#rodimitri

[yoshikirakage]

i'm supposed to write an essay on macbeth but my lit teacher forgot he assigned me crime and punishment 3 months ago and i havent moved on i'm about to have a stressful week so i wanted to draw the Guys and @keldin-draws gave me the idea of rodya making dmitri breakfast before he wakes up to try and be a decent person for the 20 or so of you that actually care about this book

[ask-lambert-egitte-blaiddyd]

You really care for Rodrigue, don't you? It'd be a shame if some... unrest broke out in Fraldarius Territory. Maybe an encore of the Tragedy of Duscar? - The Note is Unsigned. //For the scare-anon!

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING!!! PLEASE DON'T READ OF THIS BOTHERS YOU THANK YOU!

I-Is this a threat? Or some sort of sick warning? Who are you?! Show yourself you coward! Wh- What is this?! Oh Goddess... If there's even a possibility this is true...

*His breathing goes of the rails in a matter of seconds. As he recalls the horrible horrible night he'd died. His vision was blurry, and his hands started shaking. Was he having a flashback?*

<No, no, no, no, no, no, no... What am I doing I look so weak. What if Dimitri see's me like this? Or Rodrigue? RODRIGUE! Is he alright... What if this threat is just informing me? What if something has already happened to him. No, no, NO! I can't let him burn to death like his son did! I only just got him back, Goddess don't make me lose him again! Wait.. he has to be somewhere nearby, right? He'd come to visit me. I have to find him.>

*Lambert forwent trying to get his breathing under control and dashed desperately through the halls. Where was Rodrigue? Where was Rodrigue? WHERE WAS RODRIGUE!?*

Rodrigue?! Wh- Where are you?!

*He felt faint. Trying to run through the endless halls of The Monastery whilst having his vision fade in and out of reality and that night. He tried to hide it. He tried so so hard to hide it, but that night had been so traumatizing. He had barely gotten enough sleep to survive since he became corporeal. He- B-But that didn't matter. What mattered was finding Rodrigue.*

RODRIGUE?! WHERE ARE YOU?!

*He sounded pathetic. And he probably looked pathetic too, as he desperately fought through whatever the hell was happening to him. One second he was looking at the calm monastery halls, deserted as the children were all in class, and the Knights out on a mission. The next second his ears were overloaded with the sound of flames and screaming. His whole body dripping with blood that he was uncertain of how much of it was his own. Where was Dimitri?! And then he was back in the monastery. Where was Rodrigue?! The lines between his memories and reality started blurring. Which of this was real!? Which of it wasn't? Everything started swimming. He couldn't see, his hearing was completely overwhelmed, his body couldn't decide if it was being decapitated, or whether it was leaning on a cold stone wall. His speech all started slurring together as he was overcome with fear and pain*

Rodrigue!? R-Rodimitri! Dimitri! Glen-odrigue!? Wherethehellam-Rodrigue!? Rodrigue?! Where are- Howamiwheredimit- Where?! I-

*Goddess, why did his chest hurt so much?!*

[yoshikirakage]

20, Rodimitri

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

Dmitri Razumihin was sitting in front of the couch where his best friend, Rodion Raskolnikov, had been fading in and out of consciousness for days. Days. Razumihin has spent days at this idiot’s side, waiting for him to open his bleary eyes and mutter something about a damn sock and complain a little bit and get paranoid and pass out again. Dmitri’s head sank and rested on the cushions of the ancient couch.

“Please, Rodya.”

But when he looked up, Raskolnikov’s handsome features were still pulled together in a nightmare.

He’d been like this for too long. Everyone gets sick, but no one gets deliriously, feverishly, out-of-your-mind, fainting-spells-for-half-a-week sick. Raskolnikov’s restless sleeping and frantic chattering was weighing on Razumihin’s mind. He has to get better, right? He can’t just stay this way, right? He’s gonna get better, right. He has to.

What was Razumihin going to do without him? He’d only just figured out he loved him.

