Ivan tensed immediately as the three seemingly simple words fell out of his mouth. He was stock still though his mind was racing. He said it. He finally said it. Why had he said it? How could he have just said it! Alfred was still as well, feeling unreal. The teen had to be joking, had to be tricking him.
He wasn't.
As the silence dragged on and Ivan didn't refute his statement, Alfred began to reel. Was he serious? Was he really serious? His heart began to beat erratically and he tried to sit up. Ivan obliged him, scooting away from him as quickly as he could, fearing if they touched he would hurt him somehow. Violet eyes stared at the blond's every movement.
"Y-you killed him?" Alfred finally whispered, the words foreign to his mouth. They left a bitter taste in the back of his throat.
"D-da."
And the world turned completely upside down. It was so unreal. Ivan had killed someone. Killed. Murdered. Taken someones life. Alfred took a deep raggedy breath as his heart started ramming against his ribcage. How? He didn't know how to react at all. It took him a minute to realize that he already was, chanting a quiet desperate, "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God!"
Ivan didn't say anything as he stared at him nervously. What had he done? Why had he told him? He wanted to take the words back but he had no idea how. The damage was done.
"Y-you killed someone...Oh my god...You killed some—!" He almost exclaimed but Ivan covered his mouth quickly out of fear of being heard. He did not want anyone else to know about this. He didn't even want Ivan to know but it was too late now.
Alfred pulled away frantically, his heart was racing and fear was growing withing him. The Russian looked at him desperately, removing his hand due to the others struggles. "Please, Alfred..." He begged, hoping the other would at least quiet down. Perhaps let him explain.
"You fucking killed someone!" Alfred hissed back, his blue eyes wide. The realization hit that he was sitting in front of a murderer... Suddenly, he began to fear for himself and he looked at Ivan with growing alarm. Ivan noticed and panicked.
"No! Please, please don't be afraid! I-i...Please!" Ivan hurried out, grabbing the others arm to keep him close. Don't leave me. I don't want to be alone again. Please.
Alfred thrashed once more, heart thumping noisily against his ribcage as he pulled at his arm. "Let go! You're a murderer!" He snapped out with a tremor of fear, no longer trusting the hand that had minutes before caressed his face. His own hand was immediately freed and he held it against his chest as he stared at the taller teen.
Ivan trembled, retracting into himself from were he sat on the edge of the bed. It was true. He was a murderer. Why would Alfred even care for someone so horrible? "Y-you are right." He murmured brokenly, "I am a murderer..." Then his mumbles faded into unintelligible Russian as he closed himself further up. Shielded himself from others and the world. He should of listened to his brain. Others only caused him pain and misery, he should have stayed clear of the American from the beginning.
Alfred swallowed nervously, the scene reminding him of the event in the bathroom. He should get out. He should run away and call the police. He should tell his dad, he should tell someone! But, against all instinct and much like the time in the bathroom, he stayed. He couldn't find the heart to leave Ivan looking so broken on his bed, especially now that he harbored feelings for him.
Taking in a steadying breath he moved closer to the Russian, "Ivan?" He whispered tentatively. Ivan's head snapped up, startled, having been buried in his arms. He almost lost his balance on the bed from the sudden action. Fortunately, Alfred steadied him instinctively, before retracting his hands as if he had touched fire, or in Ivan's case, ice.
Violet eyes blinked at him in confusion and Alfred leaned back to grab his glasses from the night table. "Just...Just tell me what happened." He murmured, placing them on his nose so he could see the other more clearly. He was always cursed with curiosity.
"I...Let me start at the beginning..." Ivan spoke up quietly and hesitantly. Blue eyes gazed at him intently and he knew that his entire future with the other depended on this explanation. He took a deep breath before recounting his tale of hardship, trying to remain as strong as he possibly could. He would not show weakness, he would not cry.
"Father and Mother were never on very good terms... Father drank a lot and we never had much money. Our home was old and beginning to fall apart though Mother tried her best to keep it together. I don't remember much else of her because she died when I was five while giving birth to Natalia..." He paused a moment, his hands fidgeting with the bed sheets. His eyes remained downcast, unable to meet the steady blue gaze.
"Ivan!" Came a loud British cry that startled them both, "You'll be staying over night." Alfred yelled out a response before quickly turning back to the Russian. Why did his Dad have to interrupt at the worst time possible?
