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my savior and my executioner

Chapter 6: vi.

Summary:

Alina might have some second thought about getting into a relationship, mostly because she's still grieving, but Aleksander is here to help her.

Notes:

I published it after having 4 hours of sleep and also 4 hours of a mental breakdown, so don't be too harsh, please :)
also, it's a bit of a dark chapter, just giving you a heads-up!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The moments we spent together, half asleep, with his hand on my hip and his breath on my hair, were the easiest and the hardest.

I wanted to lose myself in the sweet sensation of his touch, to be intoxicated by his cologne and to be held by him. If we had died at that moment, I wouldn’t have minded it, because then we’d have to spend all eternity together, our legs knotted and our hearts close.

But I didn’t want to die. I wanted to go to bed and wake up next to him every day, knowing for sure that it would have never turned into a routine, that seeing his chest rise so calmly and his peaceful expression would have surprised me still. After all, one could not be expected to get used to the sight of angels.

On the other hand, as much as I enjoyed this thing, I knew it couldn’t have lasted. He was my teacher, and that alone would’ve been the biggest red flag ever, but more than that, I knew I was in no state of mind for a relationship. Sometimes I got dark and twisted and I didn’t wanna put him through my bad moods, the drama he hadn’t requested, and the long days of apathy that stretched out the more you wanted them to crumple. I didn’t want to wait for him to break my heart, to make me suffer, and wish I hadn’t got the illusion that happiness could be real. In the end, it never lasts. I knew it by now. After my parents died, I had to force myself to get out of bed each morning, to pretend that the girl-who-was-now-an-orphan wasn’t so strange, that she was holding it together just fine, and the pieces were put together. Because if I’d let anyone tug at me, I was sure that the glue I used for my survival wouldn’t have lasted and this castle made out of sticks, that let everyone not worry about me, would have fallen, They would’ve found what was left of me scattered. No, I couldn’t allow myself any weakness or chances of hurting right now.

I got back to reality as I heard Aleksander moving against me, but his sleep was not as restless as mine. It was still too early in the morning; he would’ve fallen asleep soon and left me be. I felt so lucky my back was against his chest, as he wouldn’t have seen the tears that were streaming down my face by now.

Love might be true, I reckoned, a feeling so strong yet so delicate, so pure yet so damning, so comfortable that it felt like going home yet so painful when wasn’t corresponded, that it felt like walking on thorns. Love was true, I knew it. But what was the point? What was the point of any of it? In the end, it all came down to death: of a love, of a lover. Was the risk of despair worth the bliss?

The rhythm of Aleksander’s breathing, calm again by now, was the only thing that kept me sane during the night.

 

 

The last day felt melancholic, because I loved the city, the art, the friends, and I needed that vacation to put some space between me and my actual life. Besides, my bad mood from the day before was still there, and I hadn’t slept almost at all, so it all made sense that once I got on the plane, after the initial excitement of taking off and the small talks about the gift we’d bought home and the school trip, the only thing I could do was put my earphones on and hope I could sleep.

Eventually, I managed, but I mustn’t have been that tired, since when I woke up everybody around me was still sleeping and we had one hour yet before the landing. I decided to reach for my copy of Pride and Prejudice, which was in my backpack and started reading it for the hundredth time. I picked up at where I left, Darcy’s confession, but before I could finish the chapter, I saw Aleksander looming over me.

I took off my headphones before he could chide me, "you can do better than that, Miss. Starkov."

I closed the book. "I can’t, sir. It’s one of my favorite books, and not only do I like it, but it is also a masterpiece." I tried to look composed and not show my excitement. "It’s about a love story that is crossed by family, society, even by the two lovers, who drive each other apart yet are truly in love. It’s a clear introspective into 19th-century families, and action and its consequences – take Lydia as an example." I had to bite my lip not to keep going, fully aware that my zeal revealed itself.

He raised an eyebrow as if I wasn’t grasping an easy concept. "I’m not saying it’s not a classic, Miss Starkov. If you haven’t noticed, I teach English literature," he said amenable. "I’m just saying you could read something deeper than the same book you’ve been bringing at school for ages. I could give you a list if you please."

Oh, it was a compliment in disguise. I found myself at a loss for words. "Oh- um, yes, sir," I managed to say, not looking him in the eyes.

