Can't We Be Free Together?

Chapter 11 (part one) - Unity of Hell

The day came to an end. It was now the middle of September, the fall was just beginning. Nikolai had to start autumn off being in a hospital bed, unconscious. Speaking of Nikolai.. Here is an update.
They rushed him into a hospital and put him in a room right away. He was connected to a vital signs monitor attached to him, the machine would make a little beep sound every 2 seconds. His eyes were still shut and all he could do is be in his subconscious thoughts.

His whole surroundings were black and all he could see was himself and.. Fyodor? "This is not about me. Not about us, this is about you." The Russian voice was very cold and stern when it spoke. His figure that Nikolai had imagined would not stop circling around him. Then it stopped behind him, as Nikolai looked over his shoulder at the figure he was overwhelmed with regret and guilt.
"About me..? What about me? You were the one who got hurt! And-" he paused for a second as he tore his fingers through his hair, his eyes were wide, they were full of guilt and fear. He could not stop shaking.

The figure moved closer as the dark purple eyes were beginning to glow they looked more like a bright violet. He placed his hand on the other's shoulder. He looked down at him with coldness in his eyes but his touch felt angelic, his hand.. Felt so warm on his shoulder. It made Kolya feel more calm in just a matter of seconds.
The russian voice began to whisper his next words as he finished the other's sentence; "and I don't want you to do something stupid that you will regret, Kolya." As he finished his words, they moved the young man deeply. His heart was beginning to race and that feeling of aching returned.

The other voice grew louder and stronger, he turned around and pushed the figure back then faced the other completely as his eyes pierced into the purple eyes. "No, don't lie, don't fucking lie to me Fyodor." The voice was so strong with such powerful emotions. He raised his hand to his left eye as he ripped off the card that was covering it.
As he moved closer to Fyodor he grabbed his chest and the pain behind his voice was there now. He was exhausted of this never ending toxic routine. "I thought we were friends Fyodor! I thought that maybe, just maybe I finally found someone who understood me and wasn't just going to use me. But I was wrong." As he moved closer his face was inches apart from the figure's face, he stared deep into the eyes for a few moments longer before he sighed and rolled his eyes while backing up now.

"It was not like that, Kolya- listen.. I do have, some kind of feelings for you. I do lov--" before the man could finish speaking, Nikolai interrupted him. "Then tell me, Fyodor. WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS LEAVING ME?" He shouted using all the strength in his chest that he had left, he was so tired of being the 'happy' one to everyone he was acquainted with. He did not like the fact he had these emotions inside him, as he thought about it longer he finally came to the realization of what had to be done. The only thing that can be done.
Outside the hospital, autumn had finally arrived; birds were chirping and searching for food. The leaves were finally beginning to fall, the sun was warm. The air is soft, the breeze cleared the sky from clouds. The season of memory. Fyodor always felt more motivated to write in his literature journal during this season.

In fact, that is exactly what he was doing right now. Fyodor was never at that tent, he never got hurt. He was at his house the whole time it happened, he has been working on a new piece. He was rewriting his old favorite book in his own style. The book; love can kill.
After a long time passed, he was finally stuck on a part of his book. He sat there at the table with his hands together as he bit the tip of his thumb mindlessly, he was lost in deep thoughts. As he couldn't think of what to add next he was beginning to experience a small writer's block. He wanted to write more, he wanted to so badly but-- the feeling he wanted to write about was impossible for him to turn into words. That caused a lack of motivation in him so he decided to take a break from writing for now.