"I dread the sound of his key in the lock."
He always did this, he always came home late. My eyes turned from the ceiling to the alarm clock at my bedside. I squinted in its harsh blue glow and sighed heavily.
There was a shuffling of heavy boots downstairs and the semi-gentle closing of the front door. His keys jangled as he set them down and his footsteps continued throughout the house. I waited in silence, my breathing lightening with worry. Several anxious minutes passed before I heard him clamoring up the stairs. He sounded lost, his footsteps stopping momentarily and then his heel dragging over the wooden flooring as he turned around. The door down the hall creaked open and I heard the faint note of a murmur.
I waited for a moment to see if he would find his way, but then I heard the stairs whine and I was on my feet in an instant.
This wasn't unusual of him, coming home at an ungodly hour, shambling around like a lost spirit and murmuring nonsense to himself. Ivan was known for having a drinking problem, and sometimes it worried me. Every time I heard his keys in the lock, I worried that the person opening it wouldn't be the same.
In all my years of knowing him, Ivan has never once hurt me. I don't expect him to ever lay a hand on me for that matter, he's too pure of heart to even attempt such a thing. But it is for others' and his own sake that I worry. Ivan doesn't always show the same caution as he would with me when confronted with others. Last year during the holidays my brother and Ivan had engaged in a heated argument that nearly became a fistfight. The two only left with a few scrapes and bruises, but I knew that Alfred had hurt him emotionally.
Although he could pummel a man with one draw of his fist, Ivan is rather fragile when it comes to his feelings, even more so when he drinks.
"Ivan?" I whispered, stepping out of our room to confront him.
He was two steps down, when his shoulders tensed. His neck straightened up and he glanced over his shoulder. I frowned and kept one hand on the door. "Come to bed, please."
His eyes were glazed like a doe's as he stared at me, his expression dumb. It seemed to take him a moment before his mind registered my request. Ivan glanced back down the stairs and back to me. His voice was gruff as he responded, "I... I'm hungry..."
I closed my eyes and nodded. "Well it's late, but I suppose I can whip something up."
He stood firmly in place and waited for me to accompany him. I placed a guiding hand on has back and we both glided down the stairs together. It was no surprise that I could smell alcohol on his breath, but I payed no mind.
When we reached the dining room, I carefully pulled a chair out for him and gestured for him to sit. "Would you like a sandwich?" I asked gently.
Ivan's gaze traveled from the tablecloth back to me. He slouched in his seat and pursed his lips in thought. "...Can you make me a waffle?" he requested sheepishly.
A smile bloomed on my lips and I nodded again. "Sure, what kind of syrup?"
I realized once my question had come out, that by now Ivan's mental capacity had reached its limit, and I had crippled his sluggish mind with too many of my inquiries. His eyes were liquid like a cow's as he blinked at me. I was about to retract my statement when he finally spoke. "Raspberry, please."
I quickly got over my surprise and gave him a friendly little giggle. "No problem."
Relief washed over his features and he slumped over the table, burying his face into his arms. I stood in the doorway for a moment or two to make sure he didn't move, and headed towards the kitchen.
I clicked on the light and waited for it flicker to life above my head. By the sink sat our waffle iron, covered in various shades of beige and brown. Another smile came to my face as I remembered that morning. Ivan and I had gotten into another cooking fight, and we'd ended up covered in all sorts of batters. It took a lot, but we were able to finish the heap of pancakes and waffles we'd made, just the two of us. Although now, I sort of regretted leaving the dishes for the next day.
An idea popped into my head and I strode over to the fridge. We still had some frozen waffles left over from when Alfred had payed us a visit. Perhaps in his drunken state, Ivan wouldn't notice. It would definitely work to soak up some of the alcohol in his tummy.
I found the box hidden beneath a mountain of frozen vegetables and pulled it free. The product advertised on the side was an unearthly yellow, but for now it would have to do.
Once I surveyed the instructions printed on the side, I walked over to the adjacent counter and popped two of them into the toaster.
I poked my head into the dining room real quick to make sure Ivan was still behaving.
The large man was still in the same position I'd left him in, and under further investigation, I realized that he had indeed fallen asleep. I hummed and lovingly rubbed his head. Sometimes Ivan would remind me of a little kid. When he'd get all tuckered out, he fell asleep wherever he was.
As I looked him over, I was glad to find no bruises or cuts. Ivan must have stopped for a drink or two on his way home to relieve himself of work related stress. This was one of the better nights.
The toaster popped in the other room, and I turned to go leave.
"I love you..." a soft murmur rumbled from the table.
I turned around half way through the door, my eyebrows raised. For a moment I thought that I'd been hearing things, but then I realized that Ivan had woken up. He lifted his head just enough for his eyes to peek out at me.
His words warmed me, and I smiled. "I love you too. Your waffles are done."
He lowered his head back down and I left to go retrieve his food. I reached up into the top cabinet and pulled out a plate and placed his waffles in the center. Although they didn't entirely look like waffles, they still held about the same consistency.
I grabbed the bottle of raspberry syrup from the fridge and returned to the dining room.
At the scent of food, he immediately arose. His movements weren't very fast, but he acted like a hungry animal. I set the plate down in front of him and pulled out a chair to his left.
He reached out and poured himself a generous amount of syrup before digging in. I propped my head up on my elbow and watched. My eyes kept drifting out of focus, and I yawned.
Ivan didn't seem to notice the mockery waffles, and chewed happily.
I blinked a few times to wake myself up and turned to him. "Why are you home so late, Ivan? It's two in the morning and you can barely walk around on your own."
He paused in his eating and glanced up towards me. I could see a flash of guilt as he closed his mouth and set his fork down. His face was claylike as he stared at me, his expression almost quizzical. "Is it really that late?" he asked.
"Yea, and I had dinner alone again tonight. What's the big deal, Ivan?"
He frowned and his gaze flicked down to his plate. It was like watching a sad puppy. "Work was hard today..." he murmured in defeat.
I raised a brow. "And you went to the bar again?"
His frown deepened and his expression darkened. "Da..."
I sighed heavily and shook my head. "Drinking won't help you, dear. If you have a hard day, please come home. I worry for you when I don't see your car pull in."
Ivan avoided my gaze, "I know..."
I frowned and reached out to rub his arm. "I worry about you a lot, Ivan. You're supposed to be my husband, I don't want anything bad to happen to you."
Another murmur and I leaned in to give him a kiss on the forehead. "You're so sweet, I don't want you to get into any more fights. It's dangerous."
Ivan glanced up with a guilty look. "I know how much it makes you upset."
I stood and wrapped my arms around him. "Because I love you, Ivan. I don't want you to get hurt."
He leaned his head against my tricep and reached up to rub my arm. "I love you too."
I took a deep breath in and set my chin on his head, taking in his scent. "Please no more drinking," I whispered.
He held my arm and squeezed it. "Okay."
Notes:
This is the first chapter in a (hopefully) long series, in which I aquire quotes from prompt blogs on tumblr and generators and turn them into short stories. This chapter's quote was taken from a generator site in which I would like to say right here that I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING EXCEPT MY INTERPRETATION and I appreciate what they did!
I hope that I can also get a few more from people if anyone would like to submit some! Any kid of prompts or other would be greatly appreciated!
