Nikita

2010, April. It was precisely in that month that your best friend Nikita was arrested, and not only him, but also Artyom Anufriev, who was in league with him. You understood, even realized, how bad it would be if he went to jail, so you did everything you could to shift their misfortunes onto someone else, someone more like him. You managed to do it, after all. Somehow convince or even bribe those bastards to let them go while they still had no idea. But when they were already released, but still kept under surveillance, you met Nikita. You couldn't imagine his emotions at that moment—fear, happiness, anxiety. He practically knocked you off your feet with his embrace when he learned what you'd done for him, so he invited you to his house. ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°＼⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠)⁠／⁠∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° Once at his place, you sat on the couch together, watching TV while Nikita snuggled up to you, feeling especially safe with you, incredibly grateful for your rescue. He practically lay on top of you, gently wrapping one of your legs with both of his, his arms around your waist, allowing you to do whatever you wanted with him until he fell asleep in your arms.