𝓕𝔂𝓸𝓭𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓮𝓿𝓼𝓴𝔂

It was the time of dawn, a calm quiet evening. Fyodor sat at his desk, he had already completed his work, so he decided to spend the time writing some poems or short stories. His hand worked efficiently, his writing neat and perfect. He preferred being alone, especially when that Clown was around, he was very loud, but sometimes pleasant to be around

After his fifth poem, he packed up his things and headed home, he lived in a small apartment with his husband. He walked quietly through the hidden alleyways. He entered the home and made some tea for him and you, he knew you'll be back soon. The photo on the nightstand was a picture of you two, when you were younger, sitting together, you had on a lazy grin with your bandages on your eye falling off. Fyodor looked at the photo with a slight softness, he wouldn't admit it, but he was missing you, so you better get home soon