The drive back to the apartment was silent, heavy with the aftermath of the ambush. Alexei's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched in concentration. Next to him, Oliver stared out the window, his mind reeling from the night's events. The adrenaline that had fueled him in the warehouse had long since faded, leaving behind a mix of exhaustion, fear, and something he couldn't quite name.
Alexei hadn't said a word since they left the warehouse, and that silence gnawed at Oliver. The unspoken tension between them had been building for days, growing stronger with every dangerous encounter, every moment spent in close quarters. There was something simmering just beneath the surface, something Oliver wasn't sure how to handle.
But it wasn't just the tension that was getting to him. It was the realization of what he'd done tonight. He had stepped into Alexei's world, and for the first time, he had fought back. He had taken down one of Petrov's men, and though he hadn't killed him, it still felt like crossing a line. A line he wasn't sure he could ever uncross.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Alexei spoke. "You need to be more careful."
Oliver blinked, turning to look at him. "What?"
"In the warehouse," Alexei continued, his voice low and rough. "You moved too soon. You could've gotten yourself killed."
Oliver frowned, his stomach twisting. "I had to do something. That guy was about to shoot you."
"I had it under control," Alexei snapped, his tone sharper than Oliver had expected. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, his expression dark. "Next time, wait for my signal. This isn't a game, Oliver."
"I know that!" Oliver shot back, frustration boiling up inside him. "I'm not an idiot, Alexei. I know what's at stake."
"Do you?" Alexei's voice was quiet now, dangerous. His eyes flicked over to Oliver, filled with something cold and unrelenting. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're still trying to play hero."
Oliver's heart pounded in his chest, his jaw tightening. "I'm not playing anything. I'm trying to survive, just like you."
Alexei let out a harsh breath, his hands gripping the wheel tighter. "Surviving doesn't mean running headfirst into danger. This world doesn't care how brave you are, Oliver. It will eat you alive if you're not careful."
The car swerved as Alexei pulled sharply off the road, parking in a secluded spot near the river. The streetlights cast a dim glow over the interior of the car, highlighting the tension in Alexei's face.
Oliver looked at him, the weight of his words settling heavily between them. "I'm not leaving you."
Alexei's eyes flashed with something—anger, maybe, or frustration. But behind that, there was something deeper. Fear. He might not say it, but Oliver could see it in the way Alexei's jaw clenched, in the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel as if he was trying to keep something inside from breaking free.
"You should," Alexei said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't belong in this world."
Oliver shook his head, leaning closer. "You keep saying that, but I'm still here."
Alexei let out a harsh laugh, but it held no humor. "You're here now, but for how long? You've seen what Petrov's men can do. You've seen the bodies they leave behind. How long do you think you can survive this?"
"As long as it takes," Oliver replied, his voice steady. He met Alexei's gaze, his heart pounding. "I'm not going anywhere."
For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them thick with unspoken emotions. Alexei's eyes were dark, unreadable, and Oliver could feel the pull between them growing stronger, like a current he couldn't resist.
Suddenly, Alexei cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He leaned back against the seat, his shoulders tense. "You're a fool," he muttered, but there was something softer in his tone now. Something resigned.
"Maybe I am," Oliver said quietly. "But I'm a fool who's not giving up on you."
Alexei turned to face him again, his expression conflicted. For a moment, it looked like he might say something, but then he shook his head, reaching for the door handle. "We need to get inside," he said gruffly, stepping out of the car.
Oliver followed him silently, his mind racing. He knew they weren't done talking, not by a long shot. But for now, Alexei was shutting down, retreating into the cold, hard exterior he wore like armor.
Inside the apartment, Alexei tossed his jacket onto the back of the couch and headed straight for the kitchen, pouring himself a drink without a word. Oliver watched him from the doorway, his mind still replaying their conversation in the car.
"Why do you keep pushing me away?" Oliver asked, breaking the silence.
Alexei paused, the glass halfway to his lips. He didn't turn around, but Oliver could see the tension in his shoulders.
"I'm not pushing you away," Alexei muttered, taking a long drink.
"Yes, you are," Oliver pressed, stepping further into the room. "Every time we get close, you shut me out. Why?"
Alexei set the glass down on the counter, his back still turned to Oliver. "Because if I let you in, you'll get hurt. Or worse."
Oliver's heart clenched at the raw honesty in his voice. He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving Alexei's back. "You can't protect me from everything, Alexei. I know the risks. I made my choice."
Alexei finally turned to face him, his eyes dark and full of conflict. "You don't understand, Oliver. People like me… we don't get happy endings. We don't get to keep the things we care about. Everything I touch gets ruined."
Oliver's chest tightened, his throat dry. "I'm not asking for a happy ending. I'm asking for a chance."
For a long moment, they stood there, the weight of the conversation pressing down on both of them. And then, slowly, Alexei stepped forward, his gaze locked on Oliver's. He stopped just a foot away, close enough that Oliver could feel the heat radiating off him.
"I don't know how to do this," Alexei admitted, his voice low and rough. "This… thing between us. I don't know how to be what you need."
Oliver's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. "I don't need you to be perfect, Alexei. I just need you to be real."
Alexei's eyes searched Oliver's face, and for a moment, it looked like he might pull away again. But then, slowly, cautiously, he reached out, his fingers brushing against Oliver's cheek. The touch was hesitant, almost unsure, as if Alexei was testing the waters, trying to figure out if this was something he could allow himself.
Oliver leaned into the touch, his heart swelling with something warm and unfamiliar. "We'll figure it out," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Alexei's gaze softened, and for the first time since they'd met, Oliver saw a crack in the armor. A glimpse of the man underneath the tough exterior—the man who had been hurt, who had lost too much, but who was still standing.
"I'm not good at this," Alexei said again, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.
Oliver smiled, leaning closer. "Neither am I."
For a long moment, they stood there, their foreheads nearly touching, the silence between them comfortable for the first time. It wasn't a confession of love, and it wasn't a promise of forever. But it was something—something real, something fragile, and maybe, just maybe, something worth fighting for.
"I'm not going anywhere," Oliver whispered, his voice firm with conviction.
And for the first time, Alexei didn't argue.