The door to the car opened and Ivan stared with a heavy, worried-some glance towards the young man whose eyes were opened wide. He was still shaking, Ivan watched him sitting down across him. The two men who lead him in had to hunch over before stepping out of the vehicle and retreating to the cars parked behind the black plated SUV limousine that soon they trailed after when they began moving.
Ivan fidgeted with the end of his scarf, the soft material being clenched into the nervous hold of his gloved hands. "Boy… are you alright?" He asked, his voice laced with his thick Russian accent and carried a gentle tone towards the young man.
"Boy?" Ivan continued watching him. What should he do? Oh, oh, oh, what can I do?! His silver blond locks bounced as he slowly rose to his feet and stumbled forward, albeit slightly as he was able to catch his balance and staggered to sit beside the boy with blue eyes who was hugging his form with his shaking arms.
Ivan could see his shoulders rising up and down slowly, Ivan could hear the air passing the lips being inhaled, exhaled, inhaled and exhaled in a loop. A crawling loop.
"T- That's it, breathe in and out!" Ivan gleamed and clasped his hands together. "Just relax because you are alright now. I saved you and you are not in danger, da?"
He observed him for another minute and without thinking further, Ivan reached a hand out and placed it on the boy's shoulder. "Relax, relax, you are okay and you are safe," this is it, he thought. Ivan couldn't fight the smile creeping on his lips. I get to make a new friend now that I saved him!
"ARGH!"
Or so Ivan thought, as he was proven wrong when the boy jerked from his touch and his head whipped to meet his blue eyes with Ivan's own violet eyes glimmering with confusion and worry that contrasted the fear in Alfred's gaze.
The Russian panicked and held up his hands. "No, no, do not worry! You are safe! You do not have to be scared, I saved you!"
It was silent and the two held their gazes at each other for what seemed to pass within their heartbeats. Ivan didn't steer away and instead he scooted closer just as Alfred slowly, with much effort, pushed himself back up on the seat.
Alfred was almost heaving, he was swallowing dry air and sweat trickled his forehead. Safe, as this Russian man kept pressing which seemed highly unlikely considering he was in this guy's car being taken to God knows where after 'saving' him from a failed gang-rape attack the young man almost had to go through before the 'saving' happened. Alfred clenched his jaw and dragged himself away from the Russian still approaching which ultimately sent signals to the American still shaken up.
"S- Stay away, just, stay where you are, whoever you are, dude." But Ivan continued smiling, too innocently that the appearance struck Alfred how childlike this man is. He was seen cocking his head and a split realization dawn on his features.
"Oh! My name is Ivan, it is nice to meet you, boy! You are safe now!"
"…"
He scrambled back further and found his back against the soft coated partition. The fact that he's in some type of a limousine wasn't one-bit comforting and the heels of his sneakers dug into the leather covered seats as the foolish Alfred tried again to press himself away. And he was questioning so many things;
1.Why did a group of men lead by a Russian save me from the failed gang-rape?
2.Why is the same Russian who keeps repeating 'you're safe!' with a smile wearing a scarf, especially a scarf in this time of the year?
3.The scarf looks really thick.
Alfred found himself staring into those eyes, however. That almost appeared to reflect the Russian's smile. He was staring far longer than he intended to, a tiny part in his mind trying to search for anything else shining but he only found joy. Excitement danced together with it.
4.Those eyes are pretty.
His mind paused when he saw Ivan once again approaching and holding his hand out which prompted him to act almost immediately. "I said STAY AWAY!"
His left foot was lunged towards Ivan's face with every strength he could draw and his hands clenched into the side and bottom cushion of the seat for balance after the kick almost threw him off. It definitely threw off Ivan in mere seconds to the floor of the limousine and the vehicle came to a screeching stop.
Suddenly, Alfred felt his heart sinking and he wasn't given a second to realize that his very actions had very dire consequences when the door opened. A flow of chatter could be heard and it was in a foreign language, Alfred watched Ivan stirring to his knees and being helped out. It was his turn next but it wasn't any help. His arms were grabbed in such a strong hold that it pried the young American off of the seat, leaving him no chance to grab on to something to stop them from pulling him.
Two different men this time carried Alfred out and tossed him to the ground, he yelped. One of them approached and stepped on his back with force which pressed his abdomen against the rough pavement that had the young man cough out from the pain beginning to spring up.
"H- Hey now! Let go of me!" He exclaimed, though, the respond he received was feeling the sole of the shoe pressed down further. Alfred was stumped, gasping as he was feeling his ribs against his skin and the pain was burning him. The air in his lungs seemingly emptying out because he had no room to breathe, tears welled in his eyes until the force from his back lessened.
