On Saturday, when Alfred was off of work, they went on a walk to get lunch at a local sandwich shop. Ivan kicked stray rocks as he shuffled along the sidewalk. Alfred reached out for his hand and grabbed it and remained there. They were nearing their destination and had been quiet the entire time.
Alfred cleared his throat, "It's nice to get out of the house for some fresh air, right?" He looked at Ivan who was looking at the trees around them blankly. He then realized Alfred was talking to him and turned his head.
"Hm? I'm sorry, I didn't catch that." His voice was tired and drained, the opposite of alert.
Alfred sighed, "Never mind."
Ivan looked back down at his moving feet. He needed new sneakers, the one's he wore were tattered and old. Perhaps when Alfred got his next paycheck they could go shopping together, just like the old days, "How was your week? I never asked, I apologize."
"Don't apologize." Alfred waved his hand, smiling, perking up at Ivan's voice, "It was okay, I guess. I'm gonna get paid again next week, thank God. I was wondering if we would ever get paid in time for rent." They had been renting the house they were in for a while and pay was hard to come by. Alfred had been thinking about moving into a cheap apartment in the city but Ivan loved living just a mile away from the ocean and didn't want to move further inland.
"I was wondering once you got your paycheck if we could go shopping? We haven't done that in a while." Ivan sparked up the question in response to Alfred getting paid. Getting paid also meant meeting with his dealer again. He was running out of heroin rapidly.
Alfred looked at him, grinning wider, "That would be awesome!" He then frowned, scrunching his eyebrows together, "But, I don't know if I will get paid enough for that. We have to get groceries alongside paying for rent and utilities. Maybe I'll have some money leftover but I'm not positive I will."
Ivan felt bad about reminding his partner of their money situation. It had been a huge issue ever since the two started living together. Ivan didn't work, he didn't feel motivated to. After getting addicted to heroin, he had quit his job as a cashier at the local grocery store. Alfred didn't question him, surprisingly enough, but money issues weighed even heavier on his shoulders.
He remained silent until they got to the restaurant and he detached himself from Alfred's grasp. They went inside and ordered at the counter and sat down at the outside tables, waiting for their food. Ivan reached into his pockets and brought out a pack of cigarettes, taking one and lighting it, sucking on it, blowing smoke out of his mouth. He offered the pack to Alfred who gratefully took one. Ivan leaned over and lit his cigarette. The two sat in silence, puffing smoke and looking aimlessly around them.
It was hot outside, about seventy-five degrees, and Ivan was wearing a jacket. He scratched at the injection sites on his arms, sweating from the heat. Alfred looked at him in concern, "Are you hot?"
Ivan shook his head, wiping perspiration from his brow, "I'm fine." He continued to scratch furiously at his arm.
Alfred gave him an odd look, but dropped the conversation, observing his partner violently itch his arm, "Mosquito bites?" It was summer in Florida, so obviously the bugs were bad.
Ivan nodded, avoiding saying anything else. He was starting to get nervous. Other people were beginning to notice the two, eying them. Alfred started talking again, "Don't scratch at it, it'll only get more irritated." He placed his hand on Ivan's arm and he stopped scratching, concentrating on his partner's touch. It was very difficult to not touch the injection site; the wounds burned badly.
Alfred moved his hand to Ivan's head, brushing his oily hair and skimming his fingernails lightly over his pale cheek. Ivan closed his eyes and sighed. He took the cigarette from his mouth and snuffed it in the ash tray in the middle of the table. Alfred did the same, leaning over to kiss Ivan. In that moment he wanted to tell Alfred everything that was wrong. He was so tired of lying. He hurt. He hurt so much and he didn't want to anymore. He wanted help. He wanted Alfred to help him. He didn't care that they were in public, he'd tell him everything. Right now.
