Mishka: Dreamed I Was a Goldfinch

Mishka had a dream, that afternoon. He dreamed he was a bird in a cage, but he had no birdseed or water. Maybe, he thought, someone had forgotten to feed him.

He peeped to remind his owner to feed him, but someone covered his cage with a blanket to muffle the noise and left him there.

Each day he shrieked louder. He fought the bars of the cage, digging at them with his beak, but he wasn’t strong enough to break them. Each day he got twice as desperate. It’d been a fucking week. Two weeks. Surely someone would remember to let him out, now. He was a good bird, agile and smark, and he could take care of himself if they’d just fucking let him go.

He kept having this horrible thought in the back of his head, though, that they didn’t want to let him go. He was going to die in this cage.

When Mishka woke up, he was weeping.

He felt around the bed frantically. When he finally found Hansel’s body, he rested his fingers on Hansel’s neck, felt a pulse, and breathed a sigh of relief.

He was in bed. At home. With Hansel. Who was alive.

Even knowing that, Mishka started to hiccup, then whimper and sob. He scooted farther away from Hansel. If Hansel woke up, he’d stay awake all night comforting Mishka while he cried. Mishka couldn’t let that happen. Hansel needed to sleep.

Mishka pressed his face into a pillow and focused on breathing in and out quietly.

But then, almost immediately, the door opened, and Goro stepped through. Mishka watched him a moment, blinking, then rested his head against the bed.

Goro took a few halting steps forward, then stopped dead.

The room was silent, and in the silence, Mishka quietly hated himself. *I’m so fucking stupid I let Aleksei near me. So fucking blind I let him get to my family. So neurotic I doubted Goro instead. Goro’s probably fucked up about this. His fiance died because of me and I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself because I had a bad dream. Fuck you, Haeth. Fuck you. Stop crying. Stop crying. Get it the fuck together. Everyone else needs help right now.*

 Goro came the rest of the way to the bed and climbed in.

Mishka stiffened up. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to make himself stop crying, because crying was fucking stupid, and it was only safe around Hansel. Hansel would hold him quietly and murmur soft reassurances, stroking his hair until he relaxed. However long it took.

Goro very gently pulled Mishka towards him.

Mishka… panicked… for a second, which was not the right response.

He couldn’t push Goro away or Goro would be hurt. Or, worse, Goro might think he’d done the wrong thing and never touch him again. It was so fucking hard to think when he was upset. He knew the social script here; someone was trying to touch him and comfort him, and he was supposed to gladly accept it.

Sometimes Mishka got so freaked out thinking about what he was supposed to do that he couldn’t figure out what the fuck he wanted to do. A hug was being offered. He needed to accept the hug or Goro would feel bad.

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Don’t.”

The moment he said it, he knew he’d done the wrong thing. Aleksei would’ve said, You know, it makes me feel bad when you push me away like that, and he would’ve refused to back off, since he was doing nothing wrong.

Goro just said, “Okay,” and let go of him immediately, rolling over to give him space.

Yeah. Okay. Of course that’s what Goro did. That’s what Goro always did. Watching him so fucking carefully before he reached to touch, making sure he was allowed. Backing off the second Mishka needed space. It reminded Mishka of the other night, when he said only Hansel was allowed to bite, and Goro nodded as if that made sense and didn’t ask again. It reminded Mishka of that time he had a panic attack on the ship after getting unhosted— when Hansel left him alone for the first time— and Goro came to give him a bottle of wine and rolled it over to him, careful to maintain distance.

Okay. All good. Goro would… only come into his personal space or touch him if Mishka wanted him to.

Goro started fidgeting. Mishka chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to decide if he wanted Goro to touch him or not.

Goro worried his bracelet with his teeth. Finally, he let it go, and said, "I'm… sorry about everything that's happened. I know—I know you must've…"

Yeah, okay. He wanted Goro to touch him. Mishka rolled over and pulled Goro closer, pressing his face against Goro’s robes. Goro froze a moment, then stroked his hair. Once, then twice, like he was testing if that was okay.

Goro found his voice again. “I know you must've been real fucking scared, and—you didn't deserve that. That fuckin' Aleksei, he just—" Goro shook his head. "Bad fucking luck you got tangled with him, Mishka. Just bad fucking luck. I hate him."

Mishka out a breath.

He knew Goro meant it, but—

That wasn’t— true, and—

Mishka started to fumble the way he always did when he was freaked out about something. His words became jumbled and cut off. “It wasn’t… bad fucking luck, it was… it was…”

“It was," Goro said sharply. "How the hell else does that kind of shit happen?”

Mishka ground his teeth.

Goro didn’t get it. Sure, Goro was kicked around and abused, and he didn’t deserve it, but Mishka— Mishka was a noble, and rich. Taken care of. He’d been born with enough power to blow up a building. And he could’ve said no or gotten away, and—

“I could’ve done something,” Mishka snapped.

He tightened his grip on Goro, though, hoping Goro wouldn’t leave.

"Nuh uh," Goro said. "I mean—like fuckin' what? You didn't choose to have Aleksei fucking help himself to your life. You chose it like I fuckin' chose having a mother who ditched me in an alley. We do our fucking best, you know? Life throws shit in our face, and we catch it how we can."

Mishka simmered. He really fucking hated the idea he hadn’t had control of that situation. It made him feel uncomfortable, like maybe it could happen. Somehow it was easier to feel like it was his fault. Like it was preventable.

He wrapped his arms around Goro possessively, digging his fingers in.

Goro kissed his hair again. “He’s not gonna lay a fucking hand on you again. I'm glad you're safe now. I'm glad you're here. And I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Mishka muttered. Goro kissed his hair. This was fine, Mishka decided. This was… good.

He kept thinking: he needed to kill Aleksei alone. He couldn’t risk Hansel getting fucked up again. It would be easier by himself. Less people to keep track of.

He was pretty sure if he told Goro or Hansel that, though, they’d stop him. So Mishka kept silent. He closed his eyes, and plotted for a while, and drifted off back to sleep.