Alfred was coughing, scrambling to prop himself up with a pair of shaky arms. He inhaled deeply, hurriedly, but he was forced to stop when a hand gripped a fistful of his blond strands and yanked his head back. In mere seconds, a punch connected with his gut.
It didn't stop, the man continuously punched the young man being held up by the colleague behind him. He observed those ocean blue eyes after every hit, flooding with endless stream of tears and blood begin to pour out of the edge of his lips.
"Friend, stop!" Ivan had trudged over and halted him from punching any more, a smile on his features.
"I think the boy has had enough, but personally," he grimaced at the sight of blood he saw as he approached Alfred, being held up still and poor Alfred looked awful. The blood and tears were never a tasteful imagery for the Russian whose lips curled into a pout. "Personally, I would have liked to be the one to punish him for earlier… we don't want children who can't play nice, do we? But the boy was just afraid!"
His leather-bound gloved hands travelled to the young man's cheeks, the tip of his fingers grazing the feature almost delicately before Ivan cupped his face. His thumbs begin brushing away the tears and Ivan felt happy, really happy that the boy this time didn't try to pull away!
"He was just scared after I saved him from those naughty men. He was just scared and kicked me in the face, it hurts but I am alright." In fact, the kick pales into comparison of what those men in the alley almost tried to do to the poor boy here with blue eyes so bright, and beautiful, Ivan couldn't deny the smile on his lips stretching into a grin.
What he couldn't deny either, is leaning his face closer and pressing a feathery kiss above the young man's eyelid. Ivan could almost taste the salty tear as he pulled back and watched the expression on his face change to a tint of confusion.
"I think that is enough for tonight, comrades. I also think we should send him home!" Though, Ivan didn't want to part from his new friend just yet. So the Russian grabbed the privilege presented to carry this new friend in his arms as he retreated into his ride. His men behind him did not utter a single word; they all followed Ivan's wishes without a question and soon returned to their cars.
Ivan didn't let Alfred go, Ivan still held on to Alfred like a doll in his laps and Alfred was in a state of drifting in and out between his consciousness. His eyes were threatening to close, his head swirled and his vision plastered on the gentle smile at the Russian's lips—the very same lips that kissed him earlier and Alfred wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Everything about this Ivan at this moment was strange, what did he mean by not wanting children who can't play nice? Alfred hated that statement, he wasn't a child. He was a God damn grown up, he's eight-damn-teen years old and he did not appreciate the treatment specially for a child from this strange Russian man. In fact, Ivan was more childlike that Alfred is!
Alfred could hear him talking, his words were blurred at first and he stared at Ivan to try and make sense of what he's saying. All he could hear, "Your house," "Where," and Alfred was left clutching weakly at Ivan's scarf. It was thick, why is he wearing a scarf in this time of the year?
Knocking back into Ivan's continuous stream of questions, Alfred began murmuring the state of the house he lives in with his parents. Arthur was the strict father, Francis was the kind and best cook of a father, Matthew was the hardworking and smart child in the family. Their house was a nice bungalow, two stories. All the windows were decorated with curtains in different shades of blue because Francis admired the colour that mixed well with the soft, cream tone of the walls outside their house. It was warm inside, and always smelled like a mix of deliciously cooked food and a scent of bakery goods because Francis and Matthew loved baking together. On rainy days, the weather was perfect for Arthur to read whilst in his favourite reading chair that was right beside the sliding door showing the view of their backyard. The rain always reminded Alfred of Arthur, Francis remarked once to his husband how the weather awfully suits his mind works at times.
Ivan was chuckling, and Alfred didn't even realize he had been rambling all this while. "No, no, I was asking where you live, boy!"
Oh.
"The park… the street with the name of a park and a leaf… the street number nineteen, house number forty-seven…" What was the name of the street his neighbourhood is at? Alfred couldn't recall, the strong, warm hold of Ivan's arms were somewhat lulling him to sleep. It didn't, however, stifle the pain in his abdomen from being punched countless of times and occasionally, the blond led out a groan and shifted in Ivan's hold.
The pain, the exhaustion, the dull recollection of the failed gang-rape attempt buzzed in Alfred's mind but the only thing apparent, standing out against everything else were those set of violet eyes and the childlike smile, the soft kiss and the strong, protective hold.
Everything was turning to black, he felt the force of sleep consuming his mind. Alfred wanted to fight and keep his eyes open, but it was overwhelming and he had no chance of victory against it. So he let his eyelids slip down, he let himself bury his face into the warmth of Ivan's chest, he didn't let go of his scarf and those were the final things he is aware of before he lost himself in the hold of slumber.
XXX
Boy that was a short one. Here come dat Russian boi.
