~*Matryoshka, Part I*~
My excuse as to why this story hasn't been updated since St. Valentine's Day? I fail at life! *Throws confetti before crumpling to ground and starts sobbing hysterically* Right now am sick with stomach virus, so going to be working in bed today. If it shows, I'm sorry.
A 'matryoshka' is a Russian nesting doll. Sounds kinda suitable for Belarus and her long-time desire to 'become one' with Russia, huh? Brrr. Gotta go hide under the sink with 91RedRoses. We have snacks if you want to join us. BTW, go check out her splendoriferous work if you want something hilarious to lift up your spirits after reading this scary dark moosemeat.
Woo-hoo! 8D PSYCHO HAS CLEARED 200 REVIEWS! Alfred's pain is my joy! Not really! I love Alfred, even if it explicitly looks like I don't, particularly in this chapter! Should we make the blessed number of 300, the 300th reviewer will earn a request from me! :D
Long note is long. Long chapter is long. Please review, my darlings. I so appreciate your feedback!
o~*oOo*~o
I don't even even know if this message
that I'm overly concerned with will reach anyone.
Surely, forever and ever, I will be
a mad Matryoshka covered in patches.
His dreams drifted, from the grainy and black-edged animations that almost always managed to smuggle in to his subconscious, to the floating roseate of a setting Russian sky, streaked with yellow and eggshell-white and a hint of the slate-blue of night. The streetlamps were not yet lit.
Panting and longing to cough at the burning tingle at his throat, Alfred tore past some scandalized-looking pedestrians, frantic to keep the baby-pink snatch of scarf in sight even as it fluttered away from him. From somewhere in the distance, his father was shouting.
The sorry-looking Russian boy skittered to a stop at a crosswalk, hesitated as he looked up at the glowing orange handprint at the opposing traffic sign, tried to cross anyway, and scurried back to the curb when a honking car zipped past.
Alfred lost his footing on the curb and hit the ground with a SMACK, scraping both his knee and his palms. For a moment, he blinked in confusion, inwardly making the debate between bawling his head off and brushing the matter aside—he slowly got to his feet and winced, flecks of granite falling from little indentures on just-slightly-bleeding hands. His knee stung terribly, jeans ripped.
But he could still make it. Alexei was fidgeting like crazy, glancing back at him and to the side of an alley, obviously considering a detour. Alfred smelled an opening, and staggered forward, making a show of being more hurt than he actually was.
"Alexei!" He shouted, turning several heads. "Come back, come back! My Daddy—" He wheezed, his lungs were on fire—"My Daddy says he can help you!"
It was at that wretched moment the traffic light turned red, and the little man under the hand shone white. The fair-haired boy with the filthy clothes tore ahead of the tourists with their great shopping bags, ignoring Alfred's pleas. Alfred sped forward, hot, angry tears pouring down his face and choking his next cry:
"Alexei, where are you going?!"
He too flew to a halt at the crosswalk, because his parents had sternly told him on all too many occasions that he and Matthew must never, ever enter the street without holding hands with an adult, and he danced from one foot to another as if doing his potty-dance, his pleas turning into sobs.
"ALEXEI!"
He turned, and for a moment the children stared at each other, Alfred a teary, bourgeois princeling, emanating comfort and the wide-eyed innocence of one whose world was infinitely hopeful, where safety was certain and the idea of a parent really, truly maiming a child ludicrous to the point of hilarity. His slim fingers were clean and fairy-like, whereas the boy's, whilst no longer dirty, were burned, misshapen and puffy with cold and blisters.
Alexei gazed back at him, his face thin, dirty-beige hair fluttering in the cold breeze, eyes burning and yet frightened pits, his entire frame tense and ill-clothed, countenance feral.
Please, please, please come with us, Alfred inwardly begged, taking a look at the dangerous white stripes on the road and imagining a car rushing up from behind him and striking him dead. He sniffled and swiped at his now-running, cold nose with a mitten, staring at the boy imploringly with all the words he could not express in Russian: Come back with us. Daddy will help you! He's like Superman. Maybe you can be brothers with Mattie and me. Come on, Alexei, please…
After a pause, his new friend lowered his strange purple eyes to the ground, as if ashamed. The wind accentuated the rush of color in his hollowed cheeks and he pressed his bandaged hands against his dirty, too-big coat. Alfred's stared stupidly at those hurts, trying to imagine what could have burned them so badly. Remembered when the hands had clumsily grasped his and the little Russian had kissed him before fleeing the chapel without another word.
