three-

In the morning, Ivan woke up to an empty bed. He got up quietly, opening the bedroom door to find Alfred, laying his head down on his crossed arms. Several bottles of beer surrounded him and he appeared to be sleeping. Ivan stood there, leaning on the doorway and watching him until he stirred and looked in Ivan's direction. They stared at each other for a couple seconds then Alfred turned away, sighing.

Silently, Ivan slided over to him, sitting down next to him, the chair making a harsh grating noise on the tile floor. Alfred didn't say anything, just continued to look away. Ivan placed his hand on his shoulder. He remained quiet until he finally spoke a couple words.

"You know you can't keep doing this."

Ivan looked down at the fake wood of the dining room table.

Another pause, then, "You said you wanted a family. You know we can't have children if you keep..." He trailed off, getting nowhere as Ivan desperately tried to block out his words, "I just... You're not going to feel better if you do this, you do realize that, right? This isn't helping anything."

"It's not that easy to quit." Ivan said abruptly.

Alfred sighed, shifting so that Ivan's hand fell off of his shoulder, "Well, goddammit Ivan! what are we supposed to do? Sit around like this and just watch you waste away?" He whirled around, glaring at him.

Ivan still looked down, closing his eyes, "Maybe that's what I want..."

Alfred narrowed his eyes in disbelief, "Unbelievable," He got up, walking towards the master bathroom, "Un-fucking-believable."

Ivan stood up, walking after him as Alfred shuffled around in the bathroom, throwing things, opening up the medicine cabinet, apparently looking for something.

"Aha, found it." In his hand were the remaining packets of heroin Ivan had bought. A stash of needles was behind where the packets were, deep in the crevices of the medicine cabinet. He took those as well and also the rubber tubing beside the needles.

"What are you doing?" Ivan grabbed Alfred's shoulders, trying to pull him away, but he just shook his head and shrugged him off. He stood up and walked over to the toilet, dropping the packets into the bowl, then flushing.

"Alfred!" Ivan yelled. He wanted to move but he felt frozen to the spot. There wasn't much he could do. Alfred then dumped the needles out of their packet into the toilet, flushing, then finally, he snapped the rubber tubing in half and flushed that down as well.

Ivan stood there, speechless, stuttering and trying to find words, "W-What have you done...?"

Alfred looked over at him and shrugged, raising his hands in the air and looking confused. Ivan in that moment only wanted to strangle him and his smug face. But he did nothing. He was frozen in shock. He then snapped, finding himself at the bedroom wall, punching it and screaming at the top of his lungs, cursing out Alfred, and finally sobbing.

His partner watched him, uninterested, "I'm going to work. I'll be back in the evening." He left without another word, slamming the door to the garage behind him.

Ivan kept screaming, destroying the bedroom wall, but his punches grew weak. He slid to the floor, crying pathetically, resting his head against the now torn up wall. He didn't know why he was crying. Alfred was right, he didn't need the heroin. It wouldn't make him feel any better about whatever he was going through, whether it be a phase of sadness or serious depression.

But he would have to deal with cutting his addiction cold turkey. It meant the violent withdrawal systems; the closest feeling to death Ivan could pinpoint. He went into the kitchen and grabbed a vodka bottle from the fridge, downing it in a couple minutes, then dragging himself to bed. Immediately, he fell asleep.

He had the same dream again. About being in a beautiful field of sunflowers with Alfred, and he would turn his head that had no face. Ivan woke up crying again and tried to go back to sleep only to see the same nightmare, the same images of Alfred lost from his view. And it kept getting longer every time. He would be stuck looking at Alfred's blank canvas of a face for longer seconds. Ivan would reach out and right before he would touch his partner's face, he would wake, panting and sweating up a storm.

The fifth time he awoke, his head was throbbing in pain and he felt feverish. He cursed underneath his breath as he felt the familiar pangs of withdrawal. Fuck, he needed it. He needed it so bad. Stop that you don't need it, you don't need it, go back to bed, go back to sleep stop thinking about it so much.

He tried to not think about it. Walk into the kitchen and make food for himself or something. That was what sober people did, right? He hardly remembered what he used to do when he wasn't laying around and getting high. Goddammit. He thought about it. He looked around in the fridge for some ingredients, but it was close to empty. Alfred hadn't been paid yet and they still needed groceries. Maybe he could go out and get something? Fast food. That was cheap.

