As if his friend's death affected him, Nikolai stayed still on his position, sitting in one place. The sight of his hands trembling while holding gently of his friend's arm, his lips that would always form a grin now parted to let out a heavy shaky breath. His eyes that are already in tears and stained down to his cheeks, he didn't made a sound but the sight of his body trembling speaks more of what he truly feels.

Grief.

And what's more interesting is that he shouldn't feel grief upon his friend's death, after all, Nikolai also wished for his death, as if the only solution that he can chase his own freedom was to see Fyodor died in front of him. But no, it was wrong, Fyodor wasn't the cause on why he couldn't escape from himself; because it was already part of himself as being a human.

And now, he misunderstood, he was wrong. Fyodor wasn't his cage, he was the only human that could understand Nikolai. The only one to understand his aching freedom and not everyone else. And yet, it was too late. It's already too late.

Fyodor died already.