"After she died, Father drank more and came home angrier. More money went to his drinking than to food. We didn't have heat, our clothes were never warm enough. It was always so cold..." He shivered slightly, "Father began to beat my sister and I. Not Natalia, we made sure of that. He mostly beat me..."
"Is he the one that whipped you?" Alfred couldn't help but interupt. His anger surfacing once more.
"Nyet..." Ivan responded quickly, though his father had contributed to some of the scars on his body.
"One day when I was nine Father came home and began to harass Katyusha..." He gritted his teeth at the memory, his hands fisting the sheets. "Katyusha... She resembled Mother... They had the same face, the same eyes... When Father came home that day, he had drunk significantly more than usual and he..." Ivan closed his eyes, willing the memories to leave him. "She was fourteen and he started to touch her." He spat in disgust.
Alfred's eyes widened as he put two and two together, "You don't mean...?" It was just too sickening, too horrible.
"Da. I did not know at the time but he was trying to rape my sister." He hissed in utter repulsion, his hands clenching until he was certain his knuckles were white beneath his black gloves. "She was crying and screaming and...and I had to do something. I took a pipe and I—" He faltered, those eyes glaring at him from within his own mind. Why couldn't he just leave him alone? Why did he have to torment him constantly?
"You killed him." Alfred finished for him in a quiet whisper. The pain evident in Ivan's voice along with his frequent pauses showed him how difficult it was for him to recount his past. He needed to know though.
"D-da... We were put into an orphanage. It was poor and understaffed. Most children died there. Katyusha took care of us...Then they forced her to leave." He blinked furiously, he would not get emotional now. Not in front of Alfred. And couldn't the voices quiet for just once? It felt like they was screaming at him from within his skull. He took a breath in order to calm down.
"Why would they make her leave?" Alfred urged on, battling with whether he should hug the other. He didn't. He couldn't. The idea that he had killed someone was still too unreal, too horrible for him to surpass.
"Because she was 17 and they had a rule saying she had to go." He hissed. "I haven't seen her since..." He touched his scarf, smiling softly for the first time in his story, "She gave me this before she left."
Alfred bit his lip as the full sentimental importance over the piece of fabric weighed down on him. How could he have torn it? Forced him to give it up for a day? He was such an asshole. But... But Ivan had killed someone. He had killed someone. The simple fact replayed in his mind non stop as he tried to fight it back with what Ivan was explaining.
"She always instructed me to do well in school and to continue learning English. After she left I continued to do so. This angered Mr. Winter... He was the administrator of the orphanage." He explained hastily, "Most children died there but those who did survive went on to be drug dealers and prostitutes. He didn't like that I was actually trying to make myself better.
"He started to whip me."
"He's the bastard." Alfred interrupted without thinking, his eyes glaring at nothing. How dare he do that to Ivan's back!
"After three years, I killed him."
Alfred's eyes widened and he stared at him, "Y-you killed him too? Oh my god, oh my god." Two people. He had killed two people. Sure they were horrible people but...he killed them. Didn't that make him horrible as well?
"D-da... Toris came to the orphanage asking to adopt me and the staff readily agreed. They wanted to get rid of me. I only agreed because he had a letter from my sister... Natalia is still in the orphanage." He added sadly, hoping she was alright. He hesitated a moment before more words slipped from his mouth.
"Каждую ночь я вижу их во сне. Людей, которых я убил, людей, которых я больно, сестры я оставил позади." (Every night I see them in my dreams. The people I have killed, the people I have hurt, the sisters I left behind.) He confessed in Russian, shielding his eyes with his bangs as he looked down at the bed and waited.
Alfred was silent. He stared at Ivan who fidgeted under his gaze. What was he suppose to say now? That it was ok? Because it wasn't... Killing people wasn't ok. Raping people and whipping wasn't ok either...
He was so very confused and shocked. He wondered if this was what Ivan had to go through every day. These conflicting feelings of what was right and what was wrong.
"Alfred?" Ivan couldn't stand the uncharacteristic silence from the other. He must hate him now. How could he not?
"...I don't know what to say..." Alfred mumbled honestly, many thoughts clogging up his mind. He didn't know what to do. "I think... I think you should sleep in the guest bedroom."
And all hope evaporated from Ivan's eyes. Alfred didn't want him to be near him. He would have probably made him leave if he wasn't staying for the night. How could he tell him? He should have lied or said no. He had ruined everything.
