Chapter 36

Borne of Ashes

Seventy days.

It had been seventy days straight that his head had been lit up on fire.

Ludwig knew it was seventy days because he had been making a scratch in the back of the dictionary for every morning he woke up to a headache. Impossible to keep track of days otherwise, and when he woke up that morning, feeling that throbbing behind his eyes, he grabbed the dictionary dutifully from the end table and picked up the pen.

Another scratch. Damn thing would be full soon.

Why he counted them, he couldn't say. Made him feel better, he supposed, to have a tangible sense of days and time, something he could look at and use as a guide to the sands, even by counting something as droll as headaches. For some reason, the calendar was incomprehensible. It felt like years, so to realize it had only been months was daunting at times.

Time lagged, but he had sped up, in a way.

Physically, most of the time Ludwig felt great. Stronger every day. Quicker. He felt at his prime. It was only up in his head that he felt wobbly and vulnerable.

He set the book aside, buried his face in his hands, and glanced over at sleeping Ivan. Did he have headaches, too? From the exceedingly content way he was sleeping, sprawled on his back and face turned on the pillow, it didn't appear so. Ivan was sound of mind; not insecure like he was. No need for his head to hurt. Ivan was immune to such things.

Sound of mind?

Something about that thought made him bow his head and smile. Ivan. In bed, safe and sound. Sound meant something different to everyone.

A long moment of letting his head hang, a second of scrunching his eyes shut and trying to force away the ache, and then Ludwig lifted his shoulders and turned his head towards Ivan. His head was pounding, sure, but that didn't stop him from leaning over and kissing Ivan until he woke up. Irritating a soundly-sleeping Ivan had somehow became a favorite pastime of his. Dangerous for most, but not for him.

Ivan wouldn't hurt him. Not him.

A sigh, as Ivan came into consciousness. His hand rested on Ivan's neck, and soon he was staring into sleepy eyes.

"Morning."

A gruff mutter.

Ivan eyed him, blearily, and plopped his head back down on the pillow to make it clear he had no intention of hauling himself out of bed early, no matter how persistently Ludwig ran a hand up and down his neck. Eventually, Ivan flipped over, pulled the blanket over his head, and muttered something incomprehensible under his breath. Ludwig gave up, and let him sleep.

He pulled himself to his feet, leaving the comfort of the bed behind. His bed.

Seventy days.

He trudged downstairs, opened the cabinet in the kitchen, put back a handful of aspirin, and when he turned around, Toris was behind him. Always was these days, it seemed. Ludwig lifted up his chin in silent acknowledgment, managed something that felt like a smile but might have looked more like a sneer, and Toris took a seat at the table.

"What are you doing today, Ludwig?"

Toris' voice seemed as odd as his face did lately. Strained, in a way. Thin. As if he put as much effort into how he spoke as he did with how he looked. Picking tones and choosing words.

Ludwig shrugged a shoulder, and joined Toris at the table.

Ludwig.

That was Toris' most useful aspect, perhaps, in his ability to repeat that name like a parrot and in the process keep a bit of the mist at bay. Funny, though—Toris had seemed considerably more important in days gone by. Passing ghosts.

It took him a while to address Toris further. Sometimes in the mornings, when he woke up, it felt like his brain was cranking up rather than coming to. Mechanical. He stared at Toris without really meaning to.

"What are you doing today?"

Toris just stared back at him.

Finally, an odd, "Whatever you're doing, Ludwig."

Ludwig felt his nose crinkling at the corner, and turned quickly away. His plans, set or no, hadn't ever really intended to include Toris, whether Toris meant to come along or not. His interest in Toris seemed to wane every day. Not really Toris' fault, he supposed.

Toris opened his mouth as if to say more, but was denied the opportunity by heavy footsteps on the stairs. When Ivan finally came downstairs and showed his face, Toris was forgotten like smoke, and Ludwig found himself focused and alert. Toris was only a shadow; Ivan was the sun. When Ivan was in his sight, everything else disappeared.

Toris tried hard these days to get his attention, for whatever reason, and not too long ago that would have made him happy. Now? His enthusiasm wasn't exactly through the roof. In the end, Toris wasn't who his world revolved around.

Brother. Yeah.