“You’re not supposed to. It isn’t right, at all, in the slightest, it just isn’t done. There has to be something wrong with you. You aren’t supposed to fall for other men. Maybe you’re getting sick, too. Maybe you aren’t feeling what you think you are,” Razumihin’s mind would lie to him. “It’s not real. It had better not be.” He was completely aware of what could happen to him for this. It wasn’t right. It was also something he couldn’t help. And watching helplessly as the man he felt that forbidden, dangerous love for never showed signs of healing despite his efforts was breaking his heart.

“Rodya, come on…” Razumihin whispered, pleading with Raskolnikov as he reached out to stroke the unconscious man’s jet-black hair. Razumihin sighed. Raskolnikov would be beautiful asleep, if he weren’t always harassed by his dreams. So often during the nights and days he was out he’d twitch, shudder, his dark eyes shut and his eyebrows drawn together, mumbling of a ghost named Alyona. Razumihin would cover him with a blanket and whisper comforting words, knowing full well he couldn’t really hear him, yet feeling a little accomplished when Raskolnikov stopped stirring. Razumihin yawned. Caring for someone sick was tiring, especially if that someone was Raskolnikov…

He woke up with his body still leaning on that same couch, head on the beaten cushions, but Raskolnikov was gone. Razumihin’s hazel eyes shot open and he immediately forgot his drowsiness, overcome by panic. No, no no no, this is bad, very, very bad. That idiot! He could be anywhere on the streets, wandering and talking to himself as usual. But as Razumihin stood to panic easier, his back bumped into something, and turned to see Raskolnikov glaring up at him. Razumihin sighed.

“Ah, Rodya! Awake, I see.”

“Why…are you in my flat.”

Wow, so he really doesn’t remember anything. Well, if he’s being cold, he’s feeling more like himself, Razumihin thought.

“You’ve been sick for a long time, my friend. Come, sit down, please, you look weary.”

“That doesn’t…really explain why you’re in…in my flat,” Raskolnikov said, and Razumihin noticed for the first time just how dark the circles under his eyes were.

“I’ve been watching over you.–Taking care of you, I mean,” Razumihin caught himself.

“…Right…That’s…very kind. I suppose…I should thank you,” Raskolnikov said, looking through Razumihin in a distracted manner. He seemed spacey and confused.

“Rodya, please, come sit first,” Razumihin said, concerned. “You’ve been blacking out a lot lately, I’m worried you’re still light-headed.”

“I’m…fine,” Raskolnikov insisted, in the way all people that aren’t fine do. “Just tired. And… surprised to see you. Thought… you might…No, I don’t deserve this…”

“Don’t deserve it? Of course you do! Don’t you understand? I’m here because I care about you.”

“No… please, you have to leave… I don’t deserve this…I don’t need this, you have to leave,” Raskolnikov rambled. Razumihin couldn’t help but feel hurt.

“I can’t leave you while you’re still ill, Rodya, It’s–Rodya!”

Raskolnikov stumbled and had started to fall, Razumihin barely managing to catch him before he collapsed.

“No..I’m fine,” Raskolnikov tried as Razumihin guided him back to the couch.

“No, you’re not fine. Lie down,” he said stubbornly and put Raskolnikov down, propping his head up against the arm of the couch, sitting in front of it as he had spent the last several days doing. Raskolnikov turned towards him.

“You… shouldn’t be taking care… of me. I don’t deserve this,” Raskolnikov muttered, half asleep.

“You do deserve this. You have a lot of people that love you.” Some in ways they shouldn’t, Razumihin thought. “Dmitri…” Raskolnikov whispered, reaching out to him with his hand.

“Yes? What is it, what do you need?” Razumihin asked, worried.

Raskolnikov gently put his hand at the back of Razumihin’s head and slowly directed him closer, just barely kissing the corner of his mouth as his eyes slipped closed again and he fell back asleep.

“…Ah. Well…..I will take that for a ‘thank you,’” Razumihin said to his blissfully dozing friend, and watched over him the rest of the night, noticing he didn’t have a single nightmare.

-–

for the quote pairing writing prompt thing lmao i wrote this half asleep you deserve better

[yoshikirakage]

just in case yall thought i was done with rodya week. i think we all knew these 2 were in love