Author's Note: I'll keep it short and sweet this Thursday: I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Ivan particularly liked the song. He had heard it quite a few times before, but he knew that the girl found it fairly odd that he knew it at all. It's so fun to confuse people, he smiled slightly at her puzzled look. He would toy with her for a while, if only to pass the time.
"H.. How do you know that song?" She had reacted exactly as he assumed she would. He feigned deep thought for a moment before replying.
"I learned it just now, with you," he said as plainly as he could, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. She didn't look convinced, however.
"No, really? I've known that song for forever, it's French, did you know that?" He could see her intently studying his face for any trace of a lie. He reflected a look upon his face as if the fact was news to him.
"I had no idea." She grumbled a noise of frustration and began to paw at her sweater sleeve ends with her small fingers.
"Of course you did! You were humming it right along with me!" She had raised her voice moderately. "Quit playing around, I just want to know how you know it. That's all."
"But, Maddie," he started, stressing the name, "I do not know the song, honest. One does not need to know the words in order to hum a tune along with someone." He let a menacing smile creep its way across his mouth as she became more and more frustrated with him.
"Mon Dieu," she sighed. She looked as though she were extremely tired of talking to an unresponsive child, which Ivan was pleased to play the role of. "I know you're lying." At that point, he decided to further his fun. He got up from the couch as fast as his body would allow, and in a second he was above her.
"I wish you would stop accusing me of lying," he purred, settling one of his large hands on the back of the couch beside her head. "It does not sit well with my conscience." For a moment, she looked starstruck, almost like one of those old propaganda posters from history class depicting the victorious aggressors and the fallen and bewildered victims. She was like one of the victims, in fact, he was pretty sure he had seen a face exactly like that on a poster before. After the initial shock wore off, she began to stutter through yet another apology.
"I-I'm r-really sorry.. I-Ivan.." She shifted away from his hand. "I-I didn't m-mean to o-offend you.. honest!" He moved closer to her again, but frowned. Somehow, seeing her frightened was not as exciting to him as he had anticipated. Something about her watering violet eyes didn't sit well with his conscience, and that was the truth. She sat silently, most likely waiting for him to either accept her withered apology or to ream her for apologizing yet again. He did neither.
Instead, he just sat back down on the couch, lifted his feet up onto the coffee table and let out an exasperated sigh. She probably assumed that he was going to tell her to not apologize again, but she didn't know that the reason that he was frustrated was not because of what she had said, but because of his own mixed emotions at toying with her. Complete silence enveloped the room for a long moment, during which Ivan was experiencing an intense amount of inner turmoil. Should I or shouldn't I? He decided the only way to clear himself was to go for it.
"Listen," he sighed. He saw her retract herself instinctively, and rolled his eyes. "I apologize. I was kidding, and I do actually know the song." Again all was silent, and she sat with her eyes wide. His conscience felt cleared, but even so, he regretted having to apologize. He didn't like the feeling of regret much either. He turned his eyes to her once more to observe her actions.
"I knew it," she exclaimed. She did not show any semblance of fear anymore. "So?" She seemed back to her normal self.
So, what? He wasn't sure what she meant. She changes both topics and moods so easily..
"Hmm? What are you getting on about?" He really had no idea this time.
"So... how do you know the song then?" Once again, she was pestering him about his knowledge of the song. He also began to regret ever having hummed it along with the girl, which was a feeling he still disliked.
"Oh, that," he sighed and supposed he should tell her, otherwise she might never let it go. "A rather famous Russian figure skater used it in his program at one point."
"Oh, is that all?" Obviously, she was expecting something more exciting. Ivan frowned slightly at her apathy. Figure Skating was a very prominent sport in Russia, after all!
"I'll have you know that it was a very beautiful piece," he stated thickly. She started to giggle, which deepened his frown even further. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what she found so funny that she felt the need to laugh at his answer. He was even being honest, this time. "What are you laughing at, exactly?"
