He pulled up a chair, sat down and stared at me. I stared back at him of course, the plush pillows propping me up as I laid in his bed.
"No." I told him flatly.
"You think you have a choice, da?" He looked at me, not changing his expression.
"Dude, you can't make me."
"Oh, I think I can." He replied with a voice filled with scorn.
"Dude, like, no you can't."
"Would you like to see me make you?"
"Bro, it's my body, you can't make me!"
"I will make this very clear to you now." He leaned in towards me, his white hair falling over his dark eyes. "I will not be clawed any more. You will clip your nails, or I will force you to."
"I won't do it again! It was an accident." The resolve in my voice fell flat.
"You have nightmares every time you sleep. It's not something you can control or else you would not be having them."
"Why do we even have to share the same bed!?"
"This is my house and I will sleep in the bed that I own. If you do not want to sleep in the bed then you and your injuries are welcome to sleep on the floor." He looked at the door. "Or you may leave. Whichever you prefer."
"It snowed like, a foot! I can't leave no matter how much I want to."
"43 centimeters, if you must know. So you will be taking the floor then?" His voice was smug.
"Why does it snow so much at the end of June?"
"Why do you answer questions with questions?"
"I don't want to sleep on the floor..." I stated after a moment.
"Good." He threw the nail clippers onto my lap and walked away.
I looked at my nails; there were a bit too long, and overly sharp. I could see why he felt so strongly about my clipping them considering the fact that I had his dried blood under my fingernails, but still... I sat on his bed, under the many blankets he'd thrown back on me in the middle of the night and clipped my nails defeatedly. I'd just finished sweeping the clippings into a pile when he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Clean them." He'd said, giving me a small cloth and a bottle of what I could only assume was something like peroxide.
I looked at him, wondering what he was talking about when he pulled up the back of his shirt.
"Oh geez! Sorry!"
"Just clean them. Who knows where your hands have been."
I dumped the cleaning stuff onto the small towel and gently wiped at the many crescent shaped puncture wounds decorating his back.
"So... What color are your eyes exactly?"
"Purple."
"Really? Oh my god that is so cool."
"How did you not notice by now?"
"I thought they were like... black or something..."
"How do you mistake purple for black?"
"How can you see in the dark? How can you like... Fight a bear or build a rocket or.. um... What else do Russians do? How do you drink Vodka like it's water?"
"Have you finished yet?"
"No..."
"Your mouth works harder than your hands."
"Oh, like you add your two cents! You wear scarves and trench coats in the house! And also... Uh... Are you even a real doctor? You're probably not even a real doctor!"
"I am all you have."
I rubbed his back down, probably more than necessary, and contemplated what he said. Surely Ivan wasn't all I had... I knew I still had all the people back home.
"Thats not true. I have my parents and friends and stuff..."
"Not here."
"But I won't be here forever."
Ivan got quiet, and so did I. I went over each wound individually, taking in the texture of his skin, the curve of his bones... The way the tiny white hairs on his lower back stood up when I touched his bare skin with my finger tips.
"Why do you wear the scarf all the time?"
"That is not your concern."
"You said I was gonna be here awhile, so you might as well tell me now."
"I hope you will not be here that long."
"You sleep practically naked!"
"No."
"Dude, you didn't have a shirt on last night. That's how I managed to claw the fuck out of you, duh."
"I was giving you the body heat you needed to live."
"It was hot with you under all the blankets!"
"You got cold when the storm hit again."
"Stop with all the logic!"
"Are you done yet?"
"Oh, yeah... I'm done." I dropped the rag and bottle into his lap. "There ya go."
He sat on the bed for a while and I leaned back and watched him. He was bent over looking at his hands, his long scarf draped over his knees... His nose curved down towards his strong coral lipped mouth and white lashes hung over his intense violet eyes.
"Bro, your eyes really are purple."
"Why would I lie?" He hadn't looked up. He'd just sat there, looking very serious and focused, but I couldn't think of anything so important when the rest of the world was impossible to reach. His breath was steady in the quiet space and relaxed me so much that soon I'd closed my eyes and was drifting off into the open abyss of sleep, when I felt the weight on the bed shift closer to me.
"You have changed my plans" He whispered, stroking my hair from my forehead.
"Hm..?" I asked tiredly.
"You are not asleep yet?"
"Mmmm."
"Sleep now." He said while patting my head, then swept the pile of clippings off my lap. He didn't have to tell me twice.
