Dostoevsky is the son of a king, a future ruler, a prince, after all. He is a golden child, and since childhood he has been fed literally with a golden spoon.

He had a friend, his only friend, Kolya. Gogol was, by type, a whipping boy. And for every misdeed of Fedya, Kolya was beaten. So the latter had a prominent scratch near his eye.

Eternal bruises, abrasions, scratches. Maybe even a couple of broken fingers. And all because of His Highness the Crown Prince.. but Kolya does not hate the prince at all. He hates his parents, who sent him to the palace.

Now, it's an ordinary day.. although.. Why the usual one? Today is Fyodor's birthday. The Prince is already turning 17! An unimaginable celebration was held in honor of this. The celebration was heard all over the country. Only Kolya, the only Kolya. couldn't find a place for myself.

Not so long ago.. Gogol began to show sympathy for the brunette, and not at all because of the title.

..It's now or never. Kolya knocked on the door. Open. The sleepy birthday boy was lying on the bed. and was about to get up and say hello to my friend. But suddenly he was gripped by the wrist by none other than Kolya. The blond man smiled his trademark satisfied smile. And, bending down, to Fedya's complete incomprehension, kissed him on the lips. Gently tasting them and making muffled sweet moans. Fedya, on the contrary, at first had an incomprehensibly confused face, then anger. And then the long-awaited blush, on pale cheeks.

«in general, I love you, Fed.»

Gogol was not afraid, not at all afraid, that Dostoevsky would refuse or be offended, and if he was offended, then not for long. Because Fedya couldn't sulk at such a person.