Chapter 48

Part 4

The Final Lock

The kid came soon after that.

A warm day in August. Ivan went to a tiny town in Latvia, and Toris had been proud, pitiful as it was, that Ivan had taken him again, even though he had nearly blown it last time.

After a while, the nightmares had gone away, and he had forgotten about the little girl.

In Latvia was the chance once and for all to make Ivan look at him.

Bolstered, Toris took charge for the first time, and tried to make real use of his uniform. He'd done a thousand things from home, he'd been out in the field a few times, he'd been on tour, but this was his first time truly in charge. His first chance to show Ivan what he could really do. He used it. He sent the men where he wanted them, he walked amongst them, and he gave the order to fire the houses. He did everything, for the first time, and this town had been his.

Ivan's hands were clean of this town; Toris' were red.

Ivan watched him the whole while, not really smiling, but not frowning, either. Kept a keen eye on Toris, a teacher observing his pupil at work for the first time, and made notes. Toris did his damn best, and knew that he was excelling. Knew it. When everything was burning and the ground was soaked with blood, Ivan looked over at him, arms clasped behind his back, and lifted his chin. A long, quiet stare.

Toris waited in breathless anticipation, heart hammering and feeling so stupidly, disgustingly proud. He'd done a good job. The town was dead.

Finally, Ivan tilted his head and said, simply, "Good job."

Pathetic, he knew it, but he had still started breathing through his mouth as the adrenaline of ecstasy lit him up. Good job. One of the only times Ivan would ever say that to him.

And it was worth it.

A sense of belonging. Stability. Eduard was still beneath him, no matter how much Ivan adored him. He was the superior officer yet. He was here; Eduard was not. The guns didn't shock him anymore.

Good job.

And then, suddenly, in the middle of the carnage and chaos and screaming, a child had walked out of the smoke and came up to Toris, slowly and quietly. Not a little girl—a little boy. Hadn't expected that. Toris had been startled by the mere sight of him, just because he was alone and coming over. Ivan had glanced back at Toris, had seen his look of shock and turned to follow his eyes, and when he saw, he started walking over.

A child. How strange.

Even though the village was on fire, even though his hair was matted with ash and soot, even though his clothes were flecked with blood, the child still looked up at approaching Ivan, and seemed fascinated. Just a kid. Couldn't have been more than seven or eight, and yet still he hadn't been scared of them. Toris had been absolutely speechless at the way he had just walked up to them.

How had he gotten away from the soldiers? Lucky.

Ivan looked right back at him, head tilted and looking a little amused, and shortly after he had turned to Toris with a quirked brow.

"Who's this kid?"

Toris could only shrug a shoulder and say, "I don't know. He came out when the guns were goin' off."

Ivan and the kid stared at each other for a long time, and Toris felt a little bit of apprehension. Ivan would probably shoot him. Everyone else was dead. No survivors, ever. One on one, though, was still a bit hard for Toris to stomach. Oh, Christ, please, please, as long as Ivan didn't make him shoot the kid, he hadn't shot anyone yet, not by his own hand, wasn't ready for that yet. Wasn't ready to pull the trigger.

But Ivan didn't shoot the kid, surprisingly, and thank god, he didn't make Toris do it either, and instead turned to leave. Guess the kid's bravery had saved him, as it sometimes did those who crossed Ivan's path; Eduard sat at home, after all, and his mouthy friend had been spared.

When they turned and walked off, there were footsteps behind them. They looked over their shoulders at the same time, to see the kid following them, for some godawful reason, and he didn't really seem to be aware that everything was burning around him, and every time Ivan took a step, the kid took one, too. Ivan started smiling, and finally spoke to the child.

"What are you doing?"

A shrug.

"Following you."

"Why?"

"'Cause I don't have anywhere else to go."

And, well, that had seemed like a good enough answer, and Ivan turned all the way around, hands in his pockets and chin low. Amused, at the kid's audacity.

"What? You wanna come with me? You can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a soldier. I'm not a baby-sitter. You can't come. I've got work to do."

The kid, face determined, took another step.

"My house is burning. I want to come. I can be a soldier, too. Let me go with you."

"Why?"

"I like your uniform."

Ivan turned to Toris, they shared a look, and the next thing Toris knew, Raivis was in the car, and Ivan was laughing. Raivis was another accident, but one Ivan enjoyed, if only because Raivis stoked his ego. Toris wondered if Ivan had only taken Raivis to keep increasingly restless Irina content. First he had given her a cat, and now he was going to give her a child. Maybe one of these days, one day, Ivan actually would let her have a man.

When they got home, Irina actually squealed aloud at the sight of Raivis, showing actual excitement that she had never shown with Toris or Eduard or even the cat, and was on him like a spider, coddling him and smoothing his hair and straightening his clothes. Raivis smiled away at her, enjoying the attention. Come to think, he hadn't stopped smiling since Ivan had put him in the car. Didn't he remember the guns and the blood? Must not have cared much.

Raivis had always been a little off. Well. He found the right place to live, then, because everyone in this house was pretty fuckin' crazy.

Eduard had hung back, gazing at Toris without actually making eye contact with him. Toris was puffed, proud, self-satisfied.

Ivan eyed Eduard for a second, that smile creeping onto his face, but he had looked at Toris then, still in such a good mood, and said, "Come with me."

A burst of ego, and Toris might have sneered at Eduard then, as if Eduard would actually be jealous of him. He had done a good job, he knew he had, and so Toris felt himself walking straight and firm and bristling with excitement as he followed Ivan down the hall. Didn't flinch this time, didn't panic, didn't feel any fear.

He'd done a good job.