"Besides," he continued, "nowadays bookshops are full of boring romance." He stopped me before I could speak. "I know this one is not one of them. I’m just worried about the quality of what young women read nowadays."

"I think, sir, that a new genre is developing. It’s not that deep or meaningful most of the time, I must admit, but after centuries of having men dominate this field with what I consider a waste of paper sometimes, it must not be that bad to have women writing mild romance as they finally like it. Furthermore, even reading trash - that’s what we’re talking about, right? - has a use. It’s relaxing and funny; people need a break from their lives, which turn to be too heavy to face without a companion such as a book. Even if you can't abide it, I suggest you read one of these books." I lowered my voice, "I could give you a list if you please."

It was his time to look down, shaking his head as he couldn’t have imagined I would have teased him talking about books. Once he looked up, he was perfectly composed. "Anyway, I wasn’t here for that." He passed a hand around his hair. "Wake your friends up, we’re about to land and I want maximum efficiency after we leave the plane." It took everything in me not to roll my eyes, but I did as he said.

As soon as Genya and Marie, who were next to me, realized I wasn’t the only one there, they stood upright and tried to seem at least aware of their surroundings. "Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, girls. Do you have somebody collecting you at the airport?"

Genya and Marie nodded: Genya’s parents were giving them and Nadia a ride home. I cleared my throat before saying, "I don’t, sir. My aunt has an important meeting and she can’t come." I fretted, "but I’ll take an uber, so no worries." I didn’t want to be anything less than 100% honest with him.

"Nonsense, Miss Baghra or I will take you home." Before I could protest, he raised a hand to shush me, "we’re not leaving you in an airport by yourself at night. You’re under our responsibility" and went to the students behind us to check on them. I notice Miss Baghra was doing the same thing on the other side of the plane.

Genya apologized profusely for not being able to give me a ride, but I reassured her since I knew her parents were friends with Nadia’s and Marie’s and they had already arranged it before the trip started. I guessed her family was way more organized than mine, or whatever was left of it.

I started resuming my reading, but as soon as Maria stood up to go to the bathroom, Genya punched me in the arm. Hard. "Ouch! What was that for?" I turned to her massaging the point where she hit me.

She tried whispering but was so caught, it seemed like a hiss. "You’re not sleeping with the teacher!" And then hit me again, a bit lower.

"Shut your mouth!" I tried to hide the urge in my voice. "Are you still drunk? You’re insane."

"You’re not fooling me, Lina! I was just resting my eyes, so I heard the conversation. You were flirting, both of you." I wasn’t sure if she was outraged or intrigued by the situation. Probably the half-grin on her fame made me lean towards the second option. In the end, we all loved a good scandal.

"Well, if you were awake, you must have heard that we were just talking about books and nothing more."

"Yes, I heard the words but also the tone, duh! You were basically making out in front of me by talking literature." Her half-grin turned into a whole grin. "And you were ready to talk back. Oh, you never do that! You’re always too scared for your grades. But now you did it, which means you’re not afraid since you’re sleeping together."

I wasn’t sure if she really thought it or was just making things up to make me confess. Anyway, I wasn’t going to. "Stop it, Genya. It’s not fun. I won’t tell you the name of the person I’m meeting with, especially not if you start considering every possible person. How desperate are you for the name?"

"So desperate, Lina. I want us to have a double date! How cool would it be?"

I had one chance and I took it. "How are things going between you and David?"

She knew what I was doing, but she played along. "Very well! We made out yesterday. And he also said I’m beautiful." She swiflty blushed. "You know he’s a bit weird, and he surely had no way with a girl before me, so I appreciate every single compliment more than ever."

I heard Genya talk about her date until we landed, but a small part of me kept wondering whether she was too smart and just hiding it, or Morozova and I had been too reckless and dumb.

 

 

One of the first to leave, once we went through the controls, was Miss Baghra, with a car he had called for her. It made only sense that she’d be the one to leave, since she was up basically every night, preventing us from having the littlest fun. Besides, I was so glad Aleksander didn’t drive her home; it would’ve been too embarrassing. Of course, she didn’t know about us; nevertheless, I couldn’t help but fear her even more now that I knew they weren’t colleagues, but family.

