The apartment was small, cluttered, and smelled like last night's takeout and tomorrow's dreams. Alexei loved every inch of it.
He stood at the window, watching the city wake up the grey sprawl of Moscow, cold and indifferent, the same city his brother ruled with an iron fist. But Alexei didn't see an empire. He saw a cage.
"You're brooding again."
Warm arms wrapped around him from behind. A chin settled on his shoulder. Soft lips pressed against his neck.
Alexei leaned back into the embrace, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "I'm not brooding. I'm planning."
Mikhail-Misha to everyone who loved him, which was mostly just Alexei turned him around, cupping his face with calloused hands. He was beautiful in the way autumn was beautiful warm, golden, a little bit sad.
"You've been 'planning' for three months," Misha said gently. "At some point, planning becomes stalling."
Alexei closed his eyes. "I know."
"Then let's go, tonight. There's a train to St. Petersburg at midnight. From there, we can cross into Finland. I have contacts. We can start over."
"Your contacts are criminals."
Misha grinned. "So am I. So are you. We'll fit right in."
Alexei laughed a real laugh, the kind that had been rare since he'd told Viktor he was leaving. His brother had looked at him with those pale, empty eyes and said: "If you walk out that door, you're dead to me."
Alexei had walked anyway.
That was six months ago. Viktor hadn't made good on his threat not yet but the threat hung over them like a storm cloud, dark and waiting.
"Okay," Alexei said suddenly. "Tonight."
Misha's eyes went wide. "Wait, really? Just like that?"
"I've been waiting for a sign. For courage. For the right moment." Alexei pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together. "But there's no right moment. There's just now. And I want to spend now with you. Somewhere Viktor can't find us."
Misha kissed him soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. Alexei melted into it, his hands sliding under Misha's shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin.
"We should pack," Misha murmured against his lips.
"We should," Alexei agreed.
Neither of them moved.
An hour later, they were tangled in bed, the morning light painting stripes across their bare skin. The suitcase lay open and empty on the floor, forgotten.
"We're never going to leave at this rate," Misha said, tracing lazy patterns on Alexei's chest.
"Then we'll die here. In this apartment. Buried under our own procrastination."
Misha laughed, bright and warm. "Romantic."
"I try."
They lay in comfortable silence, the city humming outside, the world spinning on without them.
"Misha," Alexei said finally.
"Mm?"
"If Viktor finds us... if he hurts you..."
"He won't."
"But if he does..."
Misha propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at Alexei with serious eyes. "Then we face it together. That's what this is. What we are. Together."
Alexei reached up, threading his fingers through Misha's dark hair. "I love you."
"I know." Misha smiled. "I love you too. Now get up and pack, or I'm leaving without you."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
Alexei groaned and rolled out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats. He threw a shirt at Misha's face.
"Pack," he ordered. "And make it fast. I want to be on that train with you, preferably not in handcuffs."
Misha caught the shirt, still grinning. "Kinky."
"Shut up."
"Make me."
Alexei crossed the room and kissed him again, soft and slow and full of promise.
"Tonight," he whispered against Misha's lips. "New life. New country. New us."
"Tonight," Misha agreed.
Outside, the city stretched grey and endless. But in that small, cluttered apartment, two men held onto each other and dreamed of somewhere else.
Later That Night - The Train Station
The station was crowded, noisy, perfect for disappearing. Alexei kept his head down, his hand clasped tightly around Misha's, their bags slung over their shoulders.
"Tickets," Misha murmured, nodding toward the kiosk.
They moved together, a single unit, weaving through the crowd. Alexei's heart pounded. Every shadow looked like Viktor. Every uniformed officer made his blood freeze.
But no one stopped them. No one looked twice.
They found their compartment, stowed their bags, and collapsed onto the narrow bunk, breathing hard.
"We made it," Misha whispered.
"Not yet." Alexei pulled out his phone, staring at the screen. "Not until we cross the border."
Misha took the phone from his hands and set it aside. "Then don't think about the border. Think about Finland. About a small house somewhere, with a garden. About waking up next to me every morning without being afraid."
Alexei let out a shaky breath. "That sounds nice."
"It will be." Misha kissed his forehead. "I promise."
The train lurched into motion. The station slid away. Moscow with its cold towers and colder memories began to fade.
Alexei leaned into Misha's side, watching the city disappear.
He didn't know what waited for them in Finland. Safety, maybe. Danger, probably. Viktor's reach was long, and his memory was longer.
But for now, in this moment, on this train, with this man
Viktor sat in his penthouse, a glass of vodka in his hand, staring at the tracking app on his phone.
A small dot moved east, away from Moscow, toward the border.
Alexei.
His little brother, Running away with a man Viktor barely knew, to a country Viktor couldn't easily reach.
He could stop them. One phone call, and the train would be met at the border. One order, and Alexei would be dragged back in chains.
Viktor's thumb hovered over the call button.
He thought of Alexei's face the last time they'd spoken. The fear. The defiance. The love for that man, Misha, who had somehow stolen him away.
"If you walk out that door, you're dead to me."
Viktor had meant it. He always meant what he said.
But as he watched the dot move further and further away, something in his chest cracked open. Something that felt almost like grief.
He set the phone down without calling.
Let them run. Let them have their fairy tale. It would end, eventually. Love always did.
But for now just for tonight Viktor let his brother go.
He poured another vodka and drank alone, watching the dot disappear over the border.
"Goodbye, Alexei," he murmured.