ it's a business venture mapped in his brain from start to end and dismissed. he'll mention it over a dinner at the van eck manor with the faheys and let colm come to his own conclusions. it’s too close to his before. his gaze slides sideways, peaking at nikolai over his shoulder. as soon as their eyes meet, his blues dart back to the safety of the washing. ] What happens when you touch me?
Edited (we do not perceive) 2022-01-31 22:12 (UTC)
[ his immediate response is to balk against kaz's words, frustrated by his rigid way of thinking and his own inability to make his intent understood. he feels like a child again, scolded by his mother for ruining her priceless ormolu clock when all nikolai had done was rebuild it to be more efficient, to make it better for her. his thoughts wither when he turns to find kaz holding his notebook, pages open to reveal his hurried scrawl, kaz's name littered across the page. doesn't even get the satisfaction of snatching it back because soon it's returned to his hands as kaz takes over the work of salvaging his gloves.
every word that drops from his mouth is more maddening than the last, but nikolai forces himself not to interject, to for once be silent and allow himself to approach these confessions from a less inhabited angle. it strikes him all at once that he's gotten so comfortable around kaz that he's forgotten who he's talking to. kaz handles his darkness better than anyone he's ever known — unflinchingly, never with disgust or pity or shame, refusing to turn away even when nikolai feels as though he'll shatter beneath the weight of his own despair — but this? kaz is ill-equipped to recognize what any of this is, immediately pegging it for pity and extending his claws in response.
so explain it to him. his frustration has evaporated, his eyes wandering to the straight line of kaz's back. ] Caring about your injuries doesn't mean I think you're a broken thing in need of fixing. It means just that. That I care for you. [ it’s so much more than that, but some things, dangerous things, shouldn’t be said. ] Unfortunately for you, that means I can't ignore when you're in this much pain. It's not natural or normal to expect me to look at someone that means a great deal to me and not wish to ease their suffering in any way that I can.
None of this is about fixing you. All of it is about how important you are to me. [ the words come more easily now, eager to speak after long days spent in only his own company, anxious to make kaz understand. he shakes his head, an incredulous breath caught in his throat. ] No, I suppose I wouldn’t be here. Not like this. But — do you think I wouldn’t have come, if you’d asked? [ still gripping the notebook and cane, he hovers in the space behind kaz, throat bobbing in a hard swallow. he licks his lips, his voice quieting. ] Would you have asked?
[ would he have been able to, after how they’d parted in ravka? what a grand mess you made of things there. he doesn’t wait for kaz to give an answer, huffing out a quiet laugh as he sets down the notebook and fiddles with the crow’s head of his cane. ] You’re utterly daft sometimes, Brekker. If I didn’t desire your company I wouldn’t have gone to such great lengths to plan this evening out for you. I would’ve just had a delivery of get well flowers sent to your office at the Crow Club, and they would’ve been dusted with a particular hallucinogen that would’ve sent you straight to a very merry dream state so that you could finally rest your leg. I wouldn’t be trying to mend the promises I’ve broken to you, and I certainly wouldn’t have told you that I can’t touch you, because it means — [ a breath. stop talking. ] Because it means that I wish I still could.
[ the confession unsteadies him, cracking open a door he intended to keep firmly shut. he’ll just have to mind the locks better. their eyes meet for the briefest of moments as he catches kaz stealing a glance, gone as quick as a blink. he’s left staring at the back of kaz’s head once more, trying to puzzle out why he knows anything about saddle soap when he’s fairly certain kaz brekker does not make a habit of riding horses, much less tending to their equipment. his mind flits to the farmhouse painting before his attention is effectively seared back to the present, a twinge of panic in his chest. another swallow, this one to temper his nerves. talking holds less appeal now. ]
I taste your heart in my mouth. The dying pulse of it gushing blood against my teeth. [ he stifles the urge to spit, his heart racing. ] I feel you go cold, your body split open. I see your bones. And I want to be the one to break them. [ shame creeps into his voice, his blackened fingertips pushing the notebook away before he grips the edge of the marble counter. ] It feels impossible to control. Isolation is the only safety I can see, but I wonder if it’s as you said before — that maybe this is what it wants. [ he laughs suddenly, a humorless sound, his voice softening. ] Or maybe I’m just too stubborn to accept that this is exactly what I deserve. Leave the gloves. Go home. I’m — I’m not thinking clearly. I think you made the right decision after all.
[ the unadorned sweetness in nikolai’s confessions, calm and unerring, are entirely foreign. words desert him. all his brilliance blinks out. it means that i care for you. another breath stutters in his throat. has anyone ever said that outright? no, not when admission of such open-ended care is surely damning. don’t die on me, boss is all that can be allowed.
this is a first, his hands still in the water as he opens his stance just enough to watch nikolai sideways, crow-like. all of this is about how important you are to me forces him to retreat, glancing away, down at hands that move slowly, inefficiently without adequate instructions from his brain. his thoughts are consumed by rebuilding their last exchange in nikolai's image. sunlight streams directly through the window, making him squint, but the heat that floods his neck and cheeks feels entirely unrelated. relief runs through him when nikolai follows his topic change and answers honestly. then the familiar pang of guilt and unfamiliar sting of empathy hit in rapid succession. now, nikolai suffers in a way he understands intimately. (perhaps one he caused by conversing with the demon, taunting it, feeding it.)
kaz lifts his soapy hands — and flicks bubbles directly into nikolai’s face. ]
Everyone feels that way around me. [ referring to the visceral desire to break his bones and kill him, not the mawkish and lovely sentiment that has his insides knotted in new configurations. a joke — though he’s certain even inej and jesper have wanted to slap him. his features soften in the sinking light. ] No one deserves anything. [ methodical now: he lays the gloves out and wipes his hands clean, using the counter as a support to turn around. something inside him has settled, teeth no longer bared. he levels an unbroken stare. ] But if they did — you would never have to be alone.
[ someone would always be there to tend his perennial loneliness. warm arms waiting in his bed, a keen eye peering over his shoulder at the drafting desk, steady hands to pass him coffee in the morning. and you wouldn’t have the privilege, if deservedness was a factor. he knows that.
could say the demon is a predator, so of course it wants nikolai alone, but that logic engenders another theory: it wants you alone, too. if indeed there is something special about his connection to it and nikolai, he sees but one way to find out. fortunately, it dovetails neatly with what nikolai is owed. ]
No. [ too quick, too loud. desperate. he forces himself to slow down. ] I was wrong. [ a bitter taste in his mouth. ] I’ve never — [ his clammy hand fits at his neck, fingers hooking at his loose tie. ] You’re the only one who’s ever — asked this of me. [ there hasn’t been time for this with anyone else. maybe he hadn’t been ready for it, either. ] I wouldn’t have called you here. [ adam’s apple bobbing, voice hoarse. how could he have asked after ravka, when he’d been just as foolish as he is now, scrabbling for words to convey a quarter of his feelings. ] But I — I missed you. I keep missing you. [ every time they part, he wishes for nikolai’s poetic instincts, if only to explain how terrible it’s been to exist without him. nikolai has been missed since they stopped spending every waking moment together on the volkvolny. kaz limps toward him, deftly taking his cane by the shaft to avoid nikolai’s bare skin. he also places a hand on nikolai’s arm, however, squeezing it over his shirt. these touches are proof he understands their new rules of engagement, even though he’d like to kiss the despair from nikolai’s mouth. ]
[ his lips quirk, giving away that he’s about to say something stupid. ] I might…be in some pain. [ he catches nikolai's eye and jerks his head toward the doorway. ] Go fetch another pair of gloves and your awful hat. [ his eyes lift, hope brightening their blue. ] We'll make it to the boat before sunset if we leave now. [ and he’s been seized by the notion of taking nikolai’s gloved hand in his as they walk. a schoolboy’s fancy. ] I’ve made you promises, too. [ ones he never intended to keep (a visit to ravka, a swim in the lake). and ones he never intended to break (leaving him alone with his demons to linger in his own shadow). ] Let me keep this one.
[ his words are a sweetly painful thread cutting cleanly through him, reigniting a spark to illuminate the lonely dark. it hurts to smile — crooked and slightly unsure, less confident than his practiced pretenses but no less bright — but it's the first genuine bit of hope he's felt in days. warmth rushes through him, relief softening his features. kaz can't know how much he needs the people he cares for to believe in him — how much it hurt when zoya looked at him as if she'd stopped — but maybe he does know. kaz has always had an uncanny way of silently puzzling him out, and this reassurance that he doesn't deserve this lonely existence pulls at something in him. disbelief, maybe, but coupled with a desperate longing to swallow down his words.
he's come to recognize kaz's halting way of speech that belies true honesty, familiar in its rarity. it calms him the more flustered kaz gets, pushing the words out like heavy stones dropping at his feet. he collects them with earnest care, even the jagged ones — i wouldn't have called you here — because they still fit perfectly among the rest. i've never — you're the only one who's ever — i keep missing you. he wishes he could draw nearer, kaz’s touch more than he expected but still not enough. it will never be enough to have him like this when he knows he’s unlocked kaz’s longing for more, gradual and stuttering as the process might be to restart. you can’t touch him, a truth so difficult to swallow that a part of him still reels from the shock of it.
but it’s something. it’s a yes. it’s a chance, and he won’t squander it despite his reservations. his smile stretches, boyish and brilliant around the ache in his chest. ]
I told you before that I would ask a great deal of you, and I’m not done asking yet. I won’t see you go backwards. No matter my present circumstances. The difference between the two of us is that you allow me a certain amount of grace, but I have no qualms about dragging you back into the light while you flap and peck like those awful pigeons infesting your docks. [ he reaches up and slowly tugs at one end of kaz’s tie, once again letting the fabric flutter away from his neck. ] The Crow Club makes more money than sin. I’m sure you could do something about your bird plague. They defecate on my ship every time she docks here.
[ his fingertips glide gently along kaz’s ribs, stopping at the buttons of his vest, his gaze shifting to something pensive and distracted. the monster uncoils at this close proximity, the dark veining at his hands giving a sudden pulse. nikolai’s breath hitches sharply, fingers hovering an inch away from kaz’s snug buttons. does he dare? his hands are bare but fabric mutes the touch, deft hands flicking open his vest as he did in the bedroom, his palms sliding down his shoulders to nudge the vest down his arms. he has to be able to touch him, has to be able to hold him, perhaps not in the way he longs to but at least like this. because he won’t risk not being able to hold onto him in the water. ]
Don’t be ridiculous. The hat is too valuable to risk losing it somewhere in the canal. Knowing you, you’d try to knock it away on purpose. I’ll wear it the next time I add to your tab at the Crow Club. [ still loosely gripping his arms, he traces his thumb above where he knows the single letter tattoo is. ] Answer me honestly. Have you let anyone come close — innocuous, a hand here, a brush there, contact that you know now to be completely normal — or have you been so angry about the shifting terrain between us that you’re willing to throw away all measure of progress you’ve made? Forward doesn’t mean a closed door.
[ he holds his gaze for a long moment, then untangles himself to fetch new gloves as asked — and to allow kaz to provide an answer without being stared down as if he’s being scolded. he wants to know. he wants kaz to understand that this isn’t over, that he’s not going to leave him drifting nor will he allow him to worm his way off this particular hook so easily. nikolai has had plenty of time to think — all conflicting thoughts — but one thing felt clear. he’s squandered enough of his time away. he made that mistake in ravka, existing in the same space as kaz brekker and yet hardly coming close, another regret for the mounting pile. so he can’t touch him the way he wants. so he can’t kiss him, can’t trace his tongue along his skin and taste the salt of his sweat, can’t drink down his moans and unlock what makes him shiver. that doesn’t mean the work is done. when has he ever left a wounded man behind, much less one he loves like this?
kaz might hate him for throwing him into the drink again, for pushing him with endless questions and demanding more than he thinks he can give. but he handled it all before and only snarled at him a handful of times for it. nikolai feels comfortable with these odds. he returns with a smile, hands sheathed in fresh gloves. it must be painful for kaz to have stood there for so long, so he beckons him to the door, down the paved trail to the canal where his boat awaits — painted a particular shade of blue with gold embellishments that catch the rays of the setting sun — and because anyone might assume he’s just helping brekker walk anyway, he holds out a hand for him to take. ]
She’s called the Sapfiry. I’ve taken a liking to sapphires lately.
[ for once, kaz must say the right thing. nikolai’s face cracks open like a flower in the morning sun, proof that he’s worth stumbling through untraversed territory again and again. ]
What you think of as grace is only patience. [ a gentle warning as he fits his hand at nikolai’s hip, grip firm through his clothes. ] Unfamiliar, I know. [ the spark in his eye hints at teasing — what with nikolai already reaching to undress him, not minutes after confessing a rightful fear of closeness. nikolai says he can’t touch, but kaz had said the same thing months ago. and not for dissimilar reasons, at that. there’s no world where he allows nikolai to think he has to be alone. progress isn’t linear. there are always setbacks, diversions, changes in the path. they only have to chart a new route forward.
when nikolai removes his tie, his throat tightens. ironic. ridiculous. shivery sensations follow those careful hands to his torso. kaz wants to hold nikolai’s face in his hands and call his gaze forward. can’t, after nikolai’s harrowing explanation and skittish behaviour. instead, kaz takes the edge of nikolai’s collar between his thumb and forefinger, close to the skin but not touching. he only lets go to allow nikolai to tug his vest off, layers of his armour gone long before he sets foot on a creaking ship. nikolai threatening to run his tab again earns an eye roll and a huff, but he tenses as the topic shifts. holds back his instinctive, biting retort: i’ve let more people close than you have. that isn’t fair or helpful, particularly when one is trying to apologise for being sharp-tongued. his scowl is answer enough until nikolai returns, anyway.
the reprieve gives him time to retrieve his own gloves and ease his weight against the counter and his cane. it’s better and worse to stretch his legs, then. stepping into the warmth of the sun — and nikolai’s too-pleased gaze — heats his cheeks. ]
Sentimental of you. [ kaz takes nikolai’s hand without hesitation. even through their gloves, he’s closer than anyone else. it doesn’t matter if he needs the illusion of protection that they provide for now, though kaz won’t let him go untouched for long. a creature like him can handle the isolation. nikolai isn't built for loneliness. and he should never be subject to it, besides. ] To answer your question…anyone? Yes. [ milena, stitching him together with purposeful touches. anika, shoulder-to-shoulder on a stakeout. it’s easier to walk the slope with nikolai on one side and his cane on the other, but his knee still smarts. ] Most people? No. [ his gaze flits sideways, gauging nikolai's reaction. ] You might've heard that I broke a few hands since we last spoke. And just the one jaw. [ at the memory of it, his nose wrinkles. all in all, normality seems like a stretch for him. ] I'm not interested in inviting everyone to try it on with me.
