Inspired by the RussiAmerica LJ comm's CMC Event prompt: Late Night Wanderings.
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He looks at himself in the mirror, stealing a glance at the picture frame resting on the shelf atop the dresser. The smiling faces of the couple in the photograph beam back at him. They look so happy and bright, simply content to be in each other's company. He can hardly remember who they are.
He notices the bags under his eyes and wonders just how long it has been since he has gotten a good night's sleep. He honestly doesn't know. Somewhere along the way, he's lost track of his sleeping habits, his mind, everything.
He tears his eyes away from his sullen figure and walks towards the bed. He grabs his scarf, wraps it once- twice- around his neck. Even now, despite being fully clothed, he still feels naked without the comfort it can bring him.
He glances around the room, momentarily lost in thought. He has somewhere he needs to be. At least, he knows that much. He starts making his way towards the door, destination still unknown.
The hallway outside is well-lit, adorned with pictures of the same happy couple. He stops and stares at a few hanging side by side on the wall. He can't stop the onslaught of voices echoing in his mind. The pictures speak to him; tell him stories of a time he doesn't remember.
.
"Hey babe!"
"What is it—?"
"Look! Aren't they cute? It's two baby kittens!"
"I think we should leave them alone."
"But they'll die if they're left alone! I'll give you something if we can keep them."
"That's not gonna work— ... Okay. We can keep them."
"Oh come on! Please?"
"No!"
"Please! I promise you I'll dig you out myself! Just- just let me bury you in the sand! Just this once!"
"For the last time, no!"
"Man, you're such a party pooper! I was gonna give you boobs too."
"Okay, the timer is gonna go off in fifteen seconds! That gives us enough time to pose!"
"Do we have to pose?"
"Yes! That's why I'm setting the timer, silly!"
"Okay. Fine. Get over here then. I'm starting to get cold. I don't see why we can't keep our clothes on."
"Okay, you ready? Any second now the timer will go—"
*click*
"How's that for a pose?"
"I'm not complaining but that definitely was not what I had in mind. At least we have a picture of us kissing now!"
"I do."
"I do."
"You may kiss the 'bride.'"
"I'm the groom, thank you very much. I love you babe."
"You are not, I am. I love you too, more than you will ever know, my little sunflower."
.
His heart aches; he is suddenly filled with a sadness he can't quite explain. He wishes for more time but he knows he can't stay. There is someone waiting for him.
He makes his way down the hallway, eyes focused on anything but the pictures. He walks down the stairs to a large living room. He glances at everything once then turns and heads for the door. In the back of his mind, everything is all too familiar.
He opens the door, feeling the blast of cold air chill him to the bone. A dull pain has started up on his right shoulder. He ignores it in his haste to get outside.
Despite the thin layer of clouds, the night sky looks beautiful. A slight breeze ruffles his scarf and makes him want to go back inside. He wants warmth and sunshine. He wants—
He is starting to remember; he remembers the feel of arms around him, shielding him from harm. He remembers golden hair and eyes the color of the clearest summer sky. His fingertips tingle as images of sun-kissed skin cross his mind. Where has this person gone?
He starts walking aimlessly along the pathway leading to the empty street. Everywhere he looks is a wave of nostalgia. The night sky and the moon itself seem to be calling out to him. The dull pain is getting stronger and a slight buzz has started in the back of his mind.
He keeps walking, glancing upwards to see the clouds suddenly clearing. The stars twinkle, shining brightly in the dark blue canvas. The wind ruffles his scarf again, whispering to him. He hears a name. But whose?
The winter cold surrounds him, making him tremble. There is an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. The pain is slowly becoming unbearable.
His feet have led him to a unknown place. He feels scared. He doesn't want to go in. But he knows he has to. Someone has been waiting a long time for him.
He makes his way through the gates, leaves rustling underneath his every step. He pushes through the underbrush surrounding his destination. He stands in awe when he finally manages to reach the other side.
He stands at the bottom of a hill. Marble blocks of every shape and size line the rolling hill. What is he doing here? He hears that name again, louder this time. He has to find out who is here with him.
He walks farther inside relying on instinct to guide him. He is getting closer. He can feel the familiar warmth surrounding him.
"Ivan." He looks to his left.
There is a man huddled in front of a particular block. Golden hair and sun-kissed skin. "Alfred," he whispers. He knows this man. Alfred has been here, waiting for him, waiting for-
"How've you been big guy?" Alfred looks so small and lonely sitting across from the marble block. He resists the urge to grab him and never let go. He settles for moving closer to him.
Alfred chuckles, soft and distant. "Do your remember those kittens we found a while back? You didn't want them at first. Then I kissed you and you gave in. Ivushka is so big now. They both are." Alfred's voice is only a whisper. He strains to hear it, afraid of the wind stealing it away.
"What about that time in Florida? You didn't want to get buried because your scarf would get dirty and then you ended up dropping ice cream all over it anyway. I can't believe you actually blamed me for it." Alfred's voice has gotten slightly louder. He scoffs, shaking his head as he looks down at his lap.
Time ebbs away as Alfred sits there and he stands, close enough to touch but still not enough to see the name etched into the marble.
"I see my favorite picture of us all the time. Remember our road trip to Colorado? And we got lost and camped out in a park. Except we didn't know it was a park because it was night time. The moon looked so big that night. I had never seen it look so big." Alfred suddenly picks up the item in his lap and wraps it around his neck, keeping his hands resting on the fabric. It is a light pink scarf. "And you- You looked so beautiful without this hiding you from me." Alfred's hands tighten on the fabric. He catches sight of something glisten on his finger.
"I'm never going to take it off, you know." Alfred is looking at the marble again, talking to it. "I don't care what anyone tells me. It tells the world I belong to you. I always have and I always will."
He drops to his knees and watches as Alfred inches forward, forehead coming to rest on the marble block.
"You have no idea how much I miss you." Alfred's voice cracks and his heart aches. "Always, always missing you." He sees the tears falling slowly down Alfred's cheeks.
"Please, come back to me. I'll do anything. Just— come back. I need you."
"Alfred," he whispers wishing he could comfort the blond. Alfred's head snaps up at the sound of his name, turning sharply in his direction. Their eyes meet and he feels Alfred see right through him.
"I think I should go." Alfred has turned his head back to face the headstone. He wipes away the tears with the back of his hand. "You know me and my fear of ghosts."
Fear of ghosts? But there are no—
"I know you're here. I can feel you." Alfred's lips barely move as the words spill out into the cold night.
They wash over him like a splash of cold water. He feels light-headed and dizzy. The intense pain in his shoulder combined with his headache have left him feeling weak. He suddenly feels like he can't take much more.
Alfred is standing in front of the headstone. His lips are moving. His head turns and sends a glance his way. Alfred starts to walk away and everything is moving too fast for him to understand exactly what is happening. The pain is unbearable. He wants Alfred to wait, wants to tell him everything.
Tell him what? Alfred is long gone.
He stands up as slow as he possibly can, feeling as if though he will shatter if he makes the wrong move. There are only a few steps separating him from coming to stand in front of the tombstone but his legs are suddenly made of jelly. He finds it hard to breathe.
He reaches out, hand coming to rest on top of the cold granite. The name doesn't surprise him as much as it should. He already knew.
"Here lies Ivan Braginski. Devoted friend, brother, husband."
His knees buckle. He crumbles in on himself in front of his new home. He remembers everything; his life, his lover, the accident. He sees it all flash before his eyes like a silent black and white film.
He looks to the sky, hoping to see the sun. He realizes the clouds have returned. Not even the moon can be his companion now.