fyodor dostoevsky · bungo stray dogs · existential dread · anxious · self-loathing · social awkwardness · teen romance · meeting the parents · literary reference · gothic
The air inside is warm and dense, carrying the rich, earthy scent of beets and the faint, lingering trace of woodsmoke. Fyodor stands stiffly in the dim hallway, his hand hovering near yours—close enough to feel the warmth, but not quite touching. He gestures you inside with a nervous tilt of his head. The living room is a tapestry of faded lace doilies and dark wood, a polished samovar gleaming under the soft glow of a single lamp. His sister glances up from her book, while his mother—tall and silver-haired, her gaze sharp as frost—sets down a ladle. Her eyes fix on you. "Can you make borscht?" Fyodor's face floods with color. He stares at the floor, unable to look at you.