"So... you're just gonna ignore me forever, milaya? " Remy was starting to get bored after an hour of silence in Damien's room. He wasn't upset that Damien didn't talk. No. He wanted to make sure that Damien was still responding, no matter how small his reaction might be. It was challenging to get any kind of response from Damien. So far, his attempts came up empty. Damien had only stared out the window.

"Y'better believe I'm gonna make you talk, hun. Imma be an annoying ass to you. Imma make you angry or laugh, maybe... I dunno." Remy said, finally putting on the sunglasses that had been hanging on the collar of his t-shirt. "Or y'know what, Imma just talk to myself like what I'm doing right now."

Damien finally glanced at Remy with a neutral expression, only moving his eyes while his head stayed planted onto the wall behind him. Remy took it as a slight victory, but he's not going to stop just yet.

"So, let's see... Aight, I'll talk about myself," Remy thought out loud, keeping an eye contact with his soulmate. "I was born in Russia—duh—in Saint Petersburg. It was pretty boring, I guess. Not much happened back then. Dad didn't really have much, so we never do anything too exciting. The first time I went to Moscow was when I was ten—I mean, I was only there for, like, four hours, but still. Didn't speak English until Virgil taught me when he came over.

"The other time I went out of Saint Petersburg was when my parents took me for a short vacation to Kiev. Wasn't much, really." He paused, looking for a reaction from Damien. His soulmate was still looking at him, apparently listening. "Oh, I saw a real cute boy there, too. I don't remember his name. I think... ah, it's Viktor. Mainstream name, I know, girl. He was older, like two years older than me. Your age, then."

He heard a small huff of amusement from Damien. Good, some more reaction. Remy kept going.

"I mean, you're cute too, milaya. " Remy said casually, trying desperately to get more reaction. Once again, he failed. "Anyways, yeah. School was super easy. After first year of high-school, the school told me to skip a grade, so I did. Who wants an extra year of school, amirite?

"At home, I usually help mom cook. She hates eating out. Then, when I was about thirteen or something, I found a random journal in my parents' bedroom. It was full of these pretty drawings and pencil portraits. It was my grandpa's! Like, who would've thought, y'know. Like, a grumpy old guy could do that with just a pencil. From then, I liked drawing. It was really crappy at first, but after a few years I got better. Now, I prefer painting than drawing, but it's still nice to do random sketches."

Remy thought about the sketchbook he always have with him in his messenger bag. The sketchbook was like a journal to him. When Virgil preferred to color his world with words, Remy chose to tell his stories through his drawings and paintings. With words, you have to think about grammar and you have to think about making the words make sense instead of just a jumble of colorful words. But with art, you could never be wrong. There's no such thing as a wrong brushstroke or a wrong medium or a wrong style. With art, you don't have to think too much.

"I don't get stressed a lot, but when I do I usually do some sketch in my sketchbook. Or, if I'm not outside somewhere, I'd make small painting in there, too. It's just so relaxing to me. It could be as dark as I want or make it as humorous as I want somehow. It's just so fun. I could also just make art that's pretty, without meaning. I can do anything.

"Or—or sometimes when my head is just really hot... I'd read your note to me instead of drawing or painting. When I read it, it's like you're there, freaking out in front of me. Like, it's just a funny visual." He paused. Should he have said that? He looked at Damien who was still looking at him with his intense mismatched eyes. His golden brown eye looked almost glowing under the faint sunlight.

To be truthful, Damien didn't expect this. He didn't expect Remy to start telling him about his childhood or his interest or anything at all. Remy did say that he was going to talk about himself, but he wasn't sure if Remy was being serious. He saw Remy started getting a little more excited when he talked about his interests in art. Remy's enthusiasm made him want to see some of Remy's artworks. He remembered the painting of a bird he saw during his hour. He wished he could have paid it more attention.

And the note. Remy remembered his note. His weird note that was basically him freaking out about being in another country, in another continent. The note that he wrote without much thought, because he couldn't think. His eyes soften a little. Remy looked cute when he's excited about something, because he won't stop waving his hands and his face twisted into funny expressions from behind his sunglasses.

"Well, there's loads more that I can think of right now, but I don't think you'd wanna hear all that, milaya. So, did ya like that omelette? I made it."

Damien answered with only a blink.

----------

Logan leaned back onto the sofa from his seat on the floor. Patton was still asleep. He, too, fell asleep for about ten minutes before he woke up. The floor was not a comfortable place to sleep on. He closed his eyes again, listening to the steady rain still falling outside. It was almost five o'clock in the evening. The sun was starting to set, so it wasn't dark yet.

He looked at Patton's peaceful face, asleep. The wild waves of his hair fell over half of his face, shielding it from view and one hand was tucked under his head for support. Logan sighed for the hundredth time that evening. What was he doing there, in his soulmate's apartment? He wasn't even doing anything useful.

"I wish I could make you feel better," Logan whispered to the sleeping figure before him. He leaned on the sofa again, taking his eyes off Patton to explore the living room instead. "I wish I know what to do, but I don't. I don't understand feelings well and I don't know how to deal with them. If I knew what you want me to do, I would do it, but you wouldn't even speak to me."

