This was intended to be something else, something happier but nah. can't do that with al and ivan. because i love them. based off of some real life experiences. could just write a story about this.

warning for suicide attempt, suicide pact, off screen child abuse, off screen racism/xenophobia, alcohol.

Alfred runs his fingers through Ivan's hair, gently pulling at the strands and lets them fall from his fingers, a few at a time. It frames his face, round and pale, flushed with red from a lot of alcohol consumption. They're young, and they're stupid. Everything they do can be a testament to that, from competing with each other in chemistry to gym class. There is nothing they're not trying to rival with each other in.

There's no way Alfred will ever let Ivan beat him in anything. His pride is much more important than teamwork, something they have both always sucked at. Dominating their groups and controlling everything, and it's cost them more than one friendship. Their teachers had only ever praised them for getting work done. Usually.

Tonight, Ivan's family is out. It's almost a laughable cliché setting, but it's still something that's happening. Alfred made a bet that Ivan couldn't outrun him, Alfred had lost. So, he upped the ante. Can't out drink him.

Ivan had laughed, almost scary and maniacal. He is just as cocky as Alfred, and it's understandable. He held first place in school, despite being a loner and not very well liked (to be fair, neither was Alfred but at least he spoke to people, his twin sister is much more liked). He's smart, attractive, probably foreign, and Alfred hates him and likes him for that. Bo

"Bro," Alfred starts, pulling back and his words slurred. This is such a stupid, cliched setting and he hates it. This isn't what should happen, with his declared public enemy. His rival. Those stupid eyes, that stupid face.

Ivan puts some distance between them, reading into the slouched posture, furrowed brows and how unfocused Alfred is.

"Ah, fuck. Can't go home like this."

Ivan picks up a half empty bottle by the neck and holds it out to Alfred. "Then drink some more. They will not know."

"Hangover is gonna be a bitch." Alfred takes it anyways, taking a swig of it. The liquid sloshes as he does so. Some of it dribbles out of his mouth from being so careless. Stupid, careless Alfred.

"Practice for when you go to college."

"You ain't goin'?"

Ivan shrugs. Truth be told, he's bored. It's hard to explain what he's bored about, but he find himself disinterested in everything around him. Nothing entertains him, the sweet and shy Toris that he had long crushed on was no longer on the front of his mind, the ever untouchable Yao no longer made his heart churn with longing and want. Sure, there had been chemistry, and they were both interested in each other but they were going to dare break out of their families traditions and wants. Science was not a focus, and all Ivan wishes to ever do is sleep.

Despite how much he denies it, Alfred is in the same boat as him. Bored and uninspired. The boy that had lived next to him for years, in his backyard, looking through the telescope and being so energetic and noisy, now prefers to spend time by himself. Alfred had always invited him over, when they were kids, before testosterone was ever a thing, where puberty and growing up were foreign words and they had no worries about anything in the world.

Then, Alfred was more Alfred than Alfred is now.

"I gotta," Alfred sighs. Their senior year of high school, Alfred had stopped smiling. He stilled smiled, but Ivan knew something was up. It happened, sirens that cut through the silent fall air and it had been unexpected, as Ivan sat at his desk, hunched over and doing homework. Nobody asked why, nobody sought to question why. Afterwards, there had been whispers and rumors that flooded the halls, and averted eyes. "I fucking hate it here."

Ivan doesn't know why Alfred would hate their town. It may not be big, but it's big enough. It's noisy enough for his ever quiet and rapid brain. It's much better than a bustling city, where the people are cold and distant. He knows his relationship with his parents could be better.

"Fuckin' hate them."

"Do you not like anything about it here?"

Alfred shrugs and takes another drink. By now, the bottle is nearly empty and Ivan wonders if he should go grab another one. Ivan wonders if he can even walk correctly. "I like some things," he answers, after a moment. "I like my brother. I like Toris," he pauses, taking in Ivan's only slight change in expression. It bothers him, there's a little scowl. "I like the open sky."

After It, Alfred was gone for nearly two months. There was an empty desk at the front of the class, where Alfred had been moved because, despite how smart he could be, he never paid attention. It was boring for him to listen to someone talk for fifty minutes. Ivan thought about visiting Alfred, but he figured he best not. Matthew invited him to, and Toris had a few times. Neither spoke about their visits, and maybe that was for the best.

Another drink, this time, Alfred is having problems swallowing. "You, maybe." His words are thick, slurred and difficult to understand. "Probably. I can't tell anymore." Ivan doesn't know what to say to that. "I kissed Toris, y'know."

What a thing to bring up, after saying those things. "I am sure you have." There's no doubt, because in the time between middle school and high school, something of a fling had happened between Alfred and Toris, it was rumored anyways. Teenagers talk, and teenagers will find anything to gossip about.

"Dad beat the hell out of me for it." The bottle is empty. "Ahh, fuck. Fuck."

Ivan's own grandfather would bring the belt down on him. When Yao's family found out that he was interested in boys, it didn't take long before the family was gone. Nobody knows where they had gone, and Ivan is sure it wasn't for a good reason. Business, the adults had said. They moved because of his father's business.

