Ivan didn't realize what 'morning meant to Yao'

Yao knocked on Ivan's door just after eighth in the morning. Bleary-eyed and confused, with a nasty case of bedhead, Ivan stumbled to the door in nothing but sweatpants.

"Hm?" he said, opening the door about an inch and squinting through the crack.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty. Let me in. Why are you still in pajamas?"

"What?" Ivan asked intelligently.

"Were you sleeping?"

Ivan closed the door after Yao pushed his way in and locked it. "Yes? What time is it?"

"Like eight?"

"How are you even awake. It's before ten AM I'm pretty sure this is illegal."

"I've been awake for an hour and a half."

Ivan stared at him blankly.

"No, I'm going back to bed. I never get up before ten and I'm not starting now."

"What! You can't sleep for two more hours! I'm here!"

Ivan shook his head. "I'm sleeping at least two more hours."

Then I'll just... make breakfast."

"No. You came here really early, so you.. you get to come sleep with me."

"Sleep with you?" Yao asked, raising his brow.

"Wait, no I mean-"

Yao laughed it off. "calm down, you. I know what you mean. Do I have to? I came to talk, not cuddle, you baby."

Ivan pulled a face.

"it is too early." He turned toward his bedroom.

Yao sighed and took his jacket off before following. I van was already curling back up in his sheets. Yao wedged himself in with him, fitting himself into Ivan's arms.

Yao, of course, wasn't tired, instead staring around Ivan's bedroom. He hadn't really looked around it before. There wasn't much to observe.

Like the rest of the apartment, there was almost no furniture, except a drawer in the corner. There was one picture frame on the top of it. The details were hard to make out from the bed, but Yao thought he saw three, smiling small children.

Ivan, who was unconscious by now, pulled Yao to himself, humming. Yao found h8imself pressed to Ivan's chest, and Ivan's arms were loosely wrapped around his neck.

Yao felt uncomfortably close at first, but once Ivan nuzzled closer, rubbing his cheek against Yao's hair (and Yao found a position where he could actually breathe), Yao smiled and let it happen.

How had Ivan fallen asleep so quickly? He must've been exhausted.

Ivan's chest was warm on Yao's cheek, swelling with every deep, even breath Ivan took. Carefully, Yao placed his hand on Ivan's side.

Yao didn't realize when it happened, but before long he had been lulled asleep. He awoke with a start, his face nestled in the crook of Ivan's neck. Ivan's arm had moved from around his neck to his back, one hand pressed open-palmed against his lower back.

The sun was shining through the window with force, and Yao knew he should get up, wake Ivan up, and get on with what he'd come to do, but he was so content to just lie there a little while longer. He felt guilty, lying around in the middle of the day.

As Yao lay there, Ivan shifted, humming sleepily as he woke.

Yao grinned and was relieved- he didn't have to lay there much longer. HE adjusted so he could look at Ivan. "Morning, darling. Can we get up?"

Ivan still looked tired, but he yawned and nodded, before grabbing Yao around the waist as Yao moved to sit up.

"Five more minutes."

Yao scoffed. "You are such a child, Ivan! Let go of me. What time is it, now?"

Ivan looked at the alarm clock (that Yao had apparently not seen), "Almost eleven thirty."

"What! Aren't you hungry?"

Ivan shrugged. "I'll make myself an omelet or something."

Yao sighed. "Fine. I'll make them. Are you going to shower?"

"Yeah, probably. I'll do that now, to wake myself up. Is that okay?"

Yao shrugged. "Sure. Hey, by the way, I've decided to tell you about Lars today. That's why I'm here. But on one condition."

"Oh? What condition?"

"You tell me about your scars, first."

Ivan raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know..."

"Oh, come on. I tell a story, you tell a story. It's equal that way."

Ivan sighed, shook his head, and stood. He didn't say any more as he grabbed his towel and went to the bathroom.

