Page 68 of Pistols and Plush Toys

“There, done,” Nikolai said when finished. He looked back up at Elliot, and then his eyes widened. “I-I did not move your things. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Elliot said. “I, um, I washed up some.”

But Nikolai was already standing, shaking his head. “No, no. I am sorry. Let me get them.”

He strode from the room, and for some reason Elliot scrambled up off the bed to follow. The sudden movement made the room spin, but he pushed himself forward. He didn’t want to lose sight of Nikolai.

He followed the man through the house and back to his old room. He paused just at the doorway, taking it in. The bedhad been stripped, the mattress bare, but it was otherwise just as he had left it. Nikolai was already at the dresser, opening the drawers to get his clothing out.

He paused when he noticed Elliot had followed.

“You can rest,” he said, arms full of clothes. “I will bring it.”

“I can help.” Elliot said as he forced himself through the doorway. He went to the bathroom to collect his toothbrush and toothpaste, then, after a moment’s hesitation, went over to collect his backpack and stack of puzzle books.

Arms full of the only possessions Elliot still had, they returned to the new room.

Nikolai looked around the room, then back at Elliot as they both set their burdens down on the bed.

“You need more things,” Nikolai announced, pulling out his phone. “I will text Meredith–”

“No, wait—” Elliot reached out and touched Nikolai’s hand. “It’s been a… long day for everyone. You don’t need to bother Meredith right now. I can wait. I’m okay.”

Nikolai frowned. “Is not enough.”

Elliot licked his lips. “What’s not enough?”

“What I’m—what I’m doing for you,” Nikolai said, looking at Elliot with his blue, blue eyes. “Is not enough.”

“You… you got me out,” Elliot said. “You’re giving me a place to stay. That’s a lot.”

Nikolai shook his head. “No, is not—” He took a breath. Let it out again. “You are hurt,” Nikolai said quietly, lifting a hand to not-quite touch Elliot’s cheek. “He hurt you.”

Elliot swallowed and turned his head just enough to lean into the touch. He wanted the comfort of it.

Nikolai’s palm was warm.

***

Elliot moved slowly through the evening to hide how much he was hurting. He could tell Nikolai wanted to do something, and the last thing he wanted was more fuss being made for him. He didn’t deserve it.

Elliot would be fine. Eventually.

After dinner, Nikolai excused himself for a phone call, and Elliot retreated to his room to take a long, hot shower. He washed his body with shaking fingers and pretended that he couldn’t feel the sting between his legs or the aches of fresh bruises.

When he dragged himself out of the shower he avoided looking at the mirror. He didn’t want to see it.

Nikolai reappeared at the door when Elliot was in pajamas and tucked up in bed with Apricot, idly doing a crossword to ignore the churning spiral of self hatred waiting just in the shadows.

“I’m just—I’m wanting to ask if you’re needing anything,” Nikolai said, peeking inside the room after Elliot had given him permission to open the door. “Before I say goodnight.”

The lines of Nikolai’s body seemed to thrum with tension. As if heneededto do something for Elliot, before he could have a restful night.

On a whim, Elliot looked back at his crossword. “Do you know a five letter word for Russian crêpes?”

Nikolai stepped further into the room, obviously puzzled by the non-sequitur. “Blini?”

Elliot counted out the letters and it fit. “Thank you,” he said, writing it in.

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