And, sure enough, when they walked into the office, Ivan stood straight before him, Toris fell into the stance of attention, and Ivan said, "Well. You felt good out there, didn't you?"

Toris nodded his head. Wouldn't deny it. Being in charge had felt great. Hadn't even really been able to focus on the screams, not with Ivan staring at him.

Ivan was smiling, suddenly, when he added, "See? It's not so hard, is it? When you stop worrying about everything, it's not hard. I expect you to be more like that from now on. I don't ever want to see you shaking in that uniform again."

Toris held his chin up high, still feeling so delirious with elation, and said, stiffly, "Yes, sir!"

Ivan's smile, although not that bright, charming one that Eduard got, was still pretty dazzling, considering that Ivan really only ever looked at him with annoyance.

"Good to hear, Junior Lieutenant."

Absolute and utter exhilaration. A puff of his chest, and, immediately, Toris found himself saluting without thought, twitching and fidgeting and barely able to keep from smiling. Ivan just quirked up his brow, looking pleased and bolstered, and Toris wished that Eduard would have been there to see his promotion.

Right after, Ivan changed his uniform. Junior lieutenant. Rising up, ever more. He deserved that uniform, deserved that rank. He'd done everything Ivan wanted. He could get higher, too, he could make it up higher if Ivan kept trusting him to these tasks. Maybe one day he could even make colonel general. What a wonderful thought.

One day.

Didn't take long for the excitement of his promotion to wear off. Just a few days, actually, because it was still obvious afterwards that Toris found himself fourth in line for Ivan's attention, although first in line by uniform. No matter how high his rank, come to think, Ivan just kept on focusing his energy and time on Eduard, who seemed paler and more tired than ever.

Raivis and Irina settled in, quickly, and Ivan continued to shower Eduard with never-ending affection. Toris was off to the side, cast out and apart from them. Five was too many. They had been fine with three, just fine. It had been better with three. It had been better when Ivan had only had Toris. Too many.

In the back of his mind still, stubbornly, he hated Eduard for it, for everything. For this isolation. Kept on blaming him, no matter how many holes there were in his theories. He was the first one Ivan had brought. He should have been Ivan's favorite. He had been the first. He was a higher rank. Should have been superior, and yet when Eduard was in the room, Toris completely disappeared from Ivan's mind.

And that drove Toris fuckin' crazy. Wished Eduard would drop dead somewhere.

He hated when Ivan reached out and put a hand on Eduard's cheek. He hated it when Ivan stopped in his tracks and watched Eduard when he passed as if hypnotized. He hated when Ivan had nothing but open ears for Eduard whenever he did speak. He hated that Ivan couldn't stop fuckin' staring at Eduard, every time they were within sight of each other. He hated that Ivan exalted Eduard.

He hated Eduard.

Hated him so much, was so angry, in fact, that Toris picked up the phone one night, and called those men for the first time of his own volition. Didn't know why; he was just so angry, so damn angry, that he had wanted to hurt someone. Couldn't hurt Eduard, because Ivan woulda killed him, but he knew who he could hurt, if it was still possible.

Hadn't said Feliks' name aloud in years. Had felt strange, that time, giving it to those men and asking them to check. Just to check, was all. Just wanted to know if the bastard was alive or not, or if he had struck down somewhere, troublemaker that he was. Ivan had murdered those men, he knew it, he knew he had, even though Ivan had said Feliks or Toris going would save them, but he didn't really think that Ivan had had his men kill Feliks, if only because it seemed more like Ivan would have left Feliks alive to mourn the loss of everything than to die mercifully, so maybe he was still alive somewhere.

The word came back a few days later.

Son of a bitch was still alive. Yeah, figured.

Toris had sat there for days, rolling a pen back and forth on the desk as his mind wandered. What to do. Felt like hurting someone. Feliks was as good as anyone. Actually, of all the people he had hurt in his years here, Feliks might have been the only one that had ever wronged him. Might have been the only one he had ever actually had reason to hurt.

Still felt so torn about actually doing it, and he didn't know why. A line would be crossed, in some way, if he struck out at Feliks. Everyone he had hurt so far had been Ivan's order, that was all. He hadn't actually done anything on his own. Hadn't done anything that Ivan hadn't told him to do.

But Ivan hadn't told him to look for Feliks.

Toris was torn initially.

Hesitant. Uncertain. Reluctant. The vague memory of that beautiful smile. The last remnants of a normal conscience struggled against the tide of Ivan's lawless world. Toris was torn.

At least until one day, Ivan reached out with a gentle hand, lifted up Eduard's chin, gave him a long look over, and then smiled as he leaned down to kiss Eduard upon the tip of his nose. And when he pulled back, Ivan said, earnestly, "I'm proud of you. You've done so well." A lower voice, lower words, as Ivan whispered into Eduard's ear, but Toris had heard it all the same.

"I love you."

Fury. Absolute wrath incarnate. Fuckin' Eduard hadn't even done anything yet, not a damn thing. Nothing, nothing, and Toris had flung down his hand that time, had set those fires, had done everything. What was there to be so proud of? Eduard hadn't done anything worthy of Ivan's attention. Nothing.

Toris found himself stalking around later on in circles, huffing air in through his mouth, and then, finally, he picked up the phone. Anger led his actions, as it so often had out here, when he gave those men an order.

So angry.

Just a short sentence, and yet it had such grander consequences :

"Get rid of him."

Simple words.

But the line had been crossed for him. He had killed, not because he had to, not because he had been asked to, but simply because he had wanted to. Somehow, striking down Feliks had made Toris feel better. Better. The shittiest, most awful thing he had ever thought, he knew it, was sure of it, but he had felt it all the same. No point in denying it. Killing the man that had once loved him had made him feel a little better.

