Extra Side Story - One Autumn Morning (Pt. 1) (Patreon)

Hey guys 👋 I have an extra side story for you guys this month.  It's 4.5K words total and it wouldbe split into two parts. Once again, the extra side story is from Jackal's POV. It tells the story of how Luka and Jackal became an official couple 🤭This also doubles to further extend the backstory of the two's relationship.

I hope you guys enjoy it!

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It’s a beautiful and sunny autumn day. The whole day of rain yesterday seems to have washed away the pollution of the city, leaving the sky crystal blue today with only hints of wispy white clouds. You’re not a superstitious person per se, but it almost feels like the weather is currently reflecting your good mood.

You’ve just got paid good for a recent job you finished and you decide to take Luka out for a casual brunch—as is the usual tradition between you two after a… steamy night, although most of the time, it’s Luka who took you out to some fancy places in the city. Sadly, you don’t have that amount of spare money to spend on that kind of eatery. So, you chose to take him to this one old diner you love going to every now and then, located in the less fancy part of downtown.

You and Luka are sitting in ‘The Vinyl Booth’ diner, sitting in a booth that’s securely tucked at the back corner. You would have preferred to sit in one of the seats right by the windows at the front to enjoy the scenery, but Luka is too paranoid for that.

Speaking of him, he painfully stands out from all the other people here, like a fish out of water, with his designer black turtleneck and expensive overcoat. You already told him not to expect you to bring him to one of the fancy places he frequents and to just dress casually He said that this is as casual as he can get.

The two of you ended up discussing and bantering about what is casual and what can be considered one the whole way here.

Well, at least he has taken off his overcoat and folded it neatly beside him. He’s sitting across from you, and you find that, instead of the menu on the table in front of him, he’s studying you with an inscrutable expression on his face. You notice that he’s been looking at you weirdly ever since you woke up this morning in his bed. Okay, maybe from last night too, but you didn’t really trust your tipsy self’s perception.

You can feel that he wants to say something, the words are practically at the tip of his tongue, but something is holding him back somehow. You hate it, and the fact you can’t discern whether it’s something good or bad just adds to your anxiety.

Maybe he has finally had enough of your little liaison. Why? Maybe he has snapped back into his senses and realized that harboring and sleeping with someone highly sought by a family of the Triads is not the best choice he has made in his life.

Or maybe he has just simply grown bored of you.

That last one hurts the most, you’re not going to lie. You’re aware that the biggest possibility that he even agreed to sleep with you in the first place is because he considers it a novelty—as is the nature of most rich people. If he were to look for someone more handsome, or richer, or more influential to sleep with, he would have no shortages of them in this city alone and you’re 100% sure most of them would happily throw themselves at him.

You’re not delusional either, you know sooner or later, this little weird protection arrangement mixed with the friends-with-benefit thing will end. The fact that this even goes on for years is already insane. Your luck is bound to run out one day.

But still, doesn't mean it won’t hurt. The thought of returning back to the life of running that you have known for almost the entirety of your adult years… Back to being all alone again… Leaving him and probably never seeing him again for the remainder of your life…

You bring the menu up in a snap to cover most of your face, as if the face mask and cap you’re wearing are not enough. It’s been a while since you last felt such intense emotions like this. Sadness, trepidation, dread, and hints of anger at yourself all swirl and broil in your chest, resulting in an almost nauseating concoction.

Before you can steel your nerves enough to tell him to spit it out, the waitress comes back to take your order, lifting the tension slightly.

“May I take your order, sirs?” she beams at you and Luka, eyes lingering seconds longer on Luka, making you frown slightly.

“Steak, please, extra rare,” you smile widely, making sure it reaches your eyes.

That seems to unnerve her a bit and her own smile falters. “Extra rare…?”

“Yes,” you answer in faux-cheerfulness before carrying on as if it’s something completely normal. “Oh, and fries instead of mashed potatoes, please. And one chocolate milkshake.”