"Katya was kicked out for kissing another girl," Ivan says, plainly. He's not sure what to say to that. Alfred's father had seemed so nice. "We are not allowed to talk to her, or about her."

"Mmn, yeah, I know." Alfred stands up and wobbles. He tries to steady himself. "I see her a lot when I go to the city. She's got a boyfriend now, ya know."

Around the same time It happened, Ivan's grandfather had come home to Katyusha and Emma, a kind but strange girl, kissing in the living room. Their grandfather has never been known to be kind, but he would never hit a girl. It's wrong to hit girls, after all, but instead, held them to a different standard than Ivan. Where his sisters got off, he got punished for. Where he was expected to achieve, his sisters were told it's bad for them. They were expected to marry nice boys, and have children. Jobs were for men.

Instead of yelling in a wrathful fit, instead of throwing things or hitting Katyusha, he told her to leave immediately. Natalya and Ivan were not allowed to speak with her anymore, and any contact with her, they would be on the streets as well. His silent anger, the way he towers, is much more scarier than any raised voices and raised hands.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Her and Em broke it off, 'cause they didn't want long distance. Uh, I think Em went back to Brussels or whatever, for university." Alfred stumbles over to the couch. "Oi dude, I think I need some water."

"I hear Feliks-"

"Felicja." Alfred sharply interjects. "Her name is Felicja."

Ivan stares at Alfred, stunned. He hadn't heard about this. "When did that happen?"

"A year and a half ago. Bro, it was so obvious."

Ivan draws in a deep breath. "Felicja," He amends. "is with Toris now." Alfred nods.

"'s weird. Always thought she'd end up with Liz. Like, damn dude. That was a huge shocker." Elizabeta had been Felicja's best friend. For as long as Ivan had lived in their little town, he remembers them being glued to each other's hips. They shared just about everything, and Ivan had found himself being envious of that relationship sometimes. "But nah, Liz is with uh, what's her name. She's prissy and plays the piano." Ivan shrugs. "Yeah, you don't know her. She's very regal, but I hate her."

"How come?"

"Pompous, stuck up." Alfred wrinkles his nose. "God damn it. She yelled at me because I accidentally slurped my tea. Like geez dude."

"Where are they all at now?"

"The city." Alfred sighs and lays down, resting his head on the arm of the couch, staring at Ivan. When It happened, Alfred changed. When It happened, they all changed, or perhaps, they were changing and Ivan just never took notice until after. "Man, I never spoke to any of them until after high school. 'cept Felicja and Toris."

"Do you plan on going to the city for college?"

"Prob'ly." Alfred scratches at the couches surface. "Maybe. Thought 'bout elsewhere in the States. If anything, there's always military."

"You're too lazy for that. They would reject you."

Alfred snorts. "Yeah. They'll look at my history and go, 'you downed a bottle of pills, you're a liability, sorry man.' Close shop and that's it." Alfred falls quiet, and Ivan hopes he's still breathing.

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"You stopped talking."

"Sorry man. Ran out of things t' say." Once more, Alfred goes quiet when he's finished speaking. "Got tired of talking 'bout sad stuff."

"You said you probably liked me."

"I did." Alfred agrees. "Probably. Maybe. I'm less bored 'round you." Well, Ivan guesses, that's better than hating him. "You were sorta my only friend when we were kids. Dad hated it, so I talked to you more."

When Ivan was growing up, he had faced a lot of hate from others in the neighborhood. Being an immigrant to the United States was not a fun thing as a child, as mothers would plaster smiles and usher their children away. They worst they did was mock him for his poor English, and Ivan did stop speaking for awhile. Even back home, in other countries, it was almost the same thing. Russian is always a negative term, Slavic even more so. When they were taught about the Cold War for the first time in middle school, all eyes had turned to him and another boy, Konstantin, and just stared.

Like how it is with most middle schools, the verbal bullying had begun. From verbal it went to physical. He wasn't the only victim, because students from suburban neighborhoods don't take well to those who are remotely different, but it was certainly bad for years. Until he snapped one day, and punched a kid in the face and knocked him out. Toris wasn't immune, but he always fell under the radar for being nice and shy, Felicja was too popular and well-liked to really care about where she had come from.

When it was social hour, or known as lunch (to Ivan, he assumed it would be what Hell is like), they all stuck together, simply for being similar or from similar countries. Or at least, the same continent. Alfred and Matthew were nice to them, except for that stupid rivalry between him and Alfred, they were nice to each other. For the most part, at least. Shit talking was normal, physical brawls were rare and they kept it to classrooms, to sports.

"I figured." He remembers Alfred's fathers glares towards him. He remembers the disdain when they had moved in, and Alfred's mother's plastic politeness. They were so see-through, that they just stopped faking it but Alfred could never feel genuine hate towards anyone. He's so much like a puppy.

Certainly, Ivan didn't get out of any of this without resentment. He spoke about moving back to Russia, because at least there, he wasn't bullied for ethnicity. He wasn't seen as an immigrant there. It was home. There are emotional scars, and he isn't sure where they start and where they stop.