Feliks. That smile. That beautiful smile. Feliks had loved the world. Feliks had loved life. Toris took life away from Feliks, because Feliks just hadn't been brave enough to let Toris keep his. Cowards, the both of them.

And still...

The good feeling faded, as it always did, and, as always, Toris felt worse afterwards.

One night, couldn't remember how long Eduard had been there, Toris had sat dejected in the foyer, drinking, and Eduard had come in. Everyone else had been asleep. A weight on the couch beside him. When Toris looked over and saw Eduard there, all he could do was sneer. Hated Eduard. Surprised he had the nerve to approach Toris at all, since Toris had been making it very clear.

Eduard sat there for a while, anxiously, looked over at him, and finally spoke. The first time they had ever actually sat there side by side and spoken, because Ivan had always been hovering over Eduard and Toris had just been too bitter to try.

"Say, you're Toris, right? You don't speak a lot, huh? I wanted to talk to you before but I was kinda scared, to be honest."

Somehow, those words had put Toris a bit off guard, despite himself. Maybe it had just felt good to hear Eduard say that Toris frightened him. Made him feel powerful, even though he wasn't.

Eduard sat there, shifting his weight, and then said, "You're... I don't know, man. You're crazy. I could never just stand there and do the things you do. You've gotta be the bravest guy I ever met. Or the craziest."

Brave? Had never felt brave, not once, not in his entire life. How had Eduard come to such a strange conclusion? Toris had just stared at Eduard, not even knowing what to say or do, and Eduard seemed happy to just speak without him.

"Oh, man, I wish I could be like you. I swear, I'm so— Christ, oh, I'm so scared, I'm so fuckin' scared. I wish I could be like you, I really do."

Silence. Toris was utterly dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. Couldn't even speak then had he wanted to, and just sat there, bottle clutched in his hand and staring at Eduard with the same expression he had had on the very first day they had met.

Eduard looked up, met Toris' eyes, and Toris could see there, for the first time, how truly exhausted Eduard looked. How sad. How scared. Toris had always seen Eduard as so calm and cool and collected, but as he sat there that time, all Toris saw was a scared kid. A nice guy that had done nothing to deserve being where he was.

...hey, he had been that once upon a time, hadn't he?

Try as he might to hold onto that hate and anger, something about Eduard then had made Toris' bristles fall. Just a little.

A long, heavy silence, and then Eduard had gestured to the bottle in Toris' hand, asking thickly and somewhat shakily, as if ready to cry, "Say, room for one more?"

Feeling somewhat dreamlike, Toris silently handed Eduard the bottle. Nearly put the whole damn thing back in one long chug, no stranger to liquor, and it occurred to Toris that he was sitting on the couch drinking with his self-appointed mortal enemy. Someway, somehow, that had made him laugh.

Laugh. When was the last time he had laughed?

Eduard stared at him for a while, but, hell, Eduard apparently already thought he was a psycho, so Toris just kept on laughing. Afterwards, Toris felt better, better, and that time the feeling didn't disappear immediately after, because Eduard had just stared at from beneath a high brow and had actually cracked a little smile. A real one, not the terrified ones he gave Ivan.

Eduard was just a kid, in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that wasn't really his fault, anymore than it had been Toris'. Ah, hell, now his head hurt. So long hating Eduard, so long blaming him, and it was so strange to suddenly allow himself the thought that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't Eduard's fault.

Had never been Eduard's fault.

Suddenly, good god, Eduard reached out, plopped his hand heavily down on Toris' shoulder, leaned in, and said, quite seriously, "I take it back. You're the craziest son of a bitch I've ever met."

And Toris had looked over, beyond the tipsiness, and had felt himself reach up, put his hand over Eduard's with a clap, and responded, "Thank you."

A short stare between them, and then somehow, they were giggling together. Eduard was right, after all—Toris was crazy. Laughing with that man that he had hated more than anything. How strange.

Eduard opened his mouth again, asking, "Where are you from?"

That was how it all began, and the next thing Toris knew, he and Eduard were speaking, chatting, having a conversation, and they sat there all night, drinking together, until dawn. Just speaking.

Eduard had actually sat down next to him of his own volition, Eduard had spoken to him because he wanted to, and that was a first out here. No one out here had ever really been nice to him, aside from Irina, but somehow her affection always seemed a bit...off. Sometimes a little unwanted. Eduard was the first one who ever actually bothered to try and get to know him. The first one to see him there and smile at him, really smile.

At the first light of morning, it was as if something in Toris had calmed.

The hatred for Eduard dissipated. In its place, Toris had started feeling something like affection. Friendship. Go figure. Had hated that man so much, but when Eduard smiled at him, suddenly there was a little light in this dim world. Ivan never gave him the time of day, and Toris might have been desperate for affection. Eduard gave it to him.

When Eduard smiled for the first time, it had occurred to Toris that there was something as beautiful in Eduard's smile as there had been in Feliks'. That same love of life, perhaps, or that same desire to be in the world. Kindness. Eduard's smile was different than Feliks', but just as mesmerizing. Eduard was so nice. So nice. How hadn't he seen that before? So long blaming Eduard that he hadn't really noticed all of the wonderful qualities about him. Oh, hated it when Ivan fawned over Eduard, absolutely, but it wasn't really Eduard's fault. Maybe it was Toris'. Maybe it was Ivan's. But it wasn't Eduard's. Eduard had never had control over anything.

And Eduard smiled at him, even after Toris had set fire to that town. Didn't think anyone would ever be able to smile at him again.

When Eduard saw him now, he sent Toris that smile, and always said, so casually, "Hey, Toris."

