Yao's legs felt entirely too unsteady as exited his car and stood in the hospital parking lot. For a long moment he just stared at the building, wondering why he was subjecting himself to this. Maybe he belonged here too, considering he was entirely certain he had lost his mind. Still, it was too late to go back. He had made a commitment, and dammit, he refused to admit he was afraid.

Of course he was not afraid, but the long walk to the psychiatric unit felt like one to the guillotine. He kept himself occupied through navigating the twisting hallways, making sure to avoid the hospice unit and convincing himself this was no big deal all at the same time. He succeeded in all but the last. Before he had time to register the situation and long before he was ready for it, he found himself knocking on Matthew's office door. Thankfully, the hallway was vacant of patients this time around.

Matthew opened the door with a smile, but Yao was not easily fooled. He could see that faint stich of apprehension behind his wire frames. Matthew was obviously nervous, though he was just as obviously trying to hide it. That was less than reassuring. Yao tried to ignore the nearly overpowering urge to break off in a run. Instead he said, "Good afternoon, Dr. Williams," as if this was completely normal.

"Afternoon, Yao." Matthew ushered him through the door and shut it behind him. "Thank you again for coming. I know how bizarre this is."

Did he really know? Yao nodded anyway. He let his eyes drift about the office, searching for a distraction when a sudden thought entered his mind and passed his lips almost simultaneously. "Does he know?"

Matthew met his gaze, his lips slightly parted. "No," he said. Yao was not sure whether to be more or less anxious. "Ivan doesn't know."

"Ah." Yao told himself again that this would be more of an annoyance than anything. After all, they would not be alone. In a place like this, it was impossible. "What will I be doing, exactly?"

"All you have to do is talk to him. The goal is to get Ivan to open up."

Yao just nodded, still somewhat confused and skeptical but unwilling to express it. He supposed that sounded reasonable. It had to. "Alright." He glanced towards the office door, only able to wonder what awaited him right down the hall. "Should I go, then?"

"I'll walk you there." Matthew went to the door and opened it, but hesitated before he took a step outside. He glanced over his shoulder, and it was not until then that Yao realized he had frozen in place. He forced himself to meet his gaze anyway, but Matthew seemed to see right through his stoic expression. "Are you sure about this, Yao?"

Of course Yao was not sure. This was insane. "Yes, I am sure." …But that apparently did not matter, because this- whatever it was- was happening.

The walk to what was supposedly the common area was far too long and much too short at the same time. Yao felt his stomach flip over and over on itself with every step he took, but he still refused to admit to himself that he was afraid. There was nothing to be afraid of, absolutely nothing. How ridiculous to be feeling this way. However these rational thoughts did nothing to stop the flurry of irrational ones, and Yao could not stop himself from biting down on his inner cheek when Matthew's voice broke the silence. "Ivan, you have a visitor."

And that was when he saw him. Despite thinking those two minutes of insanity weeks ago was the last time they would ever cross paths, Yao somehow found himself staring straight at the Russian for the second time. Ivan was sitting on the sofa, seemingly occupied by toying with that same scarf. Funny… Yao remembered him as much more intimidating. Then, Ivan looked up. When Yao caught sight of those same unmistakable violet eyes and realized they were locked on him and nothing else, he realized he had remembered correctly.

"Yao." Ivan spoke softly, too softly. He stood up as if his legs were unsteady, his face softening in light shock. "My sunflower." When he smiled, he looked as though he was fighting back tears. Yao straightened his back and stayed completely still. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a man looking through strands of white hair to stare at him incredulously, as if Yao was an urban legend come to life. The man with the monstrous eyebrows a few feet away carried a similar expression.

Once he got over being stared at, Yao was surprised at how calm the place was. At least part of him had expected mass hysteria, patients in various stages of breakdowns rocking in corners, and incoherent screaming. A small, childish part of him had almost expected to see at least one straightjacket. Instead, a saw patients visiting with family members, friends and significant others, most looking fairly calm. While some of them looked troubled, for the most part they just appeared to be normal people. Yao almost felt ashamed for expecting anything different.

