Note: This fanfic is uber melodramatic. You have been warned.
*Taking long break from Russia Memoirs fanfic and attempting to continue/start/finish this one xD *
Not Forgotten
Prologue
The garden was located behind the house shed, conveniently covered by a dense collection of leaves and bushes. In the square clearing, dozens of blooming flowers were packed around the edge, and their sweet-smelling aroma drifted with the wind. The fountain in the center spewed clear, crystal water into the air, and the drops of liquid splashed on the face of the six-year-old hiding in the bushes. His brilliant blue eyes widened at the cool touch, and a huge grin formed over his face.
Vanya will never find me! the boy named Alfred thought happily. This is the best hiding spot in the whole area. He hummed to himself, never staying still, and wondered how long it would take for his friend to come. They were playing a game of hide-and-seek, and so far he was winning by 5 to 2. "I always beat Vanya," Alfred smugly whispered, "The hero always wins over the villain." Contentedly, he pulled his legs up to his chest and waited.
After ten minutes slowly went by, the youth sighed. Why is he taking so long? Alfred had always been short on patience and besides, he wanted to play another game after this. One where he would get Vanya to be the evil sorcerer who kidnapped the princess and he would, of course, be the hero and save her and the world from mass destruction. "He's always been a bit slow," mumbled the American boy, "but this place isn't that hard to find, is it?"
When thirty minutes passed and the sky had turned a red-gray, Alfred finally stomped to his feet in anger. He probably went back to the house to stare at Arthur's sunflowers again! It would be just like Vanya to abandon him for some stupid flowers.
The boy quickly dusted his shirt off- or Arthur would complain about the state of his clothes -and sprinted towards the house in a mad rush. He turned a corner and collided into the man himself at the door. "Ah, watch where you're going, ya brat," Arthur complained testily. He was holding a mop and dustpan.
"Iggy, where's Vanya?" Alfred demanded.
Arthur's eyebrows knitted together. "I thought he was with you."
"No," the boy couldn't keep the whine out of his voice. "I think he ditched me."
"You're looking for Ivan, Al?" Francis appeared behind Arthur, lugging a box full of candles. "He's locked himself inside his room. The mail came with a letter addressed to him and when he stopped by the house to look at the sunflowers, I gave it to him. He's been up there with it ever since."
"But Vanya can't read, can he?"
Arthur paused from wiping grime off the porch and raised an eyebrow. "He can," the Englishman lightly reproached Alfred for his ignorance, "His uncle taught him."
"Oh vraiment?" Now it was Francis's turn to raise his eyebrow. "The kid's what? Seven? And he can read full letters from an adult, in Russian and English?"
"Yes," Arthur said in that know-it-all voice of his. "I heard that the education is very rigorous in Russia-"
"Where is his room again?" Alfred interrupted Arthur before he could get into a long-winded discussion about the education system.
"Third room down the first hallway."
Francis frowned absently. "But Al-"
The boy sped into the house before Francis could finish. He ran down the familiar oak corridors of his and Arthur's home, all the while thinking of ways to punish Vanya. "What's so important about a stupid letter that he'd ditch me?" Alfred grumbled. "Besides, today's his last day too..." Tomorrow, Vanya was going back to Russia; he'd only stayed in the United States to play with Alfred for a few weeks.
When Alfred finally reached Vanya's room, he was almost afraid to barge in. Sometimes, Vanya started acting weird and scary, and on those occasions, it had been because Alfred entered his room without permission. But, the youth suddenly thought, this is my room! Just in case though, Alfred gave a warning before rushing in. "Vanya, I'm coming through!" he shouted and shoved the door open with a bang.
What he saw made him back up instantly.
Vanya, big-boned yet gentle, sweet Vanya, was stabbing his right arm with a pen. Over and over again. Blood pooled around him, and his eyes, once a light lavender-blue, were now dark and menacing with hatred. On the ground, soaked in red, was the crumpled letter, and every few seconds, Vanya's gaze would flit to it. He didn't seem to take notice of Alfred, and it was all the five-year-old could do to force himself not to run screaming to Arthur or Francis.
Instead, he willed himself to take a step towards Vanya. He's my friend... Besides, I'm a hero and I'm not afraid of anything! the boy thought. But he still couldn't stop trembling. "Are you okay?" Alfred whispered when he was within five feet of his friend. He reached an arm out to touch Vanya.
The Russian child flinched from the contact and those horrible eyes finally landed on the American.
"Уйди," Vanya whispered.
Alfred started at the menace in Vanya's voice. Why was he being so mean? What was wrong?
