Alfred sighed and took a second for himself as he peeled his coat off and hung it on the coat rack by the door. As he loosened his tie, he remembered that he didn't have as much time as he usually did because he had to work late today. He quickly rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the ingredients he needed. He pursed his lips as he slowly moved his fingers over the scratches and welts that covered the backs of his arms. He went over to the sink and washed his hands thoroughly. He put some ground beef, pork, and chicken into a large bowl. He cut up an onion and some garlic and sprinkled in a few spices. He made sure his sleeves were rolled up as far as they could go and started to mix the ingredients with his hands. The tips of his fingers burned as onion invaded the many small cuts. After it was all mixed, he washed his hands and grabbed the pre-cut circles of dough. He scooped meat into the middle of the circles and folded 50 dumplings. He got a pot and filled it with water then brought it to a boil. He dropped in 10 dumplings, took them out after five minutes, and then repeated the process four more times. He placed all the dumplings in a large bowl and placed it on the table nearby. He placed forks, plates, napkins, various sauces, drinking glasses, and a serving spoon on the table as well. He went to the liquor cabinet to grab a bottle of vodka to place on the table. At first, it didn't seem like a huge deal to Alfred that he was out of vodka, then reality hit him.
He quickly realized whom he was dealing with and sprinted out the door toward the nearby liquor store. He grimaced in pain as he felt the large gashes in his back start to bleed down his back. He quickly rushed into the liquor store and started browsing the vodka section. He grabbed the most expensive one he could find and started to walk to the register. He stopped dead in his tracks and hid behind a large kiosk full of wine. He peered around the corner waiting for the tall man to leave the register.
"Well, I've got to get home," the tall one said to the cashier. "Bye, Francis."
"See you later, Ivan," the cashier waved.
Ivan left the store not carrying anything. Alfred hurriedly walked up to Francis to buy the vodka.
"Oh, Alfred!" he exclaimed, "Ivan just left. Were you looking for him?"
Alfred adjusted his glasses and quickly gave Francis the bottle of vodka, "Just ring this up for me, will ya?"
Francis shrugged and rang up the vodka. Alfred paid for it in cash, took it, and sprinted all the way back his house. He back still ached. He ran inside, placed the vodka on the table, and ran into the bathroom. He quickly took off his white button down shirt and washed his back to the best of his ability. He wrapped gauze tightly around his chest to keep his back from bleeding anymore and then put on a clean shirt identical to the previous one save the blood stains on the back. He washed the red out of his face using cold water and tried to calm himself down. He walked back into the kitchen and sat down in his seat. The minutes he spent waiting for Ivan to get home felt like hours as he fidgeted with his glasses in his lap. Nevertheless, Alfred heard the Russian's long strides as they came up the porch. Alfred quickly rushed to the door and opened it for Ivan. He took Ivan's coat and hung it on the rack next to his.
"З-Здравствуйте, Иван," Alfred said timidly. He learned early on that it was mandatory to greet Ivan in Russian because he celebrated his heritage. If you didn't greet him in Russian, he would ignore you until you did.
"Привет, Альфред," Ivan said in reply.
Alfred pulled Ivan's chair out for him, "Как ваш дела?"
Ivan sat down, "Ничего. А у вас?"
Alfred pushed Ivan closer to the table and then sat himself down across from him, "Спасибо хорошо."
Ivan examined the food on the table, "Pelmeni?"
Alfred picked up the serving spoon and started to scoop some for Ivan, "Oh, yes, I found the recipe online. How much do you want?"
Ivan shooed Alfred's hand from the spoon, "I'll get it myself. If you'd like to do something, pour my vodka."
Alfred quickly changed positions around Ivan and poured him a full glass of vodka.
"So how was your day?" Ivan asked.
"Oh, same-old, same-old," Alfred scooped himself some pelmeni and poured some soy sauce over them, "Woke up, went to work, came home, made dinner, here we are." Alfred stuck a dumpling in his mouth, "I'd much rather hear about your day."
Ivan swallowed the dumpling that was in his mouth, "Well, I ran into Ludwig, Feliciano, and Kiku at the mall today. I think they were meeting up with Gilbert. After that I saw Toris in the park, but when I tried to talk to him he ran away." Ivan took a long swig of vodka, "Later on I saw Arthur with nephew-kid-thing, Peter, walking home from that school nearby. I went out for lunch and saw Roderich and Elizabeta on a date I think. Oh, and you know our new neighbor, Tino Väinämöinen? I saw him walking around with that other guy, Berwald Oxenstierna. I think Berwald was showing Tino around." Ivan poured himself some more vodka.
Alfred nodded and listened while quietly eating his dumplings.
"I stopped by the liquor store to see Francis," Ivan said.
Alfred stiffened in his seat.
