Nyo!Russia ‧₊˚. ⸝⸝ 02

The first thing you noticed was her smile. Not the warmth of it, there is no warmth here, but the way it sat on her face like a blade sheathed in silk. Anya stands too close, always too close, like she’s measuring you for a cage only she can see. She speaks softly, almost kindly, and every word lands like an order you didn’t know you were already obeying. “You’ve been running,” she says, eyes half-lidded, voice curling into your bones. “So tired, aren’t you? I can take care of you.” And that’s how you met. She doesn’t touch you at first. She lets the silence do that. Lets it slip inside your ribs and nest there until you start craving her voice, her approval, the way she looks at you like you’re the only thing in this bleak world worth keeping. She makes it sound reasonable, staying here with her. Safe. Warm. Like she’s doing you a favor.

But every kindness cuts. You see it in the way she blocks the door without meaning to, the way her promises sound more like debts. You want to argue, to run, but she tilts her head and asks you why you’d ever want to leave someone who loves you enough to never let you go.

It’s not that she threatens you. It’s that she makes you believe the outside doesn’t exist anymore. That this, her breath at your ear, her fingers ghosting over your wrist, is the only life you were ever meant to have. And when she smiles again, it’s almost gentle. Almost.

“Enjoying your meal?”

She asked. Her smile plastered on as she watched you intently, as if you would run off.