Warnings: Depression, Suicidal Thoughts/Actions, Murder, Witchcraft
Alfred stared at the stone. It shone brightly in the light of his wand, the onyx and obisdian within creating an eerie effect that both scared and elated him. Turning it three times in his hand, he imagined Ivan, who had died at the knife and wand of Wang Yao. He could remember the exact shade of Ivan's eyes, a purple which was unlike any he had seen before.
He remembered seeing Ivan for the first time. It had seemed like a dream, and the memory had faded somewhat. He remembered how fiery the other's eyes had been, how much he'd looked like an angel. An avenging angel, bitter over loss and ready to cut down any enemy in his path. Then, of course, he was cursing in Russian, at himself, at Alfred, at the horses that were whinnying with fright-
Then, thinking only of his one great love, he watched as a shadow formed. At first, it was merely a shapeless blob, but a head and arms formed, then legs, bright violet shining out from the face. And Ivan was formed, himself again, his purple eyes glittering, and Alfred fell in love with him again.
The ivory-haired man was watching him with a look he had never had before.
"What?" Alfred asked, grinning slightly. "Something weird on my face? I knew I didn't wipe off all that mud I had on."
"No, it's not that." And Ivan captured Alfred's lips in a kiss, and it was sweet and slow and just what Alfred thought it would be. Perfect.
'Wow,' he thought to himself, 'so this is what being in love feels like.'
"What? Where am I?" Ivan asked in the present, frantic. "Where are the sunflowers? Where are my sisters?" His eyes fell on Alfred, who was grinning. Then he shook his head and looked sorrowfully at Alfred. "Alfred, did you bring me back?"
Alfred didn't notice the sorrow written on Ivan's face, saying, "Yes! I missed you so much, and it was really hard, and then Death came, and he said I could ask whatever I want, and I would get it-"
"Death? You went to Death himself? Why, Alfred, I was so happy. I had everything I ever wanted, my sisters back again, sunflowers, everything. You can't bring people back from the dead. It is not right!"
"I...I really fucking missed you, okay?" Alfred exploded. "Wang's dead now, I meant for that, he was insane and I think a little murderous, and I honestly wanted to kill everyone for a long time there. What did you do, Ivan, sitting in your sunflowers, drinking vodka, happy?"
"Alfred, you really don't get it, do you? We were never meant to be truly together. It was written in the stars that we would be torn apart. I was upset, for a while, but eventually, I understood: you were meant to live, Alfred. And find someone else. I was meant to die, along with the rest of my family. The Braginsky's have never had luck, and that night, it ran into Wang. I met Wang where I was. He's terribly sorry, we both are, I can see you from where I am. Once, I spoke to you in a dream, but you didn't remember it."
"But...I loved you. I still do. I love you so much, and for you to tell me that we weren't meant to be together...Good god, Ivan, how do you sleep at night?"
"I don't," Ivan said uncomfortably. "I haven't slept since I died. Haven't eaten or drunk anything, either. What I wouldn't give for a bottle of alcohol..."
And so their first night back together, they spent in different rooms, eyes watching each other warily, wanting to know what the other would do.
The days passed in a state of greyness, Ivan desperately wishing he could die again, Alfred slowly growing sadder with each hour that passed with Ivan at a window with a bottle of vodka, Alfred watching him with sorrow in his bones.
"Hey, Ivan," Alfred said, smiling. "Do you wanna make something?"
"Like what, Ivan countered, eyes sparkling despite his harsh tone. "A lemon? A chair?"
"I already have a chair," Alfred said, rolling his eyes, "why would I need another one?"
"I don't know. You're a strange one. It's amazing how you even function." Ivan wrapped a friendly arm around his shoulders, briefly rubbing at his hair where peanut butter had managed to get stuck.
"God, shut up." Alfred pressed a quick kiss on his lips, smiling. "You're lucky I won't curse you."
Ivan gave a tiny grin, then he retaliated, kissing Alfred so surely and happily that the latter melted, arms around the other's waist.
Alfred waged a silent war with himself every night, wondering if he could really put Ivan out of his misery, and if he could just be able to send him to wherever the dead go.
Back to sunflowers and sisters and happiness.
But he really wanted Ivan there too, with him, selfish as that was. He wanted long afternoons in the sun again, with sweet kisses that lasted, it seemed, for years.
He wanted to be close to Ivan, their bodies intertwined with each other, sleep stealing away the day and replacing it with dreams.
At last, he fell asleep, the soft rhythm of Ivan's breath next to him.
The long day was almost over. Alfred, with a smile on his face, watched as Matthew picked a flower, his latest beau grinning placidly.
"It's truly amazing," Mattie said to his beau, "that Alfred is such a fool. Everyone knows the dead must never come back, if they do, then they're miserable. Isn't that right, Juliet?"
