I am slightly amazed by my 'proficiency' at times, because writing three pages is pretty much as far as I can go, because I am sure as hell not one of those writing machines that writes like, what, 16 pages every chapter *kof ahem* *points fingers at a certain someone*. That's just not realistic for me (procrastinator).
This chapter….made me feel really sorry for Ivan. He's just a poor, misunderstood kid. Or maybe not, that's up to you to decide. There's always two sides to a story, and I'm trying not to be biased or anything. This Rochu/ Ruchi (lol whatever) pairing is one of my favorites, and I think they're super cute together, but I adore China. I really do. But then again I think he's a bastard too.
Shout out to:
bowsie22, 300love , icenflake , kitter, Meirin618 , purple-ripples , Katter, DiscombobulatedCanadian , 3.31.09
and 454g~
~Intermission~
: Ivan Braginsky
Ivan's birthday was fast approaching.
Though he was turning a year older, he felt definite dread as he aged another year. It wasn't the fact that something would be irrevocably changed – on that day, he knew that memories of once happy times would assault him.
Yao.
Did he go too far?
Was that…too cruel?
He suddenly thought back to Yao's betrayal, dispelling all thoughts of wavering. How dare he do something like this…there was a sharp pang in his heart as he crumpled over, head in hands, gritting his teeth in frustration. Under all the rage and fury he kept on the surface, Ivan was deeply hurt, still trying to mask everything with little boy determination.
Why, though….to go that far, to gamble with his own body…
Alfred and Ivan had only fumbled around, making out in locker room, perhaps going a bit further – But it was never the same commitment he had for Yao in his heart. His lover…no, his ex, was he really that injured? That betrayed? Still, Ivan couldn't get over the fact that he had to touch that disgusting French man's seed with his own hands, see the results of Yao having sex with someone else, his ravaged body covered with that man's markings –
Yao was his, and no one else dare touch him.
Ivan got up from his leather sofa and walked to the bathroom, splashing his face with water, trying to cool himself down. In the mirror, hollow amethyst stared back, clouded with nameless emotions. A gaunt face – he hadn't eaten anything decent for the past five days. He looked pitiful, pathetic, mouth set in a firm, grim line, cheekbones too sharply angled, almost straining to break the skin.
He began to repeatedly wash his hands, first rinsing for 9 seconds, then adding the foaming soap, scrubbing his hands for 27 seconds, then rinsing everything off for 12 seconds. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Ivan counted his seconds by saying "Fuck."
The sticky sensation was still upon his fingers, no matter how many times he tried to wash it off.
There was the sound of tap water running, and Ivan's "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." The quiet click as he pressed for more soap, then repeating his counting. He'd already washed his hands fourteen times when he heard the door to his luxury loft open, quiet footsteps echoing across the marble floors.
Damn housekeeper was already here.
He continued washing, blatantly ignoring the housekeeper's cheerful "Hello? Is anyone there?"
"Master Ivan, are you in the bathroom?"
There was a knock at the mahogany door to his half bath.
The door was unlocked, Ivan continued to ignore the persistent knocks, till the door opened a small crack. The housekeeper, a pretty young female smiled brightly as she entered.
"Master Ivan, Happy Birthday!"
His counting had not stopped. He was on his 23rd "Fuck."
There was a concerned expression on the maid's face, but she quickly hid it under a professional countenance once again, before reciting:
"Your parents wish you a happy birthday too, wishing you the best of another year. Your gifts and presents will arrive by tomorrow, and they'll be in your living room. They say they miss you very much and –"
Ivan abruptly stopped washing his hands, tap still running. He was incredulous as he turned his head. "They said they miss me? Very much?" There was an uneasy quiet as the maid fiddled with her uniform.
He burst out laughing, tears in his eyes from amusement. "That's…" between gasping breaths, "got to be the funniest thing I've heard this whole shitty year." His laughing became maniacal, like a jackal, hyena before rounding its prey. It was not laughter of joy – it contained unspeakable spite and malice.