"Письмо..." Vanya continued, and his eyes narrowed into slits as he stared down at the piece of paper. "I hate it."
"What are you saying?" Alfred cried out.
"Уйди," he repeated softly. "Тебе будет больно."
"Talk in English! I don't understand you..." Tears welled up in the American's eyes. "You're always doing this."
And suddenly, at the sight of water streaming down his friend's cheeks, Vanya's own eyes widened in surprise. They slowly lost their darkness and he leaned forward to hug Alfred. "Why are you crying, da?" the boy asked Alfred soothingly.
Alfred blinked, confused at his change of attitude. He stared into Vanya's innocent face, and thought, Why does Vanya have to act like this all the time? He felt the wetness of blood on his back from the hug, and wondered why his friend wasn't screaming from the pain of stabbing himself with a pen. There was something so oddly missing from Vanya that it caused a chill to run up Alfred's spine. Before he could stop himself, he'd blurted out with, "I'm crying because... you scare me."
The shock and hurt in Vanya's eyes made him regret the words instantly. The Russian recoiled from Alfred and backed up against the wall. His violet eyes had suddenly become a shade duller.
"No, I didn't mean that," Alfred hastily said. "I'm sorry, Vanya." No response. "I really am."
There was a silence, broken only by Arthur's shouting from the kitchen below. "You brats better get ready for bed!" the Englishman called sternly.
"Yeah, we should go sleep," the blonde one said in a nervous voice. Uncertainly, he rose to his feet, his gaze never leaving Vanya.
"You go sleep," Vanya said quietly. "I will sit here and wait for sunrise."
Alfred didn't know what else to say except, "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow morning then..."
He was almost out the door when Vanya spoke up again, "I'm leaving for Russia tomorrow. And I'm never coming back here again."
...
"Why?"
Alfred hadn't meant for his voice to come out so sad.
Now, finally, Vanya smiled, but it was a weary one. He looked so much older than seven years old. "Uncle Ioseb says I shouldn't play with you anymore. Since times are getting bad and he needs to train me for the upcoming years. He will train me for war.
"And," Vanya added softly, "he also said that, one day, we will become enemies."
Enemies.
The way Vanya stated it, bitterly cold and resolute, in such a solemn and adult voice, made Alfred tremble inside. His smile was weak, but when he opened his mouth to reply, he tried to match the reassurance in his head with his tone. I am not afraid. And I know that Vanya and me would never hurt each other. "We're friends!" Alfred said brightly. "We're not enemies, Vanya. And we won't ever be. So don't listen to Ioseb, whoever he is."
The innocence was back on the Russian boy's face. "Really?" he asked, almost pleading. "Will we always be friends then, Alfred? (Ioseb is my uncle, by the way...)"
"Of course we will," Alfred smiled a real smile this time as Vanya moved closer to him. He pulled the large, yet child-like boy into his chest and hugged him. "But I'm tired now," Alfred yawned. "Let's go sleep, Vanya."
"Да, but I think we should clean up first.."
"Oh yeah."
They both stared at the bloody mess on the floor.
That night, after Arthur had tucked both boys into bed and switched off the lights, Vanya found himself staring at the ceiling. Minutes passed and he still couldn't fall asleep. Turning to his left, he glanced at the boy beside him, who was staring back too. "I can't sleep," the bigger one complained.
"Maybe I should sing you a lullaby then?"
Vanya smiled. "Can you sing 'Polushka Polye'?"
"It's that weird song you keep humming to yourself, isn't it...?"
"Da."
"...So, how does it go again?"
Vanya was thoughtful for a second. "I think it's like this," he finally said.
"Polyushko-pole, polyushko, shiroko pole,
edut po polyu geroi,
eh, da krasnoi armii geroi...
"You try," he grinned at Alfred. "Or are you too scared to?" he teased at the look on Alfred's face.
The boy instantly fired up. "A hero is never afraid!" he babbled, eyes sparkling. "Here I go!"
...
Uhmm. "Pole...pokyusha..poles.. polelo...suroyko...poles..-"
Vanya couldn't stop laughing; he almost fell off the bed and pulled Alfred along with him. "Thank you," he gasped out when he finally caught his breath, grinning at the pouting, hurt look on Alfred's face, "Now I really can't sleep!"
Morning came too soon. When Alfred woke up, Vanya had disappeared and he could hear talking in the kitchen. Quickly, he leapt out of bed, hoping he hadn't missed anything important, hoping that Vanya hadn't left while he was sleeping.
"He's still here," Arthur smiled, amused, as Alfred flew into the kitchen and glanced around hastily. "I think he's talking on the phone with his uncle."
