Ivan sat on a lone tree stump out in the front yard of his home. It was far past the setting of the sun and far past the time he should have shut his eyes to sleep like any sound person would have. He sat and looked down at his hands,or more so, what he held in his hands. A single gold ring with the word 'Eternally' etched onto it in his native language. Passed down through the generations by the Braginski family it had fallen to the Ivan when he was just 5 years old, the day his parents had died.
There had been a riot, the military had been called in. A soldier had shot them right before little Ivan's eyes. The soldier had then walked up to his father's body and slipped the ring off of his finger to scrutinize it. It was then that he noticed the little boy cowering behind a corner of a building. The soldier walked up to him, ruffled his light blonde hair, handed him the ring and proceeded to walk down the street, shooting people as he went.
As the Russian man grimaced at the memory he scrutinized the ring in his hands just as the soldier had done. Ever since that day, nothing good had come to pass. After that day he had to return to his home and tell his sisters why their mother and father had not returned with him. After that day every time he became close to someone something bad would happen and they would leave him. He held the ring between his thumb and fore finger and raised it up to the sky in the general area the moon should have been. The clouds obscured his view. The clouds always did. After that day he had begun to feel the greyness of the world around him, began to feel the cold of the country he called home seep into not only his bones, but his very core. He had grown numb to not only others, but himself.
He sighed as he looked through the ring at the endless expanse of bleak atmosphere. When he had received the ring he had had no idea what 'Eternally' could possibly mean. The band of metal was so much older than himself. But through all the years he had the displeasure of wearing it he had formed his own view of what the single word expressed.
"Eternally gray
Eternally cold
Eternally lost
Eternally alone." He had repeated those words to himself a thousand times over, and as numb as he was, they still stung. His family had left him, his 'friends' feared him. His home was a desolate and depressing wasteland. He could have left, but where would he go?
'This ring,' He had decided long ago. 'This ring is nothing but a damn curse.'
"You know, you're only alone if you let yourself believe that, aru."
Ivan spun around on his stump to face the man who had wondered upon him, who had probably heard him mumbling to himself.
"Oh,good evening Yao, what are you doing out here so late?" Unphased by hour or the cold as Ivan would have thought he would be, the small Chinese man sat down next to his taller companion. Yao had a feeling this would be the spot he would find him. They sat in silence for a while until Ivan couldn't take it.
"Do you really believe that?" Ivan asked. Yao looked up to him.
"Believe what?"
"That a person is only alone if they let themselves think that."
"Of course I did aru, I wouldn't have said it otherwise." The silence enveloped them yet again and Ivan began to look around his surroundings. White, gray, and black smeared together. Though, his gaze soon ended up on the shorter man. Yao, one of his oldest friends. He had stood by Ivan through almost everything he had been through. They had their differences, oh yes they did, but at the end of the day he was still there. It was more than he could say for the others, everyone always left...
"Ivan?" Oops, he must have been caught staring.
"Da?"
"A ring doesn't define you aru. I hope you know that."
Ivan stared at him, confused. Yao placed his hand over Ivan's and ran his finger over the gold band.
"I know you think that this ring is the source of all of your troubles and misfortunes, and it very well may be. But that doesn't mean it has any place consuming you."
"It's taken everything from me, Yao."
"And if you got rid of it would it change then?" The Asian could tell that the Russian tensed at this. Ivan looked down at his friend, his closest and wisest friend.
"No," He said with a defeated sigh. "Probably not."
Yao squeezed his hand tighter and looked into the taller mans violet eyes. Cold Eyes. Eyes that had seen so much hurt and bloodshed. Eyes that had practically forgotten how to see the good in the world. Yao wanted to open those eyes for him again, and, in time, maybe fix a broken heart and a heal shattered soul.
"Ivan, not all things that eternal are bad, and not all bad things are eternal, aru."
The Russian looked down at his hand that was intertwined with his friends.
"Like what? tell me one thing could possibly be both good and eternal"
"Its a very fragile and powerful thing, aru"
"Oh really?"
"Yes, it is." They took a moment to both look up at the sky, where the stars had begun to poke through the gray clouds.
"It's called love."