[ he has to remind himself to pay attention, but it's increasingly difficult at the sight of kaz beneath the setting sun, the light warming his skin to all sorts of pleasing shades. reluctance floods him when he has to let go of his hand to free his ship from the docks, hastily unwinding the heavy ropes and planting his booted foot on the gunwale of the slowly bobbing ship.
is there ever going to be anyone but me is the question that needs to be asked, yet it can only ever come out one way — cruel, and nikolai isn't sure he wants to know the answer. it has to be yes, someday. perhaps not today. he extends a hand again to invite him onboard. ]
I wanted to assume all the broken bones were casualties of a job and not your mood. [ his sailboat is much smaller than the volkvolny, a solitary ship cozy for two, and it's apparent nikolai has been spending long hours in it floating aimlessly along the sea — one of the seats at the stern has been knocked out and refashioned into a nest of cushions and blankets, bracketed by two storage trunks along the wall, the tops made of smooth slate that double as drafting spaces. books, papers, and tools are stored inside, half-finished ideas and nonsensical odds and ends to tinker with. he kicks over a coil of rope for kaz to rest his leg on. ] Weapons are stored below, in the slim chance that I disarmed you when I chucked your clothes earlier.
[ within moments they're sailing down the canal and away from the prying eyes of the homes and businesses dotting the geldstraat. nikolai takes them out to the open waters alight with the dwindling sun, then trims the sails back so that they're drifting slowly. an uncharacteristic bout of nerves takes him at the thought of being in the water with kaz, a thought that's never occurred to him before. what if he panics and nikolai can't hold him? he shakes away the thought. it would never happen — not kaz panicking, that could happen, but nikolai would never let him drown. never. besides, kaz can swim with painfully poor form. no doubt worse now, with his injury. he glances at kaz and suddenly wonders how many of these thoughts are truly his own, something he's had to ask himself with increasing frequency as his doubts grow day by day. he's never been so frustratingly hesitant in his life.
he hefts an anchor overboard and then kneels before kaz to remove his shoes for him. ] I'm working on something, and I'd rather like if you'd test it out for me. It's a little bird — well, an automaton, really — that will carry messages for you. The first few didn't fly naturally enough and kept getting mangled by crows. Vicious things. But now they blend in perfectly, and I want to test the range and see whether it can follow a moving target. Will you send something to Miss Ghafa?
[ after unlacing his own boots and tossing them carelessly aside, he leans over the edge, touching his gloved hand to the surface of the water. without preamble, he hefts himself over and disappears below with a quiet splash, drifting underwater for a few long moments before he propels his way up and emerges with an easy smile. ]
Don't come in kicking. You're injured and I don't want you to hurt yourself further. I won't let you sink. [ he extends a hand, water dripping from his sleeve. ] The trick is in the breathing. Don't exhale all at once. The air in your lungs will help you float.
Everything I do is part of the job. [ the job of being kaz brekker, crafting and maintaining his fearsome image, retaining control of ketterdam. kaz suspects the normalcy nikolai desires for him is something he’d like for himself — a prince’s fantasy of being a pauper. he can admit there’s a charm to it, but the simplicity of that life wouldn’t have satisfied him.
no, not a pauper, a pirate. like inej. is there something in nikolai’s blood that makes him love the sea? he looks surer on the wobbling deck. the freedom must retain its appeal, after the rigidness of his path to the crown.
his processing snags somewhere between nikolai kneeling and uttering the phrase for you. ]
Clever things. [ crows, that is. what else can be said in the face of overwhelming care? ] I’ll test it for you. [ inej is the only person he writes with regularity. ] But why not test it’s capacity for distance, too? Your twins will be missing their guiding light. [ even if nikolai’s hurt has cut him off from zoya, there are so many others who love him. kaz shucks his gloves off and unbuttons the tight line up his neck before pulling his shirt over his head. knowing nikolai, any spare clothing on board the sapfiry will be frilly and colourful. best not to ruin what he brought. ] You know my leg has been a factor for over a decade, at this point. [ long enough to understand it intimately, however much the pain ebbs and flows. it’s his final protest against the notion that he can’t swim, which seems to have grown from a small sample size of troubling events. at least nikolai has decided this is a solvable problem.
still, kaz slips under the water without taking his hand. a final show of stubbornness. knowing that nikolai comes from a place of affection means that, logically, he should accept it, but the idea of being seen as incapable chafes against his very self. when he resurfaces, it’s inches from nikolai. he slicks back his hair with both hands and kicks slowly with his good leg to stay afloat. ]
I considered coming up behind you and pushing you under. [ always got jordie that way. speed and surprise are key to defeating a big brother. ] But I’m under orders not to come in kicking, and I suppose I am doubly injured. [ he finally takes nikolai’s hand, drawing it to his bare chest to demonstrate his even breaths. never would have thought he’d be the one without armour, for a change. ] Any notes? [ on his breathing technique. he blows out an exhale in the interest of being an annoyance (and daring nikolai to nudge him into place himself). a beat. ] Are you certain you can be still long enough to float with me?
[ in truth, he’d rather swim than float, with the sense-memory of the reaper’s barge lurking in his periphery. nikolai asked for this, however — when asking for anything troubles him. kaz has already decided to play along, even if it means choking on rot. he’s done that for nikolai before, after all. ]
[ it's strange even now, slotting together the puzzle pieces of kaz brekker he's come to know at differing times. the kaz he got to know on his ship was different from the kaz he rudely shunned in ravka (a mistake in the treatment). both of those people are different from the kaz brekker that reigns over ketterdam. he'd grown used to his shadow being in the edges of his orbit, the glimmer of blue that followed his movements on the volkvolny, in the grand palace.
here, kaz's presence is as elusive as a specter. nikolai finds himself alone more often than he prefers, though he's certain he's always under the watchful eye of the dregs. he misses the glimpses of kaz's lingering ghost, of looking up in the close confines of his ship and knowing he'd be near. the only constant the haunts his hours now is the monster, the slow spread of darkness like poison swimming through his blood, disturbing his dreams and weighing down his thoughts. he doesn't know how to ask kaz to stay closer for longer, for no reason other than just to be near, when he has the damning sensation that he'd rather be elsewhere, living the life he's carefully crafted for himself here in his familiar home. nikolai is a stranger here, an outlier, a hasty addition with no proper place to fit. he's come to realize that perhaps kaz's odd relationship with the wraith works precisely because she's not here.
he manages a smile at the mention of the twins, a twitch of familiar muscle memory that fades too quickly. guiding light, indeed. ]
I've written them already. Genya as well. [ lengthy letters written in the light of the afternoon sun, embellished with doodles. ] There's much to tell of my life here, you know. Tales of the marvelous adventures I'm having, all the time I'm spending at sea, how I'm enjoying all the peace and freedom they believe I'm owed after my years of service to our embarrassingly needy country. [ no mention of his renewed troubles grappling his monstrous affliction, or his desperate homesickness, or that this newfound freedom feels like the worst sort of punishment imaginable. what is he to do with it besides ponder his own uselessness? no one's given him that answer yet. ] I sent Zoya something much shorter, but she hasn't deigned to send a response yet. I don't suppose she's written you?
[ of course she hasn't. why would she write to kaz brekker instead of him, of all people, a criminal she doesn't even like over the person closest to her for years? searching kaz's expression, he blinks water from his lashes and refocuses his efforts on being still when his gloved hand ends up pressed to kaz's bare chest. the demon's rustle is nothing in the face of the unexpected longing that grips him, the sense of loss and isolation, the stirrings of what he wants to do, the knowledge that he can't. ]
Merzost is a very different sort of injury, and your unyielding stubbornness does not change that irrefutable fact. [ kaz's breath's are, in fact, even, although purposefully so instead of in a natural way. to be expected. his pulse thrums straight through his bones, gradually quickening as it does when water is involved. still, better than before. (better than when you threw him into the sea, naturally.)
nikolai draws his hand away despite it being the last thing he wants to do, twisting onto his back as he bobs atop the water as if he's lounging in his bed. for a moment all he sees is the expanse of the sky in blazing color, nearly weightless if not for the unfamiliar drag of his wet clothes. the water splashes his cheek as he tilts his gaze toward kaz, watching the shadows settle in the lines across his face. ] I still know you, Brekker. And I know the unfortunate look of a man who needs aid to sleep. One of my favorite pastimes is looking in mirrors, you know.
[ he right himself, giving kaz a little splash as he comes closer, one hand settling at his spine and the other brushing the back of his knees beneath the water. ] On your back, now. [ an impish smile — ] I'll behave.
Edited (ignore my hours late corrections) 2022-03-14 02:35 (UTC)
[ at the splash, his nose wrinkles. payback for earlier. dryly — ] So I’m the only one you won’t write. [ an observation that’s teasing more than anything else. what makes it so difficult for him? the likelihood that kaz will see through his gilded presentation to the drowning man beneath, no doubt. and you’re never easy. to talk to, to be around, to care for when he resists it with every breath. no, certainly not. nikolai had said it wasn’t hard and then looked like he wished he hadn’t. nevermind that kaz didn’t dare put pen to paper, lest he have to make any thought of nikolai permanent and observable — or that he is, in fact, in regular communication with nazyalensky. their exchange of information’s professionalism teeters on the concern underlining any harsh words. in some ways, zoya and kaz are the same.
kaz only blinks away the inquiry, thoughtfulness tugging his mouth downward. that nikolai’s letters betray nothing of his inner life is to be expected, if a bit, well, sad. even beyond the beast plaguing him in newly visceral ways, there’s the melancholy that threatens to consume him. that omission is just as telling to the twins, genya and the whole lot, surely. they all know him, perhaps better than he’d like on his lesser days.
I know you. in some ways, yes, though he seems reticent to accept his own importance to kaz. nikolai interacts with him like a skittish dog — one that’s been hurt too many times — drawing close only to dart away.
even still, his mouth tugs to one side when nikolai feigns innocence. ]
And I know you, so I’m sure you’ve no idea how. [ to behave. kaz stiffens, the sensation of nikolai touching him through damp gloves strange yet familiar. like the sopping clothes of the reaper’s barge, the bloated bodies of the harbour. he needs a moment before he gives himself over to this, prone and weightless, like a dead thing. it’s already difficult to force himself to relax and begin to follow nikolai’s nudging into place. on his back, he squints into the waning light above them, eyes flinty. ] You’re trying to be useful again, aren’t you. [ by teaching him this or pushing him closer to inej, as if they aren’t already firm in their attachment. it’s the very insecurity that severed their bond in ravka, back in play. you don’t need me anymore. kaz reaches out, bare fingers encircling nikolai’s covered bicep, steadying. ] You are. [ trying, very obviously. and succeeding at being useful, helpful, caring — the scrape of his voice continues, level. ] Unnecessarily, mind. Is it helping?
[ somehow, it’s easier to embed the confession in a lesson (not unlike the care nikolai channels into today’s excursion). kaz would want nikolai’s company even if his dour mood had kept him chained in the shadows. unravelling him has only worsened his infatuation. it’s why he’s here, in this cold water, doing something he’d never consider for anyone else despite the rigidity weighing down his limbs.
the wet glove at his back feels dangerously similar to rotting flesh, its warmth and life shielded by the fabric. say something. he shouldn’t ask. he should. nikolai always asks for more of him. always tells him to ask, too, but not for the thing he said he can’t give. ] Still want to kill me?
There's no reason to write you. [ he smiles with all the boyish charm of someone who knows they deserve — and will expertly avoid — a firm thumping for their actions. ] You already know everything about me. [ very nearly true, except for the few secrets he can't seem to give up, painful to hold onto but in a dully familiar way. to relinquish them would be a far more acute sort of agony. he wonders how long he can bear this, how long they can go on pretending that this doesn't feel like an unraveling of sorts — and not in the way of discovery, but as if he's running out of rope.
kaz, choosing that moment to become an attentive student, wastes none of his measured breaths on idle talk, his pale fingers suddenly trapping him in an unexpected grip. easy enough to pull away, but nikolai doesn’t, letting his eyes pass fleetingly over the glint of sunlight catching onto his familiar pieces of sky before he looks to the dying blaze dancing over the ripples of water instead. trying to be useful, indeed. rude of him to point it out so blatantly, but the one thing kaz can never be taught is basic manners. ]
I have to be useful in new and exciting ways to turn your eye back to me. [ he has the whole of ketterdam to compete with, after all — maybe not the people in it, but the empire itself. he forces himself to look down at kaz’s injured leg, reimagining the give of flesh and the fresh spill of blood. ] But there are selfish things I could say that could draw you to me, things that would be nothing but the equivalent of an anchor dragging us into the sea. I don’t want to chain you to me that way. Sometimes truth is just a burden. It’s hardly worth the weight.
[ it’s why he employs it so rarely — not in his letters and not in conversations, not unless he’s more brandy than blood as kaz would put it. the truth would make people realize just how unfit he is for nearly everything, that he’s the biggest pretender of them all. slowly, he releases his hold, allowing kaz to float on his own in the water, drifting back several paces but keeping a careful eye on him. it’s not how he always imagined a swim together would go, not with this much distance and having to avoid touching him in all the ways he longs to, but at least they’re here, together, if only just for the moment. ]
Must we speak of the desires of my uninvited guest? I don’t want to kill you at present. [ with the lines blurring further each day, a tangled web of thoughts he can’t parse from his own growing in his head, some distinction is in order. revealing the extent of his current condition has brought shame enough for the foreseeable future, and he has little desire to revisit the subject. he slips beneath the water, swimming below kaz’s body to surface on his other side, a distant smile on his lips. ] What would help is if you allowed me the courtesy of returning to the place where it was just you and I. That dream that we existed in for a time. I know you’ll go in the morning — likely before then — but just for now, that’s all I want. I ask for nothing more. Just a respite. For both of us.
[ that’s not fair, he almost says, childish as anything. there’s so much more to nikolai than what he’s revealed in their collisions to date. kaz could spend hours staring and still notice new points where mask and man diverge.
without nikolai’s warmth at his side, splintering his thoughts between the dead and the now, it’s almost unbearable to remain in the water. nothing but his memories drowning, dying — kaz lets himself sink, righting himself in the water and looking all the paler for it. nonetheless, he manages an arch tip of his head. ]
Ah, [ brows lifting. ] but you don’t know everything about me. [ nevermind that he wouldn’t expose himself in writing. could still give nikolai clues to parse out on his own, as he has been for months. ]
Having carried you twice now, I can tell you vastly overestimate your weight. [ he sighs. it’s far easier to focus on nikolai than the endless questions his words unlock. there are selfish things I could say — like what? it seems unlikely he means the same pretty words that have been spun across their encounters. how could kaz be pulled closer than he already has been? he’s already anchored, chained, tethered no matter how hard he fights the pull. ] But if you’d rather be bound to duty, [ than me. ] you’ll find a way to return to your queen and subjects in no time. [ of which he is neither, so there’s no excuse to consort with him. ] I prefer you selfish. [ the corner of his mouth twitches. ] Brings out your eyes.
[ a retaliatory splash answers nikolai’s blow from earlier and hopefully keeps him from dwelling on the implications of kaz’s admissions here: an invitation for nikolai to bind them with further secrets, a confession that he’d prefer it that way hidden in his evasive phrasing.
I know you’ll go stings enough that kaz dips his chin, mouth small and taut, gaze turned on the depths. he deserves that, for leaving ravka and the safehouse. wait, had nikolai wanted — needed him there like he said he did in ravka? kaz slicks water over his face and hair to cut off further speculation, eyes opening on a deep exhale and seeking out nikolai. a terrible idea, obviously, with his breath catching in his throat. nikolai is impossibly handsome in the sunset and — sort of — charmingly ridiculous in his wet clothes. ]
You’d have to come near to make a world of two again. [ not one, alone with his thoughts of time spent in the drink, his shadow nipping at his feet. it’s not so different from the first time, only nikolai is jumpy in kaz’s stead, searching for excuses under the glimmering waves. kaz won’t paw at it him, like certain men of his station in ketterdam do, but he can ask plainly for what he wants. ] Will you try?