"Alexei, come back over." He made a face when he remembered the boy could not understand him, and then chose to ignore it. "Please. Alexei…"
The little boy slowly shook his head, eliciting a frustrated foot stomp from Alfred and a rush of fresh tears. Alexei looked taken aback at this, almost touched. But the regretful smile he gave was cemented with tears.
"Ангел, я не могу принять вас," he said, and Alfred shook his head over and over again, not understanding a word and yet comprehending what he was saying only too well.
"Когда я большой и сильный, я вернусь к вам, чтобы вы моя невеста."
"What are you talking about, you big dumb cluck? Come back, quick, while the light's still—"
But the child just blew him a kiss and ran off. Steeling himself and gritting his teeth, Alfred made to follow when a hand seized his shoulder and roughly yanked him around. He was too startled to yelp.
Mr. Jones gave him that awful stare of his when the man wanted to look very scary, chest heaving. "The hell," He gasped, and Alfred knew he was in trouble because Daddy was using That Voice. "Were you thinking, Alfred Jones, running off like that? What did I tell you?" He prodded Alfred when there was no answer forthwithcoming. "Huh? What did I say to you this morning before we left Mommy and Mattie?"
"To keep close to you." It was an abashed mutter, but Alfred still tried to crane his neck in search of Alexei. Growling, Mr. Jones took hold of his chin and made the boy look at him. "That's right. Good God, Al, are you trying to give me a heart attack? You know what happens to kids who wander too far away from their parents in a crowd? They never see them again!"
Alfred went cold. "Is that what happened to Alexei? Daddy, Daddy you have to catch him, quick. He's getting away!"
Mr. Jones stood up and peered across the street, not saying anything for a moment. He didn't move even when his son grabbed his hand and started pulling with all of his might. "Daddy—"
"Al," The man said soberly, gently. "I don't think I can find him." He said something Alfred couldn't quite catch. "Don't tell Mommy I said that…it's just…Al, you have to understand that Alexei is probably a local pickpocket, likely knows the city like the back of his own…albeit burned…hand. If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be."
He was aghast. "But Daddy—"
"Knew I should have taken him to the station when I first saw him," Mr. Jones said ruefully, scooping up his son and depositing him on his shoulders. "But the kid was hurt something terrible, and looked a hungry mess. I hoped maybe him hanging out with us today might unbutton his lips a bit. I'll call the police, but they won't likely have any luck. Poor boy." His eyes misted over and the man slowly turned around. "We'll give the authorities a description of Alexei, but I don't know if they'll have much luck either. Especially if Alexei is staying with some filthy son of a… gun who feels entitled to hurt him that way. There's a special place in hell for things like them."
Things? "Alexei's Mommy and Daddy wouldn't hurt Alexei," Alfred faltered, hesitantly looking at his own hands. "They love him. They're s'posed to love him. Right?"
Mr. Jones did not answer and Alfred cried. He cried all the way back to the hotel. The tears wiped his memory clean of the question he had wanted to ask:
What does Ангел mean?
~o*oOo*o~
The air was warm and wafted with a burned, heavy sweetness that tingled in his nose. There was a floral hint to it as well—the clean smell of rain and flowers. Maybe Mom had found a new air freshener or something.
When Alfred woke up, he wasn't aware of it. His eyes were still shut, and it seemed to him that he had simply slipped from one strange dream—well, he could recall that it was strange, but the specifics were quickly trickling down the drain in his mind—to a cozier hallucination. Likely his recurring dream about snuggling up with several fluffy sheep.
For a brief second, he had woken up with some alien feeling of wrongness, but now it had been replaced by a comfort so sublime he didn't want to move an eyelash. And it had been awhile since he had woken up feeling so refreshed, especially on a weekday.