Ivan abruptly stopped chuckling. e HHis eyes suddenly grew serious, grave, voice bitter as he spat out,
"You can tell my parents that they sure as hell don't need to waste their fucking time 'missing' me. I've got better things to do than be 'missed' by those old fucks."
He dried his hands on the towel hanging nearby nonchalantly, pushing past the girl.
"Leave." He said quietly, padding down to the living room to get his wallet.
The girl looked at him with now openly worried eyes, calling out behind him, "Master Ivan, are you…are you okay?"
Okay? Was he okay? He was the farthest thing from "okay," no one, no one understood what was going on in his mind…except for Yao. His heart was crying out for Yao, the only person who could connect to him, who cared deeply about him, the only one who would hold him when this painful day came. Now betrayed, watching the only person he'd received love from spit in his face, trampling on all his sincerity. Ivan was just scared, he wasn't used to this feeling of "love" he'd heard a million times over, portrayed so movingly in movies and books…he needed something to substantiate, solidify, something to remind him that everything wasn't that fairy-tale surreal. The love he couldn't get from his parents, the love he couldn't get from his peers.
The love, now that he no longer could get from Yao.
"Okay?" His voice was dangerously quiet as he looked up, staring at the girl right in the face, watching a pink blush creep along her cheeks.
"Oh, I'm okay, perfectly fine." He thumbed through his wallet, casually grabbing a handful of hundred dollar bills before throwing it at her. His eyes burned with fury as he looked her in the eyes, pity written all over her face.
Pity. That was the thing he hated the most. Yao had never, ever looked at him with those eyes.
"GET THE FUCK OUT!" He yelled, voice thundering as he felt himself losing all control. "Why do you even give a shit? For the money? That my parents don't give a flying fuck about me? I don't need your damned pity everything's fake, like you even give a shit about me no one can be trusted no one anymore they're all liars liars he's a liar, I LOVED HIM!" Ivan suddenly snapped, feeling as if his insides were being torn out from the emotional pain. He was screaming blindly, ripping up all of the money he had in his thick wallet, throwing all the precious vases and antiques he'd collected and smashing them over any available, hard surface. There was no stop to his rampage, his emotional breakdown. "I LOVED HIM I TRUSTED HIM AND HE AND HE THREW ME AWAY THAT BASTARD HE TOOK THIS HEART AND HE- "
There was a murderous look on his face as Ivan advanced onto the girl. He was in an uncontrollable fury as he reached out, about to wrap his hands around her slender white neck. His vision blurred as he saw the girl's face transform into Yao's, wearing the same smirk as he did after he saw Ivan, immovable on the bathroom floor, before coquettishly flitting away, his giggling voice echoing in the halls.
"Ivan deeeeeaaaaar….you can kiss my ass goodbyyyyyyyeeeeeee!"
His large hands started to squeeze, as he watched Yao's face contort in pain, gasping for release.
"No, Ivan, you can't do this anymore! You can't keep hurting others to keep yourself from hurting! That's just wrong, and it's hurting everyone around you!
Yao's voice unexpectedly resounded in his head, and Ivan suddenly felt tired. His grip grew slack as he let the girl go, watching as she muffled her own screams of fright before hurriedly running out the door, running for her very life.
Ivan collapsed onto the ground, dollar bills fluttering everywhere. Lethargy crept up on him like a fast acting drug.
He was so, so tired. Tired of trying to vie for affection he'd never get, tired of constantly getting hurt and betrayed, tired of revenge.
He once had two things – Yao and money.
Only money, he knew, would be there for him till death.
-Intermission end-
Round 4 Part 1
The sound of the teacher's mundane lecture served as a soothing lullaby as Ivan felt himself drifting off, his head in his arms as he sprawled all over the desk. It'll be over soon, he thought to himself as he began to count the bottles of vodka in his head. Absolut, or Grey Geese? Citron, or Regular? He sighed again, looking up at the board only to see the teacher scrawl numerous symbols and diagrams.
Physics again.
