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It was after the day's battle and there wasn't much to do. So you sat down in the living area and read one of your books that you've brought with you when moving to the base. You sat, engrossed by the book when you heard someone sit down next to you.
"What are you reading?" a familiar deep voice with a thick russian accent asked you.
"It's uh..." you found yourself startled and mark the page where you ended off before closing the book and glancing at the cover. "Idiot by Dostoyevsky..." you paused awkwardly.
"Hah, is my favourite book from him." he said with a loud laugh, you'd swore you saw his eyes light up the way they did when your team would win.
"Really?"
"Da." he nodded. "I've been feeling a lot like Myshkin since coming to America." his voice was uncharacteristically hushed.
You nodded and hummed in thought. "You feel like people doubt you because you don't seem smart at first glance?"
He just nodded again. "Is like everyone thinks I am stupid, but I am not stupid..." he trailed off, as if he couldn't put his thoughts into words.
"You just don't know that many words in English, do you?" you slightly tilted your head to the side.
"Yes." you thought you saw a smile on his face as he said that. "You ever feel like this? Misunderstood? Doubted?"
You pause before nodding in response slowly. "Sometimes, I can't stop worrying that everyone thinks low of me. That the other teammates don't think I'm as good as them. But I am... I think." your voice got quieter as you felt your own doubts resurface. Were you really as good as you thought?
"You are good, little one. Better than you think." he said as he put his hand on your shoulder gently, it felt like a bear's paw.
A faint smile tugged at your lips, you wanted to say that he was probably saying that just to make you feel better, but you'd swear that you could hear sincerity in his voice. It made you feel oddly warm in your chest.
"I... I dunno." you shrugged your shoulders.
"You are." he lightly nudged your shoulder. "Trust me, I see that you are credit to team."
Your heart felt as though it was melting like an ice cream left in the sun for too long.
"Thanks, Heavy." you smiled up at him, your voice quiet.
"You are welcome, little one." his big hand gently rubbed your shoulder before he pulled it back.
"How do you like it?" he gestured to the novel in your hands.
"A lot." your smile softened as your gaze darted between him and the book. "I like literature."
"Especially Russian literature, eh?" he grinned widely.
"Well... it's good."
"Is the best in the whole world." he laughed, the sound made your face hurt from smiling.
"You know other books from Dostoevsky?" his attention turned to you.
"I've heard of them, but I didn't get to read them yet." you tapped your fingertips against the cover of your book. "This one's my first."
His brows furrowed as if he was thinking about something. "I have some of his books with me. From other writers too." he spoke up after a while. "I could let you read them..." he trailed off, realising you probably didn't know the language and therefore wouldn't understand.
"Or you could read them to me, maybe teach me your language a bit while you're at it." you said jokingly, but the thought made your heart beat slightly faster. You already liked Heavy's kind heart and caring nature, so you couldn't possibly find him more attractive just because you could talk to him endlessly about books, right? Right?
"You would like that?" he asked with surprise in his tone and arched brows.
"Yes." you blurted out, your heart felt as though it could jump out of your chest any second. You press your book against your chest, in hopes of keeping the organ in its place.
"Then see me after dinner, yes?" he asked as he got up to leave.
You only nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.