It had occurred to him that although Toris was still very much his brother, the sentiment had changed just a little bit. Before, when he had been settling in, Toris had felt like an older brother, one to admire and fear, one to fall back on and seek advice from. Then, Toris had felt like a damn twin. His equal. His other half. The only person out here who understood anything about him. Someone to trust. Someone who could feel what he felt. Now, Toris was more like a little brother. Ludwig was obligated to love him, always would be he supposed, but at times he found himself annoyed by Toris. Irritated and wanting to be rid of him as one wanted to get rid of a blabbering child.

Toris left. Ludwig didn't notice until he came back that he had been gone in the first place. Toris said, 'Hi'. Ludwig heard himself say, 'I missed you', because that was what he had always said. He meant to mean it, but some part of him didn't really care too much where Toris was at any given time. Coulda been days or months or minutes that Toris was gone; he didn't really sense the difference anymore.

Toris was just Toris. Nothing special. Around Toris, everything was quite in order. Dull. Talk about banality. Maybe not too fair, because who could ever really compete with Ivan in a competition of being interesting?

So here they sat.

Ivan passed through the kitchen long enough to brush the top of Ludwig's head with an errant hand, and was gone.

Toris exhaled, and cast his eyes down to the book in Ludwig's hand. For the first time, he offered, "You need some help with that, Ludwig? I know it's hard to learn."

Ludwig wasn't really sure what the sentiment he felt then was, but it wasn't love.

"No," he finally said, "I don't. I'm doing fine on my own."

He wasn't, not really, but he needed nothing from Toris. Not anymore.

Toris sat there for a while, looking a little annoyed, and then he met Ludwig's gaze with another one of those odd looks.

A murmur.

"Feeling Russian already, Ludwig?"

A twinge of pride in his chest, for whatever reason, and he lifted up his chin. Ivan's words from years ago, running through his head.

'Maybe you were meant to be born Russian.'

So he just smiled, and said, "Maybe I was meant to be."

Toris' brow crinkled a little, and so did his nose and lip. A look of distaste. Something sour on his tongue. And then Toris stood up and backed towards the door, and left, after spitting out a quick, "Still speaking German, though, aren't you? You'll never be Russian. You were born in Berlin."

That word.

Couldn't say that word. Panic. Slamming doors. Closets.

Toris was gone by the time the shock of hearing that word wore off, so Ludwig heard himself whisper to no one, "I was born here."

Maybe he hadn't entered the world here, not here, but he had been born here. That made him Russian, didn't it? Even if he couldn't speak it. Wherever he had been birthed, whomever by, didn't matter. Ivan had made him here. He was from here. This was his house, too. This was his town. Irina was his sister. He lived here. Always had.

A sudden heaviness, as hands fell down on his shoulders. He jumped, even though he knew who it was. No need to panic, not under Ivan's hands, but Toris' careless use of that word had put him on edge.

A nose burrowed in his hair.

"You should sleep later. I don't like getting up so early."

Ludwig found his heart was still hammering too fast to really respond, and he let Ivan nuzzle his hair without saying a word. So relieved, though, that Ivan hadn't heard that word. What a calamity it would have brought.

"Feel like learning again?" Ivan asked, and Ludwig quickly nodded.

Anything to take his mind off that word, and when Ivan grabbed his hand and pulled him upright, Ludwig followed along dutifully. He'd rather be knocked around by Ivan's huge fists than hear that fuckin' whispering.

Didn't take long before he got his wish.

Ivan didn't like waking up early, but seemed to come around exceedingly swiftly. No grogginess or lethargy once he positioned Ludwig in that now-familiar stance of systema and started going.

Ludwig had been getting better at it, but felt as if he had slowed down today. Toris' fault. Always was, it seemed. Shaking him up like that.

From Ivan's first move, Ludwig could sense that he wouldn't be able to keep up this time. Ivan was too damn fast. Couldn't ever hit him, and if an opportunity ever did present itself, in a rare moment, he failed to take it because he choked. Uncertainty and apprehension. Ivan wanted him to try and hit him, all right, but Ludwig wasn't so certain that he was actually allowed to.

This time, he couldn't even come close.

"Try harder!"

That word.

He tried to shake it off, push Toris' audacity aside, and find his balance. Tried, at least. He gave it everything he had, always did, but still he fell under Ivan's strength.

A sharp pain in his nose.

"Faster!" Ivan chided, and Ludwig had only a second to get his brain working again before he figured out that ducking Ivan's fist felt a hell of a lot better than getting smacked by it.