She decides to not question your choice further and just jots down your order dutifully before turning to Luka, her smile returning.

“And you, sir?” she asks.

“Uh, just your apple pie and black coffee, please,” he says, handing her the menu back.

“Coming right up,” she says enthusiastically before bending down to grab the menu in front of you as well and skipping away.

Luka sighs as he takes off his leather gloves and sets them aside on the table. He reaches into the pocket of the coat beside him to dig out his fancy case of cigarettes and an equally exquisite lighter. You watch his movement carefully, the way his elegant and long fingers deftly open the case, and pluck a cigarette out before snapping the case back close with a satisfying click and putting it beside his gloves.

“Thought you are quitting smoking,” you point out.

“I am,” he answers with the cigarette in between his teeth. “But I need one right now.” Bringing the lighter up, he lights the cigarette.

You purse your lips; you know he only smokes occasionally when stressed out. “Any particular reason why?” you ask anyway despite your suspicion.

He takes a drag languidly before turning to the side and blowing the smoke out away from your face; you appreciate it. “Tyoma… I… I need to tell you something,” he says. If the smoking hasn’t betrayed his nervousness, his tone certainly does.

Tyoma… Sometimes, it still feels weird to get called by your nickname. No one else other than your mother has ever used that… Maybe your father once, but you were too young to properly remember.

Anyway, the words that come after that are what’s making your heart beat uncomfortably hard in your chest. It’s ridiculous how that simple sentence—coming out of the mouth of the right person—can give you anxiety more intense than the ones you’ve felt even in years, surpassing even those you felt in a close fight.

“Only if you promise that it’s not something stupid,” you try to joke, but the tightness in your throat ends up making it sound more like a curt and annoyed statement.

He frowns as he brings up the cigarette again and takes another, deeper drag, drumming the fingers of his left hand on the table as he does so. He seems even more nervous, which, in return, feeds into your anxiety even more.

Grabbing the ashtray from the side, you push it towards him in a bit of agitation. He takes the cigarette out and hovers it over the ashtray so the ashes fall in it instead of on the table.

“Well, stupidity is subjective, isn’t it? I don’t think what I am about to say is stupid, but you might think otherwise,” he mutters, and even you can see clearly through it for what it is: an attempt to buy more time and stall the inevitable.

You’re not in the mood to entertain that at all. You just want him to get it out of the way as quickly as possible, like ripping a bandaid off.

“Luka,” you sigh, looking up at him. “Please, just fucking say it.”

Years ago, the prospect of cursing at the Head of the Morozov Family was unthinkable to you—maybe it still is… But right now, Luka is sitting across from you not as the Head of the Morozov Family, but simply as himself…

Luka closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about this for quite some time now…” he starts.

This is it… you think to yourself. He’s going to end the relationship… and most likely, the protection arrangement too… You bite the bottom of your lips so hard that you taste your own blood trickling onto your tongue as you brace yourself.

Opening his eyes, he sets his gray steely gaze at you. He stubs the cigarette in his right hand on the ashtray almost aggressively. His hands snap out as quick as a snake as he reaches out and holds your hands in his. The action takes you by complete surprise, but it doesn’t compare to the next words that come out of his mouth.

“I think I’m in love with you, Tyoma,” he declares.

You blink owlishly at him, frozen in place. “W—What…?” you whisper, almost inaudible.

“I love you,” he repeats again. “And I think—maybe we can go steady…?” The tone of his voice lilts up at the end in hopefulness; it reminds you of a kid asking for something.

This gotta be a joke because no way…

You start chuckling and Luka shifts in his seat, tilting his head slightly as he tries to discern whether it’s a good kind of chuckle or the derision kind. Honestly, you don’t even know. A bewildered one maybe? “Luka, April was months away. It’s October now.”

“I’m being serious right now,” he frowns and you can see hints of hurt in his usually cool grey eyes as he grips your hands tighter, as if to make a point of showing his seriousness.