Matthew must have noticed the disturbance this was apparently causing. He glanced at Ivan, who was still standing motionless like he entranced, then back at Yao, who felt as if the very ground beneath him was threatening to split. "Why don't we step out?"

They ended up back in Matthew's office. Ivan kept his distance, surprisingly, but Yao could still feel his eyes on him. It was a slightly unnerving, conscious fact that he tried and failed to ignore. He settled on pretending he didn't see. "I'll be outside," said Matthew. He looked directly at Yao as he spoke. The moment he stepped out and closed the door, Yao suddenly became hyperaware that he was now- to some extent- alone with Ivan.

What was there to say? Yao instantly forgot everything Matthew had told him and perhaps the entire English language. He only remembered when Ivan took a step forward and realized he was probably going to hug him again. Yao took a quick, instinctive step backwards and held up his hands. "Don't."

Surprisingly, Ivan complied. He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled in that same innocent, unassuming way. "You came back, Yao," he said. "I knew you would. Eventually."

Yao did not trust his legs, so he sat stiffly on the arm of the sofa. "Is that so?" Silence. He glanced at a nearby clock and saw with a jolt that less than two minutes had passed. If he didn't know any better, he would have said time had stopped in its tracks. A million questions spun in his mind. What was there to say? What was he supposed to do? And most prominently- why the hell did he agree to this? Having given up on finding answers to any of those questions, he could think of only one thing to say. "How have you been doing?"

Ivan sat on the other side of the sofa, uncharacteristically keeping his distance. "The past does not matter." He wrapped his hand around the fabric of his scarf and pulled. "You are here. That means I am fine."

Yao could not even pretend that he understood. "Why?" He said it without considering the consequences, without even knowing what kind of answer he expected or wanted. He knew that, yet he kept going anyway. "You do not know me. We have no history. We have barely even spoken. Why would I mean anything to you?"

The clocked ticked too loudly and too slowly. Yao's mouth went dry, and he could only continue to stare though every reasonable part of him told him not to. He could not be sure if it was unnerving or comforting that Ivan kept smiling. "With some people, one can simply tell," said Ivan finally. "Do you know why I call you sunflower, Yao?"

"No. I find it rather strange, actually." Yao did not feel nearly as confident as he spoke. Feigning it was all he could think to do.

"In Russia, is quite cold." Ivan held eye contact like he was afraid to drop it. His eyes were such an unusual color that Yao didn't think to look away. His silver-blonde hair brushed his brow when he tipped his head to the side. "Sunflowers can only bloom in warm weather. They signal the end of long, frigid winter. When I saw you, that is what it felt like. The end of a very long, cold time."

Yao suddenly felt a lot colder himself. He crossed his arms over his chest to hide the trembling of his hands. This was like living in an alternate reality. "That is a lot to say about someone you just met."

Ivan laughed lightly. "You keep saying that," he said. "If this bothers you, please allow me to get to know you."

Maybe Yao really was going crazy; because his first thought was that he would not mind that at all. In spite of himself, he was utterly intrigued. "Alright." No matter how intrigued he was, his instincts were telling him to approach this with absolute care. He kept the details as basic as he could. "My full name is Yao Wang. I have a half-brother named Kiku, and he works here as a hospice nurse. I own a restaurant."

"That is lovely. I am sure it is a very nice restaurant." The way Ivan said it was not unnerving. If anything, he sounded genuinely interested. He sounded… normal. Slowly, Yao uncrossed his arms, hesitantly hanging onto to each word. "I am from Russia. This is where my two sisters live. They are Katyusha and Natalia." He paused as if unsure if he should continue. "I also own a business."

Yao could not say he wasn't surprised. He had never really considered that Ivan had a life before this. Of course he must have and Yao had only just met him, but it had never crossed his mind. The realization that should have been obvious hit like a brick: Ivan was a person. He was just as human as anyone else. "What kind of business?"