Something he didn't need to learn, something that he'd already learned five years ago, to be precise. His head drooped as he found comfort within his own arms when he felt someone flick something at his head. He let out an irritated grunt, but didn't respond.
Flick.
Flick. Flick.
Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick.
Ivan turned around, irritated. His violet eyes burned with annoyance as he looked around for the instigator. Did that person have a death wish? He swiveled around in his chair, only to see an idiotic blonde waving at him with utmost urgency.
"Hey!"
"Pssssssstttttt…yoyoyoyoyo!….Hey!"
Ivan frowned at him, rolling his eyes as he brushed the silver hair to the side and out of his line of vision. Did this guy want to be caught by the teacher? It was so obvious that he was trying to pass notes, and his exaggerated motions and what he considered 'whispering' were way too conspicuous. How was he even friends with this dumbass?
Alfred F. Jones, realizing that he finally caught the Russian's attention, started mouthing words that Ivan couldn't read. He pointed at his mouth as he began to distort his face, like he was talking in slow motion. There was nothing more that Ivan wanted to do than dig a hole ten feet into the ground and hide there as his classmates began to notice and point. He had no idea how Arthur ever even put up with universe's biggest idiot…
No wonder that rather 'prim and proper,' horribly sarcastic Englishman was so bitter, huh.
"Rea…."
Ivan caught the first few letters.
"You want me to…..?" Ivan was still clueless as Alfred heaved a dramatic sigh, glancing up at the oblivious teacher, shaking his head in utter disappointment, his hands making what seemed to be seemingly inappropriate and vulgar gestures.
The silver blonde suddenly looked shocked, his eyebrows rose in surprise, eyes a mix of disgust and disbelief as he thought he figured what the other blonde wanted him to do.
"You….you want me to 'ream your ass?'" he said quickly under his breath.
Alfred's ocean blue eyes went wide as he took in what his friend just said. A hot blush quickly painted his cheeks as he shook his head vehemently in indignation and horror.
"What the hell? I told you to 'read my note' you asshole, not 'ream my ass!' Jesus Christ, for the love of Rebecca Black you're such a jerk–"
Ivan suddenly understood every word Alfred mouthed. His lips formed into an understanding "O" as he nodded silently, his hands covering his mouth to hide his snickering. The balls of paper Alfred had flicked were still on his desk, so Ivan began to unfold the crumpled pieces of paper, smoothing them out so he could read the scrawled, barely legible handwriting.
Treet u 2 sumthin' aft. Rugby? Hape b-day btw.
Holy shi-
Stalin rest in peace.
This was even worse than textspeak – it was just straight up, bad spelling.
Treet? Hape?
The only thing that lazy ass blonde spelled right was Rugby. At least it wasn't 'Rugbe.' But perhaps that smudgy 'y' might just be a really bad 'e." Ivan should have known not to expect too much from a person who would tackle a stupid Ronald McDonald clown at the fast food chain like a kid raping Santa Claus' knee and begging the clown to stay at his house forever and ever.
Ivan sighed as he looked back at Alfred and shook his head. That boy was hopeless, his dreamy eyes emanating "Rapemerapemerapeme" waves to Arthur, sitting in the front row taking notes, who was more or less slightly oblivious his the dimwit's obvious advances.
Dumb idiots should stick together.
That, Ivan grudgingly thought, included himself as well.
"Excuse me, Mr. Braginsky? Mr. Braginsky!" The teacher began calling him, frustrated for there was no response.
"Mr. Braginsky, just who are you looking at?"
Crap. He'd taken care so that the teacher wouldn't notice, but –
"Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry."
"I need you to explain this to the class – if you have time to be daydreaming, do tell us how to –" Ivan smiled sheepishly at the teacher, the looked down as his dark eyes flashed. Ugh. It was all Alfred's fault.
He opened his mouth to speak. "Coulomb's Law, which describes the electrostatic attraction between electrically charged particles. The equation begins by the constant, K, and q1 and q2…"
Class would be over in fourteen minutes.