Like normal guys. Out here, in this place, in these circumstances, that alone was something spectacular.

At last, Toris had someone to talk to.

Didn't take much of that smile, much of that camaraderie, before Toris had started thinking of Eduard as a brother of sorts, a companion, and was always happy to see him whenever he walked in. Never thought it would happen, but suddenly Eduard was the best thing in the house, and Toris was damn glad to have him there.

Even though, sometimes, there were still bursts of jealousy.

One morning, Eduard had been quiet, subdued, and it hadn't taken Toris long to see why. Eduard's neck was bruised, his arms were bruised, his lip was bruised, and somehow Toris knew right off exactly what had happened.

Still, he asked, perhaps thoughtlessly, "You alright?"

What had surprised Toris was the envy he actually felt.

But when Eduard had turned his head away, when Eduard had spoken, his voice had been so thick and strangled that Toris knew he was on the verge of crying.

A low, weak, "I'm fine."

Eduard didn't speak up again for a while, and the jealousy had faded into something alarmingly close to guilt. Eduard hadn't had a choice about where he was, who he was with, and when Ivan came down later and put his hands on Eduard's shoulders, pressing his lips into Eduard's hair, Toris had seen the split-second crumple of his face, the falling of his mask, the threat of bursting into tears, before the calm came back.

Eduard had called Toris brave, but maybe it had been Eduard all along who had been the brave one.

For his part, Toris tried his best to engage Eduard and keep him smiling, if only to take his mind from other things. The first time since then that Toris had allowed someone else's well-being to take priority over his own. Eduard, Toris thought, had loved him in return.

Suddenly, Eduard had been with them for a year and a half, a point by which Toris had long since cracked. Ivan had been confident that Eduard had, too. Toris agreed. Eduard was just Ivan's by then, Toris had accepted it, and Ivan was so casual and doting with his affection that it literally felt like Ivan had just gotten married and brought home his new wife. Eduard played his part with grace and dignity, and no one looked up at all when Ivan wrapped his arms around Eduard from behind and rested his chin on Eduard's shoulder; not even Eduard. It was just that normal. Eduard had cracked.

Not so.

Toris hadn't seen it, hadn't even guessed.

Lesosibirsk.

It hadn't been anything exciting; just a meeting, but it was the first time that Ivan had taken Eduard outside apart from the ball.

Ivan had been bristling with excitement, just at having Eduard by his side, and even though Toris had been jealous, it hadn't stung so much because Eduard was his friend. The jealousy was so much easier to deal with now, it really was. Eduard was his friend, and for that Toris kept a good eye on him. Kept him safe.

And everything was alright, everything was fine, everything was going great, until Eduard decided to skip town.

Smart son of a bitch, that was certain, smart enough to outwit Ivan when no one else had been able to. Fucker had been fakin' the whole damn time. Eduard hadn't ever been lost in the mist, but he had been damn good at acting like he had been. Had never been broken, at least not beyond repair, but had played the part well. No one could ever lie to Ivan, because Ivan's razor-sharp mind would never miss it, and yet somehow Eduard had fooled him. Maybe, like so much else, Ivan had been so in love that he had just been unable to see it.

A goddamn movie star, to fool Ivan as he had.

Oh well—whatever. The point was, he ditched, and left Toris high and dry. Didn't even come to him and ask if Toris wanted to run with him. Maybe Eduard hadn't trusted him enough, not truly. Maybe Eduard had decided that Toris just wasn't worth the risk.

He had thought that they were friends.

Eduard ran, and didn't take Toris with him. And even though Toris would have refused, even though Toris had never even tried to run once, even though Toris probably would have eventually returned to Ivan had he ever actually run, even if Toris loved Ivan too much to run, it didn't matter. Somehow, despite it all, Toris felt betrayed. Eduard should have asked him, should have tried to engage him, should have made it known to Toris. Toris wouldn't have run, but was infuriated all the same that Eduard hadn't tried to take him.

Didn't make sense, wasn't coherent, but Toris was furious all the same.

Should have asked. Friends? Wrong. Eduard ran, and left Toris behind.

Ivan was smart. Eduard had just been a little smarter. One of Ivan's greatest vanities was in his perfection. Ivan didn't make mistakes, of course not, not Ivan, and so it was only natural that the incident with Eduard was entirely Toris' fault.

His fault. Always his fault.

They had drank together so many times before. Sat together so many nights. Passed out together so many times. How could he have anticipated that Eduard had been setting up everything from the very moment he had arrived? Every word, every gesture, every casual act, had been Eduard's master plan, something that even brilliant Ivan hadn't been able to envision. From the very moment Eduard had stepped into that house, every second had been spent building up to that escape. Befriending Toris had just been part of it.

Toris took the fall.

It hadn't been a day out of the ordinary, it really hadn't. The meeting had gone well, Eduard had stood calmly by Ivan's side, unmoving and perfectly attentive, Toris had been in his element, and Ivan stayed behind with other generals to drink. Toris and Eduard, left to their own devices, had gone up to the hotel room with bottles of vodka they took from the bar.

Had started out so normally.

Toris and Eduard had drank so often together that Toris hadn't thought anything about it, hadn't even noticed that Eduard had been drinking far less than he usually did. Hadn't noticed that Eduard was letting him polish off the two bottles and hadn't drank even half of one. Chattering, as they always did. When Eduard was with him, Toris felt happy, and it was the best thing he had going on in his life at the moment, so he never even thought to question Eduard, because he trusted him, perhaps blindly so.

It had been getting late. After midnight.

Eduard had suddenly said to him, offhandedly, "Why don't you go grab more booze?"