[ he casts him an assessing glance at that, something sour in his look. he may know more of kaz’s secrets than anyone else, but he feels further away from him now than when they’ve ever been this close — and not actively sniping at each other — and thus the reminder isn’t appreciated. he supposes there’s little room to be disgruntled, however, not when he’s keeping so much hidden himself. for his own good. his mouth twists into something caught between derision and shame. ]
Zoya will not call me back. She can’t. [ he huffs out a brittle laugh. the words feel sharp and heavy on his tongue, words he’s avoided saying aloud for so long now lest he lend credence to the truth he already knows in his heart. much easier to hide behind his anger. ] My usefulness to Ravka has run its course, at least for now. After what I did… the kind of horror I unleashed upon the people can’t be erased with even my most sincerest intentions. I did what I could to make amends. But the people can’t begin to heal with the same threat existing among them. Zoya simply performed the hardest part of her duty with far more grace than I was capable of. [ he shrugs, carved hollow now that his anger has been extinguished, exchanged for the logic he’s been avoiding since the moment zoya looked into his eyes and told him he could no longer stay. ] That’s what we do, as leaders. Your heart can never come first. If she somehow lost control of the dragon within her, I would have been forced to do the same to her. And as much as I say now that I would never treat her as such, I would. For Ravka. I would not be a king if I couldn’t.
[ he shrugs again, putting on a smile as he shakes off his melancholy, swimming another circle around kaz as if his limbs have a mind of their own. there’s something kaz is asking, perhaps not obvious to anyone who may not know him, but nikolai can hear it. and he can just as soon choose to rebuff it for reasons being that kaz doesn’t know the extent of what he’s asking for, the weight that he claims isn’t heavy when his monster may very well rot his entire leg away in the near future. ]
Typically we’re exiled to the Southern Colonies — it’s where I sent my parents after a particularly bad row also known as forced abdication — but you saved me from that when Zoya saw the worth of your nannying me here. The only way she’d ever call me back is if I rid myself of the monster — impossible now, I think — or proved without a doubt that I’ve tamed it. But clearly my condition is worse than ever, and you’re telling me you’re interested in further tethering yourself to such a man? [ a laugh, his heart beating too quickly in his chest as if he’s drawn too near to disaster. ] Don’t be daft, Brekker.
[ he presses a light hand to his back, urging him along. ] Come this way. There’s something I want to show you. [ because staying here now and facing kaz brekker’s no doubt displeased stare sounds unbearable, he instead swims forward at a leisurely pace, making sure kaz is close, until they come to an outcropping maze of rock. he ducks beneath the water, beckoning kaz after him, and when they crest the surface they’re beneath a dome of mottled stone, the dwindling colors of sunlight sparkling through the tiny holes in the rock like a prism of stars. nikolai glances above at the dazzling lights before he ventures a gaze at kaz — a little too pale, but still with him. he aches to touch him, drifting closer without thinking. ]
This is where I got the idea for the messenger birds. [ his throat feels dry, his heartbeat thudding in his ears — his own or kaz’s, he can’t say. he should put more distance between them, but he stays close enough that he could reach out and touch him he if he wanted to — and he wants to, though he doesn’t. it’s the worst feeling, to be trapped in this invisible cage, watching the light touch kaz’s bare skin in his stead. beneath the water, one gloved hand finds kaz’s clothed hip, careful to move no further. ] I don’t want you near the monster. This is my burden to bear.
[ nikolai unleashes a stronger reaction than anticipated, hurt fraying his composure and defeat spurring his words. to say something is to make it concrete, even when it may not be true. his rationalisation of his permanent exile and lifelong duties to the throne are as much of a defense as kaz’s frequent decision not to speak at all. armour comes in many forms.
still, kaz can’t believe he’s swimming (drowning) for the privilege of a lecture on kingship and duty: two things he’s never believed were worth a damn. diving is worse — something he hasn’t done since the demon stranded them both in the sea, the water as dark and endless as the harbour had been. when he surfaces, he chokes his first gasp of air and tries to mask it with a cough into his hand. ]
And what I want. [ a click of his tongue, annoyance bleeding into his features, hair flattened to his skull. surely his own wants have a place here, after nikolai worked so diligently to tease them out. ] I don’t suppose that matters. [ after kaz chased him in fjerda, ravka, ketterdam. once he composes himself enough to look around, his back straightens and scowl wobbles. it’s beautiful. like the observatory in ravka. a place he’d never have sought out on his own — that only a few people would think to share with him. ]
As gallant a nanny as you make me out to be, Zoya saw my — fondness for you and capitalised on it to serve you both. [ he blows out a breath, like he might scatter that embarrassing truth in the sea air. ] A shrewd maneuver. [ said like an insult, though it’s the opposite, since he would and has acted similarly. the only thing worse than her noticing his affection is nikolai not. then again, it isn’t as if kaz entirely understands his means of care, either. there’s something to the attention they pay each other; that much, he knows. before nikolai, he’d never met anyone as resistant as himself to letting others gentle him.
kaz’s hand finds nikolai’s clothed wrist in the water, bare fingers encircling it. ]
I know what it means to be the reason that someone you — [ all saints. ] — care for is endangered. [ his heart thuds heavy against his ribs, threatening to burst. ] One look at Inej, and I doomed her to days of torture at Van Eck’s hands. [ his expression cracked open like a safe (like a wound). he hopes it isn’t as obvious now while knowing it must be, with his wide eyes fixed on the cave ceiling. ] Everything has a cost. [ the price of affection is concern. a weakness, primed for exploitation. then, inevitably, grief. his thumb arcs to the edge of the fabric, nearly touching nikolai’s skin. ] This time, I’m willing to pay and manage the risks. If you’re not — [ he cuts himself off, forcing his voice to crisp where it had been thick with emotions seconds earlier. ] Then it’s settled.
[ finished. as kaz thought it was when he said one horrible thing after another to nikolai in the cellar. if there’s no hope for the flame, he’ll snuff their spark. he did it before, every time someone warmed him, sensibly preventing the pain of a prolonged attachment. this time will be harder, but he’ll accomplish it all the same. the trick will be in finding a way to help nikolai without engendering closeness, just as zoya attempted when she placed her trust in kaz brekker, of all people. ]
It’s a good idea. The birds. [ true, although it’s also just something to say so nikolai knows he doesn’t need to answer the question implicit in his declaration. saying nothing will tell him enough. ]
What you want. [ a surprised echo, as surprising as the jolt he feels when kaz's fingers encircle his wrist. desire and disquiet wage a frantic battle within him, teetering on the edge of a nightmare. one misstep and he'll be thrown into the snapping teeth of the bloody dark. he nearly pulls away, the slightest bit of pressure, but not enough to make kaz let go. what he wants. what he wants is absurd. what he wants — what he's doing — is backing him into a corner and forcing his hand, making him choose between this and — what? nothing. to let this go completely. to finally let this thread unravel the way it should have long ago.
it would be the wise move, under present circumstances. he doesn't know what his beast wants with kaz — perhaps not to kill him, but it's certainly not above maiming him — and it's only his selfishness that keeps him tethered to him now, unable to saw away this bond even if he's seen in his dreams the sort of bloody end it could mean. maybe he's not much of anything after all, when he clearly can't weather the hard decisions that need to be made. ]
You don't know what you're asking. [ but he does; kaz has seen him at his worst, in his most inhumane state, and in the end what he remembers most is a coat draped over his shoulders and strong arms holding his trembling frame together. no, a stroke of good fortune had been all that kept kaz's body from his feet that night. ] You speak of cost and payment and risk as if these things don't mean your life. For what gain? What do you expect from me?
[ the depth of his wants threatens to topple him, caught between drawing kaz closer and pulling away, danger in both directions. the pressure in his chest — from a heart too full or miserably hollow, he doesn't know — is too much to bear. if he keeps dancing on the edges of the truth, kaz will shut the door, no doubt weary of the stalling confusion between them, but nikolai resents the feeling of his secrets laid bare in such a way, pulled out of him without finesse after he's spent so long shielding them from the light. ]
I have nothing left to offer you. [ that much is true. this confession is worth little, this feeling without a proper place to exist. he laughs, a brittle sound that doesn’t reach his eyes, knocking their hips together as he pins kaz against the rock, gripping both hands in his to keep him from being foolish enough to touch his bare skin. ] Because if I tell you that I love you — that I have since you and I were on my ship together — [ saints, he’s lost track of the time, months now — ] What will you do with that? What can you possibly do with me? You will still be you, and I will still be this. [ he releases a breath, his face falling, close enough to see kaz’s dark lashes spiked with water, every shade of blue in his wide eyes. ] Is that the confession you wanted? Does that make any of this better? Saints, you’re a damned fool, Brekker. This isn’t a barter.
[ as nikolai assures him he doesn’t know what he’s asking, kaz bites down a noise of displeasure. only nikolai could invite him here — to the waters where he lost everything — and still question his resolve. the emphasis on his life, however, stalls his processing. as if he doesn’t risk it every day for things far less important than time with someone who matters.
distracted enough to be pliant, he allows nikolai to capture his hands and cage him in. just about to counter every damn word thrown at him, when nikolai strikes like lightning. if i tell you that i love you — a jumble of words, sputtered into near coherence. there’s an if in the telling, but the revelation overwhelms it. his mouth snaps shut, expression melting from irritated to stricken. in desperate haste, he tries to beat all the feeling (and nerves) flooding his throat. ] You — [ a strangled thing. that’s not what you’re supposed to say, he realises, but then the confession itself sits in an unconventional place, wedged between a disregard for his desires and an astute rebuke of his schemes. can’t turn off the part of his brain that plays tricks anymore than nikolai can excise his endless puzzling. ]
That’s — [ ridiculous, impossible, untenable. if i tell you — ] You’re infuriating. [ there. his voice crackles, enlived by anger. ] I’ve thought of you every hour since I left. I’ve dreamed of you in what little sleep I’ve had. [ a shake of his head, droplets scattering with the force of it. ] I’ve been trying to touch you without pushing, but then you touch me, and — that’s not nothing. I don’t know how you could be nothing. [ with his mask already in tatters, disbelief slackens his features. his blues dart across nikolai's face, scouring every winkle and crevice for clues. ]
If you want me to stop, I’ll stop. [ aching, then. ] I’ll go. [ that’s what he failed to convey in his game of barter: an offer of escape, if nikolai needs it. ] But I want to stay. To be around you. To help you chart a new path forward. [ a sudden breath, taken out of surprise and necessity both, after his mouth starting moving of its own accord. ] You know that I — [ but he doesn’t. they never do. for all he knows, nikolai thinks him incapable of such things. you will still be you. if nikolai has dared consider it, he does not want it. ]
I love you. [ like it’s a fact, delivered with the utmost conviction. it’s his problem, recurring with the frequency of steady heartbeat. it’s a distraction, and perhaps the very burden nikolai wished to avoid. it’s the reason for kaz’s own contradictory behaviour, which nikolai must find equally confounding: promising him time and then running, mixing truth and evasion, offering devotion in the same breath as a promise to end everything. even so, he tips his chin up as he meets nikolai’s eyes. ] I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you. [ since nikolai stumbled into ketterdam, at least, or as far back as ravka, no, fjerda. maybe the ship. why else would he fight so hard for a penniless queen’s favour and a bastard king’s plummeting stock? ]
So if you told me — that. [ he blinks seawater from his lashes, eyes lingering closed for a brief reprieve. it’d be a blessing, if the demon were to kill him now. a drowning might clear his head of this foolishness. ] It wouldn’t be nothing to me.
[ panic strikes immediately, wanting to reach out and clamp his hand over kaz's mouth to keep those words from coming — words he shouldn't say, words he's longed to hear — but then they're free, spilled out between them like ink that can't be bottled back up, and nikolai hasn't the faintest clue what comes next. his heart might explode, thudding too violently with i've thought of you, i've dreamed of you, i'll stop, i'll go, i want to stay. that kaz wants this confounds him when he's hardly been present, when having him means nothing good at all, when kaz could have anyone, now.
the fragile blossom of love is always stained with death. it sounds like bad poetry, perhaps something he once wrote himself, but it's the truth of what he knows, and to explain it would be to utter aloud the end of dominik's story after years of keeping it hidden in his heart. it would be to finally give up on this, to admit defeat to the monster, to wave his white flag and definitively say that his mind and body will never again be his own. should he? it isn't lost on him that kaz has provided a coward's exit, should he need it — or the implication of the hurt it would cause if he took it. ]
You sound so sure that there's a path here at all. [ he desperately wants there to be. he wants there to be something other than the looming dark before him, the loneliness of looking and not feeling, but nothing feels certain anymore. his confidence has dwindled to nothing but a flimsy charade he can’t bring himself to let go of. forward feels — improbable, at the very least, when he’s capable of so little now, when the most he feels like now is a weight shackled to kaz’s limbs, too pitiful to be cut off in the way he deserves.
he looks at him in silence, knowing he should speak, knowing there is a right thing to say here and he should puzzle it out and say it. this is likely — extremely likely — the first time kaz has uttered these words since being thrown into the reaper’s barge, since all of his softness had been cruelly bled out into the sea, and nikolai, above all else, has an obligation to shelter his fractured heart. not an obligation. a want. he’ll always want to do this for him, to hold him in his arms, to be the steady port for him to house his halting wants and needs. relinquishing his grip on one hand, he brings his gloved fingers to kaz’s cheek instead, his rabbitting heart threatening to leap into his mouth. ]
I can’t bear this. [ which part? the part where kaz brekker loves him? the part where he can’t touch him? the cold grip of darkness squeezing the notches of his spine at all hours of the day? can’t explain any of it. he misses his home and he misses the boy floating before him in equal measures. he doesn’t even remember what life felt like when it wasn’t crashing down around him at every moment. at least that’s familiar. he draws in a ragged breath, so close that their mouths nearly touch. a catastrophically bad idea. yearning fills him. he’ll die if he doesn’t have this, and he’ll die if he does, because it could spell the end for both of them.
his fingers curl at kaz’s cheekbone, his mouth parted and unsteady. ] I’m not strong like you, Brekker. I can’t bear this.
[ bridging the meager distance, he pushes into the wet heat of his mouth. there’s a moment — half a moment — of crystal clear clarity, of rain and warmth and a comfort so familiar that nikolai believes for the barest measure of a breath that they can have this — and then a howl explodes in his head, blood rushing up his throat and soaking his tongue, his limbs locking with cold. he doesn’t know if his eyes are open or not, but he can plainly see kaz lifeless in the water, his blue eyes icy and lips pale. the monster uncoils and nikolai rushes back, darkness fragmenting his skin and his eyes wide and dark and unseeing, caught in his own cage and terrified he’ll lock kaz in with him. ]
Don’t come near me. Kaz — don’t follow me. Go back. Go back to the ship.
