Romania x Reader: Crimson Strings
Vladimir sat on the cold, dull metallic bench, some cold snow lazily lying on top of its exposed parts. With a small, empty frown, a sigh escaped his lips, the tips of his cute, little 'fangs' peeking out. He looked at his wrist watch, then up in the darkening sky, the setting sun staining the dark sky with its warm colors.
Perhaps it was time for him to go back once again?
Halfheartedly, he finally stood up, tucking his gloved hands into the pockets of his vermilion buttoned coat. The red mini top hat settled itself up on his head after his movement, careful not to fall off into the ground. He first looked around the snow-drenched park with half-lidded ruby eyes that seemed to turn dull with disappointment. Nothing interesting seemed to strike his longing heart.
Perhaps it was not time to find her successfully yet?
Walking back along the cold, lifeless path to his empty, lifeless-looking home, he snorted at the thought of his house feeling empty. Empty, eh? Seems so likely, yet it sounds so ironic. But why is that? It isn't ironic, but why does it sound like it?
Perhaps it is missing something important?
Suddenly, he snapped out of his thoughts as he heard a squeak, feeling something bump into his chest.
Or is it someone?
There, on the ground, were you, holding your head as you groaned. Compared to him, you were quite... Short, so he didn't see you, and bumped into you.
"Ah, I'm sorry.", Vladimir said softly, offering a gloved hand to help you up as a light pink tint dusted his pale cheeks. You looked at him and lightly smiled, taking his warm hand with your cold ones for him to help you stand up.
"It's okay!", you chirped, dusting off the dirt from your jeans and shirt. “I was the one who bumped into you, anyway.”
Then you tilted your head, looking up and down at him.
“Or maybe I’m just short…”, you mumbled, chuckling at yourself. He smiled at that statement then patted you on the head, making you slightly pout. Somehow, he felt interested in you, as if he’s being drawn to you, pulled towards you without you knowing. Like a metal to a magnet?
Then, you offered a hand for him to shake with a comforting and welcoming smile. “I’m (F/N). You are?”
He blinked at you in a clueless way, and then grinned cheekily, taking your cold hand with his warm, gloved one.
“My name is Vladimir.”, he said, his unique, ruby eyes twinkling with mischief as he lower his head and kissed the back of your hand, making you lightly blush at the gesture.
"I-It's a pleasure to meet you.", you stuttered timidly, trying not to look into his beautiful ruby red eyes.
"The pleasure is all mine, then.", he answered back suavely, a small smirk lingering on his lips. Somehow, he was instantly cheered back into his usual self by you. The feeling was somewhat nostalgic, and your appearances also looked familiar, like your meeting was plain déjà vu, simply ironic.
With that, it was like fate stuck together. Each day, he went to the park in his maroon military jacket on and his adorable mini top hat that miraculously balanced itself on his head, which made you recognize him ever since your meeting with him. He grew close to you as both of you hang out on the same spot like always as the cold winter passed by. He opened up to you warmly, finally growing back into his old, cheerful self, as if having another lone purpose to finally just live within the world. Just his presence made you happy, not feeling alone anymore. Sometimes both of you would tease each other or have playful bickering, but it had brought you closer to him.
Perhaps your meeting with him was actually a good thing, as if your existence within the world was the purpose for him to also just continue living, as long as you were there?
Vladimir had actually felt that certain emotion, that certain feeling while he spent time with you. It was like being drawn by a magnet, or perhaps something that caught his eye that made him so interested that you were always the one he’s been thinking about. From acquaintances, friends, then best friends, and finally...
But, not yet. You haven’t reached ‘that’ yet. He wanted to, and you fell for him enough to also want to, but both of you didn't know of each other’s feelings that it was seriously impossibly cliche. It was like being lost in a maze with no exit, or being stuck into a spider’s web that would keep you permanently there: There was no way out.
But, both of you didn't mind. As long as your presences was there, it was fine, as long as your relationship with him won’t drift apart, until there was nothing, as if it didn't even exist. The feeling was driving both of you crazy, but you didn't even mind it.
Then, finally, Vladimir had enough of it. He just wanted to admit it, that certain feeling that made his mind think of nothing but you. It was distracting him, pulling him to finally, his limit. His heart just longed for nothing but you and your presence, your caress, your warmth, your love. He wanted it, his heart wanted it.
The very last day of winter, yes, was when it will all happen. Everything of it, where the dull, metallic bench sat on the ground.
Like every single day, you cheerfully went to the park, then to where you usually sat beside Vladimir, expecting him there like every single day. But. He wasn't there, so you decided to just sit there on your usual sit and waited for him to arrive. You waited, waited, and waited, until the sun began to sink down to the horizon.
You sighed, and closed your eyes as your heart sank in disappointment. Perhaps you did something wrong? Or perhaps he had something to do that caused him not to arrive?
Finally, you stood up, deciding to leave. Just as you walked back to your house, you heard a voice shouting your name.
You stopped and looked around, trying to find the voice, only to see Vladimir panting behind you, his face in a bright shade of red, his little hat on the cold, snow-draped ground. You crouched down and grabbed it, then stood up straight again to look at his frantic ruby red eyes so full of emotion that managed to make your heart race like always. Suddenly, he grabbed you and hugged you tightly within his arms, making you squeak and you face flush into the color of crimson red.
“Please don’t leave me, (F/N)...”, you heard him softly whisper, out of breath as he buried his face on your neck, his warm lips lightly and gently brushing the exposed surface of your skin. “Please stay here with me.”
You blinked in a clueless manner, then finally decided to just stay, your hand around him as the other gently brushed his strawberry blond hair, abandoning the cute little hat on the ground, as if to calm him down. It wasn't the first time that he hugged you since he had always suddenly hugged you by the back, always surprising you. But this ‘hug’ is different, entirely different. This ‘hug’ is full of frantic emotion and adoration, or perhaps more than that, something that you yourself couldn't simply figure out.
“(F/N), I...”, he faltered softly, as if hesitating. “I...”
“Yes?”, you asked in a worried way. If that was the only thing he would say to you within the day that kept him busy, it must be drastically important. He looked up, his ruby eyes staring right into yours, as if it was so fragile that it would break like glass in a heart beat. But, it was like strings, crimson strings to be exact, that would entangle around you, keeping you just stuck there, keeping you vulnerable, exposed, until someone untangles you from it.
You felt something warm on your lips, distracting you from your deep thoughts, only to realize that it was his lips. Vladimir’s lips, yes, was on yours.
It was like a dream come true. It was something you would see in typical movies, but experiencing it in person, in reality with the one you adored and loved was completely different. It was filled with so much emotions, filled with passion, adoration, fragile love that might break in just one mistake. It was like a bubble: It might break in one simple touch, even by the gentle air.
Your arms tightening around him so you wouldn't collapse with your trembling legs, you kissed back in equal emotions, reassuring him. You felt the edges of his lips slightly move up, as if smiling. It was enough proof that it was reality, that it was happening, that everything might as just end up elegantly well.
The old man sitting by the opposite bench watched silently, remaining to be unseen, his presence not sensed. He gently smiled, as if in relief. He mentally had swore that he had seen one, lone crimson string tied on your index finger and Vladimir’s, reassuring him that it was finally connected to the right one.