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The first snowfall will hit the streets in two days. Artemy can feel it in his bones. He hasn’t said it aloud, well aware that the words will make him sound three times his age. But he can, nonetheless. He wouldn’t say he aches, necessarily, but his joints vibrate under his skin and he knows when he steps outside into the frigid air that it’s almost time. Daniil will be back from the Capital around the same time. Maybe he’ll even bring the snow with him. It would look pretty, all those white crystals tangling in his black hair. He entertains himself for a moment, trying to decide if the snow would melt on his jacket or stick to it in stacks. The man himself can’t possibly be warm enough to melt snow. He’s almost looking forward to the sound of his complaints.
In the meantime, though, Artemy has got to do something about his stomach. His whole body is – a mess, to put it politely. His muscle never distributed across his body in ways that felt natural, and even during the food shortage there were parts of him that felt flabby. It hasn’t gotten any better now that things have calmed down. It has, like things always do, gotten worse.
Artemy touches his stomach self-consciously as he walks. He’s gained some weight back and the rolls in his stomach don’t change. His work outfit hides a lot of it, but when he strips down to the sweater he wears under his smock it’s uncomfortably obvious. His belly swallows his turtleneck and swaths of skin poke through holes in the well-worn fabric. Lara had gotten enough of a glimpse to offer to make him a new one, but the thought of her measuring him again made him want to die. And then there’s Daniil…
Well, if he wants a relationship with the other man, he’s going to have to work on it. He can’t even think of asking for something more when he looks like this, and Dankovsky is so – so put together, controlled in his appearance. It’s bad enough Artemy always smells of blood and that his smock is permanently stained with it. The least he could do is gather himself up to look presentable, maybe find some nicer clothes. Something that could hide where his body bulges, while he works on getting rid of it somehow.
Somehow, somehow. Not eating as much, maybe?
His stomach hurts to think about it. He barely had time or money to eat over the course of those twelve days. To intentionally go without he knows wouldn’t be good, and he knows it’s not a perfect solution. His body still jiggles when he walks and his feet still fall too heavy when he runs. He pats his stomach again, frowning, and walks straight into someone.
“Sorry,” he starts, “I didn’t –“ And he stops. He can’t feel his face, but his expression must betray his embarrassment. There’s no way it doesn’t. He’s somehow managed to walk into Daniil, who shouldn’t even be here. “Oynon.” Belatedly, he remembers to move his hand from his stomach, looking elsewhere. “I thought you were in the Capital until next week?”
The look on Dankovsky’s face is smug, but soft. “A bit of a lie, on my part,” he says. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“Consider me surprised.” Artemy tries to smile, but he’s still caught up in his anxiety. It’s hard not to let his fingers prod at his stomach again, but it would be weird to fuss with Dankovsky standing right here, looking at him. “You look –“ he begins, and he looks at Dankovsky, but the first word coming to his mind is thin. And he really shouldn’t project his insecurities onto someone else. So he says, “Well.”
Daniil scoffs and shakes his head. “Rubbish. But I appreciate it, dear Artemy.” His eyelids lower, and Artemy swallows preemptively. “You, on the other hand, look stunning.” He illustrates his judgment with a hand on Artemy’s bicep, and Artemy’s neck heats up. If the man’s attempts at lying weren’t so laughably bad, he’d ask what it is Daniil is angling for with this flattery.
Or perhaps it’s because he knows what Daniil’s after that he doesn’t even joke. The other man had made his interest in Artemy a focal point of their discussions as of late – one of his letters from the Capital dropped all pretenses and questioned, mid-sentence, whether Artemy might be amenable to a romantic relationship with him. Even in written word, Dankovsky failed to hide his agenda; everything before and after his proposition was written in a hideously anxious scrawl peppered with simple grammatical errors. Artemy wouldn’t consider himself observant, but Daniil was a little…obvious.