[ a harried breath, and he plunges downward into the water, swimming deep until he feels pressure all around him. the monster shrieks in his chest but he refuses to let it out, stubbornly holding out even when his iron lungs begin to protest. flashes of blood dance behind his eyes, but still he stays even as he grows weightless, holding onto the tatters of his own sanity. ]
[ i can’t bear this hits like a slash that you don’t register until the aftermath. a swing that hurts the more he looks and thinks about its meaning. impossible to know how or why it would be followed by a kiss, head pounding. can’t move, too uncertain to break this fragile moment. too slow, he corrects, as nikolai abandons him.
kaz dives so he doesn’t lose sight of nikolai and glimpses his suspended form. it swiftly occurs to him that nikolai means to die here. his shout of protest bubbles into nothing, and he bursts above the waterline in seconds, adrenaline and panic warring for control of his system. you’re in no state to fight. not in the water, with his leg bleeding black. the singular blade left on his person could be enough to draw out the demon — no, that could lead to losing nikolai, anyway. saints. countless, half-nonsense schemes flood his mind, but instead of acting, he starts counting.
and he waits, the one thing he has always excelled at. kaz brekker knows how long the average man can hold his breath (and then some, with the encouragement of jesper and rotty’s capable grips), but rarely has waiting for the give been this painful.
when he judges that nikolai has likely managed to tire himself and the demon out, he breathes in the manner nikolai instructed, plunges into the deep, and seizes him with an iron hold. kaz fights to break the surface faster than the last time, even with his injury. (something to be said for practice.) dragging himself and nikolai over the lip of the rocky interior of this alcove proves just as haphazard, with red dotting his scraped stomach and pearling down his wounded leg. all secondary concerns to the coldness seeping into nikolai’s skin — the way it seems to ribbon away from bone in kaz’s unreliable gaze. is he breathing? he can't tell, perception muddied by care. memories clatter into one another. jordie in the water — nina looking down on him, pressing her mouth to his — kaz does the same trick for nikolai, unaided by grisha magic or honed skill. you’ve killed him, the way he almost killed inej, jesper, nina: by chasing a distraction. never should have pursued nikolai like this, if he meant to save him. nikolai was right to accuse him of playing games. and a gambler’s luck always runs out.
somehow, nikolai coughs a breath — or maybe he was always breathing, or all of this was a bloody nightmare — and kaz chokes on nothing. never been so relieved or so angry to see someone. nikolai’s pulse jumps to life under his palm, but that isn’t enough to halt the tide of nausea that’s been building since kaz grabbed him. as nikolai’s eyes flutter open, kaz scrabbles to lean over the stone edge and dry heave. he was dead. he wasn’t. he felt — corpselike, to be sure. kaz upends his dinner into the sea. ]
Don’t you dare — [ another heave, all seawater. his eyes feel wet and must be red. ] — make me do that again. [ as hoarse as he is, kaz still manages to inject lethal venom into those words. ]
You accuse me of bartering with my life and then forfeit yours. [ breathless and wrathful. he raises his voice, the nearby formations amplifying the sound. ] Death would only end this for you. [ another cough, and his grip slips, palm catching on a jagged rock. a pained noise trails into a broken laugh. it’s the first injury he allowed nikolai to inflict on him, repeated. ] I’d have to live with it. [ haunted by nikolai and jordie, his twin failures doubly mocking in their symmetry. both of them led him here, to this watery mausoleum. attachment is a risk — a damnation. and he does not even love you. if he did, nikolai wouldn’t wish this ruinous pain on him again — wouldn’t have said if, as though it would scare kaz more than the threat that he was nothing, wielded so expertly in ravka. ] If you wish to meet death so badly, you’ll have to accept my company. [ he rolls onto his back to rest his aching arms, blinking up at the stars in near-delirium. perhaps he’s the selfish one, for wanting to be near nikolai, for asking him to stay in this wretched world, for not caring if he’s half-demon and entirely lost.
of course you're selfish, brekker. you're a thief. ]
[ he doesn't mean to stay underwater. it's not the plan. but he only realizes his grave mistake too late, that the battle against the monster isn't the only one in his head, that the sudden and complete silence of the water, the weightlessness in his limbs, the sensation that he could close his eyes and merely float to an easy end is far, far too enticing to a man at his wit's end.
he should not have come here. even as his lungs seize, the last of his breath expelled into the water in a cascade of bubbles, he can't bring himself to look up to the light dotting the surface far above. he has an iron grip on the demon, and it will die here with him, and that will have to be enough. kaz will never forgive him, will carry this wound in his heart for years or maybe even a lifetime. there's nothing for that.
then he's above the surface, rock digging into his spine, a haze of light above him. a painful cough rattles his chest — and then he's sputtering water, twisting so he doesn't (presumably) drown himself twice. his thoughts come rushing back as he angles a wild gaze at kaz — yes, angry, very much so — and watches as kaz collapses beside him, eyes rimmed in red, skin pale, tremors in the tips of his fingers. all the haunted memories nikolai wanted to avoid tonight now brought to the light. ]
Fuck. [ it seems the only summation of the present circumstance, his voice hoarse. ] You're bleeding. [ everywhere. a scrape along his ribs, close to where he'd sewn him up before. blood at his palm, where his claws had once found purchase. his damned leg. nikolai forces himself to sit up despite the sharp ache in his chest, his breath uneven. ] I wasn't — I didn't mean for it to happen this way. I was only trying to keep you from harm.
[ a thing he can never seem to get right. his thoughts are jumbled, mired in a different sort of darkness, a frighteningly deep misery that he struggles now to pull himself out of. the fear of it chills his skin, that he nearly succumbed to it without intention, that a part of him wants it so badly that it could simply happen and he would let it. this is a monster of another kind, one he can’t give voice to now, because how much weight can he keep dropping at kaz’s feet with the expectation that he’ll want to carry it? he swallows it down, eyes raking over kaz’s body for some part of him that must be safe to touch. his leg, the fabric of his trousers gleaming darkly with water and blood. nikolai’s gloves come away a watery crimson when he slides his fingers beneath kaz’s thigh, i love you echoing somewhere faraway in his head. ]
Kaz. [ for a moment something else sits on his tongue, something to match his haunted gaze as it travels slowly along the blood trickling across his ribs, the smell of it cloying, a heartbeat too rapid in his ears. death feels too close. where is the fear that surely should come with it? the only thing he feels is a fear of how easy it had felt. how easy it would be to find it again. he’s nothing and nobody here — a first in the whole of his life. slipping away would come with no consequence.
none but one. he blinks down at kaz, his throat bobbing around a swallow, water dripping from his blond hair in a messy halo around his face. the ache in his chest shifts to something greater, something that a night’s rest can’t soothe.
he slips back into the water, but hovers by the rock, his eyes troubled as he slowly presses his hand to the bloody gash at kaz’s stomach. his fingers travel higher, leaving a trail of red across pale skin as he stops above his heartbeat. something to tether him here. something alive. tell him you love him. thank him for saving your life. say something that isn’t wrong, for once. but with the bitter taste of death on his tongue, he can’t utter those words. shouldn’t have said them in the first place, because this is all that it brings. ]
Let me take you back to the boat. I’ll tend to your wounds there. [ his mouth twists. ] I won’t do this to you again. [ make him dive to the depths of the sea. ask him for something so selfish as a balm for his loneliness. tell him he loves him. doesn’t know which he means. ] Ketterdam needs you too much for me to drag you away.
[ despite everything, nikolai lives — breathes, so kaz does the same, one wheeze after another. his voice penetrates the deathly fog, something to hold onto, even while stranded apart. kaz perches on a hitched breath, like something of substance might follow, but nothing chases it. instead, i won’t do this to you again substitutes for an apology. this action will have no echo. but which one? unfortunately, his sluggish mind can’t formulate the means to ask with nikolai staring down at him.
when nikolai touches his bare skin with his soaked, bloodied glove, kaz shutters his eyes, heart leaping into his palm as if emboldened by the very sight of him. in this way, they do understand each other: the closeness is unbearable. his stomach renews its churn, nikolai’s lifeless body imprinted on his person. ]
I’ve seen you die a thousand times, and still I wasn’t — [ ready, fast, enough to keep nikolai there. his hand covers nikolai’s on his chest, holding it in place without touching his skin, grip at once strong and shaky. can’t lose him again. nothing nikolai says assuages that fear, though perhaps nothing could. kaz replays everything nikolai offers him before opening his eyes. ah, of course nikolai now deigns to coddle a wounded, needful thing. how gallant. releasing him, kaz pushes himself up, hands at his sides, and winces as he irks the cut in his palm, face tinged green. it takes a long moment for the sickness to pass. then his eyes flash, brightening with outrage. ]
What will you do after you mend your broken toy? [ run, drink, die. he pushes himself off the ledge and into the water with a magnificent splash, aches shooting through his body. best to ignore the brief flash of empathy for nikolai’s decision to let the waves take him. on surfacing, kaz has to shove the hair from his face before he snags the very rock he just boldly deserted, looking half-faint and half-murderous. ]
If you mean anything you say, Nikolai. [ if he meant it, ] If you ever cared for me at all. [ when he’s a thief and bastard, demanding and manipulative and terrible. ] You will stop. [ a sharp intake of breath, the silence dragging. ] You will stop trying to keep me from harm — because you’ve no idea how — because you don’t bloody listen. And you will stop insisting you tend my wounds and balking when I near yours. [ with a sudden scowl, all bite — ] You don’t have to be strong enough to bear everything on your own, you selfish, idiotic skiv. [ said the drowned man clinging to the rock and pointedly not moving his bad leg. his eyes search nikolai’s face for tells, tracing the concern in his brow and lies lining his taut mouth. ] You have me. [ a voice urges him to say it once more, to underline the truth of his feelings, but another tells him to never utter those words aloud again for as long as he lives. ]
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kaz devotes himself to business, non-stop in his dealings as the conflict he and inej’s initiated against the elite escalates. better to think of that than nikolai, no doubt mussing his formerly pristine abode. old tactics help him achieve distance and project strength even as he tires. someone draws too close, he throws a punch. if they touch him, he breaks a wrist, an arm, a jaw.
the offer of a promise halts this familiar rhythm. there’s but one that fits in this crevice, and it’s — not something he should indulge, if he wants to stand apart again. no reply comes because kaz convinces himself he’s ignoring it until the light dims in the city. hat low and cane in hand, he could be going anywhere through ketterdam’s myriad side streets. in fact, when he notices a tail two minutes out of the club, he ends up taking one in the opposite direction of the geldcanal. the air sticks close in the thick of the slanting buildings, his coat draped over his shoulders instead of snug against his arms. as soon as he clears the straat, however, the crisp harbour breeze threatens to carry his hat down the nearest canal. the geldcanal, as it so happens. his leg twinges with every step, a pain that’s both as constant as it’s always been and worse than he’s ever known. there’s nothing for it. zenik is away from the palace for another week, dismantling drüskelle alcoves. it would be unwise to leave nikolai unattended in ketterdam, too, after his last brilliant plan.
at sturmhound’s place, kaz picks the lock with precision and eases open the door. habit makes him linger by the frame, scanning the empty sitting room — well, empty but for the clutter of nikolai’s mind made physical. after a long moment, he steps forward and removes his hat, hanging it on a coat hook and tidying his hair in the hall mirror. he smoothes the suture above his brow that milena begrudgingly placed yesterday. you should let me fix the old bruises before you make new ones tutted at close range, her sigh warm on his face. should have told her off for that and touching him both, but he’d been too exhausted to protest. that night, kaz had medicated to sleep through the pain in his leg, sacrificing cogency in the night to achieve alertness in the day. consequently, the shadows gilding his cheekbones seem only slightly more macabre than usual.
his eyes land on the ugliest hat he’s ever seen, and his reflection quirks a smile at him that he swiftly flattens. you’re not staying for long. not for the promise, which ought to be broken. just to see how nikolai’s faring after collapsing in his arms and mumbling nonsense. another pause. he removes his coat and catches himself straightening his tie in the mirror, suddenly warm all over.
enough. kaz limps into the main room, cataloguing every piece of evidence to support nikolai’s presence and wellness. the adjoining kitchen has a dirtied coffee cup in the sink. can’t help but wonder if the stuff holds a candle to burga’s morning deliveries to the captain’s quarters. nikolai must hear him before he sees him, the thud of his cane steady on the wood floor. it stops when kaz does, tilted into the doorframe of nikolai’s bedroom/office (a natural counterpart to his sitting room/office and kitchen/office). it hasn't been long, but there are traces of nikolai everywhere. kaz supposes he’s the sort of person who creates an impression, like a footprint in the sand, wherever he goes — and whenever he leaves.
over a quarter of an hour late, he raps a gloved hand on the frame. ]
I recommend a deadbolt. [ so people like him can’t sneak inside. he’s trying very hard not to think of it as a welcome for him. the equivalent of a key hidden under the mat. with a tip of his head and arch of his brows, ] I’m impressed you can afford this. [ being exiled from a kingdom with war debts and all. he leans over the threshold, as if he can't enter without an invitation. ] There aren’t bodies or submarines in the basement, I trust.
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his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he hears the thump of kaz's cane. the wire goes clattering across the desk when a familiar figure darkens his doorway, the scent of blood immediately rushing to his senses, but his mouth pulls into a hopeful smile on its own. kaz looks impossibly out of place here, and yet nikolai can picture him in every room, looking over his drafting desk, sitting at the breakfast table, nestled in his enormous bed. ]
Sturmhond does quite well for himself. He's not bound by things so petty as rules and laws. [ before, he would have invited kaz in. he would have pulled him into his arms, onto the bed, christened it with languid kisses. but he keeps distance between them now, standing by his desk and letting his eyes linger too long on the angles on his face, over his mouth, the impeccable knot of his tie around his throat. ] You'll find nothing unsavory hidden here, except perhaps the idea I'm about to present you with. You'll have to come out of some of those clothes first.
[ don't touch him. and yet his feet move on their own, crossing the room to slowly reach out and carefully unknot his meticulously done tie. he keeps talking as if that will somehow distract from his actions. ] I promised you a swim. Now — don't look at me like that, Brekker — I'm sure you've been holding up remarkably well, being who you are, but I unfortunately remember the exact moment of my claws making their way into your leg, so even though you've been rudely avoiding me as of late, I know how bad that wound is. [ the tie slides away, tossed carelessly over his shoulder to flutter to the plush rug behind him. he starts on the buttons of his tailored jacket next, pausing briefly before he slides it off his shoulders. ]
I know what you're thinking. This is a poor time to make good on this particular promise, but trust me. The water will take the pressure off your leg. [ the jacket lands in a heap on the bed. his fingers linger at the front of his snug vest, slowly undoing the buttons one by one while his eyes flicker up to settle on kaz's blues. ] It may offer you a measure of much needed relief.
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a swim, as he suspected, though he hadn’t anticipated nikolai touching him just so he’ll get in the damn water. ]
Nikolai. [ his gloved hands cover nikolai’s, stilling them over his vest and steadying himself in the process. he attempts to dull the harsh edge of his voice. his eyes drop to trace the bruises on nikolai's wrists. ] I thought you were avoiding me. [ a huffed breath of air threatens to become a laugh, if only kaz would let it. ] Last time, you were.