Ivan nodded numbly, his violet eyes frosted over as he slipped off the edge of the bed. He left the room, his measured steps quickening as he neared the guest room. He pulled the door open with a shaky hand, closing it shut before sliding down into a crumpled heap. It was over.
Alfred knew everything. Alfred hated him. He would never speak to him or fight with him again. He was gone. Just like everything else he ever cared for.
What was the point now?
He brought his knees up to his chest, hiding his face behind them. What would he do now? Why was he even here? No one would give him a second thought if he just left. He wanted his sisters now more than ever.
"I want to go home." He whispered to no one.
He wasn't sure where that was anymore.
Matthew leaned down to place the plate into the crowded dishwasher while shooing away Gilbert's wandering hands. Didn't he realize their parents were in the other room?
"Come on Matt... Just a little kiss." The albino urged, wrapping his arms tightly around the others waist.
"Stop it. I'm not in the mood right now, Gil." Matthew sighed, turning around and crossing his arms. He had more important things on his mind at the moment.
"You're brothers just being a drama queen. Let him be." Gilbert snapped and Matthew glared at him even if the statement was half true.
"Dad and him have some problems, ok. I..I wish he would let me check on him..." Matthew sighed, worrying his bottom lip. Really, Alfred was probably waiting for him but Arthur was in one of his punishing moods.
"You can check on him later, after I leave. Which will be soon by the way." Gilbert reminded with annoyance prevalent in his voice. Seriously, it was totally unawesome that he was being denied.
Matthew rolled his eyes, giving him a sweet peck on the lips before pulling away. "Happy?"
"You're so mean." Gilbert pouted before a devilish idea came to his naughty mind.
In the other room, Feliciano and Francis were sitting together on the couch while Arthur and Ludwig spoke of trivial things. Their talk was only interrupted when the phone rang, Toris asking if Ivan could stay the night because he would not be returning home until very late. Arthur agreed, notified his son before going back to his conversation with German. Francis paid them no mind, looking at his friend intently.
"Feli, is there something the matter? You seem a little gloomy..."
"Ve... I am just a little jealous." The Italian admitted shyly, casting his brown gaze to the carpet. Francis blinked at the confession, tilting his head. He was jealous of him? Why? The whole night had been spent fighting with Arthur, Arthur fighting with their sons, one son storming upstairs and then more of him fighting with Arthur. Now, he loved Arthur and therefore could put up with his behavior but why would anyone else be jealous of it?
"It must be so nice to be married." Feliciano sighed sadly, looking fondly at the tall blond who was listening to something the British man was saying. Francis eyes softened, placing a comforting hand on the others thigh that most people would have seen as romantic but the redhead knew it was purely platonic.
"The proposition will be voted on again in a year... When it is overturned you can marry him in a heartbeat!" Francis reassured. Feliciano was always so positive, but this subject could make the smiling redhead frown in seconds.
"You are so lucky Francis! You married Arthur before they overturned it... Its been twelve years and it hasn't been changed." He whined, an adorable little frown painted on his face.
"You and Ludwig live together and our faithful. It is almost as if you are married." Francis reminded in an attempt to cheer his friend up. It didn't seem to be working.
"But we're not. And it makes me... It makes me feel dirty." He pouted and Francis sighed, bringing the Italian closer to himself. He knew Feliciano was a very religious Catholic, only really disagreeing with the Church on the aspects of homosexuality. Other sinful acts, including premarital sex, though, had been hammered into him since childhood. It still made him feel guilty that he was actively sinning since he agreed with the Church on that point.
Francis, himself, was technically Catholic though most would cringe at his sinful record. Still, he went to church on Easter and Christmas, thinking that to be enough. It was better than his husband who had been Catholic then Protestant and then denounced all religion in favor of 'reason'.
"The law will be turned over soon, Feli, you shall see. Then you can have the wedding of your dreams! I'll even bake you're wedding cake; I promise it will look beautiful."
Feliciano cracked a smile, fantasizing of the day that seemed so very far away. "Not an erotic one, right?" Francis chuckled and raised a brow.
"Non, but another cake could be arranged for your wedding night." He mused with a smirk, adding a wink for good measure. Feliciano blushed lightly, letting out and embarrassed giggle. The two blonds conversing looked over at the sound and Arthur immediately became suspicious of his husband's facial expression.
"What are you talking about, frog?" Arthur asked warily. Francis gave him a teasing smile.
