How could he do this? It seemed to just happen out of the blue. There were no indications that would give him the slightest hint that such an issue would ever pop up. Was he not to his satisfaction, was he not good enough, was he even truly loved by the other, or had this whole relationship been about leading him around so he could gain an easier access to the one? Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. The whole world was spinning, the simple idea that this had actually happened made his stomach sick, and no longer could he bare it.
The proof was there, all over his face, hidden behind a wall in his eyes, but no wall could last forever and eventually it broke. There was no need for words, there was no need to address the issue, because every single day, every hour, every second, he had tried to forget. He wanted to forget that the incident had ever happened, forget that he had been betrayed by the one he loved, forget everything and go back to how things had been before.
He couldn't.
It was lurking in the back of his mind, haunting him at night when he would dream of the sin, torturing him through the day as he sat at home and wondered where his lover actually was, and it was slowly eating away at him until his smiles could no longer appear and the blue eyes became cold and dead. The obnoxious laughter and constant talking ceased all at once; no longer was there light to him.
Dinners seemed to last forever, only the sounds of clinking materials echoed out. Sleeping in the same bed, the same room, seemed to cause the two to grow even more apart no matter how close they were during that time. There were no warm hugs, no more lingering kisses, no more chatter about the day; there was nothing. An empty house holding but two lost souls as they wandered about trying to find their way.
Days would fly by. Small tasks such as eating and showering had been forgotten, and he would be lost in his world; the treacherous act his partner was doing had taken a stronger hold onto him. The bed was his home, only that existed to him, and never did he take a step out from the covers to leave. His lover would appear, but he was just a blur in his blue eyes now, the lies he spoke were no longer comprehended in his mind. It was as though he had died.
One day - it was like an explosion had taken place. He could no longer take it. The fact of the matter was that it had truly started to eat him alive; and so he moved from his home to the living room, sitting on the couch the two had cuddled on very often before, and waited for the man to walk in through that door.
An hour seemed like an eternity, but as soon as the click to the opening door rang out, playing again and again in his head, the dead blue eyes lit up like fire, and there he took his stand.
"How could you?"
The Russian appeared confused as well as caught off guard by the random question. Purple eyes could only stare as he tried to figure out what this topic would be about.
"I know…I know everything."
Weeks of rage suddenly poured out and all Alfred could do then was stand there and scream while tears ran down his cheeks and his hands motioned angrily about.
"Were you only using me so you could get close to him?!"
"You don't know what you're talking about—"
"No. I don't know. So why don't you explain it to me?"
Ivan stood uncomfortably, keeping his mouth shut, and had nothing more to say. Though there were plenty things to say. He could explain to the American why he had cheated, explain why it had been with his brother, try to gain forgiveness and say he would never do it again, but instead he stood silent, letting his once lover scream at him between choking sobs.
"Did you ever even love me?"
Yet there was still no reply. It merely proved that everything he was asking was turning out to be true. A sharp stab in Alfred's heart shot through him, breathing seemed impossible and he clutched his shirt as though it may help.
Why had this happened? He always thought that if cheating was to come up, that he would be the one to do it, the Russian not even looking like one who could go through with the act, but looks can indeed be deceiving. It never once occurred to him that this would actually happen - it should only happen in nightmares, and when you awoke next to your lover, they would be there to comfort you and say it was only a bad dream. Alfred wouldn't wake up from this, he wouldn't be comforted by his ex-partner, and it wasn't just a bad dream. The American was only able to ask one more question, it would be the one that would torment him for the rest of his life, because after he had asked it, the only response was the truthful silence.
"Am I not good enough?"