She held her composure for a second to speak. "I never thought you, tough, strong, intimidating Ivan, would be one to watch figure skating." Following her answer, she fell to softened snickers behind the shield of her hands as he watched her, unamused.
"Well, what were you expecting me to watch, monster truck rallies?" He picked the most testosterone-filled programming for TV that he could think of. It wasn't something he was too interested in, though. He would much rather be outside enjoying the sun rather than sitting like a lifeless zombie with eyes glued to the television. It would be much more amusing to him to see that sort of thing in real life, not through a TV screen. Maddie jumped in eagerness at his question.
"I was hoping hockey." He found her answer quite perplexing, if he was to be perfectly honest. Though he realized that most Canadians were rather fond of hockey, he didn't expect it from her. She was soft-spoken and polite and insufferably apologetic. He couldn't begin to imagine what she was like when watching hockey. Of course, he realized he was being rather presumptuous - maybe she just expected that he would like hockey, though her eagerness was enough of an answer for him.
"I enjoy hockey as well as figure skating," he stated plainly. "Both are popular in Russia." When he confirmed that he did indeed enjoy the game, the girl's eyes brightened with a sort of fervor he had not seen before. It seemed as though he was correct in assuming her fondness for the sport as well.
"Really? I love it! I just can't get enough of it, the skills, the pace, even the fights are great!" This both amused and startled him. It was amusing because he, too rather enjoyed the brawls that sometimes occurred in professional hockey games. It was startling because, for such a soft-spoken girl to like hockey fights seemingly as much as he did, well, that was something very rare to find.
"So, you enjoy violence as a form of entertainment?" He brought his feet off the table and leaned forward in interest. A pleased look was on his face, his eyebrows arched and a one-sided smirk tugged at his lips. As he watched her, her face transformed from ecstatic to one of denial. She hadn't realized what she had admitted when she said she enjoyed hockey fights.
"Uh.. well not exactly, you know?" She was obviously trying very hard to explain away her sadistic tendencies. "I mean.. I'm not a freak that enjoys seeing people in pain or anything.. but in hockey, the fights are just so exhilarating. You know the players have so much pent up emotion and stuff. I don't know.. I just like it is all." He still looked at her expectantly, urging to get her to say more. In the end, she lamely added "Until someone gets hurt."
"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of the fight to begin with?" he asked incredulously. Certainly, one can't expect a fight to result in no injuries.
"It's more the energy I guess," she shrugged. He studied her for a moment before sighing and shaking his head.
She makes no sense. Once again, he leaned and stretched backwards slightly. Maddie excused herself to the washroom and left him alone in the silence.
He guessed that it was about one or one-thirty in the afternoon. He didn't have a watch, and none of the clocks in the room were working. He glanced out the window to see if the snow had stopped falling yet, and cringed when he realized that it was falling harder than it had been an hour ago. He turned away from it in slight disgust, as he really didn't want to see something so horrible for more than a few seconds. He truly missed the sun.
What he wanted more than ever, at that moment, was to be outside with a slight summer breeze rippling at his clothes. Not so much that it would bother him and flap the fabric around incessantly, but just enough to sweep over his skin. The sun would be filtering through the canopy of trees high above, warming the ground just enough to make it comfortable. For an early summer's day, it would be decidedly warm. He would take a deep breath of fresh, crisp air, with the delightful scent of flowers present, and he would sigh in content. The birds would be chirping and singing from their perches in the treetops, just as happy as he. Nothing would disturb him and his happiness, not anything or anybody.
Well, maybe nothing except a string of curses consisting of both the English and French languages. The sudden disturbance caused him to snap his eyes open and lose the content feeling he had gotten from the vivid daydream. Instead of in the serene forest, he was back in the cramped, stuffy resort room, with a cursing girl who was in obvious pain.
He watched, dumbfounded, as she hopped on one foot towards the couch - which happened to be a very amusing sight. A slight smile slithered across his mouth as she rounded the corner and awkwardly flung herself upon the seat closest to the end. He had to adjust himself farther sideways to allow her room to settle upon the sofa. He had no idea why she was in so much pain, but from the way she was holding her foot between her hands, he was correct in assuming that was where it originated from.