After the last one of my classmates left and we were alone, Aleksander took my luggage and guided me towards the exit. "Alina, would you like to come to my place?"

"Um? I didn’t hear that."

"I said, would you like to come to my place? We can hang out a bit, then I’ll drive you home before your aunt comes."

"Yeah, sure." I nodded and smiled at him. "Also, thanks for the ride. You didn’t have to, really."

"I had to, pet. First, because you’re my student, and as much as you guys think I’m an asshole, I’m not that kind of asshole. And also because you’re you: I wouldn’t let you walk away alone, ever." I tried to hide the smile tugging at my lips. "Third, I’m not the one giving you a ride. I’m taking it too." We exited the airport, finally – yet sadly – feeling at home all at once, and he stopped, searching for somebody. Then he walked towards a black car and I followed him.

A guy got off the car and smiled at him, then Aleksander posed the luggage and they hugged each other friendly. "Welcome home, mate! Glad to know you’re enjoying your job flying off to Paris", joked the short, dark-haired guy.

Aleksander laughed. "Good to see you too, Ivan." He then proceeded to introduce us, "Alina, this is Ivan, my best friend." Ivan smiled at me. "Ivan, that’s Alina, my apt pupil." We shook hands. "Nice to meet you," we said together.

They put the luggage in the trunk, then Ivan and Aleksander seated on the driver and passenger’s seat, while I rode on the back.

"So, Alina," Ivan said, looking at me through the rear mirror, "where do you live?"

"Actually," Aleksander intruded, "I’ll drive her home. I don’t wanna bother you, you’ve already been so kind with me. Probably Fedyor will hate me for separating the two of you for…" he considered, "fifteen minutes."

"It’s no problem, really. Besides, Fedyor already fell asleep, so he won’t mind sleeping on my side too."

"I’m serious, don’t worry. I also want to lend Alina some books."

The ride was chatty since the two friends kept joking and talking about the school trip, the job, family. The car stopped in front of a building with red bricks, and I counted nine stories. Aleksander took our luggage, waved at Ivan before he left, and stopped at a door. He digited some numbers and we entered a lobby. I followed him to the elevator. There were ten floors, and he pressed the number ten.

The elevator doors opened once we reached the attic and I stared with wide eyes. It was the classiest place I had ever seen, a mix between classic and modern style, with a glass wall that had a beautiful view of the city and a piano at the center of the room. How rich was he - or mostly his family - to be a teacher in such an amazing home? He placed the luggage at the entrance and took me by the hand to the couch, a deep red that paired well with the dark colors of the open space. "Do you like it?"

"It’s beautiful. Did you décor it?"

"Yes, I have a fixation for interior design," he laughed.

I nodded towards the piano. "Among other things, I assume."

He tugged at me, making me fall on top of him on the couch. "If you’re talking about me, milaya, you’re absolutely right." He left a chaste kiss on my lips, then placed me beside him and stood up. "Do you want something to eat?" He went for the kitchen, an open space with the most modern home appliances. He started opening the drawers and the fridge looking for food, then he scratched the nape of his neck. "We can’t do the lasagna as we planned, and I also don’t have a lot in the fridge." He turned to me, leaning against the counter. “So we can choose pizza or other pasta. I think you’d like pasta, after all the junk food we’ve eaten in France. I’ve learned a special recipe in Italy, you’ll love it." He winked.

I was surprised I wanted just what he said. "Then be it," I nodded from the couch, before standing up to help him. "Can I help you with something?"

"Just lay down, pet, put on some music or turn the TV on if you want to. You must be tired from all the walking." I didn’t answer that he must have been more tired than me, since he walked and took care of 20 teenagers, so I obeyed and sat on the sofa again, grabbing the remoter and blasting some music through YouTube. Of course, he had a smart TV.

I closed my eyes and rested until I heard the sound of draining pasta. I stood up and sat on the kitchen island, wondering if this was truly reality or just a well-architected dream. He had set the table perfectly, white plates and an elegant red tablecloth with matching napkins. "Here’s yours," he said putting the pasta on my plate, "and mine."

We ate in silence. I couldn’t manage to speak, I was too focused on enjoying the best pasta al pomodoro of my whole life. I knew how to cook: often Aunt Ana wasn’t home because she had meetings and places to take the foster kids, so I had to cook. Sadly, my food was not half as tasty as the one I was eating. "It’s the best meal I’ve ever had," I said once I finished it. "I loved it, thank you."

