Author's Note: I should have mentioned this before! While the chapters start out smaller, they do begin to grow. Like this one. While not huge, it's still 300 words more than the last. And since the last was roughly 500, it is a jump still. If I recall correctly, the chapters nearing the end grow to 2,000 or so words. Anyway, thank you very much for reading, I sincerely appreciate all of the reviews and comments I've gotten.
Ivan went and ruined it all four weeks into their friendship. It was stupid of him, really. He and Alfred had become awesome buddies, would meet to talk in between classes, would walk side by side to and from school. Ivan stayed away from Alfred during lunch, though. He said he made people uncomfortable and he didn't want to scare them away from Alfred.
Alfred could kind of see it. Ivan did have a certain air about him, almost an aura, which was so cheesy and new-agey, Alfred's face screwed up at the thought of it. There was something more to Ivan than other people, not that Alfred could pinpoint it. Ivan was a lot of person for one body was the best way he could put it.
Things in general were funny around Ivan, too. Cats ran across the street, dogs barked from behind their fences, and lamps flickered at night when they walked under them. Alfred had snuck glances when that happened. Always Ivan's face would change, a fleeting but clear hurt in his eyes.
It wasn't fair, Alfred decided. Ivan probably just had a funny energy field or something. He'd seen cameras that could photograph them, so he knew they were real. It made him think of snakes and their heat vision. Maybe the cats and dogs could see that sort of thing too, and it scared them.
But Alfred wasn't scared. Ivan was sweet and thoughtful and definitely a super romantic guy. He read anthologies of poetry, recited them to Alfred when they walked, and told Alfred about the symbolism behind certain colors and flowers.
That was what did him in, that romantic streak.
He thought it was a good idea─ a romantic idea─ to ask Alfred out one day. He'd come up to Alfred's table in the cafeteria with a bouquet of flowers so full he had to hold it in both hands.
There was delphinium for July, when Alfred had been born. Then yellow chrysanthemum, the sign of a secret admirer. Geranium for comfort, gardenia for joy. And of course there were sunflowers, Ivan's personal favorite. They were adoration, sweet and warm. It was topped off with a smattering of Star of Bethlehem flowers in the middle.
They were hope. Hope that Alfred crushed through a very public reaction. He hadn't meant to raise his voice, to be so loud. And he wasn't loud, he didn't think. It was that suddenly everyone else had become very quiet. There was supposed to be a constant noise in the cafeteria, laughing voices and clanking silverware, too-loud chewing and slurping and the scrape of chairs.
But those sounds had somehow stopped and there was nothing but a deadly calm so everyone heard Alfred. They heard him say "No, no I'm not like that," and "Seriously I'm not into dudes, you're just my buddy."
And maybe they even heard that noise, that quiet little catch in Ivan's throat as his eyes clouded over and there was no hope left in him. He'd dutifully handed over the flowers, placed them oh so carefully in Alfred's arms, and walked out. A few shouts were made, a cat call and a couple of one-liners, but Ivan ignored them all.
He wasn't in English that day. He stopped showing up altogether, hadn't come back even by the end of the week. Alfred's guilt was endless, his heart a pulsing, sorry lump that sat cold and weak in his chest. He'd hidden the flowers Ivan had given him, after his friends had laughed and joked and told him to throw them away. He said he'd do that, do it right away.
He stuck them behind the old dodgeball wall no one used anymore and retrieved them after school. He'd run home all the way from school, his backpack pounding into him with each step, thudding like a heartbeat against his skin. He found a vase in the attic, gave it a quick rinse and then it was good to go.
He put the vase and all of its flowers on the desk at his window, the window that faced Ivan's room. Because it wasn't like he meant to say those things, to have that curt, sudden tone in his voice. It was simply that Alfred knew he didn't like boys.
And sure, Ivan made him feel good, good and comfortable and certainly safe with his broad chest and well-muscled arms. And yes he smelled good, a slight musk, a mix of sweat and spice. But that didn't change anything. Alfred's heart might hiccup around Ivan, skitter and squirm and shiver against his chest, and it was better than anything but─ but he wasn't like that.
Ivan was the scent inside a just-purchased car, a gift half-unwrapped. He was new, that was it. He had all the good feelings around him that came with discovery and infatuation. It would fade, of course. And sure it was taking longer, kind of too long in fact, but it was bound to wear off eventually.
It had to, right?