Brothers Romanoff [MMF]

31

A year passed by, and Lev and Mikhail were in a flurry trying to make amends and recoup their losses, keeping them busy and Xiomara at the mansion, safe and tucked away.

Xiomara awoke in the bed she was now used to an Alaska king. It fit 6 people but only two Romanoffs. Lev, of course, slept wildly, taking up half bad with his twists and turns in the night. She yawned, stretching.

"Anyone home?" She called, padding out of the room, and into the living room.

Mikhail breezed past her, kissing her forehead. "Good morning, gorgeous we're late, damage control you know this by now well be back for dinner."

Xiomara shrugged and lounged on the couch turning on the television. She didn't mind being alone. Even if she did miss them; the alone time was nice.

Her eyes drifted down to the birth control packets on the table, sitting, waiting for her with a note.

Be sure to take them. The frenzied scratch was Mikhail's, that much she knew by now.

She sipped her tea and took one, crossing her legs, as she glanced off into the distance. Xiomara's nose wiggled.

Mikhail paused by the door, venturing back into the house. They'd practically kidnapped her and she put up a bit of a fight but...it seemed half hearted. Everything she did seemed halfhearted performative almost. He cleared his throat.

"Are you still upset?"

She said nothing, her eyes on the tv as she sipped her tea. "Hm? About what?"

"The whole...kidnapping you on the weekends?"

She set her tea down. "Of course not. Can't let my emotions consume me, can I? I wouldn't want to end up like my mother."

He watched her, the even look on her face. "I thought you mother died in fire?"

"She did."

He looked down, his brow furrowed in dismay.

"You and Lev are so emotional. It's...fascinating to watch. Always feeling something. Making expressions." She touched her own cheek and shrugged. "I can't understand it. I don't think I'm as expressive as you all are."

Mikhail swallowed roughly and nodded, his dark hair, now at his shoulders, hiding his eyes. "Ah...yes. You don't make as many expressions as we do. I just thought...you were cool."

"That's sweet. You don't have to worry. I won't waste my energy doing something like running away. Take care of business."

Mikhail edged closer, sitting at her feet, his back against the couch his long legs speed out. "Are you sad?"

"Not necessarily."

He looked down. "Am I hurting you? I don't want to hurt you, Xiomara. I...I care about you. I love you."

She stood. "Tea. I'm out of tea."

Mikhail followed behind her. "I said I love you."

"I heard you, Mikhail. God you're just...what? Why are you hovering over me?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Say it back."

"Say what?!" She raised her hands in surrender dropping with a scoff. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Mikhail nodded, his finger on the birth control on the table. "You're not sad. You don't love us. You...like us mostly. What is that you're feeling?"

She sighed and turned around. "I am feeling nothing, Mikhail. No high. No low. I am feeling nothing, and I will keep feeling nothing."

He stared at her.

She sighed; rubbing her forehead. "Not to say I don't feel anything for you. I like you. I care about you both. I..." she glanced between his dark needy eyes. Only one thing would satisfy him. "I love you. I just don't feel all that stuff like you do."

She smiled and patted his cheek. "Go to work. It's okay."

Mikhail turned around in silence, leaving the house. In the silence, Xiomara sighed, smelling smoke. Her eyes darted over to the stove, her tea boiling, the little paper tab resting on the hot stove top, causing smoke and a small flame.

A red can appeared in her vision, her mother screaming: "I can't stand to see you anymore!"

"Mommy? What are you doing?"

Her mother doused the house with gasoline, her eyes frantic. "I can't handle it! I don't know why I ever adopted you!"

Xiomara watched her mother crazed expression, cocking her head.

"You stare at me with those soulless fucking eyes always looking."

Xiomara looked down at the glistening liquid. "You just...have so many big emotions. I don't make it worse. I want to you happy."

"He beats you too. He bruises you, and me in the same place but you're fine. Always fine. Mocking me. Stronger than me."

Xiomara reached out, but her mother pushed away roughly. She looked down. "I'm sorry."

Her mothers hands shook, as she flicked open her lighter. Her form seemed scribbled out in her memory.  As the childhood her had taken every picture in her mind and scribbled it out.

The door slammed open.

"He's home," She shivered. "I can't do it. I can't keep doing this. I can't—"

"Mother...you know father says. You have to take control of your emotions. They consume you," she whispered, reaching out.

Her mother slapped her hand, the lighter falling to the ground.

And for a moment, the memory is erased of the scribbles. Her mother's fear filled eyes, glistening with tears, as she reared back like she'd been hit.

"You sound just like him."

Xiomara blinked, pulling up the now charred paper, putting her fingers together to quell the small flame.

Her eyes followed the bubbling of the tea, and for a moment she begged herself to cry. Begged her body to release the tears.

But they never came. And so, she closed her eyes, and drank her tea.