Yao went about making breakfast as Ivan showered. He had known that Ivan wouldn't like his idea, but that's just tough. If he wanted to know something, Yao wanted to know something too.

Yao was nervous about telling Ivan about Lars. How detailed should he make his account? He couldn't imagine the story causing any rifts between him and Ivan- it was that controversial, really- but he felt awkward talking about it, especially with how Ivan was about anything personal or sexual or homosexual, for that matter.

Yao dug around the fridge to find cheese and meat for a moment.

Ivan's shower was quick- and when he came out, his hair was wet and he had nothing but a towel. He drearily dragged himself to his bedroom to get dressed.

Holy shit he's hot, Yao thought, trying to focus on not burning the egg.

Now was not the time to be thinking of that at all, Yao chided himself, because they were about to have a serious conversation. He cannot let himself be distracted.

Ivan came out in a button down shirt and jeans a moment later. It looked nice and all, but Yao couldn't help thinking he'd much rather see the shirt unbuttoned. Or on the floor.

Ivan ate his omelet quickly, and complimented it when he finished.

"So about Lars..." Ivan continued.

"No, no, you get to share first. Tell me about your scars."

Ivan rolled his eyes. "You're seriously going to twist my arm into telling you?"

Yao nodded happily.

Ivan reluctantly nodded. "I guess you'd make me tell you eventually, huh?"

Yao nodded again.

"We could go sit on the bed, if that's better." Yao was already moving toward the bedroom door, and Ivan followed. Yao jumped onto the bed and scooted back to lean against the wall. He patted his thigh. "Put your head here."

"I'll fall asleep again," Ivan whined, but laid across the bed to do as Yao said anyway.

Ivan laid his head down and let it fall back and to the side, simultaneously letting Yao see his scars and letting himself avoid eye contact with Yao.

"So you remember my mother died when I was thirteen, right?" Ivan paused, not really waiting for an answer but not ready to continue. He didn't know where to start, and Yao could tell. "These scars are from when I was fourteen or fifteen, I can't really remember. Yekaterina was sort of depressed after... you know. Little Natalya- she was nine when Mama died- she didn't talk to nearly anyone, except sometimes she'd whisper little things in my ear. It was a really bad time. My father's family was gone, and my mother's family ignored our existence. We had no one to turn to."

Ivan paused again. He was dancing around the subject on purpose, Yao knew, but he didn't press. Yao wove his hand through his hair soothingly.

"I... I don't know why I started doing this, but I would go into the bathroom and lock the door and watch myself in the mirror and cut. I don't even know why, honestly. In retrospect, it's really stupid. I had to see my mother die and was thinking just how easily it happened, you know? Like, just how easily could my hand have slipped and I killed myself? None of my extended family would ever have known."

Yao felt sick hearing this from Ivan.

Ivan took a moment to breath. His jaw was clenched and Yao was still as he collected himself.

"Is that what you wanted to know?" Ivan sniped softly.

"Why did you stop?" Yao asked before thinking. He cringed.

Ivan glanced at Yao's face.

"Well, um. I guess the reason why I did this in the first place was, if you put so much effort into something and it could be gone so easily, what was the point? I would slice a little cut and watch little drops of blood form," Ivan explained, staring at the wall. Yao grimaced at the description. "Natalya saw one day, when I had forgotten to lock the door. She didn't tell Yekaterina, but she came and sat next to me and looked at me and whispered in my ear 'what are you doing?' She was eleven. I couldn't tell her. She was concerned and I felt so guilty and I realized it wasn't pointless because she didn't think it was and I had to make sure she never thought like I did."

Yao nodded, even though Ivan wasn't looking at him. He didn't want to ask any more questions, but...

"Did Yekaterina never find out?"

"Oh, she did. That's why she always makes me scarves and turtle neck sweaters."

"Oh." Apparently Yao wasn't going to hear that story.

Ivan laid there, head on Yao's lap for several moments longer, staring at the wall opposite them. Yao expected him to perk up eventually and demand Yao's story, but he didn't, so Yao started.