Once again, the waitress comes to your rescue because she somehow chooses that time to return with your orders. You quickly withdraw your hands from Luka’s and Luka also pulls his hands back, although more reluctantly. The waitress’ eyes glance back and forth between you and Luka as she serves the meals.

“Enjoy!” she beams again, and maybe it’s your imagination, but her smile seems to have a hint of mischievousness to it, as if she knows what’s going on between the two of you now. She probably does after the hand-holding thing.

Taking the chance to avoid the conversation at hand, you decide to dig into your rare steak--well, you asked for extra rare, but it seems the chef had taken the liberty to translate that as rare. You feel Luka staring at you and you glance up to see him smiling slightly as he watches you.

Seeing that he has been caught red-handed, he looks away and starts poking at his apple pie. The waitress seems to have given him an extra huge scoop of vanilla ice cream and has drawn a smiley face with the caramel sauce on the side.

“First time ever confessing my feelings to someone and this is how it turns out. Just my luck, huh,” Luka chuckles mirthlessly before scooping a huge chunk of pie into his mouth.

“That’s your fault for confessing to me,” you mumble, stabbing a poor piece of french fry with your fork harder than you mean to. “If you have done it to anyone else in the city, I bet most of them would be elated and some probably would have passed out at your feet,” you scoff before continuing to cut into your steak.

“What does it matter if it’s not someone I love,” he sighs, settling his chin on the palm of his hand pensively.

“I don’t understand,” you say, gesturing with the fork and knife in your hands. “You could’ve literally anyone in this goddamn city that you want. Someone more handsome and less scarred, someone more influential, someone richer, someone who’s… I don’t know, less abrasive? Why me? A foreign nobody?”

“I don’t know. My heart never really tells me why. It just did, as cheesy as it sounds.” He pushes the bits of pie on his plate, not looking at you. “Also, don’t worry, your scars add to your charm for sure,” he grins as he glances up at you.

Your cheeks heat up and your heart races in your chest--a different kind from the one you experienced before, this one is slightly more pleasant but also weird at the same time.  “That’s not what we agreed to,” you point out weakly.

“That was years ago, Tyoma,” he sighs. “Things change and I think somewhere along the line, I caught real feelings for you.”

“Then you should’ve nipped those feelings in the bud before they lead to… this,” you wince. “Believe me, nothing good will come out of being with me, Luka… Or have you forgotten that I am being hunted down? I’ve told you what I did right? They won’t stop until either I am dead or they are.”

“Then we’ll face them together.” His voice is soft, nothing more than a whisper.

You shake your head gently. “How can you be so naive? You’ll put your whole family in danger, the people you truly care about.”

“You are one of the said people,” he insists. “And I’m already taking you under my family’s protection anyway. What will this change?”

He still doesn’t get it, does he? You should’ve known that it would be a mistake to sleep with him. “Because,” you groan in frustration. “If you hadn’t caught feelings, if it only stayed the non-committed and non-emotional thing we agreed to in the first place, it would be easier for you to just stop the protection when things get heated up for real. It would be easier for you to… I don’t know, just hand me over to them to keep your family and yourself safe.”

He blinks in surprise. “You expect me to throw you under the bus like that? Is that the kind of person you think I am?” he asks.

You send him a grim smile. “It’s what logical and the best course of action for you to take. And not the first time someone tried to do that to me. I would not hold it against you if you did that.” You shrug.

“There’s no way in hell I’ll even think of doing that. Never to you,”  he says in determination. “Even if you rejected my confession.”

“See… You just prove my point… You’ve become too attached to me for your own good,” you sigh. “I thought the Morozovs have ice for hearts like their name implies. That’s what all people told me, you know.”

Luka scoffs, “At the end of the day, no matter how ruthless, we are still human beings and saddled with emotions and loved ones.”

[PART 2]