I was immersed in darkness and for the first time in what had seemed like forever I was able to sleep peacefully... Well, until I had another nightmare, but that's besides the point! Each nightmare was a little different, but they all ended the same. I would be jolted awake right before the big unveiling of what it all meant... If any of it really meant anything anyways.
In that particular nightmare I was sitting in a dark circular room, decorated with ticking clocks, maroon furniture placed in the middle of the room, long draping tapestries with rather violent depictions, and a fireplace covered in my family photos. The room had no door... No place for me to escape. I was looking around for an exit, throwing clocks off the wall, and tearing tapestries down when a familiar voice called out to me.
"Stop that Alfred."
I turned to look at the owner of the voice and found black haired guy sat on the couch with a glass of clear liquid in his hands. He looked up at me and smiled slightly.
"We need to talk Alfred." He'd said and patted the spot beside him. I obliged and sat down next to him, and accepted when he offered the glass to me.
"What are you doing, Alfred?" He asked me.
I took a drink, not surprised when it was only water. "I couldn't tell you even if I wanted too." I replied.
"Stop this Alfred."
"What do you expect me to do Guy? I can't do anything!"
"You're lying to yourself."
"No... It's really different now."
"Oh Alfred... You're lying to yourself again. Come here."
He pulled me close to his chest and cradled me, rubbing my hair, and murmured soft gentle words in my ear, in a language I couldn't understand of course, but I knew the feelings behind them anyways. A piercing screech came from behind me and I jumped.
"What was that?" I'd asked.
"You know what it was, Alfred."
"No... No I don't!"
"Stop lying to yourself. It's time you face the facts about what really happened."
"God, I told you I don't know!" The sound came again, and really, I realized, I did know what it was.
"You hear it all the time, Alfred. There's just... More to it now."
Suddenly I was standing in the red snow, facing a valley full of sunflowers. The heat forming behind me started to burn and I was forced to walk forward.
"Guy?" I looked to my side and suddenly he was there.
"Yes, Alfred?"
"Why aren't the sunflowers dead?"
"It's June, Alfred."
"But it's snowing."
"It's a mountain. There's snow on mountains sometimes. "
"If it's snowing why aren't they dead?"
"Why won't you look back, Alfred?" He asked, and I stopped walking.
"Why do I need to look back?"
"You're afraid."
"I'm never afraid!"
"You should be, Alfred. You know that."
"No, I-" There was a gloved hand on my shoulder shaking me, I looked at Guy, and he looked back at me.
"You know what it was, Alfred, and you know that you should be afraid."
"No, stop I-" The hand shook me again, and I turned back to see who it was, but all I could see was the smoke of a fire rising into the sky. I turned in a circle, looking for the person that shook me, but all I could see were sunflowers. The hand was there again, shaking me. I grabbed it and tried to force it off, but it held fast. I turned around to face the person, but they shook me again.
"Wake up!"
I was shaken awake, once again, by Ivan, who'd situated himself over me. I was breathing hard, covered in a cold sweat.
"Ivan..." My fingers were still tangled in his red and white shirt, where I had tried to push him off of me. I sighed in relief and let my body relax, my hands slid down his arms before falling lazily into my lap. I laughed, letting my head roll back, still elevated from his grasp on my shoulders.
"Thanks, dude." I whispered to him, closing my eyes. "Really, thank you."
He was quiet for some time, but soon he laid me back down onto the mountain of pillows and gave my shoulder a gentle pat.
"They will leave you soon I think."
"Everyone has nightmares, Ivan. They'll never go away, but maybe someday i'll actually get to sleep."
"Da." He said simply, growing quiet again.
He'd made no attempt to move from my side, and I smiled at the warmth his body emulated. I felt his fingers brush over my eyelids, then work their way down my cheek and over my lips where they lingered. I opened an eye and looked at him, grinning from ear to ear.
"What the heck are you up to?" I'd said playfully, his thumb resting against my bottom lip a while before turning my to the side.
"Watching you." He'd replied.
"Gosh, now I can't sleep."
"You would only have bad dreams anyway."
We sat there awhile, him watching me and me watching him watch me. His violet eyes scanned over my body, and lingered a bit long at my legs, before returning to my face.
"Don't worry, I'm sure all my boo-boo's will be healed real soon. I get better fast. In fact, I think I should be better by tomorrow!"
"Don't start predicting the future."
"Um... Ivan?"
"Da?"
"Can you... Stop touching my face?"
"Nyet."
"Why not?" I whined.
"I am looking at the cut."
"What cut?"
"Have you really not felt it?"