His brow furrowed just a little with dismay. Soon enough his alarm would start shrieking or Matthew would open his door, hurl his bookbag at his head and bark get up you lazy slob or you'll be late, so maybe he ought to get out of bed now because Ivan was likely….already waiting downstairs…..
The hamster running on the wheel of his mind skittered to a stop and stared bleakly into space. Ivan. Ismael. All the anxiety of the past few days crashed back upon him like a wave, and before he could break surface he was dragged into the undertow. Shit. Now he was suddenly much more awake. Getting up meant facing Ivan's smile again, Ivan's grabby huge-ass hands, Ivan tensing whenever someone so much as touched him, Ivan…..
Ivan…
Alfred's eyes flew open and the scene was so off he tried blinking it away for a few seconds as he sat up, certain that he'd just stumbled into yet another dream.
His beloved baseball and Captain America posters were gone, as was the light blue plaster behind them, large, genuine wooden logs in their stead. Alfred gaped at them, mind scrabbling as it tried to connect them to a breach of familiarity. No such luck, so he dumbly turned to stare at his lap, his hand brushing against something smooth and furry and he started in surprise.
There was no recollection of going to sleep in this huge ass pile of sleek, shining pelts—he couldn't resist running a hand over one of the spotted silky-smooth blankets, definitely real and probably cost a fortune—or this four-poster, draped with fucking flowers and white ribbons as if the bed belonged in some kind of honeymoon suite….
Fuck. Alfred's heart started fluttering in distress. This was like a scene from The Hangover, except he didn't feel particularly hungover, though he did have a gummy mouth that was becoming drier by the second, and his baffled mind was running headfirst into walls in a dozen directions.
What had he gotten himself into?
Above him, a little window emitted very little gloomy light—rain was streaming across it, impossible to tell what time of day it was.
Wary, not daring to breathe, his eyes darted around the dim room, which had an aged and damp but still clean feeling to it, traces of lemon polish and beeswax detectable beyond the scent of incense. He noticed a fireplace with flames crackling cheerfully…someone had been in here recently….
"Mmmph!"
His eyes jumped to the opposite corner of the room and flash-of-relief, flash-of-the-fuck-the-fuck-the-fuck, he let out a garbled yell, heart seizing and jittering like a slapped child.
"The hell….Kiku! M-Mattie! MATTIE!"
Alfred made to jump up but the moment he put a foot on the floor he nearly fell; something held him fast. A wild glance behind him and another near heart-failure later he saw that both his wrists were bound with rope, tethering him to the bed frame.
Swearing, he immediately started yanking furiously, clawing and even halfheartedly gnawing at the thick rope—this was quality brand stuff, and someone really knew how to tie a fucking knot.
Suppressing a whine he glanced over at his brother and best friend for help, only to have the damning recollection that the two were chained to chairs bolted down to the floor. Kiku was sporting a magenta gash across his pale, gleaming face, wide and desperate eyes seeking out Alfred's, a mirror of his fear and confusion. There was a cloth gag stuffed in his mouth. Matthew had no gag, but he lay still, his head slumped over and figure silent, blond hair messily fanned over his face, obscuring it from view.
For a second, nothing beyond rapid pulse and blinking, his body temperature soaring. Then Alfred glanced down at himself, his hands slick with sweat and slipping as they feebly tried to coax the thick rope over his wrists. No such luck. They paused when widening blue eyes took a good look at just what he was wearing.
The teen was barefoot, but around one ankle was a golden bangle set with little bells that tinkled sweetly when he moved; around the other was a silver band, elaborate as a Faberge egg, with intricate gold spiderweb threads cloistered with alternating blue and white tourmaline stones. In the middle, surrounded by a ring of glittering white garnets, was a fat, blood-red jewel.
His jeans and hoodie had been replaced by a long, creamy nightgown—he swallowed down stinging bile and refused to acknowledge what else it resembled—with a lacy choker at the neck, cream-colored ribbon tied as not to be uncomfortable. The shoulders were covered by a translucent fabric that was peppered with little stones that were likely costume jewelry but resembled diamonds. Further down, the gown was also heavily embroidered with the things that had dogged Ivan's sketchbook, Alfred's locker, his bedding:
Sunflowers. White sunflowers. He inhaled through his teeth when he picked up the skirt, which so mockingly brushed against his bare legs like tropical beach sand, a sweet, alluring caress—and saw that the waist and hem were coated with pearls. The dress had more train than a choo-choo and half a second later he realized something was on his head and pulled off a crown of dried flowers.