At some point during their conversation, she had removed her shoes from her feet - which he guessed were resting beneath the table - and so when she had gone to the washroom, she had only socks on her feet. He watched as she carefully pulled the split, darkened fabric apart; It was stained red. Apparently, there was a nice, thick slice to the sole of her right foot, right below the middle toe. Normally, he would find the fact very amusing - especially with the amount of pain she was reflecting on her face. However, once he realized how she had acquired the injury, he could find no enjoyment in the sight. It was his fault that he hadn't properly cleaned the pieces of the cup he had broken the night before.
He watched, wide-eyed, as she gently poked at the tender skin and she winced when the pain must have washed over her.
"If it hurts, don't prod at it," he advised. She shook her head in defiance.
"I have to see if there is any glass in there - I'm pretty sure that's what I stepped on," she replied, and continued to poke through the pain. He didn't like the feeling of guilt much either.
"Are you sure you won't need stitches or something?" He wasn't sure if she even could get stitches, as they were trapped in the lodge and all.
Another poke, and accompanying wince. "I think I might, it feels pretty deep." He shuddered at the thought, and was glad that he had been wearing boots the previous day, because with the amount of glass there had been then, he most likely would have needed a tetanus shot. Her injury was only a surface cut and wouldn't require such extremities - plus the glass had been clean.
"Do you think you even can get stitches, I mean, is there someone that could do it?" He really wondered if there was or not.
"The doctor from yesterday probably. Long shot, but do you have any peroxide to clean this with?" He shook his head no but got up to fetch a wet cloth anyway.
"Here," he handed it to her and sat back down. He was intrigued by her apparent ability to withstand so much pain and still think clearly enough to tend to her wounds. She dabbed at the cut carefully, then when she had wiped away as much of the blood as she could, began to unwrap the bandages from her hand. He watched in complete silence as she re-wrapped the long bandage around her foot to halt the bleeding, then stretched the stained sock back over her foot. She stood up and was a bit wobbly on her one foot, but steadied herself with a hand on the back of the sofa.
"I'm going to find the doctor to see if he can stitch this." She hobbled awkwardly over towards the door, obviously trying to avoid putting pressure on her injured foot. "Umm.. thanks for letting me stay here for a while." She left the room rather noisily, almost falling over as she closed the door. From the hallway, he could hear the heavy hops of her one foot as she mover farther and farther away.
She sure is determined. He felt the tiniest bit guilty for causing her injury, but she seemed fine enough to find the doctor and to take care of it on her own. Besides, he was no doctor, so there was nothing he could do to help her, even though he had caused her pain. At least, that's what he thought. All at once, he heard a fairly loud thud, then the familiar string of curses. He didn't even have to get up and look out the door to know what had happened. She had fallen down as she was hopping towards the stairwell.
Obviously, she wouldn't be able to make it down the stairs by herself anyways. He waited several seconds for a sound of movement, then rolled his eyes when he heard none. He rose from his seat, stretched, then made his way towards the door. As quietly as he could, he opened it and stepped outside.
He was right, she had fallen right in front of the stairwell, and was blocking it in the event that anyone wanted to get upstairs. She was trying to pull herself back to her feet (or, he guessed, foot) by bracing herself against the wall. The sight was mildly pathetic, if he was to be perfectly honest. She was determined to do it on her own. With that fact in mind, he decided upon something brash.
He walked briskly over to her as she struggled to pull herself up. For about the tenth time since he had been in the hallway, she fell back to her butt on the floor. With a smirk, he crouched with his back to her and positioned his hands beneath her armpits. Despite her protests, he pulled her up on his back and stood upright once more. She was heavier than he had expected, but still fairly light. He supposed that maybe she had hidden muscle somewhere beneath her baggy clothes.