He let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, good."
"Bonjour, tête endormie," Francis greeted him cheerfully. "Worrying about young Ivan so early in the morning?"
" 'Morning, Francis," Alfred ignored the second part and got a slice of hamburger bread from the counter.
"Umm, Alfred?"
The boy glanced up questioningly at Arthur.
Arthur's eyebrows were scrunched up more than usual and he was frowning. "About Ivan... I think you should listen to his Uncle Ioseb."
"Huh? Why? Did he say anything important?"
Alfred's stupidly empty expression made Arthur's vein pulse. "The thing Ivan told you last night...?"
Alfred suddenly gasped. "You eavesdropped on us!"
"Yes, but what I'm saying is that-"
"Francis!" the youth was indignant. "Tell Iggy he can't do that anymore!"
"Nonono," the French man shook his head. "He had a good reason to, Al."
"You're bloody right I did! After hearing everything that boy said..." Arthur sighed and when he looked at Alfred, his green eyes were clouded. "Ioseb doesn't play around. And when he demands something, he is very serious about it. Do you know what he wrote to Ivan?"
"No," the child pouted. "I tried to read the letter last night after Vanya went to sleep but it was all sticky with blood and in the weird lines and shapes."
"Well, Ioseb called me this morning..." Arthur rubbed his temples. "He was screaming, telling me that he was already on his way here to put up Ivan, that he was tired of his boy coming over to this 'moronic, ill-raised' country.
"Alfred." His guardian went down to the boy's eye level and hugged him. "You shouldn't be friends with Ivan anymore. Someday, you will go to war with him and then you two will hate each other. It's best if you break your friendship off now, better than facing the pain later on." But Arthur knew the depth behind his words didn't reach Alfred. The American was a only child, immature, and considered the present to be his primary worry, not the future.
"That's not funny, Iggy," was the huffy response. "Of course Vanya and me won't ever go to war. We're best friends!"
Arthur glanced at Francis, who shook his head. "Okay," the Englishman smiled weakly. His Alfred was just too young to realize it. Things will be harder for him after this day.
"Privet! What are you guys doing, da?" Vanya entered the kitchen and Arthur noticed the forced smile on his face. I wonder what he talked to Ioseb about...
"We were just going outside," Alfred grabbed Vanya's sleeve and, casting Arthur a dark glare, dragged his friend towards the garden.
The morning was a fresh, springy one, and the water from the fountain glistened in the cool air. When they reached the small garden, Alfred let go of Vanya's arm and waited for the Russian boy to catch his breath. "Let's play a game," he smiled. "The game we were supposed to play yesterday but couldn't."
Something flashed across Vanya's face. "Nyet, Alfred... I can't. Uncle Ioseb is coming to pick me up soon..."
"Already?" Alfred frowned.
"Da. He said... he does not like me being here too long. He says it worries him."
"Oh. That's kind of stupid. You're safe here."
"Da."
Alfred was at a loss of words for once, and all he could was stare at the sky, the fountain, the flowers; anywhere but at Vanya.
"The flowers are so pretty," Vanya suddenly said. His voice was cheerier. "Especially the sunflowers." The boy reached forward to touch the petals of one, and his eyes grew wide with delight.
"Why do you like sunflowers so much, Vanya?"
"Because they are very pretty, and very pure, da?"
"It's kinda girly to me," grumbled Alfred. But he leaned forward and plucked one right from its roots, flinging it in front of Vanya's confused face. "If you like them so much, why don't you take one?" the American youth offered. "Makes no sense to just look at them."
"Arthur will get mad, da?"
"Nope. I own his house and him, remember?"
Vanya laughed and took the flower. "Спасибо, Alfred."
"... There you go again with your weird language!"
"I can teach you it someday. It's only fair, since I know your language."
Alfred groaned. "I'm already struggling to learn the English alphabet, Vanya!"
There was a silence as Alfred watched his friend stare at the sunflower. Vanya's face was in awe, as though this was the best experience in his entire life. Alfred felt a sudden lurch in his chest as he realized that, in a few minutes, he would never see Vanya again. His thoughts flashed back to the letter and the Russian's hatred at it. "Uh, Vanya?"
"Da?"
"Can you tell me what happened last night?"
Startled, Vanya glanced up. His eyes suddenly became cold. "Nyet, Alfred. I do not want to talk about it."
"But-"
"Alfred, Ivan! You two come back, Ioseb is here!" Arthur's voice rang in the air. It was strained and urgent.
"Let's go back, da?" Vanya was all smiles again.
"No, wait. Please tell me," Alfred pleaded. "I want to know why you act like that all the time."