[ chained outside the city and starving himself all by his lonesome. this is an improvement, undoubtedly, but one he hasn’t the faintest idea how to navigate. i know what you’re thinking. does he? when kaz thought he decided to smother this infatuation and meet nikolai as — whatever they were before. uneasy allies. ]
Now I’m thinking…that you weren’t. [ gently mocking himself and nikolai. funny, that they’re so fallible when it comes to each other, all cleverness forgotten. ] Also, that I have a lot of enemies in this neighbourhood. [ in every neighbourhood, but the rich and powerful live along the geldcanal. ] That someone tried to follow me here. [ he slides his grip down nikolai’s arms to his elbows and gives a curt nod, inviting nikolai to continue. ] And, of course, that you’re either very optimistic or very foolish to believe I’m capable of swimming with this injury. [ floating, maybe. his hands wander, skimming down nikolai’s sides and gripping firm at his hips. nikolai is touching him — undressing him, like it’s nothing — it’s only fair that kaz has the same freedom. ] But I thought those things already. All the way here.
[ yet he came, heart in his throat. kaz edges forward, walking nikolai backwards until his knees hit the bed. ] Talk me through what you’re thinking. [ after all kaz’s half-truths about the demon and cruelties in the cellar, no, after peering inside his chest cavity and finding it hollow. ] Mind if you say there’s nothing but selfless consideration for my health in your heart, I’m leaving — and taking your ugliest hat with me when I go. [ with conviction, ] Jes will be moved by my thoughtful gift. [ and wylan will hate it. ]
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no, he won't. he'll stick to his plan and let kaz turn up his nose at his selfless consideration for his health. there are far more selfish — and stupid — reasons at play, but he doesn't have to give voice to them. there's risk involved in everything. he'll be careful. no skin contact unless absolutely necessary. ]
You can hardly expect me to take up residence in the Barrel. The beds are far too small, and the water is hazardous for swimming. [ he tilts his head, smiling, eyes flickering briefly to the sutures above his brow. ] Tell me, is there a place I can go where you don't have enemies? You're very good at irritating people into wanting to murder you.
[ his hands resume the work of stripping his vest off, throat bobbing in a swallow, a shock of reddish-gold hair falling into his eyes as he concentrates on the buttons. he's dressed casually himself, the sleeves of his cream shirt pulled up, dark brown trousers cuffed at the ankle as if he already went wandering in the water earlier in the day. a tiny notebook peeks out of his pocket, bits of paper haphazardly stuck inside, a pen tucked beside it that looks like it may spill ink over his clothes at any moment. he's taken to scrawling down dreams and thoughts that don't feel like his own, memories that come to him unbidden, flashes of yearning and the strange desires that he wants to pin down as the demon's and not his own. kaz's name appears in it more than anyone else's. sometimes he reads it back to himself and it chills him to know he wrote any of it at all.
the vest slides down kaz's shoulders, and nikolai resists the urge to go rooting through his pockets to see what might be hidden there. weapons, jewels, magic. he never knows with kaz. his gloved hand lingers a moment at the small of his back. ] Well, if you go into the water kicking like a damned mule like you usually tend to do, you'll almost certainly worsen your injury. I was thinking perhaps I could teach you a gentler method. The whole idea is to take some of the stress off your leg. [ his vest rustles to the floor, nikolai's palms briefly wandering along kaz's sides, his crisp shirt tucked neatly into his trousers. ] And if you don't trust the water enough to let yourself go in it, then trust me. I won't let you go.
[ their faces are too close. his heart is too close. nikolai wants to open his collar and see if the scratches at his collarbone left marks behind, but he pulls back delicately instead, pacing to his desk to gaze through the open window, the taste of blood in his mouth as he runs his tongue along his teeth. he picks up a glass of wine that he suspects he poured at least a day and a half ago and swallows down the dregs. ]
I bought a boat. [ he turns, bright smile back in place. ] A sailboat. She's cozy. Made for nothing but lazy days drifting at sea. I packed some things on her already — some spare clothes, fresh dressings for your leg, some very warm blankets some poor furry things died for. We'll go far from the neighborhoods so we'll have privacy. You can't sneak up on people on the open waters unless you happen to have a submersible invented by the former king of Ravka, and none of them were made available to your criminal ilk here in Ketterdam. I won't bring the hat, but I can be coerced to change my mind if you insist on being rude about it. Dimitri bought it for me. Not by choice, mind you, but I think he did an exceptional job at understanding Sturmhond's specific sense of style. So, what do you say? [ he leans his hip against the desk, swaths of warm sunlight silhouetting him as his eyes turn hopeful. ] Please say yes. I've been looking forward to seeing you frown at me all day.
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[ kaz watches, enraptured as ever by nikolai securing his mask. his tells haven’t changed, eyes flickering to kaz’s injury but avoiding his penetrating gaze, hand lingering at the small of his back like it belongs there. for tantalising seconds, he thinks nikolai might touch him, leather to skin. his arms have been empty since he left nikolai at the safehouse, and his bed has been bereft even longer than that. there’s only forward, but he wishes he’d never known what it was like to have nikolai in those aching gaps, if he hadn't intended to fill them.
at the feeling of nikolai pulling away, his focus pins on neutral ground, the edge of a pad and pen visible in nikolai’s pocket. more half-written letters? no, that’s a fool’s hope. mad drawings are more likely. once he’s gone, kaz organises his thoughts. ]
I told you my terms. [ a warning edges into his rasp. nikolai’s true intentions in exchange for his compliance in this whim. since nikolai deigns to evade him, kaz retrieves his vest and slips it back over his shoulders, brows raised in challenge. never should have come here, hope sparking in his waterlogged heart — all for the privilege of being nikolai’s beloved pet project. it’s a thoughtful proposition, one with affection and protection woven in every detail, from the blankets to the bandages. unfortunately, kaz can’t imagine anything worse than only touching nikolai through the humiliating rituals of care. the only contender plagues him now: standing here, unsteady on his feet, without his cane or nikolai for support. after his circuitous walk, his leg pangs angrily, so he sits on nikolai’s bed uninvited and uses both hands to extend it. a wince crinkles his features before he schools them into a fierce scowl.
when he looks up, something destabilises him again: nikolai, haloed by light, shining like nothing else in this world. if kaz has to watch him, enlivened by the sea — laughing in the setting sun — he’ll drown himself on purpose. ]
[ stroppily, ] I know how to swim, Nikolai. [ when he isn’t thrust into rivers so cold they freeze the blood or dropped in open waters by a demon, crimson leaking from his shoulder into the ink-black sea. he starts re-buttoning his vest, movements precise. ] And I don’t need you to tend my injuries. I pay Milena handsomely for that. [ sometimes, he even lets her do the damn job. kaz adjusts his collar, withering gaze narrowed on nikolai. ] If you’d like to be a caretaker, get a dog. I can even break its leg for you, so it’s adequately needful. [ you don’t need me anymore, as if that was ever the point of this. ]
[ you’re being cruel comes a small voice, one he can’t place in the moment. so what if he is? nikolai has had plenty of unkindnesses ready in the matters of kaz's abandonment, lies, and inadequacies since he came to the city (not to see him, but to follow nazyalensky’s orders and sulk). he stretches to retrieve his tie and hangs the fabric around his neck. ] If that’s all this is…my answer is no. [ saints, he hates how his rhythm falters. ] You'll have to commit my frown to memory and make do.
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he exhales. keeps his easy demeanor as he shifts away from the desk and tries not to think about how badly he wanted to keep this promise, how he wanted to nestle with kaz in his boat afterwards and watch the stars while pretending he was home again. the smile falls away from his eyes but stays firmly on his lips, fiddling idly with the wire jellyfish he doesn’t remember picking up again. ]
I had a dog. On my ship — years back, when I first started out as Sturmhond. She was very sweet, but she liked to bite and she did take off the occasional finger if I asked her politely. [ he goes to the window and flings the jellyfish outside, then pulls the shutters closed. he won’t beg. it isn’t in his nature to do so, even when all he wants to do is kneel by kaz’s feet and relinquish the words rattling around in the cage of his chest. ] I suppose I’ll go on my own, then. Zoya did mean this as an exile, after all.
[ whether it’s true or not is of little importance. it’s what it feels like most days, away from everything that matters to him and unable to navigate the only thing here that does. he’s left alone with thoughts that feel more harrowing as the days pass, the strange pulse of darkness that beats in time to his own heart. can’t ask for help. he crosses the room and picks up kaz’s weighted cane, tossing it expertly in his direction. ] I’m sure you can manage locking up after yourself.
[ and then he means to walk away, but his feet suddenly won’t cooperate, stuck to the floor as if welded there. he’s positioned his bed so that the sunlight falls directly across it, and it gilds kaz’s hardened edges now, casting him in warm shadows, a strip of orange across his cheekbone, burnished yellows and pinks coloring his shirt. his eyes are pale when they’re lit up like this, cat-like, boring into him in a way that nearly makes him shrink back for fear that kaz might see the ruinous thing creeping deeper into his bones each day. ]
I can’t — touch you. [ hushed and breathless, the words come unbidden as they often do these days, like he’s running out of space to keep his secrets. ] Not with my bare hands. It might be everyone, but I haven’t extensively tested that theory, so I just know it’s you in particular that’s the worst. I don’t know how you bore this for so long, Brekker. I feel like I might go out of my mind these days. [ he finally turns, inhaling sharply to cover the way his voice shakes. ] I don’t know how else you expect me to ask you.
[ his traitorous feet finally carry him from the room, hands shifting to his pockets where his right nudges against his pen, pulling it out just in time for bright blue ink to spill across the white leather of his gloves. a muttered curse as he stalks to the kitchen and thrown it down atop the marbled counter, along with the stained notebook, stripping off his dirtied gloves. a cursory flip through the pages tells him the words are intact. how does one clean stained leather? he’s never missed the palace launderers more, magicking away his many messes with ease. after a brief consideration, he throws his gloves in the sink and drenches them in water, watching them get… not worse, exactly, but certainly not better. ]
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trained reflexes help him catch the cane (strong there, if nowhere else). it takes him longer than he’d like to stand. by the time he does, nikolai’s abrupt confession has filled the lonely corridors of his mind. even before this development, no one has ever understood him like nikolai, his gloves hiding a twin shame. and now — there's no malintent in nikolai's delivery, though it cuts him all the same. it’s worse with you, so like his attempt to fray their tether in ravka. this punishment, he deserves. a hundred questions choke out any reply until nikolai has gone.
tie slack and jacket abandoned, kaz grits his teeth and marches into the kitchen. when he sees nikolai bowed over a bubbling sink, notebook pressed open, his path charts itself. in a few painful strides, he has the book, looking without seeing. incomplete phrases. (his name.) violent images. (his name.) half-familiar thoughts. (his name.) none of it matters as long as nikolai hurts because of him. you’re careless with him because you don’t know how to be anything else, but that’s an excuse. he’s honed his cruelties, certainly. they’re just not the whole of him. ]
It’s not how you ask. It’s why. I’m not something to be fixed. [ a wound that’s forever raw. he emerged from the harbour changed and isolated. smaller than the other boys, sewing pockets into his shirts so that he could save some coin when they shook him down. broke his leg not long after, laying on the sofa in per haskell’s office and staring at that godawful chandelier — wondering if he’d be cut loose for the injury. all those things made him stronger. adaptation led him to his cane, his fearsome image. ] Switch spots with me. [ commanding as an overconfident schoolboy, even if he never was one. he holds up the notebook like a bartering chip, the implicit threat being he’ll dunk the strange diary if denied. once nikolai acknowledges him, kaz shoves it and his cane at nikolai as he passes. avoiding all other contact, he leans against the sink, rucks his sleeves to his elbows, and peels off his gloves. ]
You wouldn’t even be here, if you had a choice. [ it’s a relief to expel that thought. bracing, like a shot to the chest. he lacks the capacity for what nikolai desires, needs, holds inside him. the monster knows nikolai and kaz both, doesn’t it? a silent observer that’s recently chosen to take an active role in their entanglement. kaz fishes out nikolai’s gloves and twists the tap until it runs cold. ] But you could at least admit to desiring my company. [ bone-dry, ] As a last resort. [ rather than playing at being his hero. so what is he? the person who emboldened him with desire and shielded him from the corpses. someone he cares for very much. someone he can’t help but harm and doesn't deserve. of course he has you on a string. one pull — his wire creature tossed aside, the admission of unwilling distance — and kaz swings back to him.
snatching a nearby washcloth, he dabs at the glove bearing the largest stain while the other hangs on the side of the counter. he measures the length of the silence in drips. ]
This will only help a bit. [ quite the stilted offering, eyes set on the task in hand. ] Saddle soap is needed for leather. [ a shrug, too tense to convey carelessness. ] Farmer’s trick. [ it's a business venture mapped in his brain from start to end and dismissed. he'll mention it over a dinner at the van eck manor with the faheys and let colm come to his own conclusions. it’s too close to his before. his gaze slides sideways, peaking at nikolai over his shoulder. as soon as their eyes meet, his blues dart back to the safety of the washing. ] What happens when you touch me?
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every word that drops from his mouth is more maddening than the last, but nikolai forces himself not to interject, to for once be silent and allow himself to approach these confessions from a less inhabited angle. it strikes him all at once that he's gotten so comfortable around kaz that he's forgotten who he's talking to. kaz handles his darkness better than anyone he's ever known — unflinchingly, never with disgust or pity or shame, refusing to turn away even when nikolai feels as though he'll shatter beneath the weight of his own despair — but this? kaz is ill-equipped to recognize what any of this is, immediately pegging it for pity and extending his claws in response.
so explain it to him. his frustration has evaporated, his eyes wandering to the straight line of kaz's back. ] Caring about your injuries doesn't mean I think you're a broken thing in need of fixing. It means just that. That I care for you. [ it’s so much more than that, but some things, dangerous things, shouldn’t be said. ] Unfortunately for you, that means I can't ignore when you're in this much pain. It's not natural or normal to expect me to look at someone that means a great deal to me and not wish to ease their suffering in any way that I can.
None of this is about fixing you. All of it is about how important you are to me. [ the words come more easily now, eager to speak after long days spent in only his own company, anxious to make kaz understand. he shakes his head, an incredulous breath caught in his throat. ] No, I suppose I wouldn’t be here. Not like this. But — do you think I wouldn’t have come, if you’d asked? [ still gripping the notebook and cane, he hovers in the space behind kaz, throat bobbing in a hard swallow. he licks his lips, his voice quieting. ] Would you have asked?
[ would he have been able to, after how they’d parted in ravka? what a grand mess you made of things there. he doesn’t wait for kaz to give an answer, huffing out a quiet laugh as he sets down the notebook and fiddles with the crow’s head of his cane. ] You’re utterly daft sometimes, Brekker. If I didn’t desire your company I wouldn’t have gone to such great lengths to plan this evening out for you. I would’ve just had a delivery of get well flowers sent to your office at the Crow Club, and they would’ve been dusted with a particular hallucinogen that would’ve sent you straight to a very merry dream state so that you could finally rest your leg. I wouldn’t be trying to mend the promises I’ve broken to you, and I certainly wouldn’t have told you that I can’t touch you, because it means — [ a breath. stop talking. ] Because it means that I wish I still could.