He wiped his mouth with the napkin. "Glad you enjoyed it. I’ll cook for you whenever you want, love."

I stood up, grabbing our plates to clean them. He held my hand, stopping me. "No, Alinochka, you won’t clean. You’re my guest and I won’t allow you to do anything but relax and enjoy my company."

"But I enjoy it the same by cleaning the dishes. You’ve been so kind to me, I want to repay you. Please."

He released my hand, "only if you truly want to. I don’t mind doing it and I want to spoil you. I want to give you everything you want, just to see you smile and know I was the one who made it possible."

I quickly turned away to wash the dishes: I didn't want him to see me blushing.

Besides, the chore was no big deal since there was a dishwasher next to the sink. Once I finished, I reached him and sat on his lap, while he caressed my back. I saw he was tired by the way he was leaning on the chair, like he was about to fall asleep on it. I found the courage to ask him what had been in my mind all day long. "Are you for real?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

I put a hand on his shirt. I could feel his warm and strong skin beneath my fingers. 1i hated that just the touch of him reassured me. "I’m not sure about this. Not about us, but just what I expect from- this. I mean, you're such a nice guy, I know. But I’m in a bit of a dark place right now with all the stuff that’s happened and I don’t want to hurt you, but I also don’t want to be hurt by you. We may have the best intentions but sooner or later-"

He put my hand into his own after kissing the palm. "I know what you’re feeling, Alina. You’re projecting on me whatever fear of abandonment and loss you’re having, and I get that. But I’m asking you to trust me just a bit so that you’ll get to know me well and be sure that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You just need to get to know me, then it'll be alright." I had a lump in my throat that held all the sorrow I had been feeling and wouldn’t have let me speak without wailing, so I just stared at him.

"It must not be easy for you, trying so hard to just get by. That’s what you’ll feel for a bit: like you’re trying the best to just stay above the water when you know you’re that close to being pushed down. But you can use me as your life jacket, I’ll help you until you’ll learn how to float. Just let me do it, please."

I tried a couple of times before being able to speak. "Some days it seems I’m getting well through it, as I can easily manage this new life I’ve tried to create. I can pretend my parents are not dead, I’m just having a holiday at my aunt’s and attending a different school for a while. I like lying to myself like that, it’s a beautiful illusion that helps me through it. But other days the wind swipes away everything I’ve carefully made up, leaving me with the reality that I’m not doing better, I’m not having a holiday, this is my actual life right not and I have the pure certainty that whatever I’ll do, I’ll never get out of this. So the next good day isn’t really a good day, because I’ll keep wondering ‘how long will it last before everything burns to ashes?’" I felt the familiar, salty taste of tears on my lips, but I kept going. "I’m not suicidal or anything like that, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t want to live like this anymore-" the words choked out of me. It was funny how the worse it made you feel, the harder was physically being able to talk about it. Panting, crying, it was as if your body was trying to keep the pain inside, but I wasn’t sure if it was for self-destruction or fear of being laughed at. "I live like I’m just waiting to die, like the best part of my life - that should be right ahead of me - already passed and I’m just counting the days. I’ve been taught not to harm myself, and dying after my parents seems so wrong, but also the only way to bring the family together. I don’t like this new me, I want the old one back, please please please-"

"I'm afraid, Alina, you’ll have to accept that this you is here to stay. Luckily, she will evolve and get used to the pain, until she’ll learn to live with it and will fade away. Not too much, but enough to let you realize that you’re meant to go on. Just resisting is a strong job, milaya, and I’m proud of you for doing that, mostly because the longer you’ll keep going, the sooner it will all get bearable." He wiped away the tears from my face and held my chin so that I could look up to him. "It seems impossible now, but you need to trust me when I tell you it will happen. Do you promise me you’ll keep going on and will come to me when you’re like this?" I didn't want to promise him, but his words were so reassuring and hopeful, he seemed like the foothold I needed. I wanted to hold on to that; besides, did I have any other options? I nodded.

He held me so close and I felt so protected, but deep down I also hoped he might be holding too tight and about to shatter me.

Notes:

leave a comment if you want to, that'd make me very happy!