His brain and body didn't cooperate, though, not that day, and he fell shortly after. On the hard floor, he raised up a hand to his bleeding nose, and stared up at the ceiling. No map on this one. No way to look back there.

"I think you broke my nose," he heard himself utter, and Ivan looked down at him with little concern.

"You usually dodge that one."

Broken noses were nothing around here.

Ivan lowered himself to the floor and put himself atop Ludwig, though not out of interest in his broken nose, and lowered his head enough to start whispering. Ludwig found the pain already alleviating. Uncertainty vanished. Toris' words meant nothing.

"You know," Ivan breathed in his ear then, as Ludwig took handfuls of his hair, "I think you look nice like that."

Pride. Let his nose be broken, then, if Ivan liked the way it looked. Once upon a time, Ivan had been irritated at a cut to his face, yet seemed hardly bereft now at something far more noticeable. Ivan loved him.

"Don't worry. You'll get better. Already are. Like a soldier now!"

Ludwig looked up at Ivan, and asked, "Aren't I?"

Colonel.

Ivan's smile was bright. Maybe a little condescending in a way.

"Of course."

A short pause, as Ivan looked him over, and then the smile became a real one.

Excitement.

"I can't wait to take you back out again," was the enthusiastic croon. "We'll throw another ball, how about that? You can go back there and show them all what you've learned. I want them to see how nice you look in the uniform now. Not that you didn't look good before, you know! You just wear it better now, because you walk like me."

Like me.

—goddammit, Lutz, I wish you could be more like me, it would make everything easier for the both of us—

He had only ever wanted to be himself and have people be proud of him for it, but being like Ivan was worth the loss of his own personality.

God.

Of the many things that flashed in his mind, one thing stood out above the others.

It was with eagerness that was perhaps inappropriate that he lifted his head off the floor, bumped his forehead into Ivan's, and said, "I want to shoot that man!"

Didn't need to elaborate on who. Ivan knew. He'd only gotten into a confrontation with one man in his time here. Looking back on it, shooting the son of a bitch probably would have felt a hell of a lot better than beating him. Show him a real fashisty.

Ivan stared down at him, that smile still on his face, and it seemed somehow that the pain in his nose dulled down even more in his excitement to hurt someone again. Someone who had well deserved it, at least.

"Can we?" he asked, eagerly. "Call another one. I want to shoot him."

"If you want to shoot him that badly," Ivan said, as he lowered his head down to Ludwig's neck, "then we'll just go to his house and I can save a lot of money. How about that?"

Disappointment.

Yeah, they could do that, but that took away the audience. He had a lot of mouths to shut. They hadn't laughed aloud at him, but the sneers and the high brows lingered in his head still. He hadn't fit in then. He liked to think (as Ivan had so often told him) that he owned them now. They couldn't talk back to him now because he was above them.

Superior.

Somewhere during his thoughts, Ivan had started ripping off his clothes in one of those bouts of aggression, and when Ivan flipped him over, clenching a fistful of his hair and shoving his broken nose into the floor, he clamped his jaw shut and took everything Ivan doled out without crying. Superior to everyone else. Not Ivan. The only being on earth that commanded him anymore. A general was, after all, just god to a soldier.

Stepping into the kitchen, shortly after, gathered Irina's immediate attention.

Before Ludwig could even move, she had swooped over and was grabbing his face to yank him forward.

"What happened?" she asked, as her fingers brushed his nose gently.

"Nothin'." His voice was thick and nasally as she pinched his nose shut and forced his head back. "It's not that bad."

Wasn't even bleedin' anymore.

She didn't seem to care much, and behind her, Toris muttered something incoherent.

"Look at you!" Irina griped, as she lowered her eyes and saw bruises here and there. "You're all banged up! What have you been doing?"

Ludwig was fairly certain that he heard Toris snip, gruffly, "Ivan."

His hand twitched down suddenly, only to stop short when he realized there was nothing in his belt.

...yeah, he would let that one go, since Irina still had his face in her hands. Sometimes, though, Ludwig realized that Toris got on his damn nerves. Couldn't remember the last time a simple sentence could get him so riled up.

Seventy days.

He couldn't remember, either, when he had stopped thinking about things before he acted. That jerk of his hand; he hadn't planned that. That had been Ivan's programming. His pride didn't protest against this involuntary rewiring anymore, so neither did he. Easier to do what Ivan had taught him to and just go from there.