The violet in the child's eyes shifted to dark blue. "Because you are scared of me, da?"
"N-no... I just-"
"So you are here, отродье." The deathly cold voice behind Alfred interrupted him. From out of nowhere, a tall man with a cruel visage and dark eyes emerged and placed a hand on the Russian child's shoulder.
Vanya's eyes suddenly grew big with fear. "Privet, Uncle Иосиф," he whispered, trying to keep his voice from wavering.
"Иван, what did I tell you about playing with the American child?"
"You told me not to." Vanya stared at the ground.
"Yet you are here, talking with him, joking with him, playing with him... and what is this мусор?" Ioseb snatched the sunflower from Vanya's hand and threw it on the ground in disgust.
Alfred hadn't like this guy from the beginning, but now he was angry. "Hey old man, that's not nice!" He scooped up the flower and handed it back to Vanya. "Don't worry, we can get you another one," he told the boy, smiling.
Ioseb's eyes narrowed as he watched Vanya return the smile. He did not like this American child, did not like idiotic way he talked, or the bad influences he had on Ivan.
He will be the death of my country.
Before anyone could move or say another word, Ioseb had raised a hand in fury and, shouting, "отродье! Do not talk with this child!", slapped Alfred in the face. The force of his blow swept the child off his feet and into the air. He landed on the edge of the stone fountain, head slumped forward; blood was a given, unconsciousness was instant.
"Uncle!" Vanya screamed and clawed at Ioseb's arm. "Why are you doing this to my friend?!" He reached to help Alfred, but Ioseb pulled him back.
"We are leaving now, Иван," the man said, dragging the child away from the garden. "And do not think I will ever allow you back here again!"
Five hours later, when Alfred woke up to the concerned faces of Arthur and Francis, his head was throbbing and his body ached.
"Hello," he smiled sickly at his guardians.
"Dieu merci! The boy is fine." Francis sighed.
"What happened to me?" Alfred asked. "I feel like I just got trampled on by a horse."
Arthur's eyebrows knitted. "You don't remember what happened?"
The American child thought. He remembered vague images of a man and another boy, and they had been arguing. But he couldn't put the face or the name of the boy in his head. "No. Am I supposed to remember something?" Alfred asked at the startled look on Arthur's and Francis's face. "Something important?"
"Does the word 'Vanya' spark anything in your mind?"
"Vanya? Is that a new brand of cars?"
Arthur exchanged glances with Francis. This child... doesn't remember?
"Iggy," Alfred pouted, but winced at the rush of pain from his head. "Tell me."
"Vanya is your-"
"Yes," Arthur hastily interrupted Francis. "The model just came out, it's very stylish." He ignored the Frenchman's incredulous look.
"So you're telling me I got run over by a stylish car?" Alfred's eyes widen in delight. "I must be the first one, right? So cool!"
Arthur sighed. Only an idiot child like Alfred could think getting run over was cool.
"But now, it's time for you to rest," the Englishman sternly made him lay back down. "You've had enough drama for one day."
"Okay!" Alfred said. He was getting a bit tired anyways. "Good night, then..."
"Goodnight." Arthur's eyes softened as Alfred slept, then grew cold with anger.
Ioseb... What kind of man would hurt an innocent six-year-old? It made him seethe in fury.
From now on, Russia, the country and the people, will never be in my good graces again.
And so, after that long night, Alfred woke up in the morning cheerfully content. The sun was shining and outside, he would play in the stone garden, watching the water stream out of the fountain. At first, he felt a strange, sad ache in his chest as he stared at the flowers surrounding him. But then, slowly, it would pass, and Alfred left the garden with no memory of it ever occurring.
No memory of a boy named Vanya, a man named Ioseb, or a country called Russia.
Translations
Russian:
Уйди = leave
Письмо = the letter
Тебе будет больно = You will get hurt
Да = yes
Спасибо = thank you
отродье = brat
Иосиф = Ioseb (Joseph)
Иван = Ivan
мусор = garbage
French:
Oh vraiment = Oh really
Bonjour, tête endormie = Good morning, sleepy head
Dieu merci! = Thank God!
Tada~ Finally done. :D Again, not sure if the Russian words are right. -stares hopefully at RusCSI if you're reading this- As for the French words, if experience has taught me about online translators, they're probably wrong too. C: Please tell me if you see any mistakes.
I know someone used 'Polushka Polye' in a fanfic already, but I just LOVE that song and was listening to it the whole time while writing the story XD so yea, had to put it in there ;3
Also, I feel like their ages are out of character from the way they act in this story... n_n How say you?
Review, da?~~