I wiggled my face around, seeing if I could feel any difference, and I did, of course, but was completely surprised at the slight pain and resistance above my eye. I'd reached up to touch the place, when Ivan grabbed my hand and held it for what seemed like a rather long time.
"Hey, dude?"
"I'm Ivan."
"Yea, I know. Do you got a bathroom?"
"Yes, I have a bathroom."
"I gotta take a whizz, so..."
"You have to use the bathroom?"
"Yea. I do."
He pointed off into some corner of the house.
"It is there."
"I can't see that far."
"You can not see?" He waved his hand in front of my face, and I pushed it away rather violently.
"Shut up! I can see... I just.. have glasses."
"Oh. Yes... I do know that, I just thought they were for reading."
He got quiet again, and I looked at him in disbelief. After a while he looked back at me like I was the dumbest person he'd ever met.
"H-how.. Like... Why... How would you know that?" I asked, bewildered.
His look grew deeper, but after looking at me for a while, I confirmed that I thought he was a creep with a raise of an eyebrow.
"This is outrageous." He declared, before dropping my hand and gesturing to the whole room.
"I can't see any of that!" I practically screamed the words, pointing around the room in an imitation of his earlier action.
"Okay, that is fair. I will give that one to you, but," He pulled the blankets off my body and grabbed my pajama shirt, pulling it up and bunching it into his fist, exposing my stomach and chest.
"Why would I have your clothes, Alfred? Hm? Why would I have a spare pair of frog printed nightwear in your size?"
"Uh..."
"I wouldn't!" He let go of me, causing me to bump my head against the wall. He pulled out a small blanket from the bunch he'd thrown off me... An American flag printed blanket... The one I'd had since my birth.
"Ow. Well, Okay, I just didn't think-"
"Exactly! You did not think!" He'd poked my head rather hard, expressing his distaste.
"Oh come on! I get it. Stop. Stop!" I grabbed his hand. "I gotta pee and your poking is not helping it at all! Stop it!
"Yes... Sorry."
"So like... My clothes and stuff are here?"
"Well... I'd think most of it is here, but I am not sure it is all yours... Unless you like Pretty Little Liars? But I would not judge you."
"Yea... Well it was my moms anyways... But I do kinda like it... A lot."
"Okay, maybe I judge you a little bit."
"God, okay, glasses, bro! I gotta piss like a moose! Can you please get me to that bathroom! Pronto! Mush. PLEASE."
Ivan crossed the room and returned with the glasses. I shoved them onto my face and swung my legs over the bed, Ivan reached for me but it was too late.
"OW, FUCK!"
"Did you not feel that either?"
"Just pick me the fuck up!" I was about to burst and had to grab myself to hold it in. "Fuck take me outside! Just go! GOD." Ivan looped his arms through mine, locked his fingers together on my chest, picked me up, and took me outside. My hands were already in the hole of my pajamas, working on the button to the one in my boxers.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't get it!" I was pressed up against Ivan's chest, wiggling and squirming, trying not to piss myself, but unable to concentrate long enough to undo the button. Ivan reached down with one hand and pulled my pj's and undies down with a single tug, freeing my parts.
"Oh god yes!" I'd practically screamed, grabbing my junk and pissing into the melting snow. "Yes! That feels so good! You don't even know!" I'd arched my hips, and thrown my head back, loving the sensation of emptying bladder. When I finally finished I was a panting breathless mess. I laid my head back on Ivan's chest, feeling his heart race under his shirt, and I heard him swallow hard. I opened my eyes, and looked out at the melting landscape.
"You don't know how good that felt." I said, pulling my pj's back up.
"I think I got a good idea." He'd said, picking me back up and heading inside. He practically threw me on the bed before heading over to a door in the upper left corner of the room.
"This is the bathroom." He said, before disappearing inside.
"Okay!" I'd shouted at the closed door. "Thank you!"
It was then that I looked around the room, quite surprised at how not-like-a-mountain-shack it was. The whole house was rectangular, much like a double wide trailer, only, it was the nicest house I had ever been in. The walls were cream colored, with dark wood borders, wide curved windows with cute little curtains, built in shelves, and tasteful paintings strewn around. The floor was also some fancy dark wood, polished to a shine and covered in wax.
The bed that I slept on the last couple of days was boxed in on three sides and elevated about a foot off the ground. It was located in the center of the back wall, and right in front of it was the door outside. Beside the door was a shoe rack, stocked with almost every pair of shoes I'd owned, and a few I assumed were Ivan's. Boots were placed neatly in a row, from tallest to shortest beside it.
