I know when the police officer comes in with a teddy bear that it is all over. She kneels beside my bed and offers me the teddy bear. I don't accept and instead stare out the window. A heavy sigh comes from stage right.
"Alexandra, I afraid I have some bad news. No one was able to make it out. I'm sorry." I knew that was coming, and yet when she said it, it crushed all hope I had left in me. I began to cry.
(After her tears dry-three days later)
Outside it's oppressively hot. After crying for the past couple days, I feel so weak. The sun is too hot in general but also for southern Russia. It cooks the worms on the sidewalk and clings to my clothes. As the humidity places its oppressive arms around me, I am reminded of fevers. They're another form of heat, cranking your internal temperature up. Not only are you hot, you are pathetic because you feel like crap. And you could die. Fireworks too are killers. Not only do they practically diminish your hearing with every explosion, they are a form of fire and kill. A stupid stray firework had to go and make its way into my house while I was out and kill my parents and my older sister. The fire that resulted left me with nothing, no family, money, or stuff in general.
(Russia's POV)
As I walk to Alexandra's house, again I curse myself for everything. Why did America have to talk for three hours nonstop on aliens? Why did I sit through it, only to punch them all three days too late for going on and on? My best friend's family just died. Why didn't I just skip it? We got nothing accomplished; we never do. I'm an idiot.
(Alexandra's POV)
When he opens the gate on my grandmom's back yard, despite my anger, when he holds out his hands, I fall into him. His skin is cool, like vanilla ice cream. The world didn't work too well without vanilla ice cream, and now that it has it, the world would be nothing when it's taken away. Just as I didn't work to well without Ivan, but without him now I am nothing.
"I'm so sorry Alexandra. I'm sorry I wasn't there. Let me make it up to you." I pull back and gazed into his violet eyes; that look natural despite their coloring.
"Ivan, it's ok. I wish you were here before, but you are now. And that's all that matters."He looks at me with such emotion that I back away anxiously. Suddenly, I sway to the right. He reaches out and catches me. My head starts to pound and I can't focus.
"Are you ok?" I shake my head the tiniest bit, regretting the pain waves that reverberate through my skull. "Have you eaten anything?"
"No. I started a diet." He looks at me in shock and disbelief. "I can't eat hot foods. I don't taste anything; I just feel the heat. And it just makes me cry anyway." He picks me up, one hand under my knees, the other still on my back. We end up in grandmom's living room; I'm stretched out on the couch. I tell him grandmom's out, so he grabs me a glass of water. Then he grabs his keys.
"I'll be right back." He starts to the door, but then stops. Turning around, he dashes back to me and kisses my forehead. "Try to get some rest." Shocked, I watch him as he goes. Cautiously, I touch my forehead. It feels the same, but I know it's different. I've been kissed by my best friend. Just what I've always wanted. Ok-in truth I want something more, but this is a start. I wish that it was under different circumstances.
When he returns, he has bags filled with stuff. He puts them all on the counter. I hear more rustling in the kitchen, but I don't know what he is doing. But when he comes back, he sits on the couch next to me, holding a bowl of something.
"Close your eyes and open your mouth." I oblige, and a small scoop of something cool floats into my mouth. I open my eyes in shock.
"Vanilla ice cream?" He nods, and I smile. He feeds me the rest of the bowl, and I can feel my strength returning. But when he gets to the last scoop, I smile mischievously. Instead of eating it, I delicately coat my lips in the stuff. Then I snake my hand around and press our lips together. After a moment of shock, he kisses me back. When we break apart, both our lips are coated in the sticky liquid.
People always say that when there is passion, there is heat. Our kiss was not hot at all though. It was cool; a cool vanilla kiss.