This visit was full of the unexpected even if Yao had not known what to expect, but he still managed to be surprised yet again when he saw Ivan actually blush. "You may think it is silly," he said. "It is a flower business. I am, how you say, a florist?"

And there was the surprise again. Yao only blinked. "You're kidding."

"No, I am quite serious. That is why I moved here."

The image of Ivan handling delicate followers was nothing if not odd. Yet the more Yao thought about it, the more endearing the thought became. He almost smiled, but he did not allow himself to. Instead he reminded himself to keep his guard up. This still felt dangerous- at least, it should. "You must really like… flowers."

Ivan's eyes lit up. "Da. Sunflowers are my favorite. That is why I call you one, Yao. You are my favorite sunflower."

Yep, keeping his guard up was a good idea. Yao tensed, trying to decide whether he should tell him to stop saying things like that or ignore it entirely. He decided it would be easier to go with the latter.

"You seem nervous, little Yao."

Maybe he would not be able to ignore it entirely. Yao forced himself to meet Ivan's strong gaze again. Ivan had not looked away once. "Please, do not call me little. I'm thirty-two." He chose to ignore Ivan's statement that he looked nervous, because he did not want to admit that he was.

Ivan's eyebrows shot up. "You are thirty? Really?" he asked. Yao nodded. Was it really that surprising? "I would not have guessed this. I am twenty-six."

And just like that, Yao felt like an old man. The first thing he did was run through a quick calculation before concluding that Ivan was six years younger than him. The second that passed through his mind, he asked himself why it mattered. "I thought you were older," he said, even though he hadn't even thought about Ivan's age. After all, Yao could barely meet his eyes without straining his neck when they were standing. He hardly thought of himself as the older one.

"I thought you were younger." Ivan smiled, and without warning he took Yao's hand as if to examine it. Yao did not think to pull away. He froze. "Age does not matter. You are beautiful."

"Um, thanks." Yao felt an embarrassed flush rise from his collar. He had never been spoken to quite like this, and now that he was, the words were coming from an unstable psych patient who nicknamed him after a flower. As if that wasn't enough, he actually felt flustered over it. What had his life become?

There was a break in conversation. Yao did not know what else to say. As if it had been timed, there was a knock at the door. Yao quickly realized Ivan was still holding his hand and pulled it away with incredible force and speed. "Yes?" He nearly shouted it, and his voice cracked. Wonderful.

"Ivan, you need to take your medication." Matthew's timid voice was unmistakable.

Yao glanced at Ivan, and his breath hitched when he noticed his expression. His eyes had darkened and his mouth had gone from housing a gentle smile to a tight frown. "Oh." Ivan reached for his scarf again, and he seemed to tighten it with far more force than necessary. "Allow me to say goodbye." It did not sound like a request as much as it sounded like a demand. Yao felt a chill shook down his back.

"Okay, no problem," said Matthew. If it was possible for him to get any quieter, he did.

Yao rose slowly to his feet. With a newfound energy, Ivan jumped up, took a step forward and grasped his shoulders. "You will come back," he said, his eyes suddenly wild. "Yes?"

"Um…" Yao felt exactly how he did when they had first run into each other. Just when he thought he would be able to relax, he was terrified again. "Yes. I will." He was unsure if he actually wanted to come back, but he did not want to know what would have happened if he had said no.

"Okay. You will come back." His words wavered unnaturally in volume, his eyes were bleary, and his laugh was quick and robotic. No matter how scared Yao was, he knew he was not as scared as Ivan suddenly looked. The idea that he was calm just moments ago somehow made everything more frightening. "I do not want you to leave, my little sunflower. I love you."

Yao's blood ran cold and his chest tightened. "No, you don't." He regretted it almost before he said it. He started to feel faint, because he had no idea what he had just done, why he had said what he did, or what it would cause.

Ivan narrowed his eyes, and Yao felt his hands dig deeper into his shoulders. "What?"