I leaned over the edge of the bed, peering past one of the walls. The floor on that side of the room was covered in a white and blue round rug, on it was a dark leather couch, an end table with typical end table things, like a lamp, coasters, papers with Russian writing and a small statue of a sunflower that I'm sure he used as a paperweight, and the eagle bean bag chair from my room. I craned my neck to see beyond the couch and spotted one of my best friends, the T.V. It was a nicely sized flat screen, at least 52 inches, and laid out neatly on a blonde wood entertainment center where all my gaming systems were laid out with all their parts, a remote, and an empty vase.
I looked behind the wall of the bed, wondering what else was there, and found an attached bookshelf stocked with Russian things, all my games, books, movies and two comfortable looking plush white chairs complete with matching pillows. I looked back at the door. There a sleek metal box covered in a few spare blankets, decorative pillows and a dresser.
I looked behind the other wall, but I didn't really find much, just a fishtank with some serious aquascaping, an old damaged piano covered in scorch marks, and another door in the corner of the room, which I assumed to lead to the kitchen. It totally wasn't as cool as the other side of the room, but I wasn't going to tell Ivan that. I looked around the room again, pinpointing everything that was mine.
After a while I was sure I'd seen all of my things, or at least where they were stored, but something felt a bit off. The white plush rug in front of the door seemed familiar, and slightly out of place in the sleek scape of Ivan's home, but it soon struck me. It was the dingy carpet from my room that I pushed under the door so no one could get in while I masturbated... Only it was clean and soft looking now. I heard the door of the bathroom open and looked back at Ivan and pointed around at all my stuff.
"Dude, they took my advice!"
"...What?"
"They stole my stuff!"
"...You... Advised them to steal your stuff?"
"Well... Now that sounds bad. I just schooled them on... Being more American while in America."
"So you told them to steal your stuff?"
"No, I just told they they couldn't be creepy, break into someone's house, and not steal their stuff."
"You're joking with me right?"
"Dude don't give me that look!"
"What look?"
"That one you're making right now with your face! It's all 'Oh, look at me. I'm a Russian guy who lives by Russian ways and thinks you are a STUPID IDIOT, WITH A STUPID IDIOT FACE!"
"W-what?"
"You think you're all badass and shit well... Kiss my ass."
"What just happened...?"
"You were judging me!"
"You told kidnappers to steal the stuff in your house! How can I not?"
"That guy was creepy and like... Did weird things and shit... So, it would have been weird if he left without taking my shit! Like, what happens if he come over again? Well obviously he isn't breaking into my house to steal my stuff, or stalking me at school to get my house key! NO! HE WANTED ME! SO, WHY NOT OFFER UP A TRADE? ALL MY AWESOME AMERICAN SHIT, IN PLACE OF MY AWESOME AMERICAN SELF, RIGHT? Seemed logical to me."
"He did both."
"He would have anyways."
"How could you know that?"
"He asked obvious questions like, what do you like to eat and read and shit."
"Is that why there was so much... Junk?"
"What? Junk? I like my stuff, thank you so very much!"
"You need to watch what you say to me."
"You sound like my mom."
"You talk to your mother like this?"
"W-what? No!.. Okay sometimes, but only when I'm really upset!"
"Maybe she's happy you're gone."
My eyes might as well have popped out of my head.
"WHAT? WHAT? Excuse me? I'm going to fucking kick your fucking ass!" My screams became louder and I jumped off the bed to give that commie bastard a piece of justice pie, but my knees gave out and I collapsed to the floor in pain, clutching at them. I heard Ivan laugh at me, at my humiliation.
"Did you forget about that?" He asked smugly.
"My mother loves me." I'd said through gritted teeth, fighting back pooling tears. "She fucking loves me!" The floodgates had opened and I was shamefully crying, but I managed to stay quiet. My glasses had started collecting tears and had slowly started sliding off my face, but I concentrated on the arm supporting me, watching it struggle to keep me up... Watched my hand twist into a quivering fist of anger and shame.
"Are you crying?" He asked.
"Fuck off!"
"You are crying."
"Shut the fuck up!"
Ivan knelt down next to me and pulled me up beside him, slipping his arm under mine.
"I am sorry." He'd said, rubbing my back and cradling me to his chest. "I am certain your mother loves you."
"I-I wish I still had nails so I could scratch your eyes out!" I said through streaming tears. Ivan reached around pulled me onto his lap by the thigh, hugging me tight and rubbing my back softly.
