"I'm sorry."
Matthew hated those words. They were empty to him, even when they were filled with such regret and frustration. He had heard them from Ivan so many times they had lost all meaning.
And it hurt, because this wasn't the first time they were sincere.
And it hurt, because Ivan had hurt him.
And it hurt because it hadn't been the first time.
He zipped his suit case and turned to face his boyfriend of three years. Three of the best and most terrifying years of his life. Three years of laughter and love and learning that some broken hearts could not sewn back together.
Ivan was blocking the door out of the bedroom, eyes shut tightly and his fists clenched at his sides. Matthew stared at the carpet.
Please, he prayed, please don't make this hurt more than it already does.
He couldn't help the wince when Ivan took him into his arms. Tightly, not to inflict pain, but to familiarize the contours of his body against his own.
"Навсегда" He whispered with a tight voice.
Matthew was not ashamed to say that he cried.
"Toujours."
He never looked back, despite everything inside him screaming for him to do so.
This is what happens when you introduce me to Secondhand Serenade. So, yeah. Sorry if this doesnt make sense. Insomnias kicking in. And I think I meant for it to be ambiguous. I can't tell anymore.
Both 'Навсегда' and 'Toujours' mean Forever, at least, according to Mr. Google.
(insert clever way to say I don't own Hetalia here)