Blanket of Innocence
A feeling pained in the pit of Alfred's stomach. It raddled around and begged to be let out. Alfred refused it, but it started to shoot upwards in his throat. This action caused Alfred to cough it up and let the feeling go from his body. It actually felt better than the pain of it just settling in his chest. His eyes begged him to just stay closed, but he had to know what surrounded him. Blue orbs opened up to find the searing sun overhead him. He blinked and groaned. His head throbbed in pain. He began to sit up and take in the stuff around him. He was on a beach that part was for sure. The sand stretched both ways he looked. It was soft but blazing heat beneath his hands. In front of him was the great big ocean and sky. If one squinted enough it looked like the two could merge and become one. If not, the blue from the ocean contrasted into being a brighter blue than the sky which showed no signs of clouds anywhere. Alfred looked to his right when he heard a deep chuckle.
A sight he regretted seeing filled his eyes. It was that son of a bitch Ivan Braginski. He was sitting there with his cream colored cloak gone and a smile to his lips. The Russian's chest was being occupied by a white, v-neck undershirt and his precious pink scarf. The man's pants were black and had dirt on the knees from where he'd probably been kneeling over something. Alfred stared at him as the events from earlier came back to him. "I saved you, America. A thanks is in order. I-." Ivan was cut off by Alfred tackling the man to the sand. "You threw me out of a god damn plane, you asshole! That's not saving! Then, you drop me as we were falling god knows how fast! Now to top it all off I'm stuck on an island with you!" Alfred's hands were balled in the man's scarf, pulling him up to Alfred's face. The American's thighs were placed on either side of Ivan's body in an attempt to weigh him down. His owns words finally sunk into his own brain. He was stuck on an island probably in the middle of the ocean with an ass who loved to be mean to him. If that didn't just top the icing off on Alfred's cake, he didn't know what would.
The man underneath him only grinned. "Oh, America, you are so funny. People will notice when we are not there at the meeting." The Russian chuckled which rumbled in his chest. The laugh rattled through Alfred's legs and up his spine tingling him down to the bone. "That meeting, asshole,"Alfred yelled,"is three damn days away! What the hell are we supposed to do in the mean time?! Wait, where is everyone else?" Alfred suddenly felt the need to turn and look around him. No one else was insight. He couldn't remember anything else besides blacking out on impact of the water. "I do not know. The plane went down with the pilots over there." Ivan pointed out with a flick of his purple eyes. Alfred followed the eyes and found a smoke trail in the sky. It seemed so far away. But that didn't explain where the three women went. What if they were hurt? What if they didn't make it? Alfred's body went limp and his hands loosened their grip. Ivan's grin faded and he just laid there as the American took in the new information.
"W-Well...what about the stewardesses? W-What about...them? Did they-you know make it? "Alfred found his voice cracking with thought of the people he'd seen earlier dead. They had families, friends, and children who probably didn't even know this had happened. He felt the loss of those American people right in his heart. His eyes filled with water as Ivan shook his head. The tears started to drip one by one onto Ivan's shirt. One drop turned to two to three to more than he could count. Ivan didn't seem to mind that Alfred was crying on him. Ivan would probably have done the same if it were his people on that jet instead of America's.
The thought of death gripped tightly onto Alfred's heart and tugged on it. It jerked the organ and squeezed it until there was nothing more. He knew those people. They took him everywhere he wanted to go. Over time he knew them all by name. Nancy, Kate, and Emily were the three stewardesses. They all were friends back in high-school who dreamed of becoming the new comers to the music industry. They wanted to be a band with Nancy on the bass, Kate on the drums, and Emily as the lead singer with a guitar in her hand. Their opportunity never came around even though Alfred assured them they just hadn't found the right manager. All three of them would tap to the rhythm of the radio at the runway when the jet got delayed. Now no one else could hear their beautiful notes, sounds, or voices anymore.
Jerry was the co-pilot. He had always wanted to be a fashion designer, but he could never find his mojo or inspiration. His sketches always seemed a bit off to Alfred. The fabrics all looked too neat. None of the designs he made had any character to them. Jerry lived alone in his apartment somewhere in Washington. When he was eight, the feelings for men came out of its box as well as the urge to travel the world. Putting his idea of traveling first instead of fashion, he became a pilot. He'd always wanted to become an official captain of a plane. He got his wish when an offer was brought to him. He wanted it so much and was about to take it when he saw Bill. Bill was the Captain in search of a new co-pilot. Jerry passed the opportunity up on becoming a captain. He wanted to know and be around more of Bill and got just that. Their time together was limited to only work hours because Bill was straight. He had no idea of his co-pilot being gay or the massive crush Jerry had for Bill. Bill was married to some woman who was cheating on him. They were planning on getting a divorce. Once Jerry heard about this he literally took Alfred out to celebrate. Alfred gladly went along enjoying that Jerry was happy even if it was at another person's expense. Bill was always miserable with his wife. She would always yell at him on the runway and Jerry always wanted to slap her right in the face. The day they lifted off was the day Bill's divorce was marked official. Jerry was quite excited. He was going to tell Bill exactly how he felt when they landed in either Cuba or Egypt; He couldn't decide. Now he didn't have to make that decision.
The tears started to flow a lot more at the thought of their lives ending and all the things they could have been. Alfred wanted to die himself. He wanted to curl up in the smallest corner of the world and cover himself with a blanket of innocence. He wanted to hide himself away from Ivan and the rest of the god forsaken world. All these thoughts were set aside as he felt arms encase his being. The arms pulled him down and made him feel warm. The tears stopped as Alfred closed his eyes. He didn't care if Ivan held him. He wanted to be held at the moment if by Ivan or the devil himself. He didn't care. The hug represented warmth and comfort. Alfred's eyes closed and he let his breathing become normal again. Just for right now-for this moment in time- Ivan would be Alfred's blanket.