"Kiku, this isn't fucking funny," he scolded, voice much too high for his liking. "Look, you got me, alright? N-now call your buddies in here and….and…."
The Asian kept shaking his head and Alfred let out a garbled laugh-cry-snarl. "Mattie, wake up," he coaxed, deciding that he would simply drag the bed over with him, bondage-shit be damned, and gently slap his brother upside the head to consciousness. But though he yanked until his bones practically squealed with protest against each other and he successfully chafed his wrists to near-rawness, the bed would not move, and he bent to look at its feet—they had been bolted too. "Oh, God." He had never, ever felt more religious than he did in this moment and a lurid stream of hysteria bubbled inside as he mentally prayed and bargained like a maniac. "Oh, God. Oh, Christ.
"Matthew, wake up," Alfred demanded again roughly, clinging beyond hope that the older twin could provide some straw-thin line of sanity that he could grasp to. What was this, a joke? A horrible, horrible joke by some party folk with a particularly sick sense of humor?
Party. The word echoed in his head like a gunshot and the rest followed suit like flowing water: Kiku ODed, get out here now, run Alfred he will kill you, Ivan following, holding him down and smiling as he held up one of Alfred's flailing arms and forced a sharp hot needle into a vein...
Laughing…even as he flailed and yelled for help, feeling the senselessness creep in, a very long or short period of time, time span vague like an uneventful year…very hot water, perfume wafting in his head and making it swim….as hands slowly trailed over his body…someone whispered in his ear...
Oh, shit.
His breathing escalated again and he grew dizzy; he wondered if it were really possible for him to faint with sheer fear. But he held the hollering in, looking for a sharp edge nearby that he could use to saw through his ropes. He found none. Would he have to chew himself free, like a coyote?
"Dude," he muttered, in a voice too calm to be his. "Is Mattie okay? What did you see happen?"
Kiku shrugged and Alfred could have killed him via looks alone, but he tried again. "Is Mattie…still…." Don't let him be dead, don't let him be dead—
Still quivering, Kiku leaned in close to Matthew so that his ear touched the motionless boy's, listened, and then nodded. Alfred closed his eyes.
"Okay," he said reasonably, taking a deep breath. "Kiku, do you…have any idea where we are?"
Misery in those eyes and a series of grunts meant to mime words. No. "Was it Ivan?" The words were awful but necessary. Never mind that he felt ready to wet himself.
Kiku nodded and Alfred died a little and the boy let out some more garbled sounds as he lifted his head high. There was still some dried blood on Kiku's face, and the wound still gleamed. Alfred winced in sympathy. "Ow, ow, okay man, everything's gonna be fine, where's Ivan—"
With his foot, he gestured to a distant corner of the room half-hidden by a random curtain of wall. Must be a door behind there. Alfred licked dry lips with a dry tongue.
"Well, what does he want?" His more childish instincts begged him not to talk about it because maybe then it could go away, but that was how the first victims died in horror films. That thought alone nearly sent him into a spasmodic overdrive and he yanked so violently against the ropes he almost tore the skin. No. The people who freak out immediately die second. Or third. "Mind telling me why I'm dressed like Marilyn fucking Monroe?"
Suddenly, the two boys heard a door burst open and Alfred floundered, wildly wondering if he ought to duck into bed again and act conked out or attack-and by attack he meant flailing his arms and hoping the Russian were in range-but soon there was the clamor of heavy footsteps and Alfred fell limply against the bed. It was lovingly surrounded with jars of sunflowers and irises and roses and baby's breath. Like Ismael's funeral casket, the Cuban's champagne-colored blanketing for the rest of eternity.
Calm down, calm—
There was a muted stomping sound, the protesting creak of rusty hinges muted as much as possible—and then Ivan trudged into view, holding an ample amount of firewood in his arms. Kiku's eyes bulged from where he sat, aggravated little puffs falling from his nostrils. Opposite him, Matthew slept on.
