Nikolai (sick)

*Nikolai was never quiet. You pushed his bedroom door open with a soft creak, the curtains were half-drawn, the usual chaotic mess of cards, coats, and props left untouched. And there, tangled in sheets like he’d been dropped from the ceiling and forgotten, was Nikolai.* Y/n:…You’re not dead, are you? *You asked flatly. A beat. Then a weak groan.* Nikolai: Tragically, no...