[ the confession unsteadies him, cracking open a door he intended to keep firmly shut. he’ll just have to mind the locks better. their eyes meet for the briefest of moments as he catches kaz stealing a glance, gone as quick as a blink. he’s left staring at the back of kaz’s head once more, trying to puzzle out why he knows anything about saddle soap when he’s fairly certain kaz brekker does not make a habit of riding horses, much less tending to their equipment. his mind flits to the farmhouse painting before his attention is effectively seared back to the present, a twinge of panic in his chest. another swallow, this one to temper his nerves. talking holds less appeal now. ]
I taste your heart in my mouth. The dying pulse of it gushing blood against my teeth. [ he stifles the urge to spit, his heart racing. ] I feel you go cold, your body split open. I see your bones. And I want to be the one to break them. [ shame creeps into his voice, his blackened fingertips pushing the notebook away before he grips the edge of the marble counter. ] It feels impossible to control. Isolation is the only safety I can see, but I wonder if it’s as you said before — that maybe this is what it wants. [ he laughs suddenly, a humorless sound, his voice softening. ] Or maybe I’m just too stubborn to accept that this is exactly what I deserve. Leave the gloves. Go home. I’m — I’m not thinking clearly. I think you made the right decision after all.
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this is a first, his hands still in the water as he opens his stance just enough to watch nikolai sideways, crow-like. all of this is about how important you are to me forces him to retreat, glancing away, down at hands that move slowly, inefficiently without adequate instructions from his brain. his thoughts are consumed by rebuilding their last exchange in nikolai's image. sunlight streams directly through the window, making him squint, but the heat that floods his neck and cheeks feels entirely unrelated. relief runs through him when nikolai follows his topic change and answers honestly. then the familiar pang of guilt and unfamiliar sting of empathy hit in rapid succession. now, nikolai suffers in a way he understands intimately. (perhaps one he caused by conversing with the demon, taunting it, feeding it.)
kaz lifts his soapy hands — and flicks bubbles directly into nikolai’s face. ]
Everyone feels that way around me. [ referring to the visceral desire to break his bones and kill him, not the mawkish and lovely sentiment that has his insides knotted in new configurations. a joke — though he’s certain even inej and jesper have wanted to slap him. his features soften in the sinking light. ] No one deserves anything. [ methodical now: he lays the gloves out and wipes his hands clean, using the counter as a support to turn around. something inside him has settled, teeth no longer bared. he levels an unbroken stare. ] But if they did — you would never have to be alone.
[ someone would always be there to tend his perennial loneliness. warm arms waiting in his bed, a keen eye peering over his shoulder at the drafting desk, steady hands to pass him coffee in the morning. and you wouldn’t have the privilege, if deservedness was a factor. he knows that.
could say the demon is a predator, so of course it wants nikolai alone, but that logic engenders another theory: it wants you alone, too. if indeed there is something special about his connection to it and nikolai, he sees but one way to find out. fortunately, it dovetails neatly with what nikolai is owed. ]
No. [ too quick, too loud. desperate. he forces himself to slow down. ] I was wrong. [ a bitter taste in his mouth. ] I’ve never — [ his clammy hand fits at his neck, fingers hooking at his loose tie. ] You’re the only one who’s ever — asked this of me. [ there hasn’t been time for this with anyone else. maybe he hadn’t been ready for it, either. ] I wouldn’t have called you here. [ adam’s apple bobbing, voice hoarse. how could he have asked after ravka, when he’d been just as foolish as he is now, scrabbling for words to convey a quarter of his feelings. ] But I — I missed you. I keep missing you. [ every time they part, he wishes for nikolai’s poetic instincts, if only to explain how terrible it’s been to exist without him. nikolai has been missed since they stopped spending every waking moment together on the volkvolny. kaz limps toward him, deftly taking his cane by the shaft to avoid nikolai’s bare skin. he also places a hand on nikolai’s arm, however, squeezing it over his shirt. these touches are proof he understands their new rules of engagement, even though he’d like to kiss the despair from nikolai’s mouth. ]
[ his lips quirk, giving away that he’s about to say something stupid. ] I might…be in some pain. [ he catches nikolai's eye and jerks his head toward the doorway. ] Go fetch another pair of gloves and your awful hat. [ his eyes lift, hope brightening their blue. ] We'll make it to the boat before sunset if we leave now. [ and he’s been seized by the notion of taking nikolai’s gloved hand in his as they walk. a schoolboy’s fancy. ] I’ve made you promises, too. [ ones he never intended to keep (a visit to ravka, a swim in the lake). and ones he never intended to break (leaving him alone with his demons to linger in his own shadow). ] Let me keep this one.
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he's come to recognize kaz's halting way of speech that belies true honesty, familiar in its rarity. it calms him the more flustered kaz gets, pushing the words out like heavy stones dropping at his feet. he collects them with earnest care, even the jagged ones — i wouldn't have called you here — because they still fit perfectly among the rest. i've never — you're the only one who's ever — i keep missing you. he wishes he could draw nearer, kaz’s touch more than he expected but still not enough. it will never be enough to have him like this when he knows he’s unlocked kaz’s longing for more, gradual and stuttering as the process might be to restart. you can’t touch him, a truth so difficult to swallow that a part of him still reels from the shock of it.
but it’s something. it’s a yes. it’s a chance, and he won’t squander it despite his reservations. his smile stretches, boyish and brilliant around the ache in his chest. ]
I told you before that I would ask a great deal of you, and I’m not done asking yet. I won’t see you go backwards. No matter my present circumstances. The difference between the two of us is that you allow me a certain amount of grace, but I have no qualms about dragging you back into the light while you flap and peck like those awful pigeons infesting your docks. [ he reaches up and slowly tugs at one end of kaz’s tie, once again letting the fabric flutter away from his neck. ] The Crow Club makes more money than sin. I’m sure you could do something about your bird plague. They defecate on my ship every time she docks here.
[ his fingertips glide gently along kaz’s ribs, stopping at the buttons of his vest, his gaze shifting to something pensive and distracted. the monster uncoils at this close proximity, the dark veining at his hands giving a sudden pulse. nikolai’s breath hitches sharply, fingers hovering an inch away from kaz’s snug buttons. does he dare? his hands are bare but fabric mutes the touch, deft hands flicking open his vest as he did in the bedroom, his palms sliding down his shoulders to nudge the vest down his arms. he has to be able to touch him, has to be able to hold him, perhaps not in the way he longs to but at least like this. because he won’t risk not being able to hold onto him in the water. ]
Don’t be ridiculous. The hat is too valuable to risk losing it somewhere in the canal. Knowing you, you’d try to knock it away on purpose. I’ll wear it the next time I add to your tab at the Crow Club. [ still loosely gripping his arms, he traces his thumb above where he knows the single letter tattoo is. ] Answer me honestly. Have you let anyone come close — innocuous, a hand here, a brush there, contact that you know now to be completely normal — or have you been so angry about the shifting terrain between us that you’re willing to throw away all measure of progress you’ve made? Forward doesn’t mean a closed door.
[ he holds his gaze for a long moment, then untangles himself to fetch new gloves as asked — and to allow kaz to provide an answer without being stared down as if he’s being scolded. he wants to know. he wants kaz to understand that this isn’t over, that he’s not going to leave him drifting nor will he allow him to worm his way off this particular hook so easily. nikolai has had plenty of time to think — all conflicting thoughts — but one thing felt clear. he’s squandered enough of his time away. he made that mistake in ravka, existing in the same space as kaz brekker and yet hardly coming close, another regret for the mounting pile. so he can’t touch him the way he wants. so he can’t kiss him, can’t trace his tongue along his skin and taste the salt of his sweat, can’t drink down his moans and unlock what makes him shiver. that doesn’t mean the work is done. when has he ever left a wounded man behind, much less one he loves like this?
kaz might hate him for throwing him into the drink again, for pushing him with endless questions and demanding more than he thinks he can give. but he handled it all before and only snarled at him a handful of times for it. nikolai feels comfortable with these odds. he returns with a smile, hands sheathed in fresh gloves. it must be painful for kaz to have stood there for so long, so he beckons him to the door, down the paved trail to the canal where his boat awaits — painted a particular shade of blue with gold embellishments that catch the rays of the setting sun — and because anyone might assume he’s just helping brekker walk anyway, he holds out a hand for him to take. ]
She’s called the Sapfiry. I’ve taken a liking to sapphires lately.
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What you think of as grace is only patience. [ a gentle warning as he fits his hand at nikolai’s hip, grip firm through his clothes. ] Unfamiliar, I know. [ the spark in his eye hints at teasing — what with nikolai already reaching to undress him, not minutes after confessing a rightful fear of closeness. nikolai says he can’t touch, but kaz had said the same thing months ago. and not for dissimilar reasons, at that. there’s no world where he allows nikolai to think he has to be alone. progress isn’t linear. there are always setbacks, diversions, changes in the path. they only have to chart a new route forward.
when nikolai removes his tie, his throat tightens. ironic. ridiculous. shivery sensations follow those careful hands to his torso. kaz wants to hold nikolai’s face in his hands and call his gaze forward. can’t, after nikolai’s harrowing explanation and skittish behaviour. instead, kaz takes the edge of nikolai’s collar between his thumb and forefinger, close to the skin but not touching. he only lets go to allow nikolai to tug his vest off, layers of his armour gone long before he sets foot on a creaking ship. nikolai threatening to run his tab again earns an eye roll and a huff, but he tenses as the topic shifts. holds back his instinctive, biting retort: i’ve let more people close than you have. that isn’t fair or helpful, particularly when one is trying to apologise for being sharp-tongued. his scowl is answer enough until nikolai returns, anyway.
the reprieve gives him time to retrieve his own gloves and ease his weight against the counter and his cane. it’s better and worse to stretch his legs, then. stepping into the warmth of the sun — and nikolai’s too-pleased gaze — heats his cheeks. ]
Sentimental of you. [ kaz takes nikolai’s hand without hesitation. even through their gloves, he’s closer than anyone else. it doesn’t matter if he needs the illusion of protection that they provide for now, though kaz won’t let him go untouched for long. a creature like him can handle the isolation. nikolai isn't built for loneliness. and he should never be subject to it, besides. ] To answer your question…anyone? Yes. [ milena, stitching him together with purposeful touches. anika, shoulder-to-shoulder on a stakeout. it’s easier to walk the slope with nikolai on one side and his cane on the other, but his knee still smarts. ] Most people? No. [ his gaze flits sideways, gauging nikolai's reaction. ] You might've heard that I broke a few hands since we last spoke. And just the one jaw. [ at the memory of it, his nose wrinkles. all in all, normality seems like a stretch for him. ] I'm not interested in inviting everyone to try it on with me.
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is there ever going to be anyone but me is the question that needs to be asked, yet it can only ever come out one way — cruel, and nikolai isn't sure he wants to know the answer. it has to be yes, someday. perhaps not today. he extends a hand again to invite him onboard. ]
I wanted to assume all the broken bones were casualties of a job and not your mood. [ his sailboat is much smaller than the volkvolny, a solitary ship cozy for two, and it's apparent nikolai has been spending long hours in it floating aimlessly along the sea — one of the seats at the stern has been knocked out and refashioned into a nest of cushions and blankets, bracketed by two storage trunks along the wall, the tops made of smooth slate that double as drafting spaces. books, papers, and tools are stored inside, half-finished ideas and nonsensical odds and ends to tinker with. he kicks over a coil of rope for kaz to rest his leg on. ] Weapons are stored below, in the slim chance that I disarmed you when I chucked your clothes earlier.
[ within moments they're sailing down the canal and away from the prying eyes of the homes and businesses dotting the geldstraat. nikolai takes them out to the open waters alight with the dwindling sun, then trims the sails back so that they're drifting slowly. an uncharacteristic bout of nerves takes him at the thought of being in the water with kaz, a thought that's never occurred to him before. what if he panics and nikolai can't hold him? he shakes away the thought. it would never happen — not kaz panicking, that could happen, but nikolai would never let him drown. never. besides, kaz can swim with painfully poor form. no doubt worse now, with his injury. he glances at kaz and suddenly wonders how many of these thoughts are truly his own, something he's had to ask himself with increasing frequency as his doubts grow day by day. he's never been so frustratingly hesitant in his life.
he hefts an anchor overboard and then kneels before kaz to remove his shoes for him. ] I'm working on something, and I'd rather like if you'd test it out for me. It's a little bird — well, an automaton, really — that will carry messages for you. The first few didn't fly naturally enough and kept getting mangled by crows. Vicious things. But now they blend in perfectly, and I want to test the range and see whether it can follow a moving target. Will you send something to Miss Ghafa?
[ after unlacing his own boots and tossing them carelessly aside, he leans over the edge, touching his gloved hand to the surface of the water. without preamble, he hefts himself over and disappears below with a quiet splash, drifting underwater for a few long moments before he propels his way up and emerges with an easy smile. ]
Don't come in kicking. You're injured and I don't want you to hurt yourself further. I won't let you sink. [ he extends a hand, water dripping from his sleeve. ] The trick is in the breathing. Don't exhale all at once. The air in your lungs will help you float.
the date…i do not see it
no, not a pauper, a pirate. like inej. is there something in nikolai’s blood that makes him love the sea? he looks surer on the wobbling deck. the freedom must retain its appeal, after the rigidness of his path to the crown.
his processing snags somewhere between nikolai kneeling and uttering the phrase for you. ]
Clever things. [ crows, that is. what else can be said in the face of overwhelming care? ] I’ll test it for you. [ inej is the only person he writes with regularity. ] But why not test it’s capacity for distance, too? Your twins will be missing their guiding light. [ even if nikolai’s hurt has cut him off from zoya, there are so many others who love him. kaz shucks his gloves off and unbuttons the tight line up his neck before pulling his shirt over his head. knowing nikolai, any spare clothing on board the sapfiry will be frilly and colourful. best not to ruin what he brought. ] You know my leg has been a factor for over a decade, at this point. [ long enough to understand it intimately, however much the pain ebbs and flows. it’s his final protest against the notion that he can’t swim, which seems to have grown from a small sample size of troubling events. at least nikolai has decided this is a solvable problem.
still, kaz slips under the water without taking his hand. a final show of stubbornness. knowing that nikolai comes from a place of affection means that, logically, he should accept it, but the idea of being seen as incapable chafes against his very self. when he resurfaces, it’s inches from nikolai. he slicks back his hair with both hands and kicks slowly with his good leg to stay afloat. ]
I considered coming up behind you and pushing you under. [ always got jordie that way. speed and surprise are key to defeating a big brother. ] But I’m under orders not to come in kicking, and I suppose I am doubly injured. [ he finally takes nikolai’s hand, drawing it to his bare chest to demonstrate his even breaths. never would have thought he’d be the one without armour, for a change. ] Any notes? [ on his breathing technique. he blows out an exhale in the interest of being an annoyance (and daring nikolai to nudge him into place himself). a beat. ] Are you certain you can be still long enough to float with me?