The Russian stole a glance at Alfred as he bent near the hearth, did a double-take, and smiled a lopsided smile at him, his eyes wide and sharp, dark indentations underneath them.
"Good morning, little one!" He chorused merrily, and the blond gaped at him. "Or good evening, rather…you always were a lie-a-bed. I know because I used to watch you from underneath yours." Well, that explained the weird clicking sounds Alfred had been hearing in his dreams as of late. "And when you went to bathroom, I head out of window to meet you in driveway."
"...I-Ivan," Alfred stuttered weakly, sitting up and pulling at the ropes again, though again it awarded no merit. "Ivan," he said again, voice roaring in his ears. "What the fuck, no, I don't…you can't—it's just not—can't even, help, please…."
Ivan watched him, still smiling, though his eyes were becoming progressively more abstemious. "Alfred, do not be afraid." He threw one of the jagged-cut logs into the fireplace, sending up a gold wave of sparks and settling the rest down in a box beside the hearth. "You're perfectly safe."
Dumb, Alfred just looked at him. "I don't feel very safe."
And without warning, he let loose a series of pealing shrieks. Kiku continued his frantic grunting, Matthew lay as dormant as ever, and Ivan slowly rose to his feet, expression inscrutable as Alfred furiously swore at him, cussing so profanely it was a wonder that his tongue didn't turn to ash.
But that was fine, really. The strangled demands for freedom, vicious threats and pleas for mercy reverberated in Ivan's head, rang in his ears like the hallowed pang of wedding bells. It was beautiful and distressing at once, but in any case, while Ivan could go on listening for hours now that his little bride had been brought to his nest, he had an oath to fulfill and a terrified child to console.
"Shh," Ivan soothed when Alfred drew breath, shaking shaking shaking and scarlet with rage. "You should lie down a little while longer, precious," he advised sweetly, taking a step towards the bed. And another, still smiling, eyes still-crusty-dry-and-heavy with fatigue, though his mind was as sharp as ever. "It was a long journey. If you want some help…."
"Keep that away from me!" Alfred cried, knocking away the sedative Ivan had pulled from his pocket. "Ivan, Ivan, please, I beg of you, let me go, let us all go, Mattie's not waking up and he and Kiku probably need medical attention—"
And with that the tears gathering in the boy's enraged eyes began to fall, and Ivan was sober as Alfred started weeping. These were not tears of joy, even though Alfred had at last been brought home, his hands and feet perfumed with all the small luxuries Ivan could steal, his left hand sparkling with the wedding band he had likely not yet noticed. Poor little thing. With no real ire in him he considered slapping Alfred, and mentally clove his own skull.
"Don't cry," he croaked, enormous eyes yellow with jaundice as he gathered a sobbing Alfred up in his arms, slowly sinking onto the bed. Alfred did not resist, like a baby and it was a clandestine thrill that shuddered him. "Alfredka mustn't cry, da? Alfred must stop crying now. Vanya doesn't like it," he breathed, kissing one of the beloved eyes and then the other. "Stop crying, sunflower. Please stop crying."
A dripping, gasping, snotty wreck, Alfred recoiled when he felt Ivan tuck his head under his, thumbing away the tears that kept oozing down from swollen eyes. "Why?" Oh crow, Ivan's hand was on his hip, he was gonna throw up- "Why me? What do you want? Why Mattie and Kiku? For the….man, please let us go," he beseeched, and tried to roll away when Ivan lifted up one his hands and kissed it. "Where are we? Do you have any idea what you're doing? I don't know how things roll in Russia but in the US of A, you get arrested for tying people and…doing weird shit when they're asleep! Why am I even dressed like this?! Ivan, I'm sorry, but I don't…I'm not interested in guys!"
"Is that why you allowed Kiku to kiss you then?" Ivan mused, with a smile as sweet and as poisonous as arsenic-laced honey. Alfred fell silent and Ivan chuckled, nuzzling the stricken boy. "You know, for an angel you can be very cruel, my poor little sunflower. After all," His grip tightened around Alfred's wrists and he didn't even try to stifle a cry. "I saw you first. But I forgive you, my prince, a thousand times over."