Giddy and bleary and absolutely ready to chug more vodka, Toris had pushed off the bed, slurring, "Alright!"

He made it to the door after a struggle, found the doorknob, and was on his way out when Eduard stopped him.

"Toris."

Toris hung in the frame, stumbling as he was, but managed to look back all the same.

"Yeah?"

Eduard was staring at him, quite intensely. An odd silence. Hesitation. A strange expression, and a stranger voice.

"Are we friends, Toris?"

Toris smiled, fighting for balance, and answered, "Yeah, man, we're friends."

Another stare. Eduard's eyes had been so strange, but Toris had been too drunk to fully comprehend it.

The way Eduard had been looking at him.

Finally Eduard said, "If... If it had been somewhere else, you know, some other time, I think me and you coulda been best friends. I think we could have really been brothers, you know?"

Blearily, Toris kept on smiling at Eduard, feeling warm and happy and content, and he only said, "Yeah, I think so, too. But it's alright. This is good enough for me. I can call you brother still, if ya want."

A halfhearted, sad smile. A low whisper.

"I'd like that. I'm glad I met you."

Ah, that felt damn good to hear. Toris smiled, and meant to carry on.

One more interruption.

"Toris."

Again, he looked back.

But this time, Eduard opened his mouth, and choked, instead smiling and saying quickly, "Never mind."

With that, Toris staggered out and made his slow, unsteady way down the stairs and back towards the bar. Took him forever to get down those two flights without breaking his neck. Didn't make it to the bar though, before he was interrupted in the hall. Something warm and heavy on his shoulder. And when Toris looked over, drunk as he was, he saw that it was Ivan's hand on his shoulder.

Toris smiled, dumbly, and drunk Ivan was actually smiling, too, and then he leaned in and said, clumsily, "Go get Eduard. I wanna introduce him to these guys, proper, you know. Go get him."

Too drunk to be jealous that time, Toris had immediately said, "Alright," and made his wobbly way back to the stairs.

How he made it back up without dying he couldn't say, but that was the least of his worries when he made it back to the room. The damn door was locked, and it took Toris longer than he would have liked to admit to finally fumble that key out of his pocket and into the lock.

Had he locked the door? Couldn't remember. He turned it. Pushed the door open. The first thing he noticed was how cold the room was. Freezing. Windy.

...windy?

It took him a second to focus, a second to gather himself, a second to understand. Took him a second to realize that the room was cold because the window was open. Took him a second to realize that the room was empty.

Empty.

Intoxication was rudely interrupted.

Just like that, the realization cut through his drunkenness, cut through his dizziness, and Toris' eyes widened as he darted into the room, looking in the bathroom and under the beds and even in the fuckin' cabinet drawers, looked everywhere, everywhere. Went back to the door and looked down either side of the hall, went back to the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain, looked under the beds again. Nothing. Empty.

Eduard was gone, and the window was open.

He stumbled to the window, poked his head out and looked down below. Nothing. Oh god—

He stood there in front of the window for ages, wide-eyed and frozen, hands shaking so bad that they were banging into the windowpane, breath caught up in his throat, mind whirring and body stuck, and then there was a pang of nausea. And he might have thrown up then if something hadn't caught his attention.

A sound behind.

He had stood there in that horrified, numb stupor for so long that Ivan got tired of waiting and had come up the stairs behind him to fetch Eduard himself, and he was grabbing the doorframe for support. Turning around, and seeing Ivan waiting... Waiting. Had never felt such outright horror.

Ivan's bleary eyes and tipsy smile, as he asked, "Where is he? Tell him to hurry up."

Horror, such horror. Ivan loved Eduard.

The scariest moment of Toris' life, when he had to finally raise his arms helplessly at his sides and say, weakly, in a high voice he didn't recognize, "He's... He's gone."

Absolute terror.

The look of incomprehension on Ivan's face. Ivan looking over Toris' shoulder, brow crinkled in confusion. The silence.

Ivan's rather deadly whisper, then.

"What do you mean?"

Toris couldn't breathe anymore. Cold.

Another helpless lift of his arms, a slow shake of his head, as Toris tried not to tremble in fear as he said again, "He's gone. I don't know where he's at. He was here before, I swear he was. He was just here. He's gone."

Ivan looked...

Well. Toris hadn't ever really been able to figure out that look on Ivan's face as he had stomped forward, shoving Toris aside, and stepped into the room. Might have been disbelief. Might have been a bit of panic. Maybe hurt. Who could ever have said.

All Toris could do was watch as Ivan stood there in that empty room, the wind blowing in from the window and rustling his hair and coat, and Toris couldn't even really think he was so scared. So afraid.

Ivan's fists had already clenched.

When Ivan turned around after a good minute, hell was etched there upon his face, and if Ivan hadn't been so set on running downstairs to go after Eduard, Toris was pretty sure that he might have died then. The need to catch Eduard saved Toris from Ivan's wrath, at least for a little while.

Toris didn't follow Ivan as he bolted down the stairs and outside; just stood there, dumbly, and waited. Waited for Ivan to realize that Eduard was gone. That there was no way to catch up to him by now, because Eduard had no doubt stolen the car. Waited for Ivan's rage to break through. Waited for Ivan to come back. Waited for the consequences of his stupidity.

Eduard was gone. Had left Toris alone, to suffer Ivan's anger. Eduard had to have known that running would put Toris in danger, would put him in Ivan's warpath, and he hadn't given a damn.

Through the open window, Toris could hear Ivan's enraged shrieking and cursing from below. Had never heard such a horrifying sound. Terror. Ivan's wrath had burnt up Siberia.

