Dmitri flopped onto his bed, tugging the blanket tighter around his shoulders. It was impossibly soft, the kind of comfort he clung to after long, exhausting days. The blanket was a relic from back home—a genuine bear's coat, dense and warm, the kind of thing that had been easy to find in Russia but rare here in America. Its familiar weight wrapped around him like an embrace, a small piece of the life he had left behind.

He let himself sink into it, closing his eyes for a moment. He used to live in a grand Russian mansion, its halls echoing with wealth and power, the kind of place most children only saw in pictures. But that was before his father was expelled from the Russian Mafia, before their lives had been reduced to modesty and simplicity. Now, they lived in a split-level suburban home, tidy but unremarkable, with a small garden where flowers bloomed under Dmitri's careful watch. The change had been jarring at first, but he had come to treasure it. The quiet, the safety—it was a blessing he didn't dare take for granted.

His father had adapted to America quickly, finding work at a bakery and settling into a rhythm far removed from the danger and intimidation of his past. Dmitri remembered imagining that his father would pursue something heroic—police work, perhaps, or a protective role—but reality was softer, warmer, and less dramatic. Gone were the days of sharp muscles and sharper glares; now, his father had a round, jolly face and the steady hands of someone kneading dough rather than taking lives. Dmitri missed the old life sometimes, the grandeur, the thrill of being part of something dangerous yet powerful—but he prayed every night for the mundane peace they now enjoyed. Safety was worth more than glory.

He glanced toward his boyfriend, who lay beside him on the bed, scrolling lazily through TikTok videos. A small, affectionate smile tugged at his lips. His fingers twitched nervously before he reached out, tucking a strand of his boyfriend's hair behind his ear. "Baby," he murmured softly, the word carrying a blend of shyness and longing. His boyfriend didn't look up, fingers dancing over the screen, and Dmitri's lower lip quivered in a small, pouting frown. "Baby... I wanna cuddle," he whispered, inching closer until his shoulder brushed against his.

The warmth of his boyfriend's presence made his chest flutter in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. Dmitri had never been with anyone before, never known the intimacy of soft touches or whispered words, yet every instinct in him leaned toward closeness, toward affection. His heart beat quickly as he leaned in, resting his head gently against his boyfriend's arm, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his breathing.

His mind wandered briefly to Russia, to the vast halls of their old mansion, to the opulent furniture and the cold elegance of a life ruled by power and fear. Now, even with a smaller home and simpler lives, Dmitri felt something he had never truly known back then—peace. And alongside that peace was his boyfriend, the man whose presence filled him with warmth and comfort unlike anything else. He loved the way he smelled, the soft weight of his hand when he reached for his, the quiet way he existed in the same space without needing words.

Dmitri snuggled deeper into the blanket, fingers brushing over his boyfriend's arm once more. "I... I just wanna be close," he murmured, his voice barely audible, almost swallowed by the soft rustle of the sheets. His innocence, his eagerness to give affection freely, radiated from him in subtle movements—the tilt of his head, the shy press of his lips to his boyfriend's arm, the gentle squeeze of his hand whenever he responded.