But going out also meant he would be tempted to meet his dealer and buy heroin. Hey, he still had money left in his wallet, right? To hell with what Alfred said, he could still get more. He went over to the counter near the door to the garage, fumbling for his wallet that sat there. He opened it to see how much money he had left, but there was nothing. He was dumbfounded. He had some dollar bills left, didn't he? He shook the wallet, but nothing came out, not even any change. He threw it to the ground with an aggravated growl. Alfred must have took out all of his money before he left, predicting Ivan would just go ahead and buy more heroin.

Fuck, now he was back to the starting point again. He shook his head (which only made his headache worsen) and considered just going back to sleep again. But his stomach growled in protest and he sighed, trying to find something to eat. He opened up the fridge and managed to find one final bottle of vodka. He screwed off the cap and drank it from the bottle, satisfying some part of his stomach. But he still needed a solid of some kind.

Thankfully, Alfred hadn't thrown out his leftover sandwich from the lunch they had on Saturday, and he decided to just eat that. He wolfed it down, took another big swig of vodka, and called it a day. He went back into the bedroom and laid down, but didn't fall asleep. He kept staring at that picture of him and Alfred on their wedding day on the bedside table, mesmerized, trying to remember his feelings at that exact moment the flash of the camera blinded them both. He reached over and gingerly picked it up, stroking the smooth surface of the frame with his thumb, then taking his hand and running over Alfred's still figure. He looked at himself smiling and tried to mimic his face, but it felt weird and wrong and incorrect. He wanted to cry. Instead, he gave a heavy sigh and hugged the photo tightly to his chest, never letting go.

At that exact moment Alfred entered the room, arriving home early from work, and saw his partner clinging onto the picture desperately, as if it was a lifeline. He appeared emotionless, standing a distance away from the bed as he addressed Ivan.

"Have you calmed down?" He asked.

Ivan just stared at him, then he nodded, "You're home early."

Alfred shifted his shoulders in a somewhat shrug, looking elsewhere, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, "Yeah, I just wanted to come check up on you, so..." He then looked back at the picture in Ivan's arms.

He immediately grew flustered, "Oh, sorry, I was just looking at it..." He placed it back up on the bedside table and Alfred came over, picking it up and observing it.

He sniffed a bit of a laugh, smirking as he examined the photo, "God, we both looked so goofy. What exactly were we doing before this?" He continued to twist the photo in his hands, craning his head and looking at it in different angles as if he was trying to decipher a hidden message.

"Drinking." Ivan bluntly stated, and he could have sworn he heard Alfred breathe out a snort, but it was so quick it must have been his imagination.

Alfred looked up at Ivan, still smiling surprisingly enough, but it was wistful and far away, "Kind of wish you would still smile like this." He said, then moving his blue eyes back to the picture.

"I still can, don't worry." Ivan attempted to prove himself by trying to copy his old smile again, but the unfamiliarity crept up on him and his stomach turned in anxiety and embarrassment. Alfred looked at him, and tried smiling back a little wider, but Ivan could see the pain in his movements, the slight cringe, the erratic jolt of his pupils as he switched his gaze to the wall. His smile faded fast enough and he placed the photo back on the table, clearing his throat and heading to the bathroom to take a shower.

At least the running water muffled the sound of Ivan weeping.

God, just fucking kill me please.

Ivan twisted and turned in his sheets, covered in cold sweat, his head throbbing, the world dizzily tilting, his vision scrambled and odd. He felt like he was looking through a kaleidoscope. He turned over and vomited up whatever his stomach could muster into the trash can at the bedside.

I need it. I need it so fucking bad I could kill myself please God I need it.

Fuck, his head hurt. It felt like something up there was knocking on his brain. He reached up and grabbed his skull, pulling out clumps of his own hair and his stomach churned one more time. He tried to tell himself to calm down, he didn't need it. He could get through this. Withdrawal was hard but he could get through it and then he'd be happy again Alfred would love him again.

I NEED IT. I NEED IT. I NEED IT. I NEED IT.

Ivan fell off his bed and scrambled to his feet, scratching at the wall and trying to gain support. He had to have it. He was unsuccessful in balancing and fell back on the bed, too exhausted to try again. He shuddered his eyelids closed and tried to think of something good.

But the same nightmare came to him. Alfred had no face. He reached his hand forward and touched Ivan's cheek and his face came into view but it was distorted and he was screaming in agony and there was blood everywhere, his blood, and his skin was rotting everything smelled rancid like spoiled meat and the sky was a brutal scarlet and there was no sun no sun anywhere. Alfred tried to speak but it came out in a garbled mess. An open wound in Alfred's stomach was staring at Ivan. His intestines fell out.

