If You Don't (Fyodor X OC)

You Are How I Decorate Life

"𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎. 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝙾𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛" - 𝙼.𝙴.𝙺.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Goodmorning," Fyodor said, leaning over to plant a kiss on my forehead.

"Morning," I grumbled. I was always the type to be cranky when I first wake up, but It was much more manageable with him right next to me, greeting me. It was something I'd certainly need to get used to, though.

He stretched his arms before sitting up, and eventually crawling out of bed. He wrapped a spare robe around himself, and pulled a small duffel bag out from underneath his bed.

I yawned as I too, sat up. His robe was still loosely tied around me and I smiled at the fact. The memories of last night came flooding back, and I could feel my cheeks heat up.

"Thinking about last night, are we?" Fyodor said with a smirk, tossing his bag onto the foot of the bed. It was devious and inviting, daring me to take the bait.

"Maybe," I turned my cheek to him. My fingers grazed my lips as I recalled the way his kisses felt against my skin.

Fyodor raised a wicked brow, luring me into him with his gaze alone. I moved my way to the edge of the bed on all fours, taking my time to stand up. I planted my feet onto the hardwood floor, staring up at the man in awe. He planted a gentle kiss on my forehead, smiling softly as he pulled away.

He walked back and fourth between his bathroom, packing away various necessities into the deep pockets of his bag. "I have to leave in a few minutes," he mumbled, hyper-focused on making sure he didn't forget anything.

I sat at the edge of his bed, leaning back on my palms as I watched him. There was something comfortable about it all. Vulnerable, even. I reminded me of how I saw marriages presented on movies. I had no specific interest in marrying Fyodor by any means, but it made me think of the simplicity of a casual existence. The kind of simplicity I longed for, nearly a year ago when I was locked in that cell. I didn't want to share my aspirations with him then, and even still that's partly true, but it wasn't because I didn't trust him. No. I trusted Fyodor with every fiber of my being. It was because my dreams had changed since then. The only thing I longed for was this. This feeling of contentment right here, for the rest of our lives. The feeling of easily attainable satisfaction as I watched him bury some spare clothes into his bag.

He sighed heavily, tugging the zipper along its tracks as his anxious need to plan everything finally subsided. Fyodor was always prepared for nearly any situation, and If he wasnt, he was quick to maneuver around it with elegance. He was wise beyond his years and it really came to focus when his work was involved. I couldn't say the same for social interactions though.

"Anastasia," he calmly spoke my name, looking down at me with an arched brow.

"Hm?" My eyes met his, pulling me further into their comfortable trap.

"You were staring. It is quite rude to do that," he said with a hint of humor, gently grabbing my hands. He pulled me up, and wrapped them around his neck.

"Sorry," I mumbled. My cheeks flushed and I turned my head to the side, shielding my embarrassment.

He used the tip of his finger to lift my chin, gazing at me as though I was a dream he never wanted to wake up from. "What were you thinking about?"

His question wasn't all that intrusive, but I still felt emotionally exposed. He was learning all of my tricks. All the ways my face betrays me, presenting my feelings on a billboard of its own. The ways my body reacted to his touch. The difference between my sighs and what they meant. He was aware of all of it, consistently learning more and filing it away so he could never forget.

"Hmm.. you, I suppose," I huffed lightly with a small smile on my lips.

"Do tell," he mused, placing my cheek in the palm of his hand. His touch was gentle, cautious so as to not break me. I wasn't that fragile, but his tender care was still flattering nonetheless.

I shook my head as my smile grew. "I'm just at peace with the world, and you have everything to do with that," I replied vaguely, toying with his hair in my fingertips.

His lips relaxed and his face went back to its stoic form. He tucked my hair behind my ear, letting his eyes tell me how much he cherished me. "I don't know how long I'll be gone," he started to say. "But I must know that you will be alright without me"

I felt my brows dip down as I looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Anastasia, promise me that my absence will not be detrimental," his tone was sharp and serious, sending a wave of insecurity washing over me. It was a sudden shift, almost abrasive.

I shook my head. "I'll miss you, but I'll be fine"

He nodded, pulling himself away from me. He began to dress himself in his usual white attire, making sure to wear the ushanka I gifted him. He tossed his bag over his shoulder and cupped my cheeks.

"If music is how we decorate time, then you are how I decorate life," he said softly. He leaned down to kiss me, but something felt different. Something was wrong.

I kissed him back, taking great care to remember the way his lips felt. The way they molded to mine as if they were made for me. How soft and tender they were as they parted and closed with such intense emotions - ones I couldn't discern.

"I love you," I said as he pulled away.

"I know," he gave the ghost of a smile before he opened the door, leaving me alone in his bedroom. He didn't need to say it back for me to know that I mattered greatly to him. I didn't need him to love me. I just needed him to choose me. To want me. To think about me.

He was as precious as always with his goodbye and yet I couldn't fight the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. You know the one. The kind of weight that feels like a dozen suns are plummeting towards earth, tearing you apart with their gravity. It was a dread so violent that I watched my hands tremble as I held them out in front of me. And god, did I wish that I was wrong.