Page 16 of Pistols and Plush Toys

“So what it is I’m should order for breakfast?

” Nikolai asked the next morning, from where he was standing in Elliot’s doorway.

Nikolai had knocked and then waited for Elliot to answer before opening the door, which Elliot was grateful for.

It allowed him to stuff Apricot back in his backpack where the toy wouldn’t be seen.

Last night he’d laid in bed and thought about their conversation after Nikolai had returned him to his room.

Nikolai had once more left him alone in the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.

It was unexpected, the consideration and respect the man kept offering.

Elliot knew he shouldn’t be stupid enough to trust it, to trust Nikolai at all, but he also wasn’t able to disregard it either.

Elliot had been living on the edge of terror for days.

Getting to talk about food and managing to eat and keep down a couple slices of pizza for lunch and dinner had done him a world of good.

He’d even slept kind of restfully. He felt more alive than he had in days, and though the fear and anxiety still thrummed in the back of his mind—it never truly let him go—he didn’t feel as battered by it.

He was even… looking forward to the fact that he got to pick where they ordered their next meal from.

It had been such a long time since he’d gotten to recommend a place to eat to anyone.

Mattia wasn’t an adventurous eater, and so neither was Elliot anymore.

Despite how complementary Mattia had been about the food at Olive, as the years wore on, nothing Elliot made or recommended seemed to please him.

Elliot knew it was probably his own fault; he’d be so sure he remembered that Mattia liked a dish or a restaurant, only to get it wrong.

It was no wonder Mattia didn’t trust Elliot to recommend food anymore.

Suddenly the anxiety within got louder. What if Nikolai didn’t like Elliot’s suggestion? How… how would he react? Nikolai hadn’t—he hadn’t hurt Elliot yet, not really, but—

But if Elliot upset him? What would he do then?

“Mr. Brooks?” Nikolai said. He was holding up his phone. “Were you deciding on what I’m should get?”

Elliot only just stopped himself from sinking his teeth into his lower lip. He was trying to be good and remember not to do that, since Nikolai wanted him to let the split heal. “U-um, well, have you ever had the breakfast bowls from Red Chili?”

Nikolai shook his head. “No. Is Mexican?”

“Tex-Mex,” Elliot said, before wincing. “If you like spicy?” Stupid. It was probably too bold of a first suggestion. He’d just—he’d missed eating there. Mattia wasn’t a fan of spice at all.

This was just another example of what was wrong with Elliot. He tended to go for a risky option first because he thought they were the most exciting.

“I’m like spice,” Nikolai said. “Have not had Tex-Mex for breakfast. I will try.”

“If you don’t want–”

“I’m will try,” Nikolai cut in, voice firm. He started tapping at his phone. “I’m like most food. Just do not recommend me Russian cuisine. This city has no good Russian food. My бабушка would be offended at what they serve in this country.”

The word was Russian, and sounded like babooshka . A grandmother? Nikolai's grandmother?

For some reason that made Elliot want to smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I have menu up,” Nikolai said. “Pick what you will want, okay?” He offered Elliot the phone.

He handed it over like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t worried about Elliot trying to phone for help or—or throw it at him.

Maybe that was why Nikolai wasn’t worried. He knew Elliot wouldn’t try.

Elliot took the phone to scroll the menu, and together they picked out breakfast. Nikolai nodded at him, and told him that he would return when the food arrived.

Once the door was shut again, Elliot sighed, alone again in the bare, empty room. His fingers itched to grab Apricot back out of his backpack just so he wasn’t completely by himself.

Instead, he left the backpack alone and walked to the half bath. He brushed his teeth and washed his face and tried to smooth down his unruly mop of brown hair. He hadn’t been given a brush or comb, so the best thing he could do was use his fingers and water to get it into a semblance of order.

He looked at himself in the mirror, at his ragged appearance, and cringed away from it. If Elliot ever got to go home, he could only imagine what Mattia would say about what he looked like now. Unkempt and ugly, like something the cat had dragged in.

He left the bathroom behind and went to sit on the bed again, trying to distract himself from thoughts of if he ever got to go home.

It was just… hard. To sit alone in a room for hours on end with nothing to do.

At least when he was by himself in Mattia’s penthouse, Elliot could read, or watch TV, or try to solve one of his puzzle books.