"I mean," said Yao quickly, grasping for the right words. "You still do not know me very well. You can't love someone you just met." Ivan continued to stare, smiling, though the look in his eyes did not fit it. Yao continued to speak without stopping to think, desperate to talk his way out of whatever this was. "For now, we are friends. If you want to be my friend, you can't say things like that."

He must have said the right thing, because both Ivan's grip and the look in his eyes softened simultaneously. "Friends," he said quietly. "Okay, little Yao." He stopped speaking abruptly. "I mean, just Yao. You do not like the 'little.'" He laughed, but it sounded almost manic and his line of sight did not move. Yao would have run if his legs didn't feel so weak. "I will say whatever you want me to. As long as you come back."

"Alright." Yao took a careful step backwards, separating himself from Ivan's strong hands. "You should go take that medication."

The corner of Ivan's eye seemed to twitch at the word, but his smile did not fall this time. "Goodbye, Yao. I will see you soon." Just like it had the first time, the statement sounded far more definite and commanding than it probably should have. He hesitated for a long moment, eyes still locked on Yao, before slowly walking towards the door. He smiled over his shoulder once more before finally walking out. Yao was certain he should have felt nothing but relief, and a large part of him did. But for a split second a small, strange part of him that he refused to acknowledge felt… melancholic. Yao shook out the thought as soon as it registered. Of course he was relived!

Matthew entered the room and closed the door a second later. "How did it go?"

"It was fine, actually." Yao was surprised when he realized his response was accurate. Save for that strange moment at the end, it was fine.

"I'm happy to hear that." Matthew walked in and sat down on the cushy office chair near the desk. "Would it be alright with you if we discussed what you two talked about?"

Yao quickly remembered that this had been the purpose of the visit all along. He was being used as a middleman. "Oh, yes, of course." He stopped speaking and waited for a response only to realize that Matthew was, in fact, waiting for him. Yao rushed to make sense of the conversation and finally said, "I figured out why he calls me sunflower."

"Oh, alright." Matthew blinked and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. "I always found that a bit odd."

"Did you know he owns a flower shop?" Yao practically shouted before he could stop himself. That sounded a bit too feverish for his liking. Matthew just arched an eyebrow and scribbled something down on his notepad. Yao tried and failed once more to make sense of such a strange image, ultimately gave up, and finally slumped back in his seat. "Anyway, he said sunflowers signal the end of a long winter. He said that is what I am to him. A sign of a cold time ending."

Matthew stopped writing, likely in the middle of a sentence. "Wow," he said. "That's rather deep. Did he explain that any further?"

Yao probably should have asked. That would have been the logical thing to do, but all logic was clouded in those strange fifteen minutes. "No, he did not."

"Alright." Matthew seemed unconcerned. "Now, did he say anything about his family?"

"Yes." It took Yao only a moment to remember the names Ivan mentioned. "He has two sisters. Natalia and Katyusha."

"Is that all he said?"

Perhaps that was not as helpful of an answer as Yao had hoped. "Yes, he did not say anything else about them."

"Thought so." Matthew tapped his pen against the desk and exhaled sharply through his nose. "Anything else?"

One detail stubbornly stuck out above all others. "He seemed very unsettled when I had to leave. He was almost frightened." Memory hit, and Yao began to speak as though no one was listening to him. He thought aloud. "He treats me like we have known each other for a decade, or something. He told me he loved me again, so I told him to stop saying that. It is so, so bizarre."

Matthew froze and slowly looked up. "And he complied?"

Yao met his unblinking gaze. "Yes."

"Huh." Matthew shook his head and looked down at his paper again. "Well, Yao, I have to ask. Would you consider coming back?"

Yao was not sure if he had a choice. He told himself he didn't, he told himself he could use the extra money, and he almost believed those statements when he said, "I will think about it."

.

Ivan was absolutely certain that if he wanted to, he could sprout wings and fly. That was how light, how unbelievably joyous he felt. His skin tingled with light and his chest filled with air as he exited Matthew's office. Suddenly, the world held color again. He did not care when the orderlies gave him strange looks that were now familiar, barely even noticed when he was given pills, barely even thought about it when he disposed of them. Absolutely nothing else mattered now that Yao had returned to him. He had even said they were friends. Friends! Of course Ivan wanted more, but friends would certainly do- for now.

