In Which Alfred Gets Ivan's Number


Ivan stared at Alfred like he thought Alfred was an idiot, which to be fair, was exactly what he was thinking.

"To clarify," Ivan summed up, "You do not want people to treat you like you're upset because they think we broke up?"

Alfred nodded comfirrmingly, and Ivan looked like his respect for Alfred was going down by the second.

"So you told everyone that It's Gilbert's fault we broke up and you don't want to talk about me?"

Ivan continued, and Alfred scowled.

"It's not like that! I mean, the thing with Gilbert was an accident, and in my defense, everyone will not shut up about you! You'd be annoyed too if people talked about how sad you must feel about me all the time!"

Ivan leaned against the counter and crossed his arms sourly.

"They do."

"That's right, I - huh?"

Alfred stopped in the middle of his sentence and examined Ivan's face in shock. Ivan was wearing his usual impenetrable smile that didn't reach his eyes, but Alfred wasn't someone who would be fooled by that. After being almost-enemies since middle school, Alfred was confident he knew Ivan at least well enough to tell his annoyed face, since it was one Alfred saw often, and it was definitely this face he was wearing now. Alfred perked up, leaning forward and titling two of the chair's legs off the ground as he investigated this new curiosity.

"Seriously? There's someone out there brave enough, no, dumb enough to pester you? Who?"

This would have been an ideal time for Alfred to remember he was the main suspect when it came to harassing Ivan, but Alfred's selective memory conveniently forgot that. Ivan beamed at Alfred, a sure sign he was angry, and he responded.

"My sisters."

"Ah."

Alfred knew both of Ivan's sisters enough to imagine the sort of things they'd say to pester him. Natalya was probably after him for ever dating Alfred, whom she had a generally low opinion of, not that Alfred minded since he'd yet to have met someone Natalya did have a high opinion of. Meanwhile he imagined Ivan's older sister, a close friend with his twin Mathew, would probably react much like Mathew had. Which is to say, being sickenly nice to Ivan, and angry towards Alfred. Alfred made a mental note to avoid Katyusha.

Ivan studied him with the uncomfortable feeling that Alfred was misunderstanding, but, like most times when it came to Alfred, he decided it wasn't worth his time to try to figure out what Alfred was thinking. Instead, he focused on something else.

"So you came here."

Alfred nodded like it was obvious that he should go to his rival/ex's house in this situation.

"Yup."

Ivan stared at Alfred.

"Why?"

"I told you? Obviously because you're like the only other person in town who hasn't gone completely insane, dude! Do you have juice? I'm parched!"

Without waiting for a response, Alfred helped himself to Ivan's fridge and Ivan's smile made the room feel several degrees colder, but since he was used to it, Alfred didn't mind, finding a carton of apple juice and helping himself to a glass. (It was only with a lot of willpower that made Alfred not drink directly out of the carton.) Alfred drained the cup, then beamed at Ivan's obvious irritation, feeling rather achieved as he made his demand.

"So anyways, give me your phone number."