"Alfred-" They were interrupted by the waiter arriving with their food and Alfred pulled away, eying the sandwiches with greed. He would do anything for food. He dug in at once, biting off a mouthful of bread and everything in-between. Ivan on the other hand just stared at his meal, suddenly not hungry, though his stomach growled. He put his finger on the mushy bread, then took it off, watching the spongy material return to its original state.
After some minutes chewing his big bite, Alfred swallowed and looked in confusion at Ivan just sitting there, poking his food, "Why aren't you eating? It's delicious!" He took another bite, still watching his partner. Ivan looked up, then looked back and delicately picked up his sandwich, taking a nibble. It was pretty good. He continued to take small bites as Alfred cleaned his plate in a matter of minutes. He was about halfway into finishing his first sandwich when his stomach lurched and he had to put his food down. He felt nauseous. It was probably the heat getting to him.
"Is everything okay?" Alfred reached over his hand again as Ivan suddenly looked a lot paler than before.
"I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought I was." Ivan lowered his head, feeling bad about wasting food like that. It was even worse because of their monetary situation.
Alfred looked a little disappointed as well in his partner, but brushed it off, "It's no big deal. We can get a box for it so you can eat it later once you feel better."
Ivan nodded and pushed his plate away, placing his head in his hands. He felt feverish. He wanted to take off his jacket but that would risk showing off his stippling and bruises, "I want to go home..." He mumbled, sounding like a tired child complaining to his mother in a store.
Alfred squeezed his shoulder, "Go to the bathroom and splash your face with some water. It might make you feel better. I'll go ahead and pay, okay?"
He did as he was told and stood up, running off to the bathroom. As the cool air embraced his body he immediately felt a little better. He went to the bathroom and thankfully it was a one occupant only bathroom. He went ahead and splashed water on his face, turning one of the knobs until the liquid was freezing. He sighed in relief and turned off the water, drying his face with paper towels.
He then looked up at the mirror and observed his face. It was flushed of color, turning a sickly white. His hair was thin and bedraggled. The bags under his eyelids looked a lot more prominent. He touched them, hoping they'd disappear. It was a sign of illness, of insomnia. Alfred would know. Everyone would know. Even though he wanted so badly for his partner to understand his situation, the feeling had run away from him. Ivan gritted his teeth and headed back outside, trying not to cry.
Alfred was standing up by the time he got back, holding a plastic bag, already having paid for their meal. He took his hand and they walked back to the house, the sun once more beating down on Ivan's back. He was growing dizzy from the heat and hoped he would make it back without fainting. Alfred seemed to notice how much Ivan was swaying back and forth, for he laid a hand on his sweaty back and steadied him.
"Jesus, Ivan! You're gonna have a heat stroke! Take off your jacket."
Ivan shrugged Alfred off but he clung back onto him, staring at him intently. Ivan sighed and hesitantly took off his jacket, handing it to Alfred then quickly slapping his arms to his side. Alfred took his hand again and they walked back in silence.
As they entered their neighborhood, they spotted one of their neighbors washing his truck out on his driveway. He noticed the two and waved, sneering at the both of them, "Hey! It's the homo's out on their walk! What happened? Someone try to shoot at you? Good on them, I say!" He started laughing uncontrollably, obviously pointing out how white Ivan's face was. He gave him a piercing glare, fighting back the urge to run up and punch him, squeezing Alfred's hand fiercely. They had had issues with this man ever since moving in. Living in the south, the homophobic opinions weren't surprising, but they hurt nevertheless.
"Ignore him." Alfred said quietly and tugged him along back to their house at the end of the road. Once they got there, Alfred lead Ivan inside, and told him to get some rest. He was going back out to run some errands.
"I hope you feel better, okay? I'll be gone for about an hour." He kissed Ivan good-bye and got into his car, driving away. Once Ivan was sure he was gone, he went into the bathroom, stripped off his sweat-stained shirt, and got high.
Passing through stages of semi-consciousness after his bought of euphoria, Ivan thought about Alfred. He tried so hard to not fall asleep and think about only Alfred, about how much he loved him, about how once he got home he would kiss him and love him and everything would be normal again everything would be okay. But he was overcome by sickening sleep and he drifted off elsewhere until Alfred came back and he lied to him all over again.
