Fyodor was always a night owl, only sleeping when he felt it necessary yet still managing to function well into the day. Nobody around him ever questioned it, and he hoped it would continue to stay that way.

He was yet again wide awake, some time around two in the morning the last time he bothered to check. He was writing his thoughts into one of his favorite journals, a gift from Nikolai almost a year ago. How time flies, he thought...

That very white-haired man pushed Fyodor's door open just a bit, his head peeking through the tiny crack. It wasn't uncommon for Nikolai to be up all night as well.

"Yes, dear? Is there something you need from me?"