I love the accomplished feeling of finally finishing a story.
The days became weeks, and then months. Sex became mere kisses, and the kisses turned into hugs. Eventually, Ivan and Yao were sitting on opposite corners of the bed, trying to draw tepid conversations from thin air.
At first, Yao had thought that Ivan was just feeling sick or something, and brushed it aside. But after a while, as he began to piece everything together in his head, he became distraught. Yao kept asking Ivan what was wrong, but yielded no answer. And to make matters worse, he began to shift the blame onto himself.
"Did I do something wrong, Ivan?"
Ivan shook his head.
"If I did something you didn't like, just say it. Don't ignore me like this..."
Reaching over, Yao's hand hovered over Ivan's, hesitating whether to break the other man's cold bubble for the first time tonight. Ivan could feel the barest radiation of warmth, and quickly shoved it into his coat pocket before his heart could melt.
"Anyways, I have to go soon." Yao said after a few minutes, squeezing the other man on the shoulder, "I promise I'll visit again next week, when you said Natalia leaves for her business trip."
He tipped Ivan's chin upwards, and in trying to lure some passion, or a flicker of a response out of him, Yao gave him one last, desperate kiss. Ivan, on the other hand, was finding it harder to not give in. How could he keep his composure sewn tight at every seam, when everything around him was falling, crumbling to dust?
They broke apart after a while, and Yao clicked the bedroom shut before Ivan could muster the courage to stop him. Immediately, he licked Yao's taste off his lips, quickly wiped his mouth clean with his sleeve, and sat up straight. Natalia was coming back in ten minutes.
A certain suspicion often flickered in Ivan's mind, that Natalia knew about his affair with Yao all along. But to be honest, Ivan didn't care anymore. Whether she did or not wouldn't make the situation any better or worse. Besides, Ivan felt that he had done a damn good job as a husband for all these years. Therefore, he owed Natalia nothing.
It wasn't any of her business what went on between him and Yao. At home, Ivan performed his daily tasks that she had assigned him, and nowadays even cared to make the floors cleaner than usual. He took care of the baby, went to the supermarket, and cooked their meals from scratch. But at night, Ivan no longer allowed the sweet thoughts about Yao to tuck him into sleep, thanks to his efforts in trying to cure himself of an essentially nonexistent sickness.
Maybe, Ivan should have never even went up to talk to Yao back in Manchuria. If that day, he had not pretended to hear his cries and went back to camp, instead of sifting through barbed wire to find him, then then things wouldn't end up like it had.
Then, Yao would still be the person Ivan remembered him to be, facing the world with a big grin, and infecting everyone around him with his joy. He wouldn't be sitting hunch-backed on the edge of his bed right now, staring unblinkingly at the floor of his apartment as if it was a flatscreen television.
It was because of Ivan that Yao had become like this. Lifeless eyes, sallow skin, cracked lips, it looked like he hadn't slept for days. And maybe if he was finally free from Ivan, and this... curse, maybe colour would finally come back to his cheeks.
"Hey, Yao?"
Yao turned back eagerly. "Yeah, what is it?" His voice tipped in excitement, his lips almost curving into a smile.
"I think we should break up."
Finally, he said it. Those words slipped out of Ivan's tongue more easily than he thought. He waited quietly and patiently for Yao's answer. Nothing can be a surprise to him now.
Yao's face fell, and for a few eerie seconds, all that could be heard was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Then, without warning, Yao tossed his head back and started to... laugh. Dry, cynical cackles gnawed at his eardrums like metal on glass. He fell back on the bed, and rolled around in a frenzy.
"Don't you think I'm stupid, Ivan?" Yao asked finally, resting a hand on his forehead, as if to check if he had a fever.
"N-No..." Ivan mumbled, raising an eyebrow.
Yao shook his head, and smiled bitterly to himself. "For these past few years, everything I've done has been for you, Ivan Braginsky. But you know what? I loved you, and I would waste my whole life on you, as long as I could have a small place in your heart..."
"Apparently, that was too much to ask, and I was too naive."
Ivan could feel Yao's words echoing through the empty crater where his heart used to be. To him, they were as meaningless as the whistling winds outside.
"I have to go Yao," he said finally, barely mustering enough strength to walk to the door, "You better take care of yourself from now on."
"No!" Yao cried. He crawled up, tackled into him, and hugged his legs with all his strength. "Please don't leave me, I'll do anything to make it right, Ivan... I promise I'll be a better mistress for you, and do whatever you want! Just, don't leave me..."
Ivan finally turned back to face a stark-naked Yao, his legs leaking with semen, and tears dripping from his chin.
Ivan had always remembered Yao to be the only soldier in camp who he actually looked up to— the brave, iron-willed man who could effortlessly make a dozen men sink to their knees. But now, Wang Yao had never seemed so... vulnerable.
"Look at yourself," Ivan spat, "I've turned you into this, don't you understand? You'd be much happier, and actually made something out of your life if you'd just forget about me!"