[ in truth, he’d rather swim than float, with the sense-memory of the reaper’s barge lurking in his periphery. nikolai asked for this, however — when asking for anything troubles him. kaz has already decided to play along, even if it means choking on rot. he’s done that for nikolai before, after all. ]
closes my eyes to it
here, kaz's presence is as elusive as a specter. nikolai finds himself alone more often than he prefers, though he's certain he's always under the watchful eye of the dregs. he misses the glimpses of kaz's lingering ghost, of looking up in the close confines of his ship and knowing he'd be near. the only constant the haunts his hours now is the monster, the slow spread of darkness like poison swimming through his blood, disturbing his dreams and weighing down his thoughts. he doesn't know how to ask kaz to stay closer for longer, for no reason other than just to be near, when he has the damning sensation that he'd rather be elsewhere, living the life he's carefully crafted for himself here in his familiar home. nikolai is a stranger here, an outlier, a hasty addition with no proper place to fit. he's come to realize that perhaps kaz's odd relationship with the wraith works precisely because she's not here.
he manages a smile at the mention of the twins, a twitch of familiar muscle memory that fades too quickly. guiding light, indeed. ]
I've written them already. Genya as well. [ lengthy letters written in the light of the afternoon sun, embellished with doodles. ] There's much to tell of my life here, you know. Tales of the marvelous adventures I'm having, all the time I'm spending at sea, how I'm enjoying all the peace and freedom they believe I'm owed after my years of service to our embarrassingly needy country. [ no mention of his renewed troubles grappling his monstrous affliction, or his desperate homesickness, or that this newfound freedom feels like the worst sort of punishment imaginable. what is he to do with it besides ponder his own uselessness? no one's given him that answer yet. ] I sent Zoya something much shorter, but she hasn't deigned to send a response yet. I don't suppose she's written you?
[ of course she hasn't. why would she write to kaz brekker instead of him, of all people, a criminal she doesn't even like over the person closest to her for years? searching kaz's expression, he blinks water from his lashes and refocuses his efforts on being still when his gloved hand ends up pressed to kaz's bare chest. the demon's rustle is nothing in the face of the unexpected longing that grips him, the sense of loss and isolation, the stirrings of what he wants to do, the knowledge that he can't. ]
Merzost is a very different sort of injury, and your unyielding stubbornness does not change that irrefutable fact. [ kaz's breath's are, in fact, even, although purposefully so instead of in a natural way. to be expected. his pulse thrums straight through his bones, gradually quickening as it does when water is involved. still, better than before. (better than when you threw him into the sea, naturally.)
nikolai draws his hand away despite it being the last thing he wants to do, twisting onto his back as he bobs atop the water as if he's lounging in his bed. for a moment all he sees is the expanse of the sky in blazing color, nearly weightless if not for the unfamiliar drag of his wet clothes. the water splashes his cheek as he tilts his gaze toward kaz, watching the shadows settle in the lines across his face. ] I still know you, Brekker. And I know the unfortunate look of a man who needs aid to sleep. One of my favorite pastimes is looking in mirrors, you know.
[ he right himself, giving kaz a little splash as he comes closer, one hand settling at his spine and the other brushing the back of his knees beneath the water. ] On your back, now. [ an impish smile — ] I'll behave.
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kaz only blinks away the inquiry, thoughtfulness tugging his mouth downward. that nikolai’s letters betray nothing of his inner life is to be expected, if a bit, well, sad. even beyond the beast plaguing him in newly visceral ways, there’s the melancholy that threatens to consume him. that omission is just as telling to the twins, genya and the whole lot, surely. they all know him, perhaps better than he’d like on his lesser days.
I know you. in some ways, yes, though he seems reticent to accept his own importance to kaz. nikolai interacts with him like a skittish dog — one that’s been hurt too many times — drawing close only to dart away.
even still, his mouth tugs to one side when nikolai feigns innocence. ]
And I know you, so I’m sure you’ve no idea how. [ to behave. kaz stiffens, the sensation of nikolai touching him through damp gloves strange yet familiar. like the sopping clothes of the reaper’s barge, the bloated bodies of the harbour. he needs a moment before he gives himself over to this, prone and weightless, like a dead thing. it’s already difficult to force himself to relax and begin to follow nikolai’s nudging into place. on his back, he squints into the waning light above them, eyes flinty. ] You’re trying to be useful again, aren’t you. [ by teaching him this or pushing him closer to inej, as if they aren’t already firm in their attachment. it’s the very insecurity that severed their bond in ravka, back in play. you don’t need me anymore. kaz reaches out, bare fingers encircling nikolai’s covered bicep, steadying. ] You are. [ trying, very obviously. and succeeding at being useful, helpful, caring — the scrape of his voice continues, level. ] Unnecessarily, mind. Is it helping?
[ somehow, it’s easier to embed the confession in a lesson (not unlike the care nikolai channels into today’s excursion). kaz would want nikolai’s company even if his dour mood had kept him chained in the shadows. unravelling him has only worsened his infatuation. it’s why he’s here, in this cold water, doing something he’d never consider for anyone else despite the rigidity weighing down his limbs.
the wet glove at his back feels dangerously similar to rotting flesh, its warmth and life shielded by the fabric. say something. he shouldn’t ask. he should. nikolai always asks for more of him. always tells him to ask, too, but not for the thing he said he can’t give. ] Still want to kill me?
[ more than usual, that is. ]
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kaz, choosing that moment to become an attentive student, wastes none of his measured breaths on idle talk, his pale fingers suddenly trapping him in an unexpected grip. easy enough to pull away, but nikolai doesn’t, letting his eyes pass fleetingly over the glint of sunlight catching onto his familiar pieces of sky before he looks to the dying blaze dancing over the ripples of water instead. trying to be useful, indeed. rude of him to point it out so blatantly, but the one thing kaz can never be taught is basic manners. ]
I have to be useful in new and exciting ways to turn your eye back to me. [ he has the whole of ketterdam to compete with, after all — maybe not the people in it, but the empire itself. he forces himself to look down at kaz’s injured leg, reimagining the give of flesh and the fresh spill of blood. ] But there are selfish things I could say that could draw you to me, things that would be nothing but the equivalent of an anchor dragging us into the sea. I don’t want to chain you to me that way. Sometimes truth is just a burden. It’s hardly worth the weight.
[ it’s why he employs it so rarely — not in his letters and not in conversations, not unless he’s more brandy than blood as kaz would put it. the truth would make people realize just how unfit he is for nearly everything, that he’s the biggest pretender of them all. slowly, he releases his hold, allowing kaz to float on his own in the water, drifting back several paces but keeping a careful eye on him. it’s not how he always imagined a swim together would go, not with this much distance and having to avoid touching him in all the ways he longs to, but at least they’re here, together, if only just for the moment. ]
Must we speak of the desires of my uninvited guest? I don’t want to kill you at present. [ with the lines blurring further each day, a tangled web of thoughts he can’t parse from his own growing in his head, some distinction is in order. revealing the extent of his current condition has brought shame enough for the foreseeable future, and he has little desire to revisit the subject. he slips beneath the water, swimming below kaz’s body to surface on his other side, a distant smile on his lips. ] What would help is if you allowed me the courtesy of returning to the place where it was just you and I. That dream that we existed in for a time. I know you’ll go in the morning — likely before then — but just for now, that’s all I want. I ask for nothing more. Just a respite. For both of us.
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without nikolai’s warmth at his side, splintering his thoughts between the dead and the now, it’s almost unbearable to remain in the water. nothing but his memories drowning, dying — kaz lets himself sink, righting himself in the water and looking all the paler for it. nonetheless, he manages an arch tip of his head. ]
Ah, [ brows lifting. ] but you don’t know everything about me. [ nevermind that he wouldn’t expose himself in writing. could still give nikolai clues to parse out on his own, as he has been for months. ]
Having carried you twice now, I can tell you vastly overestimate your weight. [ he sighs. it’s far easier to focus on nikolai than the endless questions his words unlock. there are selfish things I could say — like what? it seems unlikely he means the same pretty words that have been spun across their encounters. how could kaz be pulled closer than he already has been? he’s already anchored, chained, tethered no matter how hard he fights the pull. ] But if you’d rather be bound to duty, [ than me. ] you’ll find a way to return to your queen and subjects in no time. [ of which he is neither, so there’s no excuse to consort with him. ] I prefer you selfish. [ the corner of his mouth twitches. ] Brings out your eyes.
[ a retaliatory splash answers nikolai’s blow from earlier and hopefully keeps him from dwelling on the implications of kaz’s admissions here: an invitation for nikolai to bind them with further secrets, a confession that he’d prefer it that way hidden in his evasive phrasing.
I know you’ll go stings enough that kaz dips his chin, mouth small and taut, gaze turned on the depths. he deserves that, for leaving ravka and the safehouse. wait, had nikolai wanted — needed him there like he said he did in ravka? kaz slicks water over his face and hair to cut off further speculation, eyes opening on a deep exhale and seeking out nikolai. a terrible idea, obviously, with his breath catching in his throat. nikolai is impossibly handsome in the sunset and — sort of — charmingly ridiculous in his wet clothes. ]
You’d have to come near to make a world of two again. [ not one, alone with his thoughts of time spent in the drink, his shadow nipping at his feet. it’s not so different from the first time, only nikolai is jumpy in kaz’s stead, searching for excuses under the glimmering waves. kaz won’t paw at it him, like certain men of his station in ketterdam do, but he can ask plainly for what he wants. ] Will you try?
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Zoya will not call me back. She can’t. [ he huffs out a brittle laugh. the words feel sharp and heavy on his tongue, words he’s avoided saying aloud for so long now lest he lend credence to the truth he already knows in his heart. much easier to hide behind his anger. ] My usefulness to Ravka has run its course, at least for now. After what I did… the kind of horror I unleashed upon the people can’t be erased with even my most sincerest intentions. I did what I could to make amends. But the people can’t begin to heal with the same threat existing among them. Zoya simply performed the hardest part of her duty with far more grace than I was capable of. [ he shrugs, carved hollow now that his anger has been extinguished, exchanged for the logic he’s been avoiding since the moment zoya looked into his eyes and told him he could no longer stay. ] That’s what we do, as leaders. Your heart can never come first. If she somehow lost control of the dragon within her, I would have been forced to do the same to her. And as much as I say now that I would never treat her as such, I would. For Ravka. I would not be a king if I couldn’t.
[ he shrugs again, putting on a smile as he shakes off his melancholy, swimming another circle around kaz as if his limbs have a mind of their own. there’s something kaz is asking, perhaps not obvious to anyone who may not know him, but nikolai can hear it. and he can just as soon choose to rebuff it for reasons being that kaz doesn’t know the extent of what he’s asking for, the weight that he claims isn’t heavy when his monster may very well rot his entire leg away in the near future. ]
Typically we’re exiled to the Southern Colonies — it’s where I sent my parents after a particularly bad row also known as forced abdication — but you saved me from that when Zoya saw the worth of your nannying me here. The only way she’d ever call me back is if I rid myself of the monster — impossible now, I think — or proved without a doubt that I’ve tamed it. But clearly my condition is worse than ever, and you’re telling me you’re interested in further tethering yourself to such a man? [ a laugh, his heart beating too quickly in his chest as if he’s drawn too near to disaster. ] Don’t be daft, Brekker.
[ he presses a light hand to his back, urging him along. ] Come this way. There’s something I want to show you. [ because staying here now and facing kaz brekker’s no doubt displeased stare sounds unbearable, he instead swims forward at a leisurely pace, making sure kaz is close, until they come to an outcropping maze of rock. he ducks beneath the water, beckoning kaz after him, and when they crest the surface they’re beneath a dome of mottled stone, the dwindling colors of sunlight sparkling through the tiny holes in the rock like a prism of stars. nikolai glances above at the dazzling lights before he ventures a gaze at kaz — a little too pale, but still with him. he aches to touch him, drifting closer without thinking. ]
This is where I got the idea for the messenger birds. [ his throat feels dry, his heartbeat thudding in his ears — his own or kaz’s, he can’t say. he should put more distance between them, but he stays close enough that he could reach out and touch him he if he wanted to — and he wants to, though he doesn’t. it’s the worst feeling, to be trapped in this invisible cage, watching the light touch kaz’s bare skin in his stead. beneath the water, one gloved hand finds kaz’s clothed hip, careful to move no further. ] I don’t want you near the monster. This is my burden to bear.
no subject
still, kaz can’t believe he’s swimming (drowning) for the privilege of a lecture on kingship and duty: two things he’s never believed were worth a damn. diving is worse — something he hasn’t done since the demon stranded them both in the sea, the water as dark and endless as the harbour had been. when he surfaces, he chokes his first gasp of air and tries to mask it with a cough into his hand. ]
And what I want. [ a click of his tongue, annoyance bleeding into his features, hair flattened to his skull. surely his own wants have a place here, after nikolai worked so diligently to tease them out. ] I don’t suppose that matters. [ after kaz chased him in fjerda, ravka, ketterdam. once he composes himself enough to look around, his back straightens and scowl wobbles. it’s beautiful. like the observatory in ravka. a place he’d never have sought out on his own — that only a few people would think to share with him. ]
As gallant a nanny as you make me out to be, Zoya saw my — fondness for you and capitalised on it to serve you both. [ he blows out a breath, like he might scatter that embarrassing truth in the sea air. ] A shrewd maneuver. [ said like an insult, though it’s the opposite, since he would and has acted similarly. the only thing worse than her noticing his affection is nikolai not. then again, it isn’t as if kaz entirely understands his means of care, either. there’s something to the attention they pay each other; that much, he knows. before nikolai, he’d never met anyone as resistant as himself to letting others gentle him.
kaz’s hand finds nikolai’s clothed wrist in the water, bare fingers encircling it. ]
I know what it means to be the reason that someone you — [ all saints. ] — care for is endangered. [ his heart thuds heavy against his ribs, threatening to burst. ] One look at Inej, and I doomed her to days of torture at Van Eck’s hands. [ his expression cracked open like a safe (like a wound). he hopes it isn’t as obvious now while knowing it must be, with his wide eyes fixed on the cave ceiling. ] Everything has a cost. [ the price of affection is concern. a weakness, primed for exploitation. then, inevitably, grief. his thumb arcs to the edge of the fabric, nearly touching nikolai’s skin. ] This time, I’m willing to pay and manage the risks. If you’re not — [ he cuts himself off, forcing his voice to crisp where it had been thick with emotions seconds earlier. ] Then it’s settled.
[ finished. as kaz thought it was when he said one horrible thing after another to nikolai in the cellar. if there’s no hope for the flame, he’ll snuff their spark. he did it before, every time someone warmed him, sensibly preventing the pain of a prolonged attachment. this time will be harder, but he’ll accomplish it all the same. the trick will be in finding a way to help nikolai without engendering closeness, just as zoya attempted when she placed her trust in kaz brekker, of all people. ]
It’s a good idea. The birds. [ true, although it’s also just something to say so nikolai knows he doesn’t need to answer the question implicit in his declaration. saying nothing will tell him enough. ]
no subject
it would be the wise move, under present circumstances. he doesn't know what his beast wants with kaz — perhaps not to kill him, but it's certainly not above maiming him — and it's only his selfishness that keeps him tethered to him now, unable to saw away this bond even if he's seen in his dreams the sort of bloody end it could mean. maybe he's not much of anything after all, when he clearly can't weather the hard decisions that need to be made. ]
You don't know what you're asking. [ but he does; kaz has seen him at his worst, in his most inhumane state, and in the end what he remembers most is a coat draped over his shoulders and strong arms holding his trembling frame together. no, a stroke of good fortune had been all that kept kaz's body from his feet that night. ] You speak of cost and payment and risk as if these things don't mean your life. For what gain? What do you expect from me?