Toris stared at him the whole time that Irina poked fingers in his nose, and when she pulled back and clicked her tongue in annoyance, saying, "Ooh! I'm gonna break his nose!" Toris just shook his head and turned his eyes back down to his book.

Ludwig couldn't really figure out what Toris' look was supposed to convey. Maybe Toris was as annoyed with him as he was with Toris. Sometimes, it seemed they stood on opposite sides of a river, and Toris could hardly be bothered to cross as much as he was.

Sure did clear his face though when Ivan stepped into the room.

Irina was the one who spoke first and started berating Ivan in Russian, but her threat was empty enough, because Ivan made it past her and outside without incurring any injury. Ludwig went to follow, but stopped short at the door when he saw Ivan heading down to the trees. Uncertainty held him still, as it had before, and he went to the window instead.

Irina wandered off, muttering under her breath and shaking her head.

Ludwig stood there, watching from afar and feeling so lonely suddenly, without Ivan at his side, and felt the crinkling of his brow. The cat had come out and was rubbing at his heels.

Without really thinking about it, Ludwig held the blind up with one finger and asked, quickly, "Think it would be alright if I went after him?"

Toris looked at him, a little irritably, and finally just shook his head.

"Who knows? Go outside if you want! Why're ya askin' me?"

Ludwig straightened his back, tilted his head, and felt himself give a quick 'hm'.

"Actually," he said, "That's a good question."

It was—why the hell was he asking Toris for anything, anyway?

With that, he lifted his chin, set his shoulders, and headed for the door. He thought he saw a little twinge of hurt or regret there in Toris' eyes, but too damn bad. Shouldn't have been an ass.

That was the last time he asked Toris for anything. Ivan had told him, anyway, that he was above Toris, so by all rights Toris should have been asking him for things, not the other way around. Toris was just Toris. Nothing more.

As he went towards the door, he heard Toris mutter, under his breath, "See ya later, colonel."

Smartass.

He'd have to put Toris in line soon, before Ivan felt it necessary to do so. Toris had gotten mouthier than usual lately. Or maybe he was as mouthy as he had always been, and Ludwig just found himself less patient. Could be. Things irritated him quickly now. Little things, however insignificant, had a way of setting him off if they weren't quite like he wanted them to be.

One day, in one way or another, Toris would be gone, and it wouldn't set him back.

He liked Raivis, but he wouldn't cry if he was gone. He adored Irina, but her absence would not have stopped the world. And he loved Toris, in some way still, but he could live without him. As long as Ivan was there.

He struggled through the snow, and found Ivan back at the forest's edge, peering into the tall pines as he did on occasions. Ludwig started bounding over to him, stopped still mid-trot, and turned his eyes instead to the depths of the woods. No movement from within. No tigers this time, at least not ones that he could see. Ivan saw more than he did.

In the distance, birds chirped. Spring was approaching, slowly but surely.

Ludwig hadn't uttered a word, but Ivan suddenly held out an arm into the air, as if waiting for Ludwig to come close enough to put it around his shoulders. He didn't keep Ivan waiting, and slunk in beneath his hand. A long silence, as Ivan thought about who knew what, and Ludwig thought about Ivan. Always was.

Trees swayed. Creaking and snapping faintly from within the woods.

A great explosion in the distance shattered the silence, and Ludwig turned his head, out to the vast forests.

"What was that?" he asked, perhaps a bit anxiously, and Ivan just sent him a look of patience.

"The river. The ice broke just now. Happens, this time of year. Want to go see it?"

His automatic response was, "Of course," barely audible as his chest clenched up with adoration. Ivan thought he was ready to go in the forest. A compliment, greater than any other.

Ivan took his hand, led him forward, and escorted him past the first great tree. Terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

They walked for what felt like a hour or so, but might have been far less, until the sound of rushing water became audible. Beyond it, a strange, ominous grinding, as if something ahead was caught in a massive battle. Without really noticing, he clenched Ivan's hand like a little kid, and tensed up his shoulders. Ivan snorted, softly, and kept up his pace.

The river came into sight from beneath a hill, and the bank was covered with melting snow and mud, twigs and pine needles. He fell still upon the incline, and looked on with wonder.

The scent of clean water and earth.