When Ivan came tromping back up the stairs, Toris tried his best to brace himself, for all the good it did. No amount of bracing could have saved him from that furious Ivan. And god, Toris had never had such a beating in his entire fuckin' life, not ever. Hadn't ever been beaten to within an inch of his life as he was that night. Ivan couldn't seem to stop.

Ivan had been wronged.

Kinda funny, as Toris thought about it from his hospital bed days later—Ivan had loved Eduard, as much as a man like Ivan could truly 'love'. Eduard's run had, laughably, hurt Ivan's feelings. Had hurt him not only because Eduard had been Ivan's apparently chosen life-partner, but also hurt his pride. Ivan's excessive ego had taken a hit. His masculinity and dominance had been laughed at, in a sense, by Eduard.

Juliet wasn't exactly supposed to jump down from the balcony and hit the ground runnin'.

Eduard was gone.

Toris was still in shock, still unable to comprehend, unable to fully accept the magnitude of the betrayal.

Toris was in the hospital for two weeks, but at least he was alive—thanks to the alcohol, the doctors had said. Loosened him up so much that he didn't incur as much damage or some such. Toris didn't care about that. Just wanted to see Ivan. Ivan didn't come to see him, not once, and yet every time the door opened Toris had expected to see him all the same. Ivan had put him there, and still Toris wanted to see him like he had never wanted anything. Wanted Ivan.

Ivan never came.

Eduard was gone. His friend. Brother.

A lie.

Would have cried, maybe, if he hadn't been so angry. If he hadn't been so disillusioned. So stupid. How could he have ever thought that they were really friends? As it always was, Toris had been too dumb to see what someone had really wanted from him. In the end, only Ivan ever truly stuck by him. Two weeks without Ivan. Suffocating.

One day, though, flowers came. It was pathetic and pitiful, but Toris hoped to god all the same that they were from Ivan. Oh, wanted them to be from Ivan. Wanted that more than anything else, because Eduard had left him behind like dirt and now Ivan was truly all he had left. Please be from Ivan, oh, please—

They weren't. They were yellow. Funeral flowers. And the note just said, 'Next time.' Somehow, Toris knew right off who they were from. That woman; Natalia. Oh, how she hated him.

Ivan never came, and it was Irina, in the end, who came out to Lesosibirsk to pick busted Toris up and have him driven back home. Beneath the pain, beneath the longing, there was a steadily growing pool of brand-new hate. Fury. Eduard had left him.

Eduard was gone. No party that year. Ivan brooded for months.

Hurt and dejected; of that, Toris had no doubt. Ivan had put so much effort into Eduard, so much energy, so much love, so to have Eduard run out like that must have cut him. Ivan had been so love-struck, and now was love-sick. Toris had hoped, at first, that Eduard being gone would mean that sulky Ivan turned all of that energy to him.

But he never did.

He had come home from the hospital that first day, arm around Irina's shoulder as she helped him hobble along, and when they had come in, Toris had been so excited to see Ivan, so excited at being number one again, so excited to know that Ivan would have no choice but to appreciate him more in the light of Eduard's betrayal. So excited.

But Ivan had only glanced up at him from the kitchen table, circles under his eyes and looking like hell, and hadn't even uttered a word. Bleary-eyed. Pale. Drunk. Clothes wrinkled and hair a mess. Hadn't shaved since. Looked like he'd been crying. Looked absolutely dazed and devastated. Ivan had fallen so hard and fast for Eduard. For men here, Russian men, Slavic men, love was everything, even beyond power. Losing it like that was probably too much for Ivan to even comprehend.

Well. Ivan needed time, that was all.

Toris clung to shards of hope. Toris kept on hoping that Eduard's absence would mean that Ivan would start paying him more attention. That things would go back to the way they were before Eduard, when Ivan had liked him. When Ivan had opened the car door for him. Every day that Toris woke up, he hoped that Ivan was going to look at him and see something to compliment. That Ivan would see something worthwhile.

Hardly.

Maybe Ivan relied on him more after that, let him take on more difficult tasks, let him take charge of military business. Let Toris into his world all the more. Ivan let him become his right-hand man. But Ivan never loved him, and never gave Toris what he really wanted.

Ivan silently mourned Eduard for a surprisingly long time afterwards, but as far as Toris was concerned, it was good riddance; being 'brothers' only caused him trouble. Every time he trusted someone, they betrayed him in the end. Every time he cared about someone, it ended up being for naught. They turned on him.

Not Ivan. Ivan was always there, even if it wasn't with kind words. And for that, Toris loved him.

Months after it all, Eduard's absence emboldened Toris, and he found his pace. He used the anger of that second backstabbing to become more distant with his conscience. Damn thing had only ever caused him trouble anyway. He hadn't batted an eye when he had killed directly for the first time. He'd killed before, but only over the phone or through soldiers. Doing it himself had been different, but he had been able to cling to that dark side enough to brush it off without too much effort, and had been alarmingly calm when he had gone into a bathroom and scrubbed flecks of blood from his hands.

Oh, but the nightmares he'd had afterwards. He was afraid to look at himself in the mirror. Murderer now, a true one.

But maybe he wouldn't have been if Eduard had stayed.

Five years; Toris had lost track of how many murders he had set into motion. Too many to count, and somehow it had become boring. Killing was just like any other hobby, and you could only do it so many times before it got old. Even when he did it directly, even when he pulled the trigger himself, even when he had killed a woman, a woman, it just didn't make him feel much. Only Ivan could do that, and yet Ivan denied him any undue attention.

Ivan held the first party since Eduard's departure, trying to get back into the swing of life apparently, and it didn't hurt any less than it ever had when Toris saw Ivan hunting down handsome officers that were ranks beneath him so that he could corral them in the halls. (No Natalia that year—Ivan had put armed soldiers at the door of her house.)

