ABSOLUTELY PERFECT
By Ryukansen
Author's Note: It's been a long time since I've submitted any fanfiction partly due to a huge writer's block. It's been what, a year? And I do have some ideas, but introducing everything is just so difficult for me these days….I hope you enjoy this fan fiction! Its three parts from what I've decided, but who knows?
"I love you," a silky, warm voice murmured gently in his ear as he lay sprawled against the wall. There was a heavy weight upon him and fingers as shaky and cold began to trace the dips of his cracked lips; those hands were so soft and had a tender touch it was hard to imagine what they had last done to him. He lets out a weakened sigh; blue eyes, tired and bruised, look up to the shimmering violet. "I love you, Alfred, I really do." The other continued to repeat in an unsteady breath, while those hands travelled down towards his neck and began to graze the pale flesh with the tip of his fingernails. "I love you."
Never in his life had those three words instilled sadness in the depths of his heart. Never in his life had those words brought so much pain; stabbed and torn his heart multiple times, and never in his life had he felt so much hope to continue the relationship. Those words, from fragile lips and tear-stained cheeks; how could he deny the purity of this love? The other needed him, it was obvious, and it was clear how much the other couldn't live without him. He was the only one for him, and …just like that… the other was the only one who could fill his own emptiness.
He closes his eyes and breathes gently as the fingers dug against his throat, a muffled cry of expectation screamed silent as it could through clenched teeth.
"I love you."
He had slumped over his desk, his eyes opening and closing, and fluttering about in second intervals. He had not gotten much sleep as of late with all the occurrences going on in the household, and school was just one of the only places he could catch some proper shuteye despite his need to bring up his grades. He let out a yawn while he ducked his head between arms and finally closed his eyes; he needed a well-deserved nap, and no way in hell would he let anyone interrupt him; not even the Chancellor of this whole damned university. He needed his rest, and if Ivan wouldn't give it to him he would find it somewhere else.
"Mr. Jones, we've been analyzing your Grade Point Average…." An old man in his sixties replied quietly while sitting in a leather chair and holding onto confidential documents. "We've gotten lots of remarks from your professors that you've been skipping some classes, and even sleeping in them…those are quite heavy complaints." He crooned while his gray eyes just settled straight at him.
There was something unsettling bubbling in the pit of his stomach as the other continued to gaze at him. Was it the shine of disappointed deeply embedded in the other's eyes, or was it the sinking feeling of KNOWING you were going to get kicked out of college no matter what that caused him to feel so nauseous?"…Your grades have been suffering too…you weren't like this in your freshman year from what I could tell from these charts."
His breath hitched a bit, and he feels the sweat already starting to form from the crease of his forehead. "I'm sorry Sir, it's just...Home has been getting a bit busy and I haven't had the proper time to rest."
"If you continue the way you are you will be in academic probation...you better start straightening up…" A crisp and sorry tone came from those chapped lips. "And…don't you live in the dorms, my boy?"
"My brother does, I…I live with my family."
When he came back from school his daily schedule at home was a mess. He had to do chores first of all; the house couldn't clean itself, despite his constant wishes, and his lover was pretty stingy with money to pay for house cleaners and whatnot – but hey, he couldn't complain; he was practically mooching off from the other, it was the least he could do for him. He knew, after all, how much the Russian loved a clean home, and he would do anything to have the other man smile at him again.
Ivan usually came around 6:30 probably irritable due to the switch in companies and cuts of employees, he always was after that day, but dinner should be prepared by then as to avoid any unnecessary confrontation. Now, Alfred wasn't a good chef, he had to admit, there were many accidents that could occur and did, to some extent, so this is when he got his best-friend and brother to help out a bit; just a bit. Normally the three would walk back together seeing as Francis lived quite close to Ivan and Matthew stayed in the dorms. The two would, he admit, do most of the work in the end, so on days where they simply couldn't help, Alfred just tried his best- and usually resulted in a cut lip or more.
"I don't see why you're still with him," Francis begun one day in the kitchen as he began to tend to the meat while Matthew cut the vegetables in a quick pace and added them to the boiling chicken broth. Alfred at the mean time just chose to ignore the other's constant jibes about his lover and prepared the table in quiet concentration. "He provides you with nothing, sure shelter, but Mon ami…" Francis put the knife down and placed some meat into the boiler, "if it is shelter you need you can always stay with one of us."
Alfred realized whenever Francis spoke like that; the other would never let him see his expression.
Matthew nodded solemnly. "Father and mother would understand…"
But Father and Mother never understand.
Lately, whenever those two brought about leaving Ivan his reply would always be the same words, "he gives me love…and...He needs me." And they would just stand there baffled.