And he keeps his hand on Artemy’s arm as he walks with Artemy, looking rather smug about the whole thing, as if he’d managed the display of affection by luck of Artemy not noticing instead of if being freely given. He’s a ridiculous little man, and Artemy is so damned fond of him.
“Now who’s talking rubbish, nookherni?” He shakes his head, and swallows as he walks. He imagines what his arm must feel like under Daniil’s hand, flabby as it is. It must be disgusting for him to touch. “You look like a proper gentleman, and I look like a bull.”
“Right, right,” he drawls, “Hence your hesitation.”
It would feel natural, he thinks, to take Daniil’s hand in his, kiss the back of his fingers. But then he can see his own body trying this in his head, and it looks awful. He can’t imagine it would be nearly as smooth or romantic as Daniil trying the same. “I apologize, Daniil.” He smirks. He’s found a way around this. “You simply look so handsome that all words left my mind at once. Gorgeous, even, if you ever slept.”
Daniil’s hand squeezes his bicep, and Artemy nearly lurches. Disgusting, but Daniil doesn’t seem to be reacting to it. “Sarcasm, Burakh. It sounds good on you. I bet it tastes better.” Artemy laughs suddenly, gruffly, like an animal shrieking. He hears it and feels a kick in his chest, how embarrassing this all must be for his partner. “I did warn you!” Daniil says. Artemy can hear the smile in his words. “I’ve got lots more in mind, if you’re still interested.”
“Oh, I’m aware, Bachelor. Though I’m sure many would question your taste.”
He can see the man frown from the corners of his eyes. “I won’t hear of it,” Daniil says, waving his hand. “In any case, I don’t give a damn what other people think. I would never have gotten as far as I have if I did, wouldn’t you say?”
A nick in the stones beneath their feet, and Artemy almost stumbles. He feels his whole stomach shake with it, and grimaces. He looks away, harshly. “Yeah, well, I’m one of them.”
The words are meant to be muttered, so that only Artemy can hear them being spoken. He in no way wants Daniil to hear his insecurities, though he guesses if anyone’s earned the right to them, it’s the other healers in town. Daniil’s grasp on his arm goes firm and pulls him to a stop in their course. He drags Artemy to a nearby wall and rounds on him, to get a good look at his face. “And what exactly does that mean, Artemy?” He almost swears at how close Daniil is, and looks down to the space between them. Daniil must be able to feel his stomach like this. It must disgust him, but he’s not reacting.
The other man’s eyes trail down to where Artemy’s are staring, and gets the wrong idea. He drops Artemy’s arm and steps back to give him some room. “If this is moving too quickly –“
“Doesn’t this bother you?” Artemy interrupts. He gestures to his body, and Daniil looks over him with confusion in his face. “I’m not – look at you,” he says, “So thin and refined and clean-shaven and well-dressed and thin. Don’t you think we look a little strange together? That you could be with anyone else?”
Daniil blinks at him, frown setting into his mouth. “My dear, if I wanted a man from the Capital, I’d have stayed in the Capital. But as it stands, I don’t. I want you. I thought I’d made that clear?”
“Well, yes.” Artemy runs a hand through his hair, eyes going back to the space between them. He’s taking up so much of it. He tries to suck his stomach in and lean back, but it just doesn’t seem to do any good. “But I don’t get –“
“And are you aware,” Daniil continues, “That you said the word ‘thin’ twice?”
Shit. “Well –“
“Are you self-conscious about having gained back weight after those two weeks?” The words hit him like a bucket of cold water down the back of his neck. It must be obvious on his face, because Daniil’s clearly trying to express some sort of sympathy through expression and it’s just coming across weird. “I hope that’s not because of me?”
Despite himself, Artemy laughs. Another harsh, ugly laugh. “You’re the handsome dandy from the Capital, Daniil. Naturally, it’s because of you.”