Toris could only watch Ivan hunting, and drink. One young Sergeant (blond, of course) that had found himself in Ivan's clutches, not quite against his will from the suppressed smile on his drunken face, had stood perfectly at attention as Ivan had pressed up against him and crooned, 'Sergeant, do you know who I am?'

A rough, domineering hand upon the back of the soldier's neck, and he answered, quickly, 'Yes, sir.'

'Who am I?'

'My superior, sir.'

Ivan's self-satisfied smile, and a low, husky, 'Good answer. And do you have to do what your superior tells you?'

'Yes, sir.'

Ivan's smile had grown, the first time he had smiled even a little since Eduard, the Sergeant never broke attention as Ivan grabbed his hand and forced it downwards, and Toris had turned away. Couldn't stand it. As always, Toris just went into the hotel room alone and slept it off. Maybe if he weren't so bitter, he would have looked for someone for himself, but he couldn't stand the sight of Ivan touching others, for a reason he couldn't even put his finger on.

So, Toris tried ever harder, and became ruthless in his efforts to impress. In the meanwhile, Toris tried hard to pretend that Eduard had never existed at all.

Six years; an officer had gotten on Ivan's bad side while on a tour in Hungary. Toris had been the one to walk up to him in the hall of the hotel and shoot him before Ivan could, because he wanted Ivan to be impressed. It worked, on some level; Ivan had raised him up from junior lieutenant to lieutenant. That had been a good damn day, seeing that new badge on his shoulder. Still waiting for Ivan to compliment him, though.

Ivan still left him alone at the ball in favor of blonds that year.

Seven years; the paperwork had gotten dull, but Toris kept on, and to amuse himself had started engaging in activities on the side. Started using those diamonds. Started bribing his own men and creating his own little world, even if it was only ever for fun. He used them for whimsy, nothing more. Used them around neighboring towns. Used them sometimes to irritate Natalia, in little ways; cutting off her electricity when she called the house too much, having someone snip the wires in her car, things like that. He even found new men, ones Ivan didn't associate with, and made them his. It was comforting in a way to know that, somewhere out there, he had men that were loyal only to him, and not Ivan. He didn't tell Ivan everything, because Ivan didn't tell him everything. Fair was fair. Never did anything that would have gotten him into trouble, though, should Ivan have found out.

That year, feeling restless and agitated and somewhat stifled, certainly far beyond unappreciated, Toris tried to keep himself in Ivan's sights during the ball. No go; as always, no matter how hard he tried, Ivan always brushed him aside with irritated looks and gestures, as if Toris were somehow as unwelcome a sight as Natalia.

Frustration started rising.

Ivan felt it, felt his insolence, and started becoming aggressive towards Toris, despite the increasing power he let Toris have. Hit him, for the first time since Eduard, and did so frequently after that. Toris took it, because it was better than being ignored, and silently seethed.

Eight years; he had started taking diamonds for granted, because there were just so many of them. Ivan's position had inserted him into the trade, and they had accumulated so many that eventually the notion of diamonds became somewhat droll. Toris went to Moscow with Ivan, held his head up high and sneered at people, because he knew that at any point he could have just tossed out a diamond and gotten any of them to do anything he wanted. He had started planning out how he was going to rule his own piece of the world.

That year at the ball, Toris pitched a fit in the hotel room, so angry at who knew what, and he tore the room apart before marching back out into the ruckus and looking for someone beneath his rank that he could bully around. Found one, alright, found a rookie Private and hustled him rather roughly all over the floor. Maybe Toris did it to get Ivan's attention, but that didn't work. Ivan watched him, a bit curiously, but didn't really seem interested in what Toris did. Even when Toris grabbed the Private by the arm and started dragging him towards the stairwell, Ivan just didn't seem to care.

Bust.

Toris went from feeling gratitude to Ivan for his identity to hating him for it.

Ivan never gave him thanks for the countless things Toris did. Never said 'good job'.

Nine years; Raivis had started withdrawing himself from Toris and speaking to him mostly only during 'family' gatherings. Toris, far from hurt, was glad in a way, because Raivis had always annoyed him. Hadn't seen the harm, then, of letting Raivis drift from him. Just a kid, although certainly Toris had been leery of him in some way just because of the circumstances that had led Raivis to them in the first place.

By then, he hated those fuckin' balls. Hated them. Hated going. Didn't wanna go anymore, but didn't have a choice.

The parties aside, Toris had been doing alright. Creating his own world calmed him, kept him from really snapping, and he was steadily coming down from that cloud of excess stress. He had started calming.

Everything had been going alright. Everything had been fine.

Toris had been fine.

Had started really getting into himself. Had accepted everything as it was. Had accepted that Ivan wouldn't ever love him as he had Eduard, but that Ivan needed him, in some way. Accepted that Ivan wouldn't ever stop in the hall to compliment him, but that Ivan enjoyed his presence at some level, if only because Toris made his life easier. Maybe it said more about him than Ivan that he had been fine.

Toris had been just fine.

Ten years.

Then Ludwig came.

Like Eduard before him, Ludwig gave the right answer. As they said, the third time was the charm.

Toris had hated Ludwig as much as he had hated Eduard. Another competitor. Another unwelcome guest. Another replacement.

And then, as before, even though he should have known better, even though he should have learned his lesson, even though by all rights Toris should have never cared about anyone ever again, he found himself falling for Ludwig, just as he had Eduard. Found himself thinking 'brother'. Friend. Should have known better, but he had done it all the same.

Toris said he gave up on the world, hated it, but then the world came to him, in Eduard, in Ludwig, and he woke up again and started caring.