When Gilbert entered the room, Ivan barely blinked. He didn't even stop smiling. Now, this boy was unimportant. Even though Ivan could not have cared less about his presence, he could not help but notice how different Gilbert suddenly looked. His shoulders were squared, his eyes were fixed open and scanning the room, his smirk was bordering on threatening- of course, he was in that strange alternate state he always went on about; something about being the king. Ivan didn't understand and he did not care to. It was an unimportant detail.

"Hey commie, did your little pet finally escape?"

Surely, he was not referring to Yao. No one would dare speak about Yao in such a way. Even still, Ivan smiled calmly and turned to face Gilbert. "Yao left a bit ago, if that is what you mean."

"Oh, is that his name?" Gilbert scoffed and flicked his hand in the air. "Whatever. Like it matters."

Ivan blinked rapidly. No. Nothing would spoil has mood. He simply would not allow it. "What do you mean?"

Gilbert laughed, his movements strange and jerking, his eyes still wide open. He acted as if that was just about the funniest thing he had ever heard in life. "You're a little slow, aren't you, commie?" Once he got control over himself, he stood firm in his stance and looked Ivan in the eye with a sneer. "The poor bastard is absolutely terrified of you."

What a ridiculous, unfounded statement. Ivan almost felt sorry for this silly German. He obviously misunderstood what he and Yao had, greatly. "I think you are misunderstanding," he said. "Yao likes me very much."

"Oh, man." Gilbert launched into another uncontrollable laughing fit. Once he stopped, his gaze landed in Ivan's direction, though his eyes moved too rapidly in their sockets. "You realize he's never coming back here, right? Jesus, he practically ran the second that pussy therapist opened the door."

Ivan narrowed his eyes and tensed his shoulders. No, this was ridiculous. Gilbert was just insane, exactly like everyone else in this god forsaken building. "You are wrong." He stared down at him, directly in his wild, unblinking crimson eyes. "He will come back. He said he will."

"Yeah, right!" Gilbert took a step closer and jabbed his finger into Ivan's chest. "Of course he said he would come back! He probably thought you would murder him if he didn't! Look, everyone is terrified of you. That pathetic therapist is, everyone who works here is, even Arthur is. So is Gilbert, but that asshole is scared of everything. I'm the only one here who's not afraid of your crazy communist ass."

Ivan ignored the fact that Gilbert was, for whatever reason, referring to himself in the third person. All he could concentrate on were the sparks of anger and floods of despair pooling in his blood, threatening to destroy all the happiness Yao had finally brought him. He could feel the conflicting emotions rising, multiplying, growing nearly strong enough to swallow him whole. But he pushed them down. He had to. "No." He had to fight to say it. "You do not know what you are talking about."

"Just keep telling yourself that." Gilbert spun on his heel and waved his hand in the air. It looked almost choreographed. Even though his back was turned, he did not stop speaking. God, why was he still speaking? "Whatever. Who cares what you kind of bullshit you tell yourself? It doesn't change the fact that you'll die alone. I mean, its not like anyone could ever love you." Leaving the deadly words in his wake, Gilbert walked out the door and slammed it behind him.

"You are…" Ivan felt his body tremble, break, dissolve, "…lying." He tried to convince himself that was true- that Gilbert was simply insane, that he did not know what he was talking about, that his words were nothing but cruel, ugly lies- but he lost the ability to. What Gilbert had said was true. "No…" The ground was going to split. The sun was going to fall from the sky. Ivan's entire body was going to shut down at once and he was finally, finally going to die, just like he had wanted to for so, so long. No longer able to stand, to live, he collapsed on the bed and tightened his scarf so forcefully he could barely even breath anymore- just like he wanted.

In the moments before Ivan fell into the void of sleep, he wished, begged, prayed with ever fiber of his being that he would never, ever wake up.

To be continued...