In a way, Ivan had envied Alfred for It. Alfred did something he couldn't do. Or well, find a good way to do it. He couldn't do that to Nat, and he couldn't do that to Katya. When he received news of It, Ivan hadn't been as surprised as any of their classmates. Sure, he had seen the ambulance, he had seen the cops but that wasn't why he wasn't surprised. It takes a certain perception to figure Alfred out, and boy, did Ivan figure Alfred out. He was a game to Ivan.

Ivan was a game to Alfred. They know each other, they're too similar. Too fucked up. Too damn stubborn, and it all hurts in the end.

"Do you wanna go to the city?"

"Yeah."

"Then we can go."

"Alfred. We have no money, with no jobs. You sink whatever you get, into drugs."

"Then we'll get jobs."

"What about housing?"

Alfred shrugs as best as he could, laying down. "We could find a place t' stay. 'm sure Katya wouldn't mind us bein' there."

"You're so impulsive."

"Yeah, so?"

Ivan gets up and stumbles over to the couch and bends over him, their faces close enough that their noses touch. Ivan can smell the alcohol on Alfred's breath. The previously dark room is slowly starting to light up as dawn approaches them. "So, stop being impulsive."

Alfred reaches up and grabs Ivan's shirt. Cliche setting, stupid emotional connections. Stupid alcohol and bringing out his honest side. Stupid Ivan for being nice, for being pretty and cute and the only one who can understand him. "I did it 'cause I was bored." He curls his fist into the black fabric. "I did it 'cause it made mom finally cry. She shattered into a million fuckin' pieces and it was entertaining to watch." Ivan searches Alfred's eyes. "Y'all thought I was fucking depressed. I was bored. Bored of showin' up every day, fightin' with you, playin' this stupid game. So, I took pills."

Ivan rests his hands on the other side of Alfred, for better leverage. He needs to move. "So, attention?"

"No. I wanted it to stop." Alfred licks his lips. "The game. Everything. After Toris an' I kissed, dad refused to talk to me. In fact, I was fuckin' invisible to him 'til that day. Coulda grabbed his gun, would have done the trick." He swallows. "And when they started to work, I got scared. I thought 'bout you. I thought 'bout Mattie. So I stumbled into downstairs, where dad was eatin' and puked on his lap." Alfred reaches up with his other hand and runs his fingers through Ivan's hair again, but his fingers linger at the tips.

"You threw up on your dad?"

"Yeah. I told him that he could go to hell, but I wanted to not die yet. You'd win, after all." He smiles a little bit. "I refuse to be the first one out."

"I would hate you for it."

"Fuckin' good." Alfred's hands go back through Ivan's hair again, remaining at the scalp, nails digging in. "'cause your life would suck without me."

"It already does. With you in it."

"Even more so," Alfred grins a little bit. "So, let's leave. In two months. Leave, and live in the city as the gayest fucking couple out there."

"If we do, let's make a deal." Maybe it's the alcohol, or because he's tired, but Ivan can't stop those words from coming out. He's going to regret this, isn't he? God, he hopes he doesn't regret this. He prays to God that this will never have to happen. "If you go out, I go out."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

Alfred draws in a deep breath. "We go together, then."

"Good."

Alfred draws his fingers down from Ivan's hair, and curves over to his face and brushes over his lips. His hand returns to his hair, and he pulls Ivan down, and there's a brief pause. "Yes," he finally mumbles. "I do like you. I do like you a lot." They remain so close, but Alfred feels far. Ivan pulls away, and climbs on top of Alfred. He no longer cares about what his grandfather can and will do if he comes home now.

Hands on either side of Alfred now, they stare into each others eyes. Cliche, stupid, awful. Their whole relationship shouldn't be based on a suicide pact. They shouldn't kiss for making such an awful deal. But Ivan is just as bored as Alfred, and if there's one thing they don't want to win at, is death.

Alfred draws in a breath, their lips briefly touching. It's quick, and there's nothing sensual or sexual about it, like Ivan had always hoped for and fantasized about. It's light, innocent and so Alfred like. Ivan shifts down and buries his face into Alfred's neck, drawing in a deep breath. They need to sober up, clean up and go to bed. They need to be functioning, and that's the last thing they are. They lay in silence, until he hears Alfred draw in an even breath. There's a light snore and it feels almost like home.

"Don't," he whispers into Alfred's neck, long after he had fallen asleep. Part of him hopes that Alfred won't remember their deal when he wakes up. Tears wet Alfred's neck and Ivan's cheeks. Later in the day, Ivan finds himself slowly returning to the waking world and Alfred is still sleeping and nobody has yet returned. Carefully and quietly, Ivan gets up and cleans up the empty bottles. He showers, takes something for the pounding headache and drinks a glass of water.

When Alfred wakes up, sometime in the evening, he staggers into the kitchen, helping himself to water and some food. As he's stuffing his face, Ivan joins him.

"Let's move to the city by fall," Ivan says, finally. "Work on getting a job. Or getting your mom to help us out."

Alfred gives him a long, tired stare. "Sure," he finally says. "Yeah. We can do that."