[ the depth of his wants threatens to topple him, caught between drawing kaz closer and pulling away, danger in both directions. the pressure in his chest — from a heart too full or miserably hollow, he doesn't know — is too much to bear. if he keeps dancing on the edges of the truth, kaz will shut the door, no doubt weary of the stalling confusion between them, but nikolai resents the feeling of his secrets laid bare in such a way, pulled out of him without finesse after he's spent so long shielding them from the light. ]
I have nothing left to offer you. [ that much is true. this confession is worth little, this feeling without a proper place to exist. he laughs, a brittle sound that doesn’t reach his eyes, knocking their hips together as he pins kaz against the rock, gripping both hands in his to keep him from being foolish enough to touch his bare skin. ] Because if I tell you that I love you — that I have since you and I were on my ship together — [ saints, he’s lost track of the time, months now — ] What will you do with that? What can you possibly do with me? You will still be you, and I will still be this. [ he releases a breath, his face falling, close enough to see kaz’s dark lashes spiked with water, every shade of blue in his wide eyes. ] Is that the confession you wanted? Does that make any of this better? Saints, you’re a damned fool, Brekker. This isn’t a barter.
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distracted enough to be pliant, he allows nikolai to capture his hands and cage him in. just about to counter every damn word thrown at him, when nikolai strikes like lightning. if i tell you that i love you — a jumble of words, sputtered into near coherence. there’s an if in the telling, but the revelation overwhelms it. his mouth snaps shut, expression melting from irritated to stricken. in desperate haste, he tries to beat all the feeling (and nerves) flooding his throat. ] You — [ a strangled thing. that’s not what you’re supposed to say, he realises, but then the confession itself sits in an unconventional place, wedged between a disregard for his desires and an astute rebuke of his schemes. can’t turn off the part of his brain that plays tricks anymore than nikolai can excise his endless puzzling. ]
That’s — [ ridiculous, impossible, untenable. if i tell you — ] You’re infuriating. [ there. his voice crackles, enlived by anger. ] I’ve thought of you every hour since I left. I’ve dreamed of you in what little sleep I’ve had. [ a shake of his head, droplets scattering with the force of it. ] I’ve been trying to touch you without pushing, but then you touch me, and — that’s not nothing. I don’t know how you could be nothing. [ with his mask already in tatters, disbelief slackens his features. his blues dart across nikolai's face, scouring every winkle and crevice for clues. ]
If you want me to stop, I’ll stop. [ aching, then. ] I’ll go. [ that’s what he failed to convey in his game of barter: an offer of escape, if nikolai needs it. ] But I want to stay. To be around you. To help you chart a new path forward. [ a sudden breath, taken out of surprise and necessity both, after his mouth starting moving of its own accord. ] You know that I — [ but he doesn’t. they never do. for all he knows, nikolai thinks him incapable of such things. you will still be you. if nikolai has dared consider it, he does not want it. ]
I love you. [ like it’s a fact, delivered with the utmost conviction. it’s his problem, recurring with the frequency of steady heartbeat. it’s a distraction, and perhaps the very burden nikolai wished to avoid. it’s the reason for kaz’s own contradictory behaviour, which nikolai must find equally confounding: promising him time and then running, mixing truth and evasion, offering devotion in the same breath as a promise to end everything. even so, he tips his chin up as he meets nikolai’s eyes. ] I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you. [ since nikolai stumbled into ketterdam, at least, or as far back as ravka, no, fjerda. maybe the ship. why else would he fight so hard for a penniless queen’s favour and a bastard king’s plummeting stock? ]
So if you told me — that. [ he blinks seawater from his lashes, eyes lingering closed for a brief reprieve. it’d be a blessing, if the demon were to kill him now. a drowning might clear his head of this foolishness. ] It wouldn’t be nothing to me.
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the fragile blossom of love is always stained with death. it sounds like bad poetry, perhaps something he once wrote himself, but it's the truth of what he knows, and to explain it would be to utter aloud the end of dominik's story after years of keeping it hidden in his heart. it would be to finally give up on this, to admit defeat to the monster, to wave his white flag and definitively say that his mind and body will never again be his own. should he? it isn't lost on him that kaz has provided a coward's exit, should he need it — or the implication of the hurt it would cause if he took it. ]
You sound so sure that there's a path here at all. [ he desperately wants there to be. he wants there to be something other than the looming dark before him, the loneliness of looking and not feeling, but nothing feels certain anymore. his confidence has dwindled to nothing but a flimsy charade he can’t bring himself to let go of. forward feels — improbable, at the very least, when he’s capable of so little now, when the most he feels like now is a weight shackled to kaz’s limbs, too pitiful to be cut off in the way he deserves.
he looks at him in silence, knowing he should speak, knowing there is a right thing to say here and he should puzzle it out and say it. this is likely — extremely likely — the first time kaz has uttered these words since being thrown into the reaper’s barge, since all of his softness had been cruelly bled out into the sea, and nikolai, above all else, has an obligation to shelter his fractured heart. not an obligation. a want. he’ll always want to do this for him, to hold him in his arms, to be the steady port for him to house his halting wants and needs. relinquishing his grip on one hand, he brings his gloved fingers to kaz’s cheek instead, his rabbitting heart threatening to leap into his mouth. ]
I can’t bear this. [ which part? the part where kaz brekker loves him? the part where he can’t touch him? the cold grip of darkness squeezing the notches of his spine at all hours of the day? can’t explain any of it. he misses his home and he misses the boy floating before him in equal measures. he doesn’t even remember what life felt like when it wasn’t crashing down around him at every moment. at least that’s familiar. he draws in a ragged breath, so close that their mouths nearly touch. a catastrophically bad idea. yearning fills him. he’ll die if he doesn’t have this, and he’ll die if he does, because it could spell the end for both of them.
his fingers curl at kaz’s cheekbone, his mouth parted and unsteady. ] I’m not strong like you, Brekker. I can’t bear this.
[ bridging the meager distance, he pushes into the wet heat of his mouth. there’s a moment — half a moment — of crystal clear clarity, of rain and warmth and a comfort so familiar that nikolai believes for the barest measure of a breath that they can have this — and then a howl explodes in his head, blood rushing up his throat and soaking his tongue, his limbs locking with cold. he doesn’t know if his eyes are open or not, but he can plainly see kaz lifeless in the water, his blue eyes icy and lips pale. the monster uncoils and nikolai rushes back, darkness fragmenting his skin and his eyes wide and dark and unseeing, caught in his own cage and terrified he’ll lock kaz in with him. ]
Don’t come near me. Kaz — don’t follow me. Go back. Go back to the ship.
[ a harried breath, and he plunges downward into the water, swimming deep until he feels pressure all around him. the monster shrieks in his chest but he refuses to let it out, stubbornly holding out even when his iron lungs begin to protest. flashes of blood dance behind his eyes, but still he stays even as he grows weightless, holding onto the tatters of his own sanity. ]
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kaz dives so he doesn’t lose sight of nikolai and glimpses his suspended form. it swiftly occurs to him that nikolai means to die here. his shout of protest bubbles into nothing, and he bursts above the waterline in seconds, adrenaline and panic warring for control of his system. you’re in no state to fight. not in the water, with his leg bleeding black. the singular blade left on his person could be enough to draw out the demon — no, that could lead to losing nikolai, anyway. saints. countless, half-nonsense schemes flood his mind, but instead of acting, he starts counting.
and he waits, the one thing he has always excelled at. kaz brekker knows how long the average man can hold his breath (and then some, with the encouragement of jesper and rotty’s capable grips), but rarely has waiting for the give been this painful.
when he judges that nikolai has likely managed to tire himself and the demon out, he breathes in the manner nikolai instructed, plunges into the deep, and seizes him with an iron hold. kaz fights to break the surface faster than the last time, even with his injury. (something to be said for practice.) dragging himself and nikolai over the lip of the rocky interior of this alcove proves just as haphazard, with red dotting his scraped stomach and pearling down his wounded leg. all secondary concerns to the coldness seeping into nikolai’s skin — the way it seems to ribbon away from bone in kaz’s unreliable gaze. is he breathing? he can't tell, perception muddied by care. memories clatter into one another. jordie in the water — nina looking down on him, pressing her mouth to his — kaz does the same trick for nikolai, unaided by grisha magic or honed skill. you’ve killed him, the way he almost killed inej, jesper, nina: by chasing a distraction. never should have pursued nikolai like this, if he meant to save him. nikolai was right to accuse him of playing games. and a gambler’s luck always runs out.
somehow, nikolai coughs a breath — or maybe he was always breathing, or all of this was a bloody nightmare — and kaz chokes on nothing. never been so relieved or so angry to see someone. nikolai’s pulse jumps to life under his palm, but that isn’t enough to halt the tide of nausea that’s been building since kaz grabbed him. as nikolai’s eyes flutter open, kaz scrabbles to lean over the stone edge and dry heave. he was dead. he wasn’t. he felt — corpselike, to be sure. kaz upends his dinner into the sea. ]
Don’t you dare — [ another heave, all seawater. his eyes feel wet and must be red. ] — make me do that again. [ as hoarse as he is, kaz still manages to inject lethal venom into those words. ]
You accuse me of bartering with my life and then forfeit yours. [ breathless and wrathful. he raises his voice, the nearby formations amplifying the sound. ] Death would only end this for you. [ another cough, and his grip slips, palm catching on a jagged rock. a pained noise trails into a broken laugh. it’s the first injury he allowed nikolai to inflict on him, repeated. ] I’d have to live with it. [ haunted by nikolai and jordie, his twin failures doubly mocking in their symmetry. both of them led him here, to this watery mausoleum. attachment is a risk — a damnation. and he does not even love you. if he did, nikolai wouldn’t wish this ruinous pain on him again — wouldn’t have said if, as though it would scare kaz more than the threat that he was nothing, wielded so expertly in ravka. ] If you wish to meet death so badly, you’ll have to accept my company. [ he rolls onto his back to rest his aching arms, blinking up at the stars in near-delirium. perhaps he’s the selfish one, for wanting to be near nikolai, for asking him to stay in this wretched world, for not caring if he’s half-demon and entirely lost.
of course you're selfish, brekker. you're a thief. ]
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he should not have come here. even as his lungs seize, the last of his breath expelled into the water in a cascade of bubbles, he can't bring himself to look up to the light dotting the surface far above. he has an iron grip on the demon, and it will die here with him, and that will have to be enough. kaz will never forgive him, will carry this wound in his heart for years or maybe even a lifetime. there's nothing for that.
then he's above the surface, rock digging into his spine, a haze of light above him. a painful cough rattles his chest — and then he's sputtering water, twisting so he doesn't (presumably) drown himself twice. his thoughts come rushing back as he angles a wild gaze at kaz — yes, angry, very much so — and watches as kaz collapses beside him, eyes rimmed in red, skin pale, tremors in the tips of his fingers. all the haunted memories nikolai wanted to avoid tonight now brought to the light. ]
Fuck. [ it seems the only summation of the present circumstance, his voice hoarse. ] You're bleeding. [ everywhere. a scrape along his ribs, close to where he'd sewn him up before. blood at his palm, where his claws had once found purchase. his damned leg. nikolai forces himself to sit up despite the sharp ache in his chest, his breath uneven. ] I wasn't — I didn't mean for it to happen this way. I was only trying to keep you from harm.
[ a thing he can never seem to get right. his thoughts are jumbled, mired in a different sort of darkness, a frighteningly deep misery that he struggles now to pull himself out of. the fear of it chills his skin, that he nearly succumbed to it without intention, that a part of him wants it so badly that it could simply happen and he would let it. this is a monster of another kind, one he can’t give voice to now, because how much weight can he keep dropping at kaz’s feet with the expectation that he’ll want to carry it? he swallows it down, eyes raking over kaz’s body for some part of him that must be safe to touch. his leg, the fabric of his trousers gleaming darkly with water and blood. nikolai’s gloves come away a watery crimson when he slides his fingers beneath kaz’s thigh, i love you echoing somewhere faraway in his head. ]
Kaz. [ for a moment something else sits on his tongue, something to match his haunted gaze as it travels slowly along the blood trickling across his ribs, the smell of it cloying, a heartbeat too rapid in his ears. death feels too close. where is the fear that surely should come with it? the only thing he feels is a fear of how easy it had felt. how easy it would be to find it again. he’s nothing and nobody here — a first in the whole of his life. slipping away would come with no consequence.
none but one. he blinks down at kaz, his throat bobbing around a swallow, water dripping from his blond hair in a messy halo around his face. the ache in his chest shifts to something greater, something that a night’s rest can’t soothe.
he slips back into the water, but hovers by the rock, his eyes troubled as he slowly presses his hand to the bloody gash at kaz’s stomach. his fingers travel higher, leaving a trail of red across pale skin as he stops above his heartbeat. something to tether him here. something alive. tell him you love him. thank him for saving your life. say something that isn’t wrong, for once. but with the bitter taste of death on his tongue, he can’t utter those words. shouldn’t have said them in the first place, because this is all that it brings. ]
Let me take you back to the boat. I’ll tend to your wounds there. [ his mouth twists. ] I won’t do this to you again. [ make him dive to the depths of the sea. ask him for something so selfish as a balm for his loneliness. tell him he loves him. doesn’t know which he means. ] Ketterdam needs you too much for me to drag you away.
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when nikolai touches his bare skin with his soaked, bloodied glove, kaz shutters his eyes, heart leaping into his palm as if emboldened by the very sight of him. in this way, they do understand each other: the closeness is unbearable. his stomach renews its churn, nikolai’s lifeless body imprinted on his person. ]
I’ve seen you die a thousand times, and still I wasn’t — [ ready, fast, enough to keep nikolai there. his hand covers nikolai’s on his chest, holding it in place without touching his skin, grip at once strong and shaky. can’t lose him again. nothing nikolai says assuages that fear, though perhaps nothing could. kaz replays everything nikolai offers him before opening his eyes. ah, of course nikolai now deigns to coddle a wounded, needful thing. how gallant. releasing him, kaz pushes himself up, hands at his sides, and winces as he irks the cut in his palm, face tinged green. it takes a long moment for the sickness to pass. then his eyes flash, brightening with outrage. ]
What will you do after you mend your broken toy? [ run, drink, die. he pushes himself off the ledge and into the water with a magnificent splash, aches shooting through his body. best to ignore the brief flash of empathy for nikolai’s decision to let the waves take him. on surfacing, kaz has to shove the hair from his face before he snags the very rock he just boldly deserted, looking half-faint and half-murderous. ]
If you mean anything you say, Nikolai. [ if he meant it, ] If you ever cared for me at all. [ when he’s a thief and bastard, demanding and manipulative and terrible. ] You will stop. [ a sharp intake of breath, the silence dragging. ] You will stop trying to keep me from harm — because you’ve no idea how — because you don’t bloody listen. And you will stop insisting you tend my wounds and balking when I near yours. [ with a sudden scowl, all bite — ] You don’t have to be strong enough to bear everything on your own, you selfish, idiotic skiv. [ said the drowned man clinging to the rock and pointedly not moving his bad leg. his eyes search nikolai’s face for tells, tracing the concern in his brow and lies lining his taut mouth. ] You have me. [ a voice urges him to say it once more, to underline the truth of his feelings, but another tells him to never utter those words aloud again for as long as he lives. ]
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