"Hey, stop," she yelled. "I can do this on my own!" He ignored her, brought his arms beneath her legs to keep her from jumping off, and started to descend down the stairs
As she beat her hands furiously upon his back, (which he guessed must have hurt her exposed frost-bitten hand, because she promptly stopped,) he contemplated dropping her, but didn't. He knew that that was what she wanted - to be left to find the doctor on her own - and it made him want to help her that much more, as it would bother her. If he couldn't find enjoyment in frightening her, he would have fun annoying her.
So, he continued down the stairs, with an irate Maddie perched upon his back like a wounded soldier. He moved faster now, taking them two at a time just for the fun of it. Around the corners, he would turn sharply, causing her to shift off to one side and emit sounds of shock. At some point, she had wrapped her arms around his neck to steady her body and keep herself from falling off his back. He was having too much fun.
A deep, hearty laugh echoed through his throat, and he was sure that the vibrations must have tickled her arms, because she retracted them and settled her wrists in the dip between his shoulder blades. He guessed that she figured it was safe to do so, as they had reached to bottom of the stairs - which meant no more sharp corners.
"C-Can I get down now?" Her weak voice was right behind his ears, but he could still barely hear it. He decided to play dumb.
"Sorry, I didn't hear you. Could you speak up?" He let a smug smile that she could not see spread across his lips.
"I said, "Can I get down now?" if you don't mind." Her voice was louder this time. He crouched down slightly, then:
"Certainly," he dropped her on her backside, though he made a note to keep hold of her right foot a bit longer than the rest of her body so it would not hit the ground as hard. Still, she let out a cry of surprise. He spun to face her with a chuckle, and watched as she slowly crawled to her knees and pulled herself up by her uninjured leg.
"What did you do that for?" she asked, rubbing her lower back with both hands. It was most likely sore from her multiple falls. He put on the most innocent face he could muster.
"You asked to be let down, and I obliged. I was doing you a favour." She looked unimpressed and he decided that bothering her was much more fun than seeing her hurt - she took pain too easily for there to be much enjoyment for him.
"W-Well, I didn't really ask you to help, now did I? I think I can t-take care of myself now." The statement itself was assertive, but the way she stuttered through it left its entire effect rather lacklustre. He hummed lazily and turned to leave her to her own accord. If she really wanted to limp down the hall by herself, he would let her do so. He had better things to do anyway.
"Hey," she called to him as he left. He looked over in her direction, and she was fiddling with the sleeves of her sweater again. Probably a nervous habit, he thought. He watched her expectantly until she at last decided to speak. "Thanks," she muttered weakly. He tipped his head the slightest bit in recognition, and climbed back into the stairwell without a word. He could hear her heavy hobbling steps grow fainter as he climbed higher back towards the second floor. When he reached to top, he re-entered his room and reveled in the complete silence it held.
He supposed he should check the ground for stray pieces of glass, in case any were still strewn about, or at least to find the one shard he knew was there. He found it half-way between the bathroom and the couch, right about where she had started to swear. It hadn't gone anywhere, though he wasn't sure why he had expected that it would have. Carefully, he picked up the stained shard between his thumb and forefinger, minding to not touch the drying blood. He gingerly placed it in the kitchen sink and turned the water on hot. For some reason or another, he decided to cleanse the jagged surface of the girl's blood instead of just throwing it away. As he worked, he hummed a familiar tune mindlessly.
The red liquid that had begun to crust onto the clear and solid surface was easily wiped away. The fractured piece had come from a drinking glass, but it could no longer be considered the glass by itself. It was merely a piece of the whole - not enough on its own to be considered the shattered skeleton, and too much to be counted as only an unidentifiable shard. It was stuck somewhere in-between, destined to stay as only one fracture of one hundred. He thumbed at an edge, testing its sharpness. It was not sharp enough to break the top layer of skin on the pad of his thumb, but then again, his fingers were rather calloused, more so than anyone else he knew. Nothing would easily break through his skin.