Homework had to be done in the early morning of the day as to not catch his lover's attention, especially since the other did not approve of his choice to attend college. He didn't understand why Ivan found such a widely accepted concept, unacceptable but there was something written in the other's eyes whenever the topic of getting an education came into being.
"Are you saying I cannot provide you with everything?" Ivan spoke offended by Alfred's reason to pursue an education; and the younger male would shake his head adamantly.
"I just…Want to help out that's all." He would reply in a shaky tone and find Ivan walk towards him with a frown and a heavy hand lay on his shoulder. Once upon a time, Alfred's reason for pursing an education would have always summed to having a better idea of the world and how things simply worked. Once upon a time Alfred believed having a degree in college was the certain way to gain approval; but not in his lover's eyes. No.
"I can provide enough for the both of us, is it not evident?" He continued to question him, and his eyes shone an angry glint, and before the other knew it Alfred found himself against the wall, his back bruised by the sudden shove. "Are you trying to tell me I do not give enough?" Ivan had asked and those hands gripped tightly onto his arms. A sort of surprised malice blossomed in his lover's tone.
"Quit college, you're wasting the money you have now. Just stay with me." His lover's voice would continuously remind him of that option, and lips would roughly press against his own.
Ivan usually slept, pleased, in a bed that had been warmed through the entirety of the night. Alfred would never leave his side, he couldn't simply because if he did he would find himself in a grave situation; one in which he would try and assure Ivan he had not been out dillydallying with other "foolish" men.
His arms embraced the other's waist, pressing his soft cheek against the other's chest as he breathed evenly with peace. Alfred let out a sigh while falling asleep in his tears and bruises. They had yet another fight in which he had realized he will always lose.
He would hide those bruises, and sometimes, it was just too difficult to conceal them, and he went to school bearing them with humility, and sometimes when he found the time blotched pathetically with makeup. Francis and Matthew would both wince at him; unable to talk to him without their eyes tracing the every purple and pink blotches upon his creamy face.
They once commented how a few months ago he looked so healthy.
"Alfred," Francis had begun as they sat in a diner, ordering their lunch, there was a stern tone in the other man's voice, and light amethyst eyes looked at him with concern and anger. Matthew sat close to his brother, his hand absentmindedly finding his brother's own, their fingers intertwining as their best-friend had a thought in mind. "It's about time, Mathieu and I tell you…" He murmured carefully, his best-friend and brother's eyes once in a while continued to glance at each other knowingly.
"We love you, Alfred, we really do!" Matthew joined in, his hold tightening on Alfred's, "and it's best that we tell you, even if it'll hurt." He whispered.
Alfred tensed, as his hamburger and milkshake were placed before him.
He remembers walking back to Ivan's house that day; there confession building up in him, turning into a rage that he couldn't quite put his finger on. They were only trying to help, he concluded, but it wasn't entirely fair that they were so against Ivan. He was just lost, and helpless, and he needed Alfred…. The very thought of seeing a psychiatrist as well made him so much more insecure. There was nothing wrong with this relationship as far as he could see!
"But that's just the reason," Matthew replied warily while toying with the paper napkin between his fingers. "You just can't see at all."
The other was a helpless puppy without him, and despite that puppy bearing fangs, he always loved it no matter what. And besides…a puppy could be tamed.
He loved Ivan; he concluded…He needed Ivan.
Alfred blinks twice, hearing the pace of his lover's breathing. Ivan was embracing him possessively, his hold tight and secure. They were on his bed, sleeping – well, obviously Ivan was the only one doing that. Alfred pressed his cheek against the other's arm, his wide eyes thinking – simply thinking about his whole life, and every decision he made. He had been doing this for quite some time now.
"You are still awake." Ivan's voice murmured softly, and his huge body shifted while thick fingers began to carefully and gently wisp through Alfred's bangs. The American only let out a murmur of confirmation while pushing himself closer to the Russian; his embrace tightened (a sign that comforted Ivan greatly knowing the other was still in need of him).
"What is the matter, my love?" The other's voice was dark and heavy, and his grip tightened onto the other as a fear lay inside of him.
"I just can't sleep," Alfred would murmur, staring quietly at the darkness surrounding him. His heart flutters as his lover shifts a bit to make himself more comfortable; he sighs as the other man presses cold lips against his temple.
"Would you like me to sing a lullaby?"
"I would like that, Vanya…" Alfred let out a sigh and allowed the other to gently start up a foreign tune. No matter the song however, he couldn't help but drown it out with all the painful flutters of his heart.
And he wonders.