"But I love you Ivan, I love you so much..."
Ivan shook himself free, walked away, and slammed the door behind him before his doubts could drag him back. He ran down the stairs of the apartment building, trying to tune out the wails and sobs coming from behind the wall, and not to mention, from his own mouth. He waited until he entered a dark, abandoned alley a few blocks away to completely break down into tears.
It's for the best, he kept telling himself, it's for the best.
"Well Ivan, here's the baby," Natalia said matter-of-factly, dumping their daughter into her husband's arms like a pile of groceries, "I'm due for the meeting in half an hour, and I expect a warm dinner when I come back." Those beautiful eyes of hers narrowed with authority.
"Yeah, sure..."
She grabbed her car keys, threw on her coat, and slammed the door shut in the blink of an eye.
This was Ivan Braginsky's perfect married life.
Ivan sighed, and dragged his feet to the sofa and plopped down upon it, the impact making little Anna hiccup a bit of her lunch.
Ivan looked down at her. Such a small, fragile life form, entrusted in his own clumsy hands. It could move, it could breathe...
He wondered if she ever grew up, whether she would become as stricken and torn by life as he had. Ivan was still so young, but his shoulders were already laden with regret, and his ears rang, every hour of the day, reminding him of the many apologies he should have said, but never did.
When she grew up, Ivan was going to tell Anna that if she ever found something that she wanted, she better go after it with all her soul and mind. She wasn't going to give up just because she had the whole world pitched against her. Or else, Anna was going to be spending the rest of her time on Earth wallowing in what could have been.
After another sleepless night, Ivan finally dragged his way back up to Yao's doorstep the next morning. It wasn't right what he did yesterday. He should not have made Yao cry and then kick him away like that. Even if they weren't getting back together, Ivan felt he owed him an apology at least.
He knocked on the door, but there was no answer, though he could hear faint footsteps and papers rustling. He cursed to himself and swung the door open, knowing that Yao never locked it anyways.
"Yao! I know you heard me knock—"
"He's not here anymore." Roma answered calmly, turning away from the window to face the other man.
"What do you mean he's not here anymore?!" Ivan roared. There was no point in being polite, Roma already knew Ivan wasn't too fond of him.
"Well Yao called me yesterday to say goodbye, because he was leaving this town for good. He found a job on the East Coast, since there was nothing worth him staying here anymore."
All blood drained from Ivan's face, and his vision went white. His knees buckled, and he quickly found rest upon the nearby sofa.
"He's gone..." Ivan repeated slowly to himself, and at the same time, trying to soak in exactly what those words meant. "Well, then he's probably at the train station right now, getting ready... Yeah, okay, I'll go right now to get him!" Ivan said quickly and stood up, about to sprint to the door.
"Get back here Ivan, there's no point now. Even if you got Yao to stay, you don't deserve him anyways..."
Ivan shot his head back.
"You want to say that again?" He growled, walking up to Roma's face. He tried to shove the other man in the shoulder, but he didn't budge an inch. Roma was tougher than he thought.
"You don't deserve him," He repeated, more slowly this time, only centimetres away from Ivan, "All he did for you was give, give, and give, but you didn't care. Yao's too good for this town, Ivan, and sure as hell too good for you!"
Ivan already had his fist scrunched in his coat pocket, his wrist shaking with eagerness. But, his mind said no. There was really no point anymore. Roma's words wouldn't become any less true, even if Ivan smashed his skull to bits.
He turned and walked out the door, down the stairs, out onto the street, and back to his own apartment. Ivan took his key out of his pocket, opened the door, and gave a curt nod to his wife, who was sitting on the couch examining her freshly painted nails.
"I recognize that walk of shame from miles away, Vanya. Welcome back."
She laughed at her words, and a victorious grin spread across her lips. "The company's having a business meeting tomorrow evening, and a lot of important will be there. I bought you a new tuxedo, and it's on the bed. Don't embarrass me this time, okay?"
Ivan grunted in agreement. Was this really what he had become, his wife's mere escort?
He walked over to the fridge to get a new bottle of vodka. He snapped the neck in half by hitting it against the table, tossed his head back, and let a fair portion of the clear liquid tumble into his mouth. It should have burned going down his throat, but he felt nothing. It tasted like water now.
Intentionally ignoring Natalia's furious glare, Ivan marched to the bathroom with his drink and locked the door. His back fell against the wall, and his knees loosened, letting himself slide until he hit the cold floor tiles. Finally, he was alone, except for the only friend he ever needed in the world, from which he took another gulp.
He spent the rest of the night there, ignoring Natalia's door pounding and screeching commands for him to "get over himself." Finally, when he could hear no more, Ivan swung and slapped his wife across the face, which, easily enough, made her scurry back into the kitchen.
"You think that whore loved you?! Even if you cry until your eyeballs fall out, Yao's still not going to come back! Ever!"