The Russian rolled his glass between two fingers nonchalantly as he took microscopic sips out of it. Little by little the vodka disappeared until he had to refill again. The only sound in the room was the creaking of the chair as Ivan leaned back in it. Alfred felt his mouth go dry and tried to resist the urge to eat another dumpling to moisten it up. Ivan showed his stubbornness and waited until Alfred was about to eat another dumpling before speaking. Alfred put the dumpling back down.
"While I was talking, I noticed something moving on the feed from the survailence cameras. I could've sworn that I was the only person there, but someone else must have snuck in while I wasn't paying attention. At first, I thought 'that couldn't be Alfred, he's too responsible,' but then I looked again. I could only see the person's back, but it looked like they had blood stains soaking through their shirt. Alfred, stand up."
Alfred stood up facing Ivan and backed away from the table. Ivan grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around to examine his back. Alfred inwardly sighed, thankful that he had all that medical gauze and a new shirt. He heard Ivan give a little hum that he did when he was thinking. Just seconds later, Alfred felt his shirt collar tugging violently at his neck as Ivan was ripping off the shirt. The buttons on the front snapped one by one until it got to the very last button which held the shirt up and draped around Alfred's waist. Alfred felt his neck turn a bright red when he realized that he had probably bled thought his gauze by now. He heard a faint clicking noise that Ivan made when he was about to get violent. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ivan grab something out of the nearby drawer. He couldn't see what it was but he heard what it was as the blade flicked out.
"Let's get these pesky bandages off you," Ivan said. He quickly slid the knife down Alfred back, pressing far harder than needed to cut through the flimsy bandages. Fresh blood started to spill slowly down Alfred's back. He clenched his teeth in pain, but didn't make a sound. "Come here," Ivan said as he physically dragged Alfred into the bedroom. "So where were you today?"
Alfred looked down at the floor, "I, I went to the liquor store to pick up some vodka," he stammered.
"What have I told you about going out, Alfred?" Ivan gently placed a hand around Alfred's neck, not to inflict harm but rather to caress his jaw.
Alfred's neck turned beet red, "You said 'do not go anywhere but the house and work.'"
Ivan ran his thumb along Alfred's cheek, "And what did you do today?"
Alfred looked down, "I went out."
"What did you do? Look at me when you say it, fool," Ivan's voice turned harsh.
Alfred looked up at Ivan with pleading eyes, "I went out."
Ivan's thumb detoured over to the American's lower lip, "And where exactly did you go."
"Just to the liquor store, I swear."
Ivan hummed. "Alfred, wait for me out in the living room. And face the kitchen."
Alfred walked silently out into the living room and faced the kitchen. He heard Ivan walk around in their room a little bit before he heard the foot steps behind him.
"Alfred, turn around."
Everything slowed down. Time in those few seconds moved slower than a frame by frame replay of a photo finish. The first thing he noticed was the sound that the faucet pipe made as if flew through the air. The next sound he noticed was the low hum that it made as air darted around inside of it like a bottle. The first thing he felt was when the pipe first touched his left leg. It didn't hurt, it was barely touching it.
Then he couldn't feel anything.
He simply heard.
He heard the loud crunch as his femur split and he doubled over in pain. Everything was back up to speed. He turned around and fell forward, hitting his mouth and nose on the coffee table. He felt three teeth go loose, two fell onto the floor, and one hung, dangling by a root. His mouth quickly started to fill with blood. He closed his eyes. He kept his mouth closed at all expense. He tried not to pay attention to his swelling leg. Cold metal touched his neck, right under his chin. It nudged him, pressing on his airway. He wanted to gasp for air, but that would involve opening his mouth. He held his breath.
Ivan's voice was cold and heartless. If voices had colors, his would be black. "Don't you dare get a drop of blood on my carpet," he nudged the pipe into Alfred's throat further. As Alfred's face turned blue, Ivan pulled the pipe away and watched him.
Alfred tried to swallow the blood. It got half way down his throat before it came back up. He tried again, and it stayed down for the most part. It was too late before he felt the blood that was spilling out of his nose make a river down his cheek and drip onto the floor. He tensed his body, waiting for an attack. As surely as time itself, Ivan's shoe came in contact sharply with Alfred's ribs. He heard one—no—two fracture, if not break completely. Ivan's action also brought about a fit of coughing. As Alfred coughed, he tried to cover his mouth, but to no avail. Blood spilled out of his mouth and dripped onto the carpet even more. He felt the cool bottom of Ivan's shoe make contact with the top of his chest and press down until Alfred stopped coughing. He put his hands out beside him and kept them face up to keep the blood that had gathered in their palms from spilling on the ground.
Ivan, feeling he hadn't done enough damage for the second blood-spill, took his foot off of Alfred's chest and picked up his pipe. He slammed it into the palm of Alfred's hand, clearly breaking every finger in multiple places. He had swung the pipe so hard that the wood underneath the carpet split.
