I don't f.cking know [Fyolai][angst][oneshot]

the fuc-. I mean, the fic

it was a fine evening, a few months after Fyodor's death. The DoA finally got Nikolai Gogol a break since they were still creating plans after losing one of their most important members of the organization. Nikolai never forgot, he was grieving for the man ever since the day he was gone. But, in the moment, Gogol had time, time to rest, time to think about everything, time, to fine some relief from everything. He laid down on his bed, covered himself in the sheets, and grabbed his favorite "toy" from the drawer of his bedside table...
      A handsewn stuffed animal. A white, fluffy bird. It was the only one and the last gift that Fyodor was ever able to give to Nikolai. Gogol cried out, still unable to face the harsh reality and the loss of his dearest best friend(or more lol, idk). He would not stop, he couldn't stop. What had he even got left now? He himself did not know. Gogol was overwhelmed with his sorrow, and his cries had been ringing out in his house, but, no one would check up on him, because, who even could? Who would he even have to check up on him? No one. No one, now, that Fyodor was gone.