"Um, so I suppose it's my turn."

Ivan looked at Yao like he was just waking up again, and nodded.

"Okay, well, I met Lars when I was in culinary school. I had a project with Bella- Bella was in some of my classes and we got along well. I was in her dorm room when Lars came to visit her and, well..." Yao hadn't decided how detailed to get yet. "I had just broken up with my first boyfriend, so we exchanged numbers and hooked up."

"What exactly do 'hooked up' mean in this context, Yao?"

Yao turned pink and glared at Ivan. He'd noticed Yao's purposefully vague wording.

"I think you know what it means. So it was like we were dating.. but not really. You said in retrospect that your story sounded pointless? Same here. I spent nights at his place a lot and missed classes and fell behind in school and it really just wasn't good. I started... smoking cigarettes. It really wasn't good. And then he kind of just... left. We never had any dates or any nights out, and that should've been a big red sign, until that last night. I said we should go out to dinner and we did but he was so distant and at the end he paid for the meal- which I did think was strange- and he said he was leaving. As in, moving a thousand miles away. And he was leaving me. I asked him what it meant and he said that we were over. I don't know. I thought I really liked him. I got attached- too attached, probably. When he left, I was a mess. A train wreck. He left me because he had a disagreement with his sister, like I didn't even matter to him at all.

"It just hurt, you know? We weren't dating, apparently- just fuck buddies, I suppose. I felt used and useless and it sort of ruined my life. We'd been 'together' for like six months, and he dropped me like it was nothing. He didn't think it was a big deal; what had he said? Something like 'it wasn't like I'm into commitment, you didn't know that? I'm too young to be tied down.'"

Yao laughed coldly, but didn't continue. He didn't want to get more detailed, and if he kept rambling on, Ivan would let himself walk himself over a metaphorical cliff with details. He was already getting worked up talking about it, and was trying to keep it out of his voice as he spoke.

"Do you understand that? Do I need to explain it differently?" Yao asked when Ivan didn't say anything.

Ivan shook his head. "No, I understand. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Yao could tell that Ivan didn't grasp the scope of just how bad Yao's life had gotten after Lars, but he didn't want to spell it out. It would just be embarrassing to admit that the low that Lars caused for Yao was why he lived with his younger brother, and why he didn't finish school, and why he couldn't stand to walk by someone with a cigarette.

But maybe compared to Ivan's story, it really wasn't that bad.

"Arthur said Lars wanted to talk to you. I think you should go and hear him out. It's been years since then, right? Maybe it would give you some kind of conclusion."

"What! Not you too, now, Ivan!"

Ivan furrowed his brow. "He said Lars explained everything to Arthur, and Arthur still wants you to talk to him. Do you think Arthur would try to get you to talk to him- who Arthur knows messed you up- if it wasn't worth it? Maybe he messed up and didn't tell you about Lars working with us, but he's still your best friend."

Yao frowned. Why was Ivan ganging up on him now, too? It was unfair. He didn't want to talk about this.

"How did you know that he didn't tell me about Lars? I didn't tell you that."

"He told me, and that sounded more likely that him lying to you, like you'd said."

Yao scoffed. "Leave it to the British to gossip about anything to everyone."

"Seriously Yao, at least try to hear him out?"

Yao exhaled, annoyed.

"I have to get to work," Yao lied. "Get off."

Ivan frowned, but sat up. Yao scooted off the bed and stood, straightening his shirt.

"I'll text you later, alright?" he said.

"Fine," Ivan muttered, also standing.

"Well, see you."

Yao took his jacket on the way out.

Once Yao got home, he sat on his couch. He didn't turn on the TV.

Thinking about Ivan's story made Yao sick, but thinking about what Ivan had said to him about talking to Lars made him queasy. He couldn't believe that Ivan had taken Arthur's side.

He sat there angrily for what seemed like a long time, before taking his phone out. He begrudgingly selected Arthur's number.

Do you know Lars' address.