Delight
ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ? ʜᴏᴡ ᴄᴀɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ! ᴏʜ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘʀᴇꜱꜱ ɪᴛ... ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴛᴇᴘ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ʜᴏᴘᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴍᴀɴ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ! ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ! ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴅ'ꜱ ꜱᴜɴʀɪꜱᴇ! ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀꜱꜱ, ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ɢʀᴏᴡꜱ! ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢᴀᴢᴇ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ!...
- Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Idiot
. . .
"Sigma..."
Sobs tore his voice apart, each and every word now barely comprehensible. "I've ne-never... felt... ha-had any... thing to..." From then on, all that you made out was blabbering with similar thematics - never had his life faced... this, whatever would his this signify.
Unfortunately, you were hindered. You couldn't do anything else but give him a shoulder to cry on - but his weeping was quiet, almost as if he wished to hide it. He forced himself to calm down, somehow, but where his tears stopped, hyperventilation began.
"Deep breaths, Sigma, deep breaths... it's okay," you told him while patting his shifting back. "You will be okay." You wished you could promise him ridiculous whatnots to reassure him, oh, to offer him the peace he yearned for. Yet you feared you couldn't keep those promises.
So what could have gotten far heartwarming, remained mostly silent, as Sigma's breaths turned shallow - normal, as he moved away only to come back and embrace you once again.
He was getting better after all. And at last, some ease to instill your being. You closed your eyes for a second, enjoying the true quietude and the warmth around you, when you made out footsteps approaching. Abruptly you reopened your eyes, knowing who was the intruder.
Fyodor wasn't welcome. You were well aware of the fact that he couldn't care less for Sigma, ergo Sigma could be manipulated in ways that would potentially harm him. You sensed danger, the same unease you had once suffered from, yourself.
Hadn't Fyodor warned you about it before?
You fixated your glare on Fyodor, looking for his reaction, as you moved away from Sigma. The long haired male used this attribute of his well, and he tried to hide his face. As if he pulled a curtain over his flustered expression, it was gone, invisible to Fyodor. You awaited for your lover's take on the situation.
If one were to attempt deciphering his thoughts, one shouldn't pay much mind to his appearance. This wasn't a matter of pretence, quite the opposite. You firmly believed his emotions came out raw, and almost none of them were unfiltered. This could easily be explained as: Fyodor simply had little to show.
This instance, namely, could only be described as him stumbling upon a realization. Nothing more! Certainly, nothing less - now, watching him further and assuming he had something going on in his mind would be the right thing to do. Sadly, you couldn't deduct its content.
All you could do was wait for him to orchestrate whatever - if anything - his plan was brewing for. In the meantime, you were allowed to chuckle to yourself. You too found out something for yourself, a fact evident at this point.
One of the reasons why you enjoyed... rather, tolerated this relationship, would be because of these ever present uncertainties. What once was repulsive, you now adored - would in not be right to have it bring down this love of yours as well?
Your short laugh ended with a sly smirk of bitter background. Truly, to what extent could your doubts move?
"I can see you get on well already," Fyodor stated, mimicking your expression. Perhaps he had the same dastardly conceptions as you.
Sigma would never answer. You did that instead of him, casually responding with, "yes, very well, Sigma has already gotten my sympathies." You gave your newfound friend a warm smile.
"All of them?" Fyodor asked with a cheerfulness foreign to him.
"For now, yes." A grin at Fyodor to make him reciprocate the flash of teeth.
"That's wonderful to hear, truly," he told, "but could you stand up and come here for a moment? There's something I should show you on my phone."
Lies, how blatant lies. His intentions laid elsewhere. Yet you did as he demanded, burying your feet on the spot right next to him. Looking down to his phone - which he held, and in fact was turned on - you saw its lockscreen. That would be all.
His other hand was then on your chin, and before you could fathom it, he leaned in to kiss you. You couldn't kiss back, you didn't even want to - what a surprise, what an embarrassment to both Sigma and you! Soon after insufferable grief, to be struck with something as sudden - how horrid. Timing couldn't have been worse.
In other words, a trigger.
Luckily, you managed to move away. Wide eyes met heavy lidded ones, opened just the right amount to get their message going - you were undoubtedly his. There had been a perplexed moment caused by your antipathy, leaving him in a mostly puzzled state.
Sigma, the third person to witness the fuss, was in the most uncomfortable of positions. He shifted in his seat, looked to the floor, lips pressed together. All very clear signs of shame - he understood quite easily something was off.
"You must understand that him developing any feelings for you is unacceptable. I don't want him to even start thinking about it," Fyodor then told you in Russian, to which you nodded, staggering back to sit not next to, but away from Sigma. You couldn't believe what had just happened. Then, with a venomous glare, you confronted Fyodor.
"No, you're just jealous, and that's gross," you accused. Fyodor smirked boldly, no other response coming from him.
At the time, sadly, you held contempt for the situation. Fyodor cutting you off like that from a person you evidently cared about - wouldn't that be... too possessive? That's what mingled about your mind.
And hadn't he noticed, he, a man so clever, that you were in distress? Wouldn't it make more sense for him to ask about your feelings?
Now, Fyodor was the one to sit next to you. He took out his phone and began typing something - meanwhile, you shot an apologetic look at Sigma, who simply shrugged and smiled back in reassurance. You swore you would talk to him the very next time you would get the chance to.
And this Russian beside you, he didn't even want to raise his voice. And how you wished to criticize him! Yearned to smack that clever head of his, stick out a tongue and steal and hide his stupid, stupid hat. You couldn't do any of that in front of Sigma, however. You were unsure if the impression you would leave on him would be the correct one.
Or did Fyodor invite you to do that, by provoking you? Oh, how annoying, how complicated! You couldn't stand it anymore. "Well, then, are you aware of the fact that I'm hurt? Or was I supposed to just sit here and wait until the idea crossed your mind?"