It feels nasty to say the words. Daniil doesn’t look offended by them, though; he’s pulled himself into contemplation with one finger on his jaw, eyes looking without particularly seeing. He appears to be mouthing something to himself, but gives up on it, looking into Artemy’s eyes. “Did I say something that upset you? I apologize, but I really have to ask what it is. I must have missed something.”
“No, nothing you said –“ Artemy shakes his head. “It’s just – god, can’t you feel it? The way my body moves when we walk, how much it –“ he gestures, cheeks hot. “It jiggles, Daniil, in ways it’s not supposed to.”
He scoffs. “Nonsense. All bodies do that, Burakh. You’re a doctor, you should know. Unless one is malnourished –“
“Yours doesn’t,” he points out.
“I can assure you it does.” Artemy’s mind races and for a moment, he wonders how Daniil is having this conversation so patiently. Any of his friends would have snapped by now. “I’m wearing several layers of clothes – I’m frightfully cold, most of the time – but if you got me naked, you’d know exactly how my body moves.” Artemy’s cheeks sting. How’s he throwing flirting out at a time like this? “And, more to the point, you’re so self-conscious that you’re not even looking at me as we walk, so naturally you haven’t noticed.”
Artemy sighs, and scratches the back of his scalp. “You don’t look like you’ve put on any weight since the plague.”
“I don’t really eat,” he admits. He points at Artemy, suddenly and quickly. “Which is not advice, my dearest. I simply get so caught up in my work that I forget to. My colleagues frequently find me slumped over and I struggle with terrible headaches for it. It’s a problem all its own, and it’s also got nothing to do with you, and that’s what I care about.”
He could try and push the point that Daniil should care about himself more, but he knows that it won’t go anywhere. He’s cornered himself here, and he doesn’t know how to get himself out. These insecurities are things he feels he should have kept hidden, and talking about them so openly… it’s embarrassing. But he knows Daniil, and he knows that the man doesn’t let go of things he’s attached himself too. Which includes Artemy. “I’ve always been stocky,” he finally grumbles. “People don’t touch me all that often, so I tend to forget. But you must have noticed it, you must be able to feel it. And I don’t like that.”
Daniil hums. Even if he wasn’t looking, Artemy would be able to feel Daniil’s eyes moving over his body appreciatively. He’s stuck between standing still and letting the gaze happen, and wanting to hide himself from it. “What matters is how you feel, dear Artemy, but for whatever my opinion is worth to you – I like it.”
Dumbfounded. He’s dumbfounded. “You like it?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not lying?”
The other man opens his arms to gesture at himself. “You’d be able to tell if I was, Artemy. I’ve never had the knack for lying. The only person incapable of seeing through my lies was Alexander Block.” He smirks, and his eyes soften. “Yes, this is something that I like about you. Granted, I would be attracted to you all the same, but I feel… hmm, that you would lose something, if you stayed as bony as you were during those two weeks.”
Artemy’s voice comes out as an embarrassing squeak. “Why?”
“Because that isn’t you,” Daniil says. “And certainly, of course, I fell for you while under those tense circumstances, and you were very impressive, but it’s that you were able to retain your humanity under so much stress – that you remained yourself all throughout – that’s what made you attractive to me. So naturally, seeing you like this?” His hand reaches out to illustrate his point. “This is much better. This is what I was looking forward to, and I am not disappointed.”
‘I am not disappointed.’ Until he heard the words, he wasn’t sure what it was he’d been afraid of. Artemy’s shoulders sag in relief. “That’s…comforting to hear, actually. Not that it solves everything, but it’s a start.”
“A start is good. I can work with a start,” Daniil says. He steps closer to Artemy, putting his hands on Artemy’s waist. His smile turns into a more devious smirk, warning Artemy before his hands tighten on his waist and Daniil pushes up onto his toes, kissing the corner of his mouth softly. The whole movement doesn’t take longer than a second or two, but Artemy feels his heart stop for both of them. “And I’m very good, I’ll have you know,” Daniil says, “At finishing things I start.”