"Oh, purely business. We were discuss the erotic section of the bakery." He explained easily.
Arthur's cheeks tinged a bright pink, "I still can't believe you made our bakery have en erotic menu! It's sickening."
"If I recall, you did not complain when I made that cake in the shape of my pe-"
"FRANCIS!" Arthur shrieked, his face no longer pink but a heavy red. Why? Why did his frog find it so easy to speak of such such private details? It wasn't fair that he was forced to marry the damn wino!
"Francis, if that in fact is what you were discussing with Feliciano, will you remove your hand from his thigh?" Ludwig stated sternly. Though, it was more of a command than a statement so Francis quickly obeyed. Arthur sent him death glare when he realized what his husband had been doing. A sudden spark of jealousy grew within him. Francis always did have a soft spot for the air headed Italian. Was he not cute enough?
He didn't just think that.
"Feliciano, it is getting late. We should go." Ludwig continued stiffly, taking his boyfriend's arm in order to pull him off the couch. Feliciano made a little 'eep' noise when he was forced off the couch but followed anyway.
"Gilbert! Time to go." Ludwig called into the kitchen where he assumed his son still was.
"Fuck." Gilbert hissed, pulling his mouth away from Matthew's aching member. Matthew's hands, which had been clenching the kitchen counter, now gripped the albino's light hair. He pushed him back towards his throbbing cock.
"Finish what you started!" Matthew snapped, though it came out more as a beg than an intimidating order. Gilbert gave it a teasing lick before standing up and tucking the other in.
"Well, maybe if you hadn't bitched so much at the beginning I could have finished." He pointed out cockily, giving his boyfriend a long kiss on his beautiful, flushed face.
"Gil..." Matthew whined, his violet blue eyes a shade darker with lust. Gilbert swallowed thickly, wondering if maybe he could continue... But West was probably going to walk in any minute now. He leaned in and gave him another kiss.
"I'll call you when I get home, I'll finish what I started." He added mercifully and Matthew moaned quietly at the implications. Then Gilbert was gone and he was left to catch his breath, unfulfilled and with an embarrassing tent in his pants. How did he get himself into these kinds of situations? He straightened himself up, tugging his shirt down to hide his obvious erection before climbing the stairs as quickly as he could.
He paused at the sight of his brother's door, wondering whether he should go in to comfort him. Though, he didn't think it would be best to walk in with an obvious erection and offer his twin a hug. Plus, he could hear Ivan's voice emanating from the room, they probably didn't want to be disturbed. He would check on his brother once he took care of his problem. Gilbert better follow through on his promise of phone sex.
"Francis! What the hell!" Arthur snapped, glaring at his husband once their guests left.
"Quoi?" He asked innocently
"Don't 'quoi' me! You were hitting on Feliciano! In front of me!" Arthur retorted.
"I was not hitting on him!" Francis defended. How had he gotten that idea in his head?
"You were telling him about you're—you're prick!" Arthur accused.
"I was not! Why would you ever think that?" Francis asked shocked.
"You said you were speaking about the erotic menu and you had your hands all over him!"
"I did not! Arthur I would never do that to you. My cock is only for you, it was one of my vows remember?"
"I still can't believe you actually said that during our wedding!" Arthur cried, reddening at the memory before returning to the argument at hand. "You were flirting with him like you always do."
"Arthur, are you jealous?" Francis asked with a raised eyebrow and the British man flushed even more.
"I am not. I only wish you had the decency to not flirt in front of me, your husband."
"You know, Arthur, even if I tell Feli he is cute that he could never be as cute as you." Francis stated honestly as he smiles sweetly at him. It was true; his husband was the cutest man in the entire world. Even with those huge monstrous eyebrows. They merely added to his charm.
"I don't want to be cute." Arthur crossed his arms and pouted, making him absolutely adorable.
"Oh of course not, you are handsome. And strong." Francis acquiesced, coming closer to wrap his arms around his pouty Brit. For once the man didn't fight him off.
"I'm stuck with you forever and you're stuck with me. You better bloody remember that." He snapped, and Francis smiled kissing him deeply as an answer. I know, don't worry.
"Feliciano is feeling gloomy because he can't get married. I was trying to cheer him up." He confessed against those lips.
"It isn't his fault, the proposition will be up again soon." Arthur reasoned, uncrossing his arms in order to wrap them around the other loosely.
"I know, but he is still sad. You know he is jealous of us?"