Elliot sighed again and grabbed up his backpack, pulling out the puzzle book that he’d been carrying when he’d been grabbed.

It was about half filled out and Elliot didn’t have a pencil or pen to write down any of his answers, but attempting to keep the puzzles straight in his head at least occupied his mind in some way.

He could feel himself fading though. Losing time, as he wondered if he’d ever be free of this place.

By the time Nikolai returned to tell him the food had arrived, Elliot’s stomach was aching.

It had been days of struggling to get enough food down, and the pizza from yesterday seemed so long ago.

The second he smelled Red Chili, it was like his whole body unlocked.

He’d worked at the place only briefly while he was in school, but the smell took him right back to it.

To that familiar kitchen, to all the meals he’d made himself while learning their recipes.

One of the men who had grabbed Elliot, Alex, brought the bags of food in.

There was a lot of food, nearly everything off their menu because Nikolai had been curious about trying it all.

Nikolai unpacked it at the table, sliding the breakfast bowl Elliot had ordered over, along with a pair of utensils.

“Which is best sauce?” Nikolai asked as he held up a small clear bag of included sauces.

“The salsa verde,” Elliot said, with only minimal hesitation. Nikolai said he liked spicy food and he wanted to try this. If he was going to be upset with Elliot if he didn’t like breakfast, Elliot recommending a sauce wouldn’t change that. “The green one.”

Nikolai inclined his head and took that one out, then selected another breakfast bowl and one of the burritos.

Elliot found himself sneaking glances as Nikolai opened his bowl, hungry but too antsy to take a bite.

He needed to know how Nikolai reacted to the food before Elliot could eat any himself.

He just… he just needed to know if he should be expecting those blue eyes to narrow in anger, that strong jaw to clench as Nikolai shoved away from the table and strode over to where Elliot was sitting—

Nikolai was wearing several large gold rings on each hand, Elliot noted distantly as Nikolai loaded up a bite with the verde sauce. A couple were set with stones. How much would that hurt if…?

He held his breath as Nikolai took a bite, his stomach cramping for reasons unrelated to hunger.

Nikolai groaned in audible appreciation as he chewed.

“Is very good,” he said after he’d swallowed. “Good flavor, and sauce is very much yes, good choice.” He dove back in for another bite.

It was such a small comment, but Elliot felt it like a full body hug. It filled him in a way he’d forgotten about. It had been years since he’d been able to recommend food to anyone other than Mattia.

It felt good to be told he’d done a good job.

He’d started cooking because he loved that feeling, the ability to bring someone joy and satiation through food. He loved creating something nourishing with his hands. Being able to make someone’s day better with food.

Elliot let out the breath he’d been holding and picked up his fork.

The flavors exploded on his tongue, and he closed his eyes to savor them, chewing slowly to give his stomach time to get used to eating.

He knew he needed to be eating more, but it was hard when everything here felt so precarious.

When he didn’t know the rules and how to appease the person in power.

When he kept expecting the worst anytime he misstepped.

Although…

His eyes drifted back up to Nikolai, who had eaten half his breakfast bowl in the time Elliot had taken three bites, and was now unwrapping the burrito.

Nikolai looked less severe like this, seated at the table across from Elliot and enjoying his food.

His expression was open and appreciative, drawing attention to how handsome the man was now that Elliot wasn’t looking at him through a lens washed with pure terror.

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t as perilous here as he’d first assumed. Nikolai kept him locked up, sure, but he wasn’t mean. Wasn’t cruel. He didn’t yank Elliot around or pull his hair or call him names, and from the very start he’d assured Elliot that he wouldn’t be hurt as long as Elliot cooperated.

Elliot had certainly acted in a way that didn’t look very much like cooperating, crying altogether too many tears and being much, much too loud.

But even with all that, Nikolai hadn’t raised his hand to Elliot even once.

Instead, he had bandaged Elliot’s roughened wrists and checked on how they were healing every night after Elliot’s shower.

He’d let Elliot shower in relative privacy.

He’d let Elliot pick what food they got to eat.

He’d definitely caught sight of Apricot on more than one occasion, and hadn’t said a word about it.

Elliot knew that if he did get to go home there’d be hell to pay, but while he was here… maybe he could at least try to not live every moment like Nikolai was going to kill him.