Toris had started caring about Ludwig. But so had Ivan.

Ivan had approached Ludwig so tentatively at first, content to attach himself to Ludwig's physical appearance alone, still stinging from Eduard's departure. Ivan had let Toris train Ludwig, because Ivan didn't want to get too attached right off, not like he had with Eduard. Ivan had been burned by Eduard, and Ivan had learned his lesson about falling in love too quickly. Just sat there and studied that German dictionary, and yet didn't lift his hand. Stayed so distant from Ludwig, so detached, and let Toris have Ludwig.

No need.

Ludwig had appealed to Ivan in every sense, beyond his pale hair and pale eyes, beyond his bravery, beyond his handsome face.

Ludwig had been weak to a man like Ivan. Ivan pinpointed that weakness like a wolf, and had wasted no time acting upon it, because Ivan was somehow able to predict that Ludwig would bend, despite his aggression and his constant attempts to flee. Ludwig's brashness might have given away his latent frailty.

Eduard had always been calm. Ludwig had fought.

How strange; Ludwig was what Ivan had been searching for all along. Darkness and submission all in one. If Ivan had loved Eduard, then maybe there weren't any words that could ever possibly describe what Ivan felt for Ludwig. Ludwig, poor, sweet, confused Ludwig, had cracked so much faster than anyone could have anticipated. Ludwig had been born vulnerable to someone like Ivan.

Eduard had had confidence in himself and a strong sense of person. Ludwig had neither. Ludwig's mind wasn't as strong as his body, and now, somehow, someway, here Toris sat.

With Gilbert, in a tiny house in the middle of nowhere.

And that was that.

Ten years.

Ten years, uttered aloud in a matter of hours.

Gilbert stared up at the ceiling, and every once in a while, he looked over at Toris. Sometimes, he opened his mouth as if to speak, and faltered before looking quickly away.

Toris didn't try to speak anymore. Didn't feel like it, but not because of moroseness.

Calm.

For the first time in forever, he felt something close to calm, as if somehow spilling all of those years of mist had cleared his head a little. Someone had sat there and actually listened to him. No one ever had. Ludwig might have, once, if Toris had given him the chance. Gilbert hadn't said a word in those hours he had spoken. Maybe he shouldn't have told Gilbert. Probably had only scared him more, and at the same time it probably only made him want to get Ludwig out more. Probably shouldn't have told him, because sometimes being in the dark was better.

Toris didn't sleep that night. Thinking.

Looking back on it like that, really thinking about it, Toris could see now that if Ivan had been attracted to him, if Ivan had treated him the way he treated Eduard and Ludwig, then Toris would have turned out just like Ludwig. If Ivan had loved him, he would have gladly given the world for that man. Had, already, even though Ivan hadn't loved him. He'd have given anything for Ivan.

Even then, even as he had sat there and relayed that tale to Gilbert, even as he had thought about it, Toris had felt himself fanning out proudly, because, no matter how much Ivan loved Ludwig, Toris had been first.

Toris would always be first, whether Ivan liked it or not. The first to see Ivan before he had been a general, the first to wear a uniform, the first to be in that room, the first to look at that map, the first to lead soldiers. The first to know Ivan. He was the only person on this earth that truly knew just about everything about that man. Toris would always be first.

Feeling that pride, then, he knew that it would have been so easy for him to be just like Ludwig. Couldn't even imagine how strong that feeling would have been if Ivan had reciprocated. Good god! Woulda set the world on fire for Ivan. Anything for that man, anything at all. Would have been just like Ludwig. Would have been exactly the same, if Ivan had loved him the way he had loved Ivan. May even have been worse than Ludwig.

He'd lead Gilbert to Ludwig now, because, had even one little circumstance been different, Ludwig was everything Toris would have been. Ludwig wouldn't turn, but maybe it wouldn't matter in the end. Once you gave even a little bit of yourself to Ivan, there was no going back. Ivan snuffed out all of the light, all of the beauty out of the world, and yet somehow that only made him all the brighter. Only made him more magnetic. Made him more addictive.

Ivan had been all that Toris had thought about for years. Without him, everything seemed as dull as it had that very first day. No getting him back.

Toris hadn't stood there before the mirror and realized what a horrible person he was and that he needed to change. He hadn't had a great change of heart. Hadn't felt the need to make amends. Hadn't wanted to redeem himself. It hadn't been conscience or kindness or regret or remorse that had turned Toris against Ivan.

It had been jealousy.

Always had been.

Yeah, the way Gilbert loved Ludwig was beautiful, it really was. But in some way, no matter how hard Ivan would have denied it, Ivan had been his, more than Ludwig's, and when it really came down to it, Toris wanted to take Ludwig from Ivan because he knew it would hurt him, more than anything. Ivan had wronged Toris by not loving him, and now it was time to wrong Ivan.

He had accused Natalia and Ludwig of brawling over Ivan, but he had been there in the dust, too, just a little quieter and more subtle than his competitors. He may not have been in love with Ivan as they were, may not have wanted exactly what they had wanted, but was fighting them all the same. He had always loved Ivan, as much as he had hated him. Couldn't stand Ivan loving someone else.

Gilbert kept glancing at him in short intervals for the rest of the night, but quickly looked way if Toris met his gaze, anxiously, and it was easy to see, that look on Gilbert's face. Toris knew that look well, because he had seen it more times than he could count. The look he was used to getting. The look that he was more comfortable with.

Fear.

Couldn't say how it had all come to be, but here he was again, in this cycle. The world came to him again, this time in Gilbert. Yet again, despite it all, Toris started caring.

Eduard was dead.

Once upon a time, Toris had wanted to mail love letters.