"I'm sorry." He said regretfully, stroking my hair hair gently and pressing my face into the crook of his neck. "I really am."
"I hate you." I said, slapping a fist weakly against his back, before breaking down into uncontrollable sobs and hiccups. He held me while I clutched at his shirt, kneading it in my fists, crying against the skin of his neck. "M-my parents t-think I-I'm dead!" I wailed, digging my non-existent nails into his skin.
"Shh." He cooed, hugging me tighter. I cried harder, my tears running down my face and then down his neck. "It will be okay." We stayed like that for a while until I couldn't ignore my nose any longer.
"I need a tissue, Ivan." I said through sobs.
"Uh... Yes..." He gently pushed me from his lap, placed me on the floor, and grabbed a box of tissues from a draw in the end table. I grabbed the tissues when he offered them to me and blew my nose a couple times.
"My head hurts too..." I looked up at him, my watery blue eyes pleading.
"Uh... Yes." He said again and disappeared into the bathroom, emerging only to disappear into the doorway I was sure led into the kitchen. I adjusted my weight and sat on my butt, lifting up my pant leg and observing my injured leg. A yellowing bruise ran across the side of my knee and my ankle bone. I heard the door behind me shut and I looked back to see Ivan returning with a glass of water in hand.
"Take this." He said, dropping a couple of blue pills in my hand, then giving me the glass of water. "I think it will make the pain go away."
"What?"
'The bottle said it was a pain reliever."
"Then why would you say 'I think?' That makes it sound terrible!" I looked the pills over, and saw that 'Aleve' was printed on the gel capsules. I smiled at the thought of the Russian man looking it over, thinking about how simple Americans had to be for a company to have to name their product after what it does. 'Aleve. Makes the pain go away and is much easier to say than Ibuprofen.'
"Dude... Your floor..." I mentioned suddenly, swallowing the pills.
"Da?"
"It's hot."
"Um...?"
"Why is your floor so hot?"
"Hot as in attractive or as in warm?"
"Is the floor made of mahogany?"
"Um, no, it's actually a rather funn-"
"Then its not attractive it's just a floor."
"But you said that the floor was hot..."
"Oh who's not thinking now? You aren't! Fifty-fifty chance, you eliminated an answer and now you're arguing? Russians."
"That's rude, Alfred."
"You said my mom didn't love me."
"No I said that sh- No, let's forget about that. I said I was sorry."
"You know who else said they were sorry?"
"Are we about to fight?"
"Um... I can't win. You'd probably just crush me and feed me to your pet bear."
"What?"
"Do you drink vodka like it's water?"
"What were the pills made out of?"
"My mom loves me Ivan."
"I never said she didn't."
"Yes you did. Accept it. You're a jerk face. And She's probably freaking out right now... She's probably upset because my birthday's coming up soon too and we already ordered my cake.. And got... The invitations... Oh god... What if they use my party list for the funeral list? What if they skip my birthday and just have a funeral?"
"Um..."
"Am I going to die here?"
"Uh..."
"I am aren't I?"
"You are tired, da?"
"Fuck, I am!"
"What?"
"You avoided the question which means you didn't want to answer which means it's hard to answer which means yes!"
"I just... No, you look into things much too closely. You are babbling, and you do that when you try to sleep, so..."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Go to sleep."
"Go away."
"This is my house!"
"You said my mom didn't love me."
"Will you hold that against me forever?"
"Probably... That any any other mistake you make in the future."
"You are joking right?"
"You floor is warm."
"We have been over this."
"I know."
"Why must I go over it again?"
"You never explained."
"What?"
"You're so serious. Why so serious?"
"I's that a reference to something?"
"Batman. I bet they don't have batman in Russia, only communist superman."
"What!?"
"We'll watch it later, just tell me how this floor warms itself up so that I can sleep in peace."
"Pipes."
"What?"
"There are pipes under the floorboards that hold hot water."
"Hm... Not as cool as I was hoping."
"Now you can sleep."
"Oh, didn't know I needed your permission to sleep."
"What has gotten into you."
"A mothers love."
"Okay. I am done! You do your thing and I will do mine!" He got up and stormed out the door to do what ever angry Russians do... Probably drown himself in Vodka and punch a bear in the face... Then tell its cubs that it's mother doesn't love them, Commie bastard jerk face that he is. While I, on the floor, pulled down a blanket and pillow and went to sleep, thoroughly amused and happy until I woke up several times from absurd nightmares that clawed at the back of my head.
So that 'I'll post in five days.' Never happened considering its been seven, but... I have a sunburn now so...
