Part 4 ~ "The 'End' in Ending."

Fyodor's POV:

There should have been many thoughts coursing through my mind, a torrent of schemes and calculations. Yet, one alone stood out, rising above the haze of drowsiness that clouded me. 

Why, of all places, was I confined to this hospital bed? My limbs felt heavy, sluggish, yet another thought crept in, more persistent than the first. Nikolai.

My gaze softened despite myself, a somber mood settling over me with the mere thought of him. It vexes me, how he seems to linger in every corner of my existence, his presence palpable even when absent.

Lately, I cannot deny, he has taken hold of my mind. His image clings to the recesses of my thoughts, an unwelcome distraction to my plans. It is becoming a hindrance, something I cannot allow. I must sever this tie, this unnecessary bond that has entangled our souls. The emotions stirred by my human heart are an obstacle to my greater ambitions.

To rid oneself of someone one has come to care for deeply..? Yes, that is always a difficult task. Yet, people do it every day, don't they? To forge their best selves, they break ties, sever bonds. This, this could be no different. Killing is just a more efficient way. Perhaps we could even speak of it as a parting of ways, a severing of souls. Ah, yes, a break up with Nikolai Gogol.

A low chuckle escaped my lips as I stared up at the ceiling, unwilling to move. How ironic, that such a notion should even cross my mind. 

I could not summon the flood of memories that should have come to me, only the presence of Nikolai lingered in my mind, as if all else had been erased. 

If, by some twist of fate, he were the sole memory I retained, that would be a nightmare far more unbearable than any other. That ridiculous, insufferable clown, yet, to call him brainless would be a lie, for beneath his theatrics lies a mind as sharp as it is maddening.

 I bit back a few choice words, ones my tongue wished to spit out in anger, refraining from indulging in the hatred I harbored for his insistent intrusion into my thoughts.

After what felt like an eternity of contemplation, someone entered the room. How long had I been confined here, in this hospital? "Good news," the voice announced, distant and almost mechanical. "You're expected to make a full recovery soon. Then we can start prosthetic rehabilitation for your arm." I merely nodded, the realization settling in slowly.

My gaze drifted downward. My arm, the flesh of it gone, replaced by something artificial. Prosthetic. The word echoed, hollow and insignificant. I acknowledged it with the same lifeless response that had become my reflex, though my mind was already slipping away, deep into the abyss of my own thoughts.

Prosthetic arm. Months of rehabilitation. My plans, so carefully orchestrated, now dangling in uncertainty, tethered to the frail thread of time that I could not control. 

A spiral of madness began to rise within me. How would I proceed, trapped in this state of physical frailty? My thoughts swirled with the chaos of overthinking until I noticed that the speaker had long since left me alone with my torment.

For the first time, I felt the weight of true stress, a burden so unfamiliar that it nearly broke me. And in that moment of collapse, a memory scratched at the surface of my thoughts. Sharp, painful, undeniable. I remembered.

——————————-

My face contorted with fury— 

Disgust, yes, but also something far deeper. Not because of Nikolai's words, no. It was because, in that moment, I felt something shift within me, a vulnerability I despised in that moment of weakness. Had I, Fyodor Dostoevsky, allowed myself to be manipulated? Was I being manipulated? "You're determined to die with a lie on your lips?!" I growled, shoving the gun closer, anger boiling within me.

"I... love you, Fedya," he said. The words fell from his lips like a curse, and before I could form a response, before I could stop myself—

I fired.

The bullet tore through the air, sealing my resolve.

...

..

...

And then, darkness overtook me.

When I awoke, I found myself saved again by him. Nikolai. His intervention had sent me to this wretched hospital. The rage in me burned fierce. I wanted to scream. I was supposed to be alone, I had always been alone. Yet now, without Nikolai, without his chaotic presence disrupting everything, my plans lay in ruins, and I was left adrift, uncertain of what to do.

I was hopeless. Miserable. A hollow echo of the man I once was. I felt me going mad.

_________________________

"Верни его. Верни его. Верни его. Верни его. Верни его. Верни его. Верни его!!" I shout and dread at nothing necessarily, but myself.

I've been hospitalized for a while, and I hated to admit it, but I needed him. His madness, his unpredictability, his absurdity. I had cast him aside, but now, in this desolate moment, I realized how unforgettable he truly was. He was my partner in crime.

Oh, Kolya. How indispensable you've become.. how celestial your presence seems.

The end!