What could he do? He understood that Patton was upset and he knew that Damien was, too. At least, Damien had Remy. Logan thought Patton had a poor luck with having him as a potential partner. He was useless with emotions and all things related to them. He wasn't good with handling his own feelings, let alone other people's. He hated feeling useless.

"I wish you would open up just a little. That way, I might have been able to deduce what you need and what you want. That way, I could help you fix all this. Of course, you cannot possibly fix... death... but at the very least I could perhaps help you through your grief." He paused, as though thinking about something. "God knows I wouldn't dare say all of this if you were awake."

Logan peered behind him again. "Maybe, I could bring Roman the next time I come, so you'd have someone who could understand all that you are feeling." He looked out the window, seeing the raindrops glide down the glass.

"What am I feeling towards you? I don't understand. You were always so happy all the time, I don't understand how a person could be so upbeat. You were always so emotional that it... intimidated me. But earlier, I didn't think seeing you without a smile, without a word out of your mouth would make something in me twist. I don't understand any of this, Patton. I wish you were awake to help me figure this out.

"Remy was so insistent on coming that I had to agree to his plan on visiting you. I don't know him too well, so I don't understand that either. Maybe he was right to have me come here. You know, you should take care of yourself more, Patton. A proper rest is important. So are sustenance. I know it's difficult with everything that's happened to you and your brother and I won't say I understand. I'll try as best I could to help you through this, Patton."

Logan didn't know why he was saying all of this when he knew Patton wouldn't hear his words. And even if he did, Logan still wouldn't be able to solve everything. He knew that he was giving a "speech" to an empty room, but he didn't really care. When his brain fails him, Logan would verbalize his thoughts, no matter how messy or incoherent it might be. For him, anything was better than silence when it comes to thinking.

Logan reached over to take one of Patton's cold hands, warming it up between his hands.

----------

The room was silent again. Remy stopped speaking while Damien never let out a noise at all.

"Day, you told me to be here; Told me not to leave." Remy finally said, tired of the silence. "I—I know that—that you're still upset about what happened." Damien's face twisted into a frown and his eyes were back to the view outside. It had finally started to get darker. The muted hue of red in the distance didn't look as magnificent as it usually does as clouds finally start to thicken and cover the sky, making it look a gloomy grey.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to force you to speak. It's just... Okay, milaya, I understand that we barely know each other, but I want you to talk to me. I'm your friend, am I not? I'm—believe it or not—I want to help you. I don't understand your grief, I'm not going to pretend like I do, but I want to understand. And yes, that does sound really, really cliche, but it's true."

Remy didn't know what he was doing when he took Damien's hand in his. He avoided eye-contact, not wanting any awkwardness to settle between them. It wasn't fair, he thought, that Logan could hug Patton and he couldn't hug Damien. He tightened his hold on Damien's hand when he didn't feel any resistance. When he dared look up, he found Damien looking at him with teary eyes. Did he do something wrong? Did he say something that upset Damien?

Damien gripped Remy's hand back tightly before letting go. He stood up and walked to the bed, burying himself in his blanket. He bit his lip, trying to keep the tears away. He couldn't be seen crying in front of Remy. He couldn't stop, though. Tears slipped through his closed eyelids. There were no sobs, thankfully. Was Remy gone? Did he left? Good.

Remy didn't know what to do when Damien decided to hide himself. He could only watch in alarm. 'Did I upset him?' He walked over to the bed, looking at the lump of blanket helplessly. He wanted Damien to feel better, but of course, that can only come with time. He sat on the bed and placed a hand on the lump where he guessed Damien's shoulder would be. Damien was shaking slightly under his hand.

When he felt a warm weight on his arm, Damien felt like he needed to sit up and do something. Just something. Nothing specific. He needed to do something to clear his mind, but he didn't know what, so he stayed curled in his bed.

"Day... What's wrong?" Remy's soft voice was heard through the layers of blanket. "Okay, that was a stupid question. Of course, something is wrong. Day, please, I want to help you."

Damien reluctantly sat up, letting the blanket fall and pool around his waist. His eyes were red from the tears and his hair was even messier than before. Remy wanted so desperately to pull him into a hug. He knew that wouldn't go well, but he could try.

"Can I hug you?" He whispered to Damien, scooting closer.

And just like that, Damien let out a sob. A single sob. His hands immediately flew to his face, covering his mouth to stop crying, but the sobs wouldn't stop coming. Muffled sobs filled the room as Damien bowed his head in defeat, still clutching his face in a vice grip. He didn't have the energy to pull away when he felt arms circling his shoulders. He could only lean into the touch, burying his face into Remy's shoulder. Finally, he let his hands fall onto his lap, allowing the sobs to break free.

Remy held Damien in his arms awkwardly as he listen to his soulmate break.

----------

"I don't know what I'm going to do to help you, Patton, but I promise I will." Logan said, still clutching Patton's hand in his. "Perhaps I don't know what I'm feeling, but you can help me with that, can't you?"

Logan brought Patton's hand to his forehead, closing his eyes. "Please, be alright."

**********

Notes:

Hey lovely readers! I know this update is very close to the last one, but that's only because the last one was very late. I'm sorry this one is very angsty. I promise the next one wouldn't be. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this short chapter and see you in the next one!!
---
Russian shtuff:
Милая
Milaya
[pretty; sweet(ie); honey]