The strange sounds of before were suddenly obvious; in the midst of the vast river were giant ice floes, grinding against each other in the middle of the waterway, struggling against the ice that had not yet broken and fighting for room down the path.

Ivan's breath was suddenly against his ear.

"The deer have to cross, sometimes. If they don't make it before the ice starts moving, then they have to walk across it like this. Try to get over before the ice goes under."

Ludwig shuddered.

He couldn't imagine anything being brave enough to actually attempt to cross those floes, not even the ones that seemed to be drifting so slowly they hardly appeared to be moving. One wrong step, one shift, and it might turn, it might get shoved under a bigger chunk of ice, it might break apart right beneath a foot. Disaster. A horrible way to die, either drowning in freezing water or getting crushed by ice.

A warm hand on his back suddenly nudged him forward. He looked over his shoulder to see Ivan right behind him, and he didn't even have time to open his mouth before Ivan nudged him again and whispered, "Go on! Take a look. It's alright."

Actually, he was quite content where he was, but, like in every thing else, impressing Ivan took precedent over any sense of personal safety. Ivan's commands were meant to be obeyed, whatever harm came to him in the process.

So he edged over. Slowly. He took a step forward, and then another, daring himself to get close to the river, and even though he stood safely on the bank, even though the water was clear of ice a few feet before him, it was still a rather daunting moment.

He was absolutely content making it this far.

Didn't take him long to glance back at Ivan, though, just to make sure he wasn't expected to prove his bravery by trying to jump across the ice. He wasn't sure he'd have the heart for that, and it sounded like something Ivan might have very well asked of him.

Ivan didn't ask him to jump, as it turned out, but he did come out with something else just as frightening.

"How's the water?" Ivan asked, and Ludwig felt his brow crinkling.

Aw, man.

He took a breath, squared his shoulders, and went farther onto the bank. Water sloshed over his boots. Probably cold as fuck, that's how the damn water was, so why Ivan was even asking he couldn't say. Ivan did what he wanted, with no rhyme or reason required. Ludwig leaned forward, peering down at the white water, and thought he saw movement in the reflection beneath him.

Screeching beyond, as ice banged and scraped together.

He stared at himself in the water, and caught a glimpse of something behind him. No time to ponder it, though, as something hit the back of his neck suddenly, dazing him and throwing him off. He lost his balance, tottered down onto a knee, hands falling into the freezing water up to his just below his elbows, and his nose nearly dipped in.

Confusion.

His head ached.

Time slowed down in that instant, as it did in those awful, dragging moments before an attack crept up.

The blurry, wavering reflection beneath him was oddly fascinating, and he just stared down at it for a dumb moment, too stunned to move, breathing through his mouth and squinting his eyes, and then somehow, he couldn't say how, his head was suddenly under the water. He tried to push up, and realized he couldn't. Something held him down.

Probably those fingers clenched in his hair.

It was either the shock of the blow or the freezing water that kept him subdued then, for no matter how many times he tried to get himself up, he couldn't seem to get his arms underneath him enough to get enough traction. Not enough strength to push up when he did get into a good position. Couldn't really move at all.

A long, painful minute of drifting, and then something in his head woke up and he found the strength to start thrashing.

Struggling for air. Fighting for life. Couldn't get to it. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn't get his head above the surface. The iron hand above him gave him nothing. His broken nose, sore earlier from a punch, became sore now from inhaling ice water as his aching lungs gave in to the natural urge to suck in air and got river instead.

His short fight died down then, as the water froze him up from the inside out and slowed him down. The daze set in again, and reality became something far more surreal.

Clear water around him started flashing. White. Grey. Black. A simple array of colors, but exceedingly fascinating ones when they faded into each other and were strewn with dots and stars.

Dancing lights. Lightheadedness. Dizziness.

The river grew quieter; comforting, in a way. The water didn't feel as cold.

Calm.

Somewhere in the midst of the increasing tranquility, somewhere beyond the grey, he thought he herd whispering. Shadows. Movement. Warm hands. The whispering grew ever louder as the grey faded steadily into black.

He felt himself moving, although he was not responsible for it. Hardness beneath him.

Fog. Somewhere back there, in that grey, in the mist, someone had promised him forever.

Together.

Had it happened that way?

He couldn't find that voice again, not the one that he had heard before. New whisperings. The old ones had gone.

