HIM
"You idiot."
Mamka is rolling her eyes at me where I stand in the kitchen.
She's not wrong.
I've not exactly been at my best lately, and especially the past few days. The need to simultaneously kill my feelings for Laura and pretend I'm not falling more in love with her everyday has taken its toll.
It's made me sloppy and unfocused.
Which is made extremely obvious by the black eye slowly forming and cut on my cheekbone.
I came into the kitchen to plead with Mamka to give me a piece of meat to stop the swelling, but it seems she'd much rather scold me for my carelessness.
To be honest, this doesn't even rank in the most memorable injuries for me, and, more than anything, is just a pain to have to deal with. It also doesn't help that it looks like I got into a fight and lost.
Ha.
As if.
I'm about to give up and leave without the meat when I feel a tingle on the back of my neck.
It seems my body is so hyper-aware of Limonskiy I don't even need to be touching her to feel the familiar sparks skitter over my skin.
My vision tunnels, suddenly consumed with the need to pull her into my arms and also push her away before she can affix herself any more firmly to my heart.
All my focus goes to schooling my face into a friendly but neutral smile before I turn to greet her. I expect the usual, polite but cold smile from her in return.
When my eyes meet hers and they fill with concern I'm immediately on high alert.
She blanches, a gasp escaping her parted lips.
What could be causing her distress? My body screams at me to find the source and do whatever necessary to alleviate her concern and fix the situation. I'm ready to ask, to plead with her, to tell me how I can help. How I can keep that horrified look off her face.
But I don't have the chance, because she's already in front of me, grabbing my chin and bringing my face down, closer to hers than it's been in years.
My brain stops working, confused about this development, while my body and heart soar under her attention. It's all I can do not to groan pathetically at how good it feels to have her touch me. I lock my muscles to stop them reaching for her, as her soft, callused fingers hold my face.
I can see her eyelashes, could count them if I wanted to.
I want to.
Her fingers are slightly cold, and they send body-wracking waves of affection thrumming through me. All I want to do is sigh contentedly and close my eyes. But that look of concern still mars her face.
It's only when pain blooms from where she touches I come back to myself.
Ah.
It's a strange thing, how quickly my heart dips from the knowledge she's not going to kiss me, despite the fact I knew this to be impossible, and then soars twice as high at the knowledge that her worry is for me.
Limonskiy.
HER
He's smiling.
A wide grin that stretches his face, causing a trickle of blood to leak onto his face. It probably hurts, yet he keeps smiling.
I've never seen him smile so wide, and it does terrible things to my heart.
This bastard.
Only he would smile while his face is actively bleeding and a black eye is forming. I can only imagine what he's thinking. I suspect perhaps he's happy he won whatever fight he apparently got in.
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes I look over the rest of him quickly and release a sigh of relief when I find him unharmed. I go back to looking at his face. At first glance, the cut doesn't seem to need stitches, but he should probably get ice on the wound to stop the swelling.
If only it was winter.
I don't wait, I go to the icebox and pull out a cut of meat.
Mrs. Kozlov starts complaining but I cut her off, telling her I'll pay for it, thankfully remembering to speak Anglorian.
Grabbing Aleksi's hand I lead him upstairs.
I mean to take him to his room, and get as far as the mens' hallway before I pause, realizing I've never been to his room before. I don't even know which is his.
Luckily, he understands what I mean to do and leads me a ways down the hallway, opening a creaky door. I only hesitate a moment before entering.
It's very Aleksi, rustic and warm.
Shirts of his hang by the window, which is open and lets in the summer heat. His bed is haphazardly made, and I can picture a tired Aleksi attempting to make it neat so clearly I almost laugh.
There are only a few pieces of furniture, including a small wash table and dresser. I take the wash basin and bring it to the bed with the cloth, as well as some supplies I grabbed on the way up here.
Aleksi sits obediently on the bed, still grinning like a madman.
I'm seriously concerned about a head injury.
HIM
She's in my room.
Fretting over me as if she cares.
The way she keeps glancing at me suspiciously makes me think my smile is making her worry, so I try to smother it the best I can. She sits next to me on the bed, close enough for our thighs to be pressed together, and grabs my chin just like she did downstairs.
Even though I'm ready for it this time, it affects me just as much.
Lucky for me, she's concentrating her furrowed brows on my cheek, so I have a moment to observe her unnoticed.
She's somehow exactly like I remember. Exactly how I imagined.
Her face is mostly unchanged, besides small worry lines that now crinkle around her eyes and forehead, but they're only just noticeable even this close. Her eyes are just as mesmerizing as all those years ago, green and gold flecks coming into view in the direct light from the window.
I'm so focused on her I don't notice she's said something until she pulls away and looks at me like I seriously might be crazy.
"Sorry?"
"Did you hit your head?"
I smile again, and her face falls. Panic wells in me and I rush to reassure her.
"No I didn't, sorry. I'm just lost in thought."
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, and even this I find endearing.
"Reliving your fight." She raises an accusing brow and I flinch when the cloth she's wiping my face with hits a sensitive spot.
"Didn't get this in a fight, if you'll believe it."
She frowns, focusing again on her task.
I stare at her eyelashes.
"I might believe you if you told me what actually happened."
What actually happened is that I got hit by a horse tossing its head in the stables because I wasn't paying attention. Its bridle clipped my cheek and cut me, while the impact gave me the shiner. I would never usually make a mistake like that, but I was too busy thinking about Limonskiy to remember to pay attention to my surroundings. I could tell her that.
Or.
I sigh dramatically.
"Well, I was dealing with a drunkard and they were being so unruly and difficult…"
I can't even get through it without smiling. Her glare just makes me laugh.
"At least I know your head is fine."
The words have bite, but less than I know she can muster. She's still scowling as she finishes cleaning my wound, her face only relaxing when she's satisfied with it.
The moment she deems me okay, she seems to realise how we've been sitting, and that she's still holding my face. I watch the gentle pink flush creep its way up her cheeks as her eyes meet mine.
The air crackles between us, pulling taught.
I opt to hold my breath so my chest won't heave, her breathing seems to be shallow. I expect her to pull her hand back, to act as if I've burned her, as if she can't wait to get away.
She doesn't.
Her eyes drop, looking at me like I was just looking at her. Taking in every foreign detail from the last three years. A small breath escapes both of us when her fingers drift, her thumb stroking the edge of my jaw.
She swallows, her eyes locked on her own fingers where they make contact with my feverish skin. Distantly I worry she'll hear my heartbeat. My muscles ache from staying so still , afraid to break this trance.
Only when her thumb drifts again, whispering over my bottom lip, do I finally move. My brain screams at my body not to, but my self control snaps, and I have to touch her.
As it is, I only barely place my hand on her waist, and it destroys me.
Her words scatter my broken pieces.
"Krasivak."
She breathes it, as if unintentionally.
The old nickname is like a knife to my heart. As is its meaning.
Handsome.
She always thought it meant "idiot."
"Limonskiy."
I breathe it the way she did mine, the word caressing the finger she still has on my lip.
Her eyes snap to mine, and I know the spell is broken.
Alarm fills her eyes, and she pulls back her hand so fast you'd think touching me was painful.
She gets up, and I wait for her to leave me all over again.