Nikto had a longing for comfort that couldn’t be satiated. He was ravenous, like a starved dog, yearning for every ounce of love you could give him.

Of course, he didn’t allow himself to give into such temptation. As much as your warm embrace invited him in like the snake to eve, he couldn’t fathom letting himself be vulnerable.

After all, the last time he let himself be weak he was kidnapped and tortured to the point of irreparable damage. His face, his brain, his heart- all damaged in that cell.

Today was a particularly bad day for Nikto.

He’d spent the whole morning hiding in bed, shying from your touch as usual. He was aggressive, you could tell he was disassociating. He couldn’t recognise you, didn’t recognise your comfort. It was hard, but you knew to be patient.

It took hours. Hours of sobbing and recoiling. You had sat beside the bed, silently reading, whispering comfort once in a while to help him ground himself.

Eventually you felt a pair of burnt lips on your temple, and a pair of scarred arms around your neck. You place your book down and sit back on the bed.

Nikto didn’t speak a word, he just crawled into your arms and curled up like a baby. You couldn’t remember the last time he initiated anything- you just knew to be patient. And that patience paid off. Nikto whispered some soft words in Russian, his voice gruff and dry from disuse.