Alfred wiped his broken, bloody hand on his bare abdomen. The blood dried slowly, creating a shell. He wiped his hands on his pants and on his stomach trying to get all the blood dried up. He braced himself for more pain, but he saw Ivan put the pipe down and sit down in the corner beside the entertainment center. Alfred tried to turn over on his side, but as he did he felt more than remembered that his ribs were broken, so he moved back onto his back. He looked out of the corner of his eye and saw Ivan sitting down silently. He pulled his knees up to his chest and tucked his head toward his chest. Alfred heard the sounds he heard every night that Ivan lost his temper. First it was just heavy breathing as if every breath was a sigh. Then it turned into the occasional sob. It never got more severe than that, but for Ivan, a blink was a big deal. The sobs echoed through the empty house like clockwork. They'd go in and out of rooms, making their way through every room in the house. Alfred laid there for God knows how long before he finally passed out. Even though all was black, the sobs still echoed through his head. Just like clockwork.
A sharp buzzing noise awoke Alfred. He tried to turn over to turn the alarm clock off but his broken body refused it. He felt a long arm lean past him and turn the buzzer off. There stood Ivan, clad in his over coat and scarf, with a small smile on his face.
"Good morning, Alfred."
Alfred tried to sit up. After a few attempts, he got up successfully, "Good morning, Ivan."
Ivan left for the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Alfred found the clothes that Ivan had left out for him. He pulled off his blood splattered pants that he had been wearing the night before and noticed how large and purple his leg had become. Not putting any weight on his left leg, he quickly changed. He noticed the crutches that Ivan left out for him. He made his way clumsily into the kitchen where he smelled eggs and bagels. He saw Ivan placing the plates down on the table. He noticed Ivan pick up something small and black off of the table and hide it in front of him. He quickly turned around and Alfred found himself with a revolver in his face.
Alfred backed up, "Ivan what are you doing?"
Ivan looked him in the eye with a gaze that could slice diamond, "I'm sick and tired of you, Alfred. I'm done with you."
Fear flooded Alfred as he though of someway to talk the other out of it. He put his hands up defensively, "Come on now, Ivan, you don't want to do this, do you? I mean, you'll be arrested for murder and you'll go to jail, all because of me. Neither of us want that."
Ivan's hand tensed around the trigger, and Alfred saw it, "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. You don't know what I want, Alfred."
Alfred tried to reason him, "Well, what do you want, Ivan?"
Ivan swallowed as his fingers tensed around the trigger, "I want you gone."
When Alfred saw Ivan start to pull the trigger, time slowed down again. He shut his eyes tightly, waiting for the end. He heard the sound as the gun was shot, and heard nothing after that.
He opened one eye before opening the other. Ivan towered over him, holding back a furious laughter.
"You should have seen the stupid look on your face," Ivan said as he laughed.
Alfred hadn't picked up what he meant. He looked up at him, "What?"
Ivan went and sat down at the table. He started to eat, "Today is April first, silly. But seriously, you should've seen it. You looked so stupid."
Alfred felt his stomach drop. He eyed his food in disgust, "Well… I'm not really hungry this morning, so I think I'll go ahead and leave for work."
Ivan quickly stood up and waited by the door. When Alfred came by Ivan kissed him and told him to have a good day at work today. The way he said it made him sound like the most normal person in the world. It sounded like there was a warmth in his voice where there wasn't before. Alfred knew it was fake, but he still noticed it every morning. He went back and sat down at the table and continued to eat.
As soon as Alfred was out the door, he made his way out to the street where he usually walked to work. He tried to get to work without stopping, but he just broke down. He went into an alley way and sat down on the ground and began to bawl. He didn't know why, because it was something Ivan would do normally. Maybe it was because of how real it seemed. He realized that he would be late, so he started to stand back up. He looked at the end of the alley where the street was. He swore for just a second he saw the flutter of a scarf in the wind. He made his way slowly to work on his crutches. Everyone asked what was wrong, so he told them all that he fell off his roof while doing some work. It explains the missing teeth, the broken hand, and the leg. He went to his office where he found a sticky note stuck to the front of the computer. Alfred noticed right away that it was Ivan's handwriting because "r" in "anywhere" was backwards, like the Russian "я." It said: I told you not to go anywhere but home and work.
Alfred realized that Ivan had seen him in the alley. His leg suddenly ached, reminding him of the events of the night prior. He groaned as he sat down in his chair and started to work. He started to plan what he would have to do when he got home. His thoughts couldn't get past "make dinner" because they kept thinking of the huge endless cycle he was caught up in.
Oh, the endless cycle.
*Translation of Russian:
"H-Hello, Ivan," Alfred said timidly. He learned early on that it was mandatory to greet Ivan in Russian because he celebrated his heritage. If you didn't greet him in Russian, he would ignore you until you did.
"Hi, Alfred," Ivan said in reply.
Alfred pulled Ivan's chair out for him, "How are you?"
Ivan sat down, "Not too bad. And you?"
Alfred pushed Ivan closer to the table and then sat himself down across from him, "Fine, thank you."