Mikhailov
“...Tell me...have you ever considered what love means?”
“Bwaha! Of course! Love means that the chemicals in your brain react, when you see a person who causes the right ones to activate! They make your body feel good, and so you are attracted to them.” Mikhailov had been insufferable as a teenager, perhaps to hide some of his pain from a loveless childhood. But of course he knew the scientific answer regarding ‘love’, as he figured he knew everything. He had read every book he could find in the library, on the subject. He could have quizzed his classmate on it, if he had wanted to do so.
But Isaak, the quiet, older classmate he had come to carefully deem a friend, seemed bent on revealing the weaknesses in his classmate’s heart. At 16, Mikhailov had never fallen in love and had rarely interacted with the students in his class. Now, he had reached-out to make a friend, one who was more down-to-earth and humble. “...Have you ever considered that love means more than that?”
“Well of course, but for the time being, love seems to only be a physical reaction. And frankly, one that will distract me from getting my degree,” the young Mage had answered. He changed his tune when Isaak walked to his desk and put his hands on the younger boy’s desk. “Eh?! Don’t you have homework to do? What are you doing?”
“...Making sure you understand.” Isaak was patient, the patient friend that a boy like Mikhailov had needed, but he also awakened some confusion in the Light Mage. His wheat-colored hair, mixed with some premature grey, looked like the wheat fields of Ukraine, and his melancholy eyes were the color of an overcast sky. His lips were turned in a slight frown, studious and knowing.
“...By looming over my desk? I’m working on a paper,” Mikhailov retorted, though his voice was rather muted and weak. His older friend had never looked at him with such a grave look before, and he felt himself unconsciously sinking into his desk. “...What...do you want from me?...” he questioned. He had never felt so small, not even in front of his parents.
Isaak leaned down closer, closer, and then pulled the Mage into a snug embrace. One might say that the angle of the hug was bizarre, since he was craning down over a desk, but he pulled Mikhailov’s head to his shoulder and held him there. “...I don’t want anything...I wanted to remind you...that people here do love you. So...don’t forget about them, okay?...” he murmured, as he felt the younger Mage relax. “...We don’t want you to feel alone...”
The Mage’s feelings bloomed even more after Isaak hugged him. He had rarely been hugged in his life, but the way he gazed at the Mage and reached for him spoke to some deep desire for gentleness, for comfort, for compassion. He pulled back for a moment, and stared up at the eyes of his classmate, who seemed to wait for his response. “...Do you love me?...” he inquired.
“I do. And I don’t think you’ve been told that much in your life, have you, Konstantin?” Isaak smiled and stared back, his eyes opening a little as he spoke. They stood in silence for a few moments, with Isaak chuckling as Mikhailov seemed confused. “...You’re the smartest boy in our class...but you’re still learning.” Footsteps sounded out the room, and Isaak broke the intense gaze to walk out of the room. Someone was waiting for him outside the room, one of his own friends. The Mage was left with a befuddled pink in his cheeks, and he forgot about his paper.
The vision of the silver-haired man had ended, but in his place Mikhailov now saw his memories. He wanted Isaak to embrace him now. Now he understood, or so he hoped. He lay with his arm out in front of him, as he was curled in the fetal position, and he hoped that someone would come. Not even to free him, just to hold him. He hated his vulnerability. He wanted more of it. He could not decide how he felt anymore.