But Natalia was wrong. Yao's still here, Ivan could see him. The more he drank, the clearer his vision became. His face, his hair, his smile... But as Ivan reached his hand to touch him to caress those dear cheeks once more, he could grasp was cold, damp air.
He was running a never-ending race, and Yao, his sweet Yao was calling out for him. But, the fading illusion of his presence seemed to always be a galaxy and millennium away.
What was he saying?
"I hate you, Ivan! You pitiful, lying bastard!"
Ivan's heart would be breaking, if only he had one.
"No, Ivan, I don't regret anything, and if I were to be in your place today, I'd die happy."
Ivan could only smile at the subtle insult. He didn't mind, Yao was just taking another jab at this dying man, who deserved it to begin with.
Instead, he thought back to what he remembered to be the happiest time in his life. It felt almost like a lifetime ago when he was in Manchuria, with its bitter winters, pitch-black lakes, and grey, wistful skies.
For Ivan, the closest he had ever been to heaven was sitting at the edge of one of the many jutted stone cliffs after a morning hike, feeling the clouds and pine-scented mountain air enthrall him. He'd reach over, and Yao's hand would be within reach. Yes, his fingers would be calloused and bruised to the bone from all the gruesome training. But at least they were real...
Being a soldier was all Ivan had ever been good at. He was given orders on who to annihilate, and he did so, effortlessly. But the rest of his life had left Ivan confused, without a shotgun in his arms and a target before his eyes. Perhaps, for all this time, his greatest enemy was himself.
"Ivan, am I a fool? My greatest wish is that in another life, I would be reborn as a beautiful woman in a white wedding gown, so that you can't help but fall in love and spend the rest of eternity with me. Really stupid, isn't it?"
Yao was the only person in the room who started giggling, but not before wiping a tear from his face.
Ivan smiled wearily. "No, you're not stupid Yao, because I'll be waiting for my bride on the banks of the Amur until she comes," he said, and planted a shaky kiss on the back of Yao's hand.
Ivan's sight had begun to dim, the white walls of the hospital room, the equipment, the large open window, were all melding into one spinning blur. He knew that his time was about to come, and he fought no more. He had lived a long, wasteful life in this world. Though, if the angels above gave him another chance, he would still take it, if it meant that Yao would be there waiting for him.
"Y-Yao, how come after all these years, you still look as flawless as you did when when we first met?"
Yao shook his head and laughed. "I have grown old too, Ivan. See? I have wrinkles under my eyes, and my hair's gone grey..."
"No!" He said firmly, the effort from which only made him cough out more blood, "M-My Y-Yao still looks like how I remembered him to be. Now you tell me, why is that?!"
Time was running out, and he wanted answers.
The other man sighed, and looked out the window. The sun was finally setting, after a long, long day.
"Well, I suppose it's because the happiest I had ever been in my life was when I was you, Ivan, and I never let myself take a step beyond that point in time... I wanted my soul, heart and mind to preserve that moment perfectly. Anything is possible, Ivan, if you wish hard enough, or that's what I think at least."
"So if I did the same, right here, right now, would time stand still for me too?"
Yao smiled. "Maybe."
To Ivan, it was good enough. Taking his last breath, he pulled Yao in for a kiss, and left the rest in good faith.
Fin.
There we go, I'm finished. I was crying my heart out as I was writing that last bit.
I'm a little stuck as to what I should work on next. Maybe start on another series, or continue writing one-shots? I don't really know... But anyways, please review! It's your last chance to tell me your feels.
Why is this story called, "Genevieve, I beseech thee."?
At first, the two main protagonists in the story go about the many challenges and hardships in their lives, while thinking that they can somehow make it right by their own hands. They are successful in the beginning of the story, having survived the training and fought their battles all by themselves. But as the years passed and life went on, they find that they can no longer handle everything being thrown at them. In a way, Ivan kind of dug his own grave because he is unable to get over childhood horrors to establish a loving relationship with Yao, and instead agrees to marry Natalia to help him forget. And, this bad choice leads to tragedy.
The main theme I wanted to depict in the story is how helpless people can be when faced with problems they clearly are not fit to handle. Ivan has spent his childhood in complete isolation except for his abusive father, and is continued to be cut away from the rest of the world when he joins the army. So, when he meets other people, he didn't really know how to interact with them in a healthy, socially conventional way. Soon, he is swirled into a whole whirlwind of drama and relationships that he doesn't know how to deal with, and everything goes downhill from there.
I think that given the circumstances (ie, Ivan's troubling past and his flawed character), the story would have had a happy ending if and only if there was divine intervention of some sort.
Hypothetically speaking, if Ivan possessed faith of some sort, he would have resorted to praying and beseeching for salvation in his darkest hours. Sadly, I didn't make the existence of the sublime a possibility in the story.
And last but not least, Genevieve was a fifth-sixth century Catholic patron saint from France who had a pretty name.
So yeah, these are my excuses for the story's weird title.