Alfred chokes back a sob, he feels stupid now. So stupid. Maybe his dad was right after all. Maybe he is a problem. He's always getting into trouble. He's a rotten, bratty, and ungrateful child. Just like his dad always says nowadays.
Running away seemed like such a good idea when he was in his room back home, when he was still upset with his dad for yelling at him. Right now though, he's feeling like he's made a very big mistake.
He's lost. He has no idea where he is. He plays in this forest during the day, but he's never gone this far in before. He'd just kept running, running, running, until the anger wore off and somehow he lost the path. It seems so much different at night. As if the sun had gone down and the trees decided to shed their masks, their friendly facades, revealing razor-clawed wooden hands on thousands of spindly arms.
The two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and grape juice boxes he'd packed are already long gone. He wishes he had thought to pack more. All he has left in his small backpack is the garbage from the juice boxes, one of his favorite books on space travel, and a picture of his family.
His lungs burn and ache, he feels like he's been walking for hours and hours. His legs and arms are covered in thin red scratches from running through bushes and in between thick clusters of trees. His stomach rumbles, and he fails to keep the tears in this time. They burn in their path down his face. He huddles against the rough bark of a huge oak tree, his thin shirt not quite fit for the cool night air. He wants to be back in his warm bed with his Batman blanket and his stuffed alien, Tony.
"Are you okay?"
Alfred jumps a little at the quiet voice. He stands up and peers into the forest, trying to figure out where it was coming from.
"Who's there?" Alfred tries to sound brave, though his unsteady voice gives him away.
A small boy appears from beneath the dark shadows of another tree. His violet eyes shining as he stares back at Alfred. Alfred feels better at seeing the owner of the voice. The boy looks like he's a little younger than he is, which means Alfred doesn't need to be scared. 'He's just another kid. Maybe he's lost too?' The small burst of relief gives way to confusion when he takes a closer look.
"Why do your eyes look like lights?" Alfred asks, concern coloring his voice. 'They're like Christmas lights.'
The boy shrugs and lowers his head, tugs on one of the frayed ends of his scarf. Alfred notices how it trails on the ground behind him. His clothes are far too big for him and covered with dirt.
"Hey, don't worry!" He says quickly, holding his hands out, hoping that he hadn't hurt the other boy's feelings. "It looks cool, I wish mine could do that too."
The boy looks up at him. "You're sad."
Alfred nods. "Because I'm lost. Are you lost too?"
The boy tilts his head and ignores Alfred's question. "Not just that. You're sad inside, a big sadness."
Alfred looks surprised, he has been feeling sad lately. It's his little brother's fault. Ever since his mom came home from the hospital with baby Matthew, his parents haven't spent as much time with Alfred. And they get angry with him easier than they used to you. His dad's words from earlier ring through his mind. "I don't have time for you, Alfred. Why can't you just stop being a nuisance for once? Just please...please be good, okay? I'm tired of dealing with this." Alfred knows what it means, I'm tired of you.
"I can help if you want."
"How?"
"I can take the sadness away."
"O-okay." Alfred says a bit nervously. "How does it work?"
"You have to close your eyes." The boy steps closer, leaning in when Alfred's eyes flutter shut.
Alfred shudders when he feels winter breath on his cheek, and he jolts when cool lips touch his own.
He squirms at the weird feeling in his stomach, like fingers of cold fire. It spreads to his chest and then his head, and then everything feels like static. The feeling stops abruptly when the boy pulls away, taking a few steps back so he's near the treeline again.
Alfred opens his eyes again, blinking a few times. He doesn't move, he feels... He feels... hollowed out. That's the best way he can describe it right now, like a Halloween pumpkin with all it's seeds scooped out. The sadness is gone, leaving nothing in it's place.
"What is your name, little one?" The boy asks after a few minutes of silence stretch between them. His voice is slow and tired now and Alfred now realises distantly that he has an accent.
"Alfred." His own voice sounds a bit dull to his ears.
"Alfred." The boy tries, it comes out oddly, but Alfred likes the sound of it. "My name is..." He pauses for a second, thinking, and sighs. "You can call me Ivan."
"Ivan." Alfred echoes. "I feel weird."
"Alfred, I am very sorry." Ivan's voice floats like fog, soft and sad. "I will lead you home."
Alfred just nods, too tired for talking. His limbs and eyelids feel heavy.
"You'll feel better when you wake up." Ivan says, taking Alfred's hand in his own and marvels at the warmth radiating from the child. It's been awhile since he last felt warm. He begins to lead Alfred to the forest's edge. Next to him, twigs and leaves crunch under Alfred's feet, the only sound that fills the air. Ivan's own footfalls are silent, the darkness swallowing up any sound that might have escaped. As if the whole forest is on mute. Ivan dislikes the stillness of it all. Alfred doesn't seem to notice the lack of animal sounds, he doesn't seem to be uneasy. Ivan thinks he's probably still a little dazed from the night's events.
"Ivan." Alfred says sleepily, his own voice startling him as it leaves his mouth. It sounds too loud in the dark of the woods. He forges on even though each word seems to echo in his ears, like a gunshot. "Will you be my friend?"
Ivan tenses at the question and huffs out a laugh. It's not a mean one though, it doesn't sound like his dad''s laugh when he thinks Alfred has asked a particularly stupid question. It sounds surprised. "If you want me to be."
Alfred smiles, he was worried Ivan wouldn't want to. He feels more alert, happier too. The hollow feeling at bay for now. "Then we'll be friends. Forever. I promise."
Ivan wants to warn him not to make promises he can't keep, wants to tell him he has no idea what forever is, that he has no idea what Ivan is. He holds his tongue. Alfred must learn these things on his own. So he just nods.
They both fall silent.
The sky is lighter, the sun getting ready to start the day, by the time they reach the edge of the forest by Alfred's backyard. Alfred steps into the yard and looks up at the looming house, all the lights are on. He's afraid of what his dad might say or do when he sees him. He turns abruptly and wraps his arms around Ivan. Hugs always make him feel better, though lately there hasn't been anyone to hug him. He hopes it works on both of them because Ivan seems lost too, though not in the same way. He pulls away after a few moments. And tries to be brave again.
"Thank you for bringing me back home and for helping me. Wait, hold on..." Alfred pauses to reach into his pack. He pulls out a book and shoves it into Ivan's hands. "Here. Friends share stuff, right? You can give it back the next time we hang out, okay?"
Ivan nods and doesn't tell him that what he did wasn't exactly help. He watches from the shadows as Alfred lets himself into his house and hopes for Alfred's sake that they never meet again. And he hopes for his own sake, selfishly, that they do.
Notes: Ivan is a creature that feeds on emotions. Title and inspiration taken from the song, This Modern Love by Bloc Party. Alfred's dad is Arthur, by the way, since he wasn't mentioned by name.
There are pacing issues as usual, trying to work on it, and the beginning is a bit wonky. All my stories are uploaded from my phone so I apologise for any formatting issues. Review if you'd like.
