Illya Kuryakin was only sixteen, yet he was already feeling the pain of a broken heart. He watched as Natasha Asimov picked up her small valise, stepping onto the bus to take her away to her life of servitude. *
She would be gone from his life forever.
Natasha taught him the carnal side of love, but at the same time she'd opened his heart and let him experience real love, if only for a brief time.
And now he felt nothing but pain again. He realized he truly had feelings for the girl and now that she was disappearing, he knew love hurt. It was like a dark cloud filled with rain...a sadness that was the price to be paid for daring to love just a little.
Love hurt, it was as simple as that. It burned like a stove, scarring his heart. No, he would not allow that to happen again. Illya hardened his heart, locking away his love along with his other emotions.
There was only ice in his veins now...that was his life. It would be one of solitude. He would share himself with no one. Love hurts, love hurts
, he told himself again and again. He wanted nothing to do with it.
His love had been ripped away from him as had everyone who'd ever meant anything to him.
"Love was for fools"...that's what the young Illya Kuryakin told himself.
.
He tried to plead his case. Napoleon begged, cajoled and reasoned but she wouldn't see it his way. He insisted they could make it work, having the best of both worlds...his work with U.N.C.L.E. and a happy life with Clara.
But she told him all right. It was her way or the highway.
Napoleon Solo didn't do well with ultimatums, and inspite of how much it hurt, he walked away. He couldn't reneg on his promise to serve the Command, and do some good with his life.
He wasn't that hard hearted though, and for weeks after the breakup he felt nothing but pain. Love hurt, and that pain made him just give up on it, concluding it was nothing but a lie. If he couldn't be with Clara, then he wanted nothing to do with it.
It wounded him, scarred his heart but he knew it was strong enough...no, tough enough to take the pain. He hoped he would eventually get over it, though it burned like a hot stove. His heart would heal...at least he hoped so. He would never let himself get that close to a woman again, no more broken hearts. He had an unbridled passion for being with women and he would have given them up for Clara...his Clara. Even whispering the name cut him to the quick. **
No, he'd console himself between the legs of a woman, but that would be it. "There wouldn't be love, not again." That's what a young Napoleon Solo told himself.
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* ref "The Orphanage" "White Nights"
** ref "The Terbuf Affair" and "Things are what they are" .
