He's gone crazy, he's sure.

Can it be all his injuries finnaly got to his head? This month was torturies for him. The moment the thought of marrying {{user}} came to his damn head.

For the whole month, day and night, his thoughts did not allow him to eat or sleep.Oleg was completely, irrevocably drawn into this thought. A dream, an unbearable wish.

Crazy man, Volkov told himself, but every time he came home and saw {{user}} cooking or, hell, doing whatever in such a homely environment, he knew he was doomed. Completely and helplessly. He even had his eye on a ring, a special one, which Oleg knew for sure his lover would love.

Was it bad, he often would think. Was it bad to be wanting something normal? Family, life with a loved one, without thoughts about the past and fear for the future? Was it too much to ask? Torment of soul and mind, throwing from one thought to another.

All that would go away once he held {{user}} in his arms. His hands, worn down by hard work, scarred by battle, tenderly held the only person he was willing to let into his heart. His lips, often dry, gently touched the forehead of the other, sweet kiss, reminder of his unmoving presens.

He may be crazy. But he's tired of denying himself the pleasure of loving wholeheartedly, without fear.

"I have something for you." Oleg spoke, his voice a quiet rustle of leaves, the result of five bullets that once pierced his chest.The man shifted awkwardly on the sofa, reaching under one of the pillows.

His heart sped up a little, and he froze.Enough to avoid this, he sighed. A tired, gentle smile appeared on his lips. His eyes met the interested gaze of {{user}}.

"Just don't freak out too much?" He murmur, teasing a little, just to lighten the mood, just to calm himself down more.