Arthur snorted at the thought of someone being jealous of his relationship with Francis. The idea seemed quite absurd. The Frenchman pouted and Arthur rolled his eyes, kissing the down turned lips.
"Do you not see what we have? We have been together for sixteen years, isn't that something others should be jealous of?"
"Sixteen... Has it been that long?" Arthur whispered, wondering how he could have staid with the frog for so long.
"Oui, impressive, non?" Francis kissed him again, picking his husband up to place him on the cleaned kitchen table. Arthur let him, deciding to be passive for the moment. "We have been married for twelve years, we have two wonderful teenage boys and a beautiful home. Surely that is something for others to be jealous of." He reiterated and Arthur smiled, leaning down to kiss him instead of answering him.
"You know Francis... You're behaving yourself quite nicely right now..." Arthur mused and Francis chuckled lightly.
"Am I to get a treat?" Francis asked.
"Well it all depends, my mood can change quite quickly. Take me to our bedroom, we'll see what happens." Arthur instructed, allowing the Frenchman to carry him up the stairs because it was a command. As Francis obliged him, he leaned close to his ear, "Get the French maid outfit out." He ordered huskily and his husband's steps increased substantially after hearing those words. Arthur almost never agreed to wear that!
Alfred stared at the ceiling with a frown. What was he suppose to do? Should he call the cops? Should he tell his parents? Should he keep quiet and pretend nothing happened, that this conversation never happened?
No, he couldn't do any of those. But he had no idea what he was supposed to do. Never had he been thrown into such a situation. What do you say when your boyfriend tells you he has killed two people? Especially when he seemed to have good reasons to do so and therefore made the act not as horrible as it should be.
Yes, he had just admitted to the fact that Ivan was his boyfriend. That issue no longer seemed so important at the moment and it helped alleviate some of his stress to just accept the fact. He liked Ivan, he like him a lot. He enjoyed kissing him, he still fantasized about him sometimes. He didn't love him, or at least he didn't think so. It was too soon for that.
And the fact that he was a murderer was making him very antsy over the entire subject.
Fuck! What the hell should he do?
"Alfred?"
The blond's head shot up at the quiet voice, his blue eyes locking with a near identical pair. Oh, it was only his brother. Wait, Mattie always knew what to do! Maybe he could help.
"Are you ok? You look awful." Matthew continued as he came closer to the bed. Ivan must have left because he was no longer in the room. Alfred seemed to be very pale, and his face was full of worry. He wondered if something had happened.
"Mattie, what would you do if..." His voice faltered. He couldn't just tell his twin that Ivan had killed people. It was obvious the Russian hadn't even wanted him to know. "If someone you cared for did something horrible, like illegal and horrible, but he did it for a good reason?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well... Like, would you call the cops on him or what? I... I just really need your advice right now." Alfred pleaded and Matthew conceded to the strange request, taking a moment to think.
"I guess... I guess if I cared for them I wouldn't call the cops, especially if they did it for good reasons. Are they still doing it?"
"No...he isn't."
"Well, maybe I'd help him through it? I don't know... Whats this about, Alfred?"
"Help him through it?" He had never thought of that... But how?
"Be his hero." Matthew translated into terms his brother could easily identify with. Alfred's eyes gleamed at the idea, sitting up as he contemplated it further. He liked the ring of that. Ivan seemed to regret killing them, and they had done horrible things... Maybe... Maybe he could help him get through the guilt and stuff...
"Al, whats this all about?" Matthew asked again, frowning at his brother. What was so horrible?
"I.. Mattie I can't lie to you but I can't tell you either. At least, not yet. Just... Just don't ask me ok? I promise I'll tell you everything once I can." He answered honestly, his eyes begging his brother to just accept the vague explanation.
Matthew sighed, "Alright Al." He acquiesced, still feeling lingering guilt from his own secret that had hurt his brother. "Tell me when you're ready." Alfred gave him a smile and hugged him tightly. Matthew smiled as well, pulling back and leaving his brother alone once more. He seemed to want to be alone.
It was getting late, Alfred realized, as he stared at his clock. He didn't feel like sleeping though. His mind was still awake with the possibilities of playing hero. No, not playing but actually being.
He got out of his bed quietly, slipping through the dark hall. His parents must have gone to bed already. Or they were having fun in their room. He grimaced as he passed the master bedroom and heard the noises, at least they were being a little quiet.