Ivan woke up screaming. That was it. He stumbled out of the bedroom and out of his house, running down the street, barefoot, in barely more than a sweaty T-shirt and pants. Some change jingled in his pockets and he hoped it was enough to cover the cost of heroin and the other necessary tools he needed to use the drug.

It was convenient that his dealer was present at the end of his street. He hung around at the corner for a while before he heard someone coming up behind him. He turned around and there stood his dealer, smiling, exchanging a greeting.

"Hey, man. It's been a while since I've seen you, where you've been? You look like shit." He chuckled a little and Ivan surprisingly smiled back.

"Yeah, I know. I need something right now to hold me over for a couple days." He walked towards him and his dealer looked up and down the road to see if anyone was coming. They wandered off deep into the brush.

"You've come to the right place my friend. Stay here, I'll get you what you need." Ivan grabbed some of the change in his pockets and offered it to him, but he turned down the offer, saying he would give Ivan the heroin for free because he looked so awful.

His dealer disappeared deeper into the woods, swallowed by the shadows of trees and plants before returning with the substance Ivan so desperately needed. He passed it to him quickly and Ivan immediately put it away in his pockets. His dealer waved a good-bye and Ivan trudged back to his house, already feeling better with his remedy in his pocket.

He had some spare needles and piping that Alfred didn't manage to find underneath his bed that he had nearly forgotten about. He grabbed his needed supplies and then it was off to the bathroom to get high. It felt weird and his stomach dropped because he knew what he was doing to Alfred. But he had tried so hard to remain sober, it was just too hard for him, especially in the mental state he was in. Hopefully, his partner would understand.

He stripped off his dirty shirt and stepped into the bathtub, sitting down and letting the cold porcelain caress his skin. He sighed at the sudden freeze of the smooth surface, but eventually got comfortable.

His fingers were shaking so hard that burning the powder into a liquid took forever. In the back of his mind he hoped his blood pressure wasn't low enough that he would have to jug himself. His fears proved incorrect because once he managed to tie his upper arm, finding a good vein wasn't too difficult and the high was instant. Once the drug reached his brain his breath hitched and his toes curled up and God it felt so good. Euphoria dawned on him and he grew incredibly warm and tingly on the inside as if he had swallowed the sun. Then, it went away, and he grew dizzy with sleep. He would have fallen into unconsciousness were it not for the sound of the front door opening.

Ivan attempted to get out of the tub, but he instantly fell face forward with a tired groan. He must have made a racket, because Alfred was yelling his name and his footsteps frantically quickened their pace to the bedroom. Ivan got to his feet, leaning on the wall for support. His head buzzed and felt like a bunch of static on a TV screen. He could feel himself leaning forward, close to fainting.

He stood in the bathroom doorway as Alfred entered, mid-way in shouting his name again before he saw his partner, lurching dizzily on his feet. Ivan smiled at him, his eyes focused on nothing in particular.

"You look diff-" Alfred stopped as his eyes froze on Ivan's left arm. Ivan looked down to where he was staring.

The needle was still in his arm.

"Oops." Ivan's voice was slurred to oblivion and his accent was incredibly pronounced because of the fact. He took out the needle and a tiny trail of blood peeped from the wound, trickling down his arm to the tips of his fingers then dribbling onto the carpet. He stood there, mesmerized, twisting and turning his arm, watching the blood create rivers of red all over his arm.

"Ivan." Alfred choked out, his voice small and meek. Ivan squinted up at him and noticed he was crying, covering his mouth, attempting to look away but he was frozen there.

"It'll be okay, lapochka. Yeah... Yeah it'll be fine." He tilted forwards, nearly stumbling onto the ground but he grabbed the walls for support again. He moved slowly towards Alfred, who kept standing there, seeming to be saying something but Ivan didn't hear it. His heart was pounding and his breath came out as a heavy wheeze. He managed to get right up to Alfred's face, towering over him. That's when Alfred tried to bolt, but Ivan took his arm and hugged him from behind, shoving his face into the crook of Alfred's neck and violently kissing him.

"Let go of me, asshole! Goddammit, fucking let go!" Alfred kicked and screamed and flailed around, tears streaming down his cheeks. Ivan didn't give up his grasp and smiled into his shoulder, continuing to talk in fragments.

"Lyubov moya... Krasavitsa..." He dug his teeth into Alfred's flesh, biting down and sucking until his vessels blossomed to the bite mark and formed bruises.

That did it for Alfred. He screamed out various insults and curses at Ivan before knocking his elbow into his large nose. Ivan fell down and blacked out.