Juliet smirked and turned to Alfred. "That's right, Matthew. Alfred has done a great evil. He will never be allowed with the dead, when he dies. A lonely ghost."
Matthew walked to Juliet, holding out his hand. Inside was the black stone that Death had given to Alfred. "A lonely ghost, never to see his great love again."
Juliet took the stone, chanting, "A lonely ghost, a lonely ghost, forever alone, the lonely ghost."
She smiled, and her teeth elongated, her tan skin turning waxen and deathly white.
"A lonely ghost, a lonely ghost, forever alone, the lonely ghost."
Her fingers, long and white, stroked the onyx, while she chanted. Matthew smiled gently at his transformed friend.
"A lonely ghost, a lonely ghost, forever alone, the lonely ghost."
Matthew and Juliet chanted, their eyes black and glittering, Death reaching a skeletal hand toward Alfred, grinning that cunning grin of his, all three chanting, " A lonely ghost, a lonely ghost, forever alone, the lonely ghost..."
Alfred sat bolt upright in bed, panting, Ivan watching him curiously.
"What is the lonely ghost?" Ivan asked, eyes showing both concern and hope.
"Me," Alfred croaked out. "I am the lonely ghost." And he didn't speak for the rest of the day.
The next weeks were full of misery. Ivan, finally used to being hungry and tired again, fell into a stupor, a bottle of whatever alcohol was lying around always in his hand. Alfred was silent, but tears ran down his face when Ivan wasn't looking.
Neighbors came for a few moments, then they left when they saw the state of their home and the depressed silence they had fallen into.
Alfred took to remembering the dream he had, and the night Ivan had died.
The night was silent, Alfred in deep sleep, Ivan padding around the room. Downstairs, a quick spell unlocked the door, a quick Silencing charm muffling the loud creak of the front door.
A knife glinted in the intruder's hand, his ebony ponytail swishing as he crept up the stairs towards the bedroom. Ivan heard a curse as the floor creaked. He woke Alfred, motioning that there was someone there. Alfred hastily grabbed his wand, the sycamore and unicorn hair of which felt familiar in his hand.
The door burst open, Wang Yao standing in the doorway, an angry look painted on his face. The black of his hair made his skin look pale. He raised a sharp silver knife, then threw it directly at Alfred.
Ivan leapt in front of the other, taking the blade directly to his chest. Wang sent a quick Killing Curse towards Ivan, finishing what he had started.
Alfred, half-mad with grief, kept sending spells towards the fleeing Wang, and the finality of that moment where Wang had killed Ivan crashing down over him in tidal waves, in riptides. Alfred was carried away in a sea of despair, and he drowned, the tears making a sea of his own self, washing away. A part of himself lost forever.
Alfred stared at the unsent letters. He had Apparated to each of them, and had told them both the news. Arthur had started yelling, in pain, in grief, in whatever. Matthew was silent, but tears ran tracks down his his face, his violet eyes distressed.
Why? was the question that had been written in Alfred's head for so long.
Even when Wang had been killed by him, even when the waves of depression finally started to wash away, leaving his broken mind and body to try and pick up the pieces of themselves, it had nagged at him for so long.
Why had Wang killed Ivan? Why had he sent the knife toward Alfred, knowing full well that it would never reach him, that it would be intercepted by the other?
Because he hated Ivan. He used to love him, but then he hated him. The answer had finally reached him. Two years after Ivan had died, a year since Wang had been killed, the answer came in sudden clarity.
Wang had loved Ivan. But Ivan had never loved him back. That was why he had turned insane, that was why he murdered Ivan. Ivan was Wang Yao's one love, his only heartbreak. And Alfred had stolen him away.
"Ivan," Alfred asked, "what would you do if I died?"
"Well," Ivan replied, "I would be sad for a while, but then I would realize that I would see you again eventually. So I wouldn't go mad. What would you do?"
"I wouldn't be sad," Alfred said, "because death is never the end."
Grief like he had never felt before smashed him to pieces. Alfred started sobbing, regret, guilt, and sadness wriggling into his heart, and he realized that this Ivan wasn't really Ivan, it was a shadow, and he would never see his Ivan again until he truly died.
The shadow Ivan, who had turned to see what the sobbing was about, started to fade. Alfred watched as he left, tears blurring his vision. At last, only a pair of violet eyes, the color of bellflowers and majesty and heartbreak, and they vanished, leaving a suffering Alfred behind.
Alfred conjured a length of rope, shaking fingers knotting the loop tightly. Fastening it to the ceiling, he put his head in the noose, stepped away from the chair, and let go.
"So?" Wang asked, nervous. His eyes darted all around.
"Kiss you?" Ivan laughed. His eyes were sparkling. "Is it for practice? I knew it! You do fancy Mary."
"Yeah, yeah, get over it," Wang snorted. "It's as friends, right?"
"Yes," Ivan said, "Best friends."