"Oh dear Francis, you're so very dirty... I don't know how I'll be able to clean all of you." Not quiet enough, he hissed in head, shivering at the creepy role play his parents were doing. Stop thinking about it.
The guest room was dark when he opened the door, but it wasn't quiet. He could here the bedsheets twisting and a quiet whimpering noise. His eyebrows furrowed at the sound as he stood, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once he could see outlines he tiptoed toward the lamp, flicking it to its lowest setting and illuminating the sleeping Russian.
Ivan had his eyes closed but not in a peaceful dream induced way. His eyebrows were drawn together and his whole body seemed tense. He kicked and squirmed under the thin sheets. He was taking in ragged breaths and his pale hair was a shade darker where it clung to his neck and forehead from sweat.
He seemed to be having a nightmare.
"Ivan?" Alfred whispered worriedly, poking at the distraught teen. Ivan whimpered and pulled away, drawing himself into a protective ball. Alfred frowned, shaking the other, "Ivan, wake up!"
Violet eyes shot open as Ivan sat up quickly, moving away from the others hands instinctively. He took in a calming breath, staring wide eyed at the concerned American. He opened his mouth to speak before realizing he was about to speak Russian and quickly closed it. He took another deep breath and finally came up with the English equivalent.
"Why are you here?"
"Were you having a nightmare?" Alfred asked, ignoring the question and asking a more important one.
"It's nothing."
"No its not."
"Yes I had a nightmare. It happens every night." Ivan confessed, pulling the sheets toward himself.
Alfred frowned, getting on the bed much to Ivan's surprise. Why would he want to be so close to him now that he knew the truth?
"Look, I... I don't think you're a monster or anything. I'm just kind of in shock." Alfred admitted quietly.
"You... You are not afraid?"
"No." Alfred answered immediately, surprising himself with his certainty. "I'm gonna help."
"Help?"
"Yeah."
"How?"
"Well," he began, pulling back the covers and slipping in beside the Russian. "First, I'm gonna get rid of your nightmares." Now that he knew he had them, he should settle those first.
"How?" Ivan repeated, becoming more confused as Alfred was now right beside him.
"Whenever I had nightmares about the old neighborhood I would sleep in Dad and Papa's bed. I never had nightmares when they were with me." Alfred explained, trying to get comfortable in the bed since between the both of them there wasn't that much room left.
Ivan didn't see the logic in the argument but nodded anyway. "Why would you have nightmares over a neighborhood?" He asked curiously.
"I think we've been through enough today. I'm exhausted. Lets just go to sleep, k?" Alfred answered hurriedly, taking his glasses off and placing them on the nigh stand. He turned over so he could lie on his side.
"Fine... Are we like we were before? Or..or have we regressed?" Ivan was horrible confused and that matter was most importan in his mind. He truly hoped he hadn't ruined everythin.
"We're... We're like before." Alfred decided after a moment, sinking down into his pillow and turning the light off. Ivan remained tense beside him and he decided he needed to make him more relaxed. "You can hug me. Just, nothing sexual." He informed quietly, mostly to his pillow. Still, Ivan must have heard him because he felt the other place his arm around him tentatively. He flinched, his brain reminding him these hands had killed but he quickly pushed those thoughts away and relaxed. He was going to be his hero. He felt Ivan slowly relax beside him as they both fell into a deep restful sleep.
For the first time in a very long time, Ivan did not suffer a nightmare.
You know what really pisses me off? When firefox decides to crash before you save the chapter you just finished editing. -.-;
I had to re-edited everything after Gilbert and Mattie and I was frustrated. Hopefully its ok.
Anyway! There ya go, chapter posted and hopefully you guys like it.
Just want to say this story is still far from being over.. I have realized that this story seems to go into like..10 chapter phases.
1-10 = Ivan and Alfred hate each other
10-20= Ivan and Alfred are awkward friends
20-30 = Ivan and Alfred are awkwardly sort of a couple
I never meant that to happen.. Lol, now we're in phase four! Alfred tries to be Ivan's hero.
Next chapter Alfred explains his plan to rehabilitate Ivan! Oh poor little Ruski...
I love you all so very much! Thanks for sticking with me, see you next week.
Send me love notes by reviewing :D
PS: Once this story is closer to being done I'm probably going to write a prequel which will focus on FRUK and GerIta. It'll start with that scene in the office when they first met and probably end with them moving into the 'new neighborhood'. Tell me what you guys think in your reviews of love :)