–
That night, Ivan had strangely started to feel a craving for sex. It was sudden, abrupt, and he didn't expect it, laying there in bed with Alfred who was watching movies on the television in their bedroom. When he began kissing him, he couldn't stop, a ravenous hunger taking him by the wrist, digging deep into him.
Alfred was arching his back against his touch. Ivan was already inside him, panting and thrusting hard. He moaned Alfred's name, sucking on his neck, biting down. Alfred bit his lip, fighting back a fierce cry.
"I-Ivan... I'm gonna-"
"Do it." Ivan hissed, his thrusts losing rhythm as he neared orgasm.
Alfred scrabbled onto a hold for something. His fingernails scratched the sheets then flew to Ivan's arms, grasping and moving them upwards until he hit Ivan's injection site and stopped there, suddenly feeling the callouses and scars.
That's when Ivan panicked. He quickened his pace, hoping to distract Alfred, but he wasn't having any of it. He pushed back, shouting at him to stop until regretfully he did. His heart was beating fast against his chest as Alfred sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, reaching for Ivan's arms.
And there, he saw them, clear as day, all the stippling and bruised vessels, the scabs, everything. Ivan held his breath as his partner examined them all, an unreadable expression on his face. He rubbed his fingers all over the scars, then looked up at Ivan.
"... Why?" Was the only thing he said.
Ivan brushed his hair back, "I..." He stammered, looking for answers but there were none, "I-I just-I just wanted-" Don't cry, don't cry. He didn't cry, but he was on the verge of it, looking everywhere else but at Alfred to hide his face.
Alfred was speechless, putting his head in his hands, "Ah, shit... This is my fault, isn't it? Fuck..." He was the one who started crying, "Man, if I had just... Checked up on you or something. Kept you at a safe distance and noticed there was something wrong right at the beginning I could have prevented this. I'm sorry, Ivan." He wiped his tears away but more fell off of his cheeks.
Ivan looked back at him, shaking his head, "No... No, it's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. Stop crying, please..." He hugged him desperately, but Alfred violently pushed him away.
"Why didn't you say something? You asshole!" He screamed, sobbing, raising his hand as if to slap Ivan, but instead bringing it down against his bare chest gently, balling it into a fist, "Now I have to worry about this as well as your sanity! You fucking asshole! You know I could have helped you, why didn't you come to me? No wonder our money has been disappearing more than usual... Goddammit, Ivan!" He sat there, yelling and crying and cursing. Ivan hung his head, closing his eyes and searching his brain for responses but there was nothing. There was always nothing.
"I didn't want you to worry about me... You have everything else to worry about I didn't want to get thrown into the picture." He mumbled, but it wasn't the appropriate response. Alfred looked like he was going to hit him again.
"Didn't want me to worry? I worry about you all the fucking time!" Shit, that was true. Though Alfred wasn't in any danger of much, Ivan still worried about him. It was what loved ones did.
Ivan sighed, "There's no excuse. I fucked up, Alfred. I fucked up really bad and I don't know why. I should have asked for help but I... I don't even know anymore. And now I don't know what to do. It's got me and there's no escaping it. I want help. I need help. I need you to help me." Tears leaked from his eyes and he wiped them away. Alfred had stopped crying and screaming and was running his hands through Ivan's hair, looking down.
"I can help you. Or at least try. But a lot of it is fucked, it's already been done. There's not much I can do." He unclenched his fists and rubbed them up and down Ivan's shoulders, still not looking at him.
Ivan rested his forehead into the crook of Alfred's neck, crying quietly. He felt like shit, physically and emotionally, "I'm sorry." He breathed, his weeps growing louder, "I'm so fucking sorry, Alfred." He repeated a mantra of apologies and Alfred just sat there, rubbing circles on his back, staring out into space.