Again, this isn't sufficiently long and I'm sorry, but things have been hectic. The midterms went very well, so thanks for your support! I also have an oral exam in French tomorrow that I'm nervous for. And a paper in Philosophy due tomorrow that I should have been typing rather than this, but screw that.
It really warms me up to get your reviews, especially when I've had a hard day. Thank you so much for over 200 reviews! I could never have imagined my writings could be so popular and garner such loyal followers. Thank you!
Fortunately, I have 2 days of Fall break, and I'm going to use them to write, so if all goes well, you'll get a new chapter next week! Fingers crossed!
(Also, I got an AO3 account. Should I post this story on there too?)
In the past week, Ivan had been opening up more and more. It was slow at first, but when he realized that Alfred wouldn't mock or hurt him, he began to let things slip. It was a slow going, but he felt more comfortable, and the two had even had some conversations of mutual interest, and Alfred had wheedled Ivan into giving him some Russian lessons.
Their talks varied greatly, at times discussing shows or celebrities, at others, cultures and religions. They found that they both enjoyed much of the same music, and that Ivan himself played piano for many years, until he stopped for a reason he wouldn't elaborate. Alfred offered to help him get into it again, but Ivan merely glanced away, eyes distant, and the conversation ceased for a while.
"What language would you learn, if you could choose any?"
"Chinese."
Alfred blinked at the prompt reply.
"Why?"
"There is something I must say."
"Seriously, man. Nesting dolls are creepy! It's like the bigger ones ate the smaller ones and you have to cut them apart to get them out!"
"I now know what to get you for Christmas."
"Don't you dare."
A smile.
After a particularly painful night.
"Have you ever felt so alone that you thought it'd be better if you didn't exist?"
"Da, many times."
"What did you do to make it go away?"
Silence.
"Dude. I will not put on a dress. Ever. Ever. Again. Once was enough."
The Russian pouted, shoving the frilly abomination that was probably Natalya's attempt at seduction under a pillow.
"But you would look so good! You have the legs. Be more confident."
Alfred growled and threw a pillow at his face.
Alfred barely noticed when he began to look for reasons to stay longer. He didn't think much of it when he began to rush to his locker to put away his books as soon as classes were out. He didn't really compute that he kept an eye out for any more sunflowers in dumpsters.
He didn't realize that he was beginning to enjoy his time with Ivan.
And if Ivan noticed his behavior at all, he didn't say anything either.
"What is your father like?"
The question startled Ivan and he froze. Alfred's face was merely curious. He didn't know what he was truly asking.
What is Otets like? Big. Cold. Never smiles. Never laughs. Always in that room. Never pats his head or calls him 'Vanya' like he had once. He was once so kind and gentle, always warm and smiling and he would snuggle Ivan under his bushy beard and tickle him and kiss Mama's cheek and they would laugh. No more. That kind gentle man was gone, a cold and cruel one in his place.
But is he really cruel? Perhaps he's just sad. Just sad and lonely and wishing there was someone to hold him when the memories were too much and he wished it would all just end. End. END.
"He is like winter."
"And what about yours? Was he at all like you? Or, perhaps, were you like him?"
"Yeah." A bitter laugh. "I guess I am."
"Hey kiddo."
Alfred stopped trembling in favor of looking up at his Daddy. He was a big man, with bright eyes and a warm smile. His eyes crinkled up in the corners when he smiled and it made Alfred feel safe. Alfred buried his face once more in his chubby knees, trying not to cry. Daddy didn't like it when he cried.
"What happened to make my little man?" Alfred loved it when Daddy called him that. His man. It just showed how grown up he was. Whenever he cried, Daddy called him that name and he felt so ashamed for his tears. Only babies cry. Babies and Mattie. Those things need to be protected.
Which brought him to his current predicament.
"M-Mattie said he hates me!" Tiny teeth bit at the trembling lips in an attempt to cease the sobbing sounds wrenched from within. "I was only trying to help! Those boys were being mean to him and I only wanted to help him. But then he pushed me and said he h-hates me and I d-don't know what to do!"
Daddy patted his head. "Don't cry." Obediently, Alfred took gasping breaths to calm himself. "We men don't cry. Heroes don't cry. You want to be a hero don't you?" Teary eyes turned to him and the little boy nodded. "There then. No more tears. You have to always be happy for Matthew and Mommy. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Daddy." The boy whispered, wiping his eyes on a dirty sleeve.
"Now, you know Mattie didn't mean what he said. He was just angry that you interfered. I'm sure if you go to him now, he'll be happy to play with you again. Would you like me to come with you?"
The boy searched his father's face, then rose with determination. "I can do it myself."
His father smiled with pride and he knew he'd made the right choice. A large hand ruffled his hair.
"That's my little man."
His heart swelled and he laughed.
But somewhere inside he cried.
I know it's short and kinda filler-y, but I really loved this chapter for some reason. It's mournful. Probably because I was listening to Duduk music, which is possibly the most beautiful in the world.
Have a wonderful rest of your week and enjoy the fall weather! Fall in Michigan is so glorious it's brought me close to tears on many instances. To be able to live in a world so exquisite and yet know that this isn't even the best that can be is so humbling.
I have broken into song on many occasions due to overwhelming emotion and joy.
8i8
~sparklybutterfly42