When Ivan came to, he was sprawled out on the bed, still clothed. His injection site stung badly. He sat up, attempting to recollect himself and remember what had happened. It appeared to be morning. Outside, birds were chirping merrily in the dawn of a warm summer's day. Ivan yawned, stretching and ignoring the stinging wound. Alfred wasn't anywhere in site and the house was deathly quiet. Was he at work? Ivan's stomach twisted in an anxiety he didn't understand.

He opened the bedroom door and stepped out, only to immediately feel the smooth surface of a beer bottle underneath his foot. He retracted it and examined the floor to see if there was any shattered glass, but there was none. Just full beer bottles lazily strewn around the carpet. Ivan then focused on the dining room table.

There were papers everywhere, all jumbled up and in a chaotic mess. Alfred was still nowhere to be found, but an open suitcase was by the side of one of the two dining table chairs. Ivan moved closer to see what all the papers read, but was interrupted by his partner marching out from the little study room they had with his laptop and its charger in tow. He stopped when he saw Ivan.

"Oh." Was all he said, then he got back to work, placing his laptop and charger gently on the top of his clothes and zipping the suitcase closed.

"Alfred, what are you doing? Are you going on vacation?" Ivan didn't understand. But his heart beat rapidly against his chest and he tried to push away any negative thoughts from his brain.

"Yes, to fucking Disney World." Alfred stated, rolling his eyes and looking around for anything else to pack, "I'm going to Matthew's place."

Matthew was Alfred's brother who lived in Buffalo, New York, a couple miles away from the Canadian border "Oh... When will you be coming back?"

Alfred seemed to be satisfied with his packing and extended the suitcase's handle, holding on tight to it and looking straight at Ivan, "Never."

At first, Ivan thought Alfred was joking, and he smiled at him in spite of himself, releasing several giggles from his mouth.

"Guess this shows how seriously you took our relationship. Remember to sign all those documents and mail them to Matthew's house address. There's a note on the fridge in case you've forgotten it." Alfred pointed to the papers and turned to walk to the garage.

Ivan realized Alfred was being serious and he frantically grabbed some of the documents on the table, reading them underneath his breath then turning to Alfred who was walking out the door to the garage.

"Alfred... These are divorce papers!" Dear God, please tell me this isn't true. This is just a nightmare, this isn't reality.

Alfred stared emotionless at him, "I know." Then he disappeared into the garage, and Ivan heard the slam of a car trunk and an engine starting up. He paused for a second, realizing this wasn't a dream and then ran after Alfred who was pulling out into the driveway.

"Alfred! Wait, please!" The minute Alfred saw Ivan run out of the house after him, he backed out of the driveway as fast as he could and drove down the road of his neighborhood to the main highway. He looked into his car's side mirrors and saw that Ivan was still frantically running after him, shouting his name. He sighed and slowed down enough to where Ivan could catch up to him and rolled down the passenger window.

Ivan was panting fiercely, gripping the car and looking at Alfred with watery eyes, "Please... Please don't leave me I'm so sorry... I don't remember what I did but it was something bad enough to cause you to get up and go. But whatever it is I'm sorry. I love you, Alfred. I don't want you to leave my life ever, I want you to say with me until the end of my life. You want the same, don't you? That's what you said on our wedding day, remember?" Ivan smiled at him, but Alfred remained expressionless.

"Stop apologizing. None of that shit's gonna fix what happened. Honestly, who the fuck do you think I am? Going to apologize your actions just because you were high? We had a promise and you broke it, that's all there is to it. What were you even trying to do to me back there anyway? Rape me? Accepting your apology... Ha, funny. Get the fuck away from me."

Ivan sobbed, hiccuping and just appearing more pathetic in front of Alfred, "I don't know... I don't remember... I... Alfred, I love you... Please listen to me..."

For a second, Ivan thought Alfred might have changed his mind. He looked away, almost wistful in appearance, but then a frown appeared on his lips, "Good-bye, Ivan."

He rolled up his window and revved the engine, pulling away from Ivan. He frantically grabbed onto the sides of the vehicle, but his fingers slid with a squeak on the smooth plastic and he nearly stumbled as Alfred left him coughing in a cloud of exhaust fumes. He continued to run, but Alfred was already gone, the sound of the roaring motor just a memory now. Ivan stood at the entrance to his neighborhood. Shoulders slumped, not even collecting enough energy to cry or scream.

The sound of a front door opened and Ivan whirled around to find his homophobic neighbor sneering at him, obviously understanding what just went on.

"Well, at least you can actually find a woman now. Or just kill yourself." He cackled loudly and Ivan just stared at him, putting his hands to the sides of his head and stumbling back towards the direction of his house.

Killing himself really didn't sound like such a bad idea.