A sharp pressure on his chest, a pain in his ribs, and with a great lurch of air and pain, the bright light of his subconscious became the bright light of the white sky and the clouds, and someone was hovering above him. A burst of water escaped his chest, and the veil of fog was lifted.

White.

He came back into the world. The whispering stopped. When his vision cleared and the bright light dulled, he saw Ivan's face. A stupid thought crossed his mind : 'Talk about dying and going to heaven.'

Ivan had pulled him just towards the bank of the river, placing him in shallow water, and sat over him now with knees on either side of him. Warm hands on the back of his neck. Aching. He started coughing, suddenly, as breathing came back into its rhythm and tried to clear the last of the water from his lungs. Ivan lifted his head, ran thumbs over his cheeks, and started whispering again. It had been Ivan he had heard, in that mist.

His chest hurt as much as his head did now, it seemed, but when Ivan smiled down at him, he could feel himself smiling back.

The fuckin' water was freezing again. Not calm like before. The current had sped back up, the noise had come back, and the rushing water felt heavy in his ears.

His mind was hardly functional at the moment, if it was ever truly 'functional' anymore, and yet still, as Ivan pinned him in those few inches of water and held his head above with strong hands, he was pretty sure he had an idea of what had happened. Ivan had knocked him forward, shoved him under the surface and held him there until he stopped moving, and then resuscitated him at the last minute. Ivan's gloves were soaking wet.

Somehow, it was something astoundingly beautiful to him. No one else could have understood it. Only Ivan could shove him to the brink of death and then pull him back. Ivan could bring him back to life whenever he felt so inclined. Ivan could change even death when he wanted to.

Who else could do that?

Beautiful.

Ivan leaned down then, pulling his heavy head up firmly, and kissed him there in the icy river. Ludwig would have gladly sat there all day and let Ivan shove his tongue down his throat if he didn't have to break away to cough more water from his lungs.

The fire in his chest dulled into an ache. Breathing hurt.

Ivan shifted above him, as the coughing fit died down steadily, and left gasping in its wake. Couldn't seem to get enough air. One of Ivan's great hands ran over his face as the other propped his head up, and warmth pressed against his chest. A nose in his hair. A whisper.

"I love you. I swear, I won't ever let anything happen to you. I'll always be there to protect you."

His arms felt like they were made of lead, but he managed to lift them up somehow and embrace Ivan around the back of the neck.

Foreheads butted together, noses bumped, he gasped for air and Ivan kissed him between every breath, cold water dripped from his hair and Ivan's gloves back down into the river, and oh, fucking Christ, he loved this man so much, so much, he would have jumped back in the river if Ivan had asked him to, he would have drowned himself if it made Ivan happy.

Fingers tangled in his wet hair. A final, fervent kiss, and another whisper.

"I love you."

He tried to answer, but the tickle of water in his throat kept him still.

So he just smiled instead.

Sloshing of the river around them, as Ivan suddenly braced his knees and pulled Ludwig back upright. He wasn't light, not in any sense, and yet Ivan still pulled him up like a handbag and threw his arm over a broad shoulder, carting him along quite easily.

As they staggered back up onto the bank, Ludwig finally gathered the strength to rasp, "Did I die?"

Ivan's lips were up against his ear.

"No. You don't die until I say you can."

Ludwig let himself be dragged along, gaze bleary and temples burning, and he leaned his head against Ivan's chest, and could feel the smile on his face. He'd do anything. This man was everything.

Something cold and hard was pressed into his hand, and when he looked down, he saw Ivan's gun within his palm.

Ivan's gun.

"It's yours now," was Ivan's whisper, and Ludwig felt himself clenching it even against the listlessness.

His.

Oh. God help anyone who tried to come in between them. He'd die before he ever let himself be parted from Ivan. Ivan had made him someone. Being no one was a degradation he wouldn't ever stoop to again. The price was small. This pain in his chest was nothing, nothing in comparison to all Ivan had given him.

Ivan liked to hurt him, maybe not always physically, not always in the same way, and maybe Ivan even did it as a way of saying 'I love you', but Ivan enjoyed hurting him. Ivan was a liar. Crazy. He knew that.

Didn't care.

When it came down to it, he liked it when Ivan hurt him. The only times he had ever even felt alive. Being in love was as exhilarating and breathless as those times when he lost his mind.

That place was gone.

The gun was his. Ivan was his.

That promise of forever might have been made at first by someone else, but it was meant now for Ivan.