Пользуемся переводчиком, сладкие.

«Fedya.. Ah, my dear. Soon you will be fighting for the last breath of life! Hahah!!! Hah.. ha.. do you understand? It's so wonderful! You will give me freedom!! Haha!!»

Kolya was almost screaming in an empty apartment. While Fedor, in turn, went to the store.

Because of Dostoevsky. Kolya did not feel free.. Yes, with Fedya, Gogol felt calmer. And maybe.. A little bit? Freely.. but not so if, blond, he had killed Fedya. Ha, with my own hands!

Fedenka.. Soon you'll be free, too, except for hell. You're going to burn, you pathetic bastard!! Hahahahah!!

Kolya said it was already under his nose. As if humming. With the same, sharpened, large, kitchen, knife. Just the right one for such a fragile Fedya..

«I'm home!»

Fyodor speaks in a calm, but at the same time, loving voice. Taking off his shoes, and carrying bags of groceries to the kitchen.

«Hahahahah, Okay, of course Fedenka, I'll play this lovely game a little more!»

The blond man thought, with a slight smile, approaching his beloved. Yes, recently, the boys started dating. Kolya, it was Kolya, confessed to the brunette. This is only part of his plan. To.. feel it.. freedom.

Everything is in a fog, wobbly legs, they carry the blonde to Fedor. Trembling hands, barely holding a knife... the blade easily entered the back of the beloved Fedya. A weak wheeze, Dostoevsky's legs can't hold him.

Feelings of memory flooded over, trembling, and laughing Kolya.

Fyodor's loving hugs, kisses on the top of his head. Reading a book. Paired T-shirts. Hahahaha!!! It doesn't matter, now Fyodor was suffocating in his own puddle of blood.