He found that something had easily broken in to his mind, though. He was humming the same song from earlier. With a scowl, he stopped himself and shut off the water. As he set the thick piece of broken cup next to the sink, the door swung open to allow his two sisters to enter mid-conversation. He wiped his hands on his pant legs to dry them, and Katyusha greeted him happily.
"Hello, Vanya! How is your day going?" She wore a bright - almost blinding - smile on her face. It was not that his day was going poorly, but nothing all too interesting had happened, not unless you could count witnessing a fight between siblings and a two-inch long slice to the bottom of someones foot. He didn't, so he just shrugged. Behind her, Natalya sat placidly on the couch, shifting her gaze around the area. Apparently, she sensed that something was amiss.
"Why are there shoes beneath our coffee table?" She looked back to him vaguely. His mind flashed the image of a sock-footed strawberry blonde limping around the lounge in search of a doctor, and he grunted passively. She obviously had forgotten to take her shoes when she had hopped out.
He heaved a deep sigh, then replied, "They are Madeline's shoes." Both of his sisters looked mildly shocked, though each in a different way. Katyusha looked pleasantly surprised, while Natalya's shock bore the resemblance of slight distaste.
"Why are her shoes here?" His older sister moved closer to him and into the kitchen area. She settled her hand high upon his shoulder and he watched her apprehensively.
"She was presumably hiding from her brother," he answered and shifted out of her grasp. At his words, Natalya began to laugh behind her hands.
"Hiding from her brother?" She echoed him and continued to snicker. He didn't know why she found it so funny - there were plenty of times when he hid himself from them, though he would always deny it when either had asked.
"Oh, I see." Katyusha nodded knowingly. "I heard about their little spat." Gossip always seemed to travel fast in small environments. "But, where did she go and why did she leave her shoes?"
"She left to seek the doctor from last night's help with a medical matter." He didn't think that they needed to know exactly which medical matter he was referring to. By then, Natalya had relented her laughter in favour of intent listening.
"So she is having her hand re-wrapped?" Ivan thought for a moment, remembering the sight of Maddie unwrapping the bandage from her hand to stop the bleeding from her cut.
"I suppose so," he said, making himself sound rather uninterested with the matter.
"But, that doesn't answer why her shoes are still here." Natalya's low voice jumped in to the conversation. Ivan had to stop himself from letting out an exasperated sigh. They both had so many questions that he did not particularly feel like answering.
"Oh yes, that," he hummed. "Well, I suppose she did not want to stain them with blood." He kept his tone free of inflection, which suggested that there was nothing unusual about the bleeding of ones foot. Nevertheless, his older sister's eyes went wide and a smirk snaked its way on to the younger girl's face.
"Her foot was bleeding!" His sister exclaimed this with pronounced worry in her eyes. "Why?"
Ivan shrugged, "It seems as though she stepped on.." he moved back towards the sink and picked up the thick shard, "this stray piece of glass that I neglected to clean up earlier, as I did with the rest of the broken cup." He presented it in front of her wide blue eyes.
"So.. she is walking around with a nasty gash in the bottom of her foot?"
"No," he shook his head simply. "I told you she was with the doctor." She continued to look at him expectantly. "He is most likely stitching the cut for her right now," he finished.
"Why did you not stay with her?" she asked incredulously, as though it were the most obvious course of action, the one that he should have taken.
"She looked as though she could handle it on her own." He still kept his voice uniform, and Katyusha looked more worried than she had before. She uttered a near silent "oh my god" and left the room to - he assumed (and would later find his assumption to be correct) - try and locate the injured girl. From the couch, Natalya was maliciously kicking at a rather worn pair of sneakers.
Really, it's not like she split her entire foot open. He shuddered at the thought and returned to absently thumbing at the edges of the thick glass shard.
If anyone is wondering about that book I described from last chapter, it actually does exist, as well as the song that was mentioned.
Leave a review if you enjoyed it this week, or even if you didn't, because I'd love to hear from you all!