Aghast, Alfred tried shoving Ivan away, but his grip was too tight and the blond was left huffing and puffing as he tried socking the Russian's chest for freedom, to no avail. "The hell….the hell are you talking about? D-dude, you're a fucking stalker! You've been the one in my locker, and you…."
But he fell silent, and his large eyes flickered over to Kiku, who was straining at his chains. "You…."
Why Kiku? Oh, no. "Ivan, answer me, goddamnit, why are we here? What do you want? Why won't Mattie wake up—w-what did you to do him?!"
Ivan looked at him, and in a flash Alfred found himself flat on his back in a flash, the Russian's eyes boring into his own. Before he could try to punt him Ivan put a knee on his stomach, applying just enough pressure to keep Alfred flailing like a pinned insect and punching at him. He only endured the caress, smiling as the boy started to wear himself down.
"I brought you here so that you could be safe," He whispered hotly in Alfred's ear even as he continued to thrash about like a beached fish. "Home with me, where you belong, exactly what I promised you all those years ago."
Blue eyes narrowing into slits and Alfred's lovely face glittering like snow crystals, the young man nipped at Ivan's cheek and the smiling Russian drew back, smile curling, cold eyes lidding.
"The fuck you—talking about, get off, get off, GOD, Ivan, why do you—?!" An incoherent stream of nonsense. "I'm your fucking FRIEND, you can't do—" Alfred was wheezing at this point and it was so adorable. "What do you even mean by YEARS?! What, you have amnesia or something?! Ivan, I've only known you for about—"
Ivan promptly buried his face in Alfred's chest, surprising the younger man for perhaps a second into silence before he immediately began yanking at his hair. Wincing, Ivan calmly wrapped his legs around the American's waist, feeling his breath hitch and the muscles freeze underneath him.
"Alfred, don't you recognize me?" He wanted to suckle on the flesh that tasted like Alfred's natural, straw-sweet scent underneath the oils, feel it bare and slick underneath him as Ivan tenderly devoured every last bit of it.
The look on Alfred's tearstained face only too well questioned his sanity. Ivan snickered.
"Several years ago, when you came to Russia, you mentioned you met a child," he said kindly, his hands wandering to Alfred's stomach. Ah, what it might be like to have some part of him growing inside the little angel. He rose into a sitting position, taking Alfred with him. "You didn't speak much about him, but do you remember that he was injured—his hands, to be precise? And he knelt before you on the altar of the Cathedral of Blood?"
Still yanking at the roots of Ivan's hair and clawing at his hands like a trapped cat, Alfred could only contemplate how Ivan would look when the authorities got their asses over here and put him in a cozy little straitjacket. The hell Ivan was even talking about, anyway? The guy was schizophrenic, obviously delusional if he thought Alfred needed protecting from anyone but his personal, crazy-a—
….something was stirred, and twitched sleepily in response.
No….
Alfred stiffened as the memory was coaxed out from underneath the rubble like determined ivy, creeping underneath the stone after so many years of being left untouched. A boy, an angry boy and then a timid boy who had followed him like a meek little sheep and Alfred had actually felt somewhat protective of him, sorry-looking creature he was….
But naming the outcast 'Ivan' wasn't right, a shoe on the wrong foot even if he couldn't recall the exact name—
"His name was Alexei, wasn't it?" Ivan whispered, voice jolting him out of his reverie with a clang that resounded inside him, shaking him. He was still smiling. "I was he. Forgive me for not telling you my actual name…I didn't want life to become more complicated." He fondly smoothed Alfred's hair, finger curling around the flyaway strand and watched the young man's face turn red. "And to think, just a year ago, I was mostly certain that even if I came to the state and town your father had mentioned, you would be long, long gone." The relish in his voice was enough to make Alfred sick. "I was so amazed to see you that first day at school—such good luck!" That look was wrong, it was fucking hungry and it was too keen, too large to be anything but unnerving and the teen was ready to beg the man if not for freedom, for him to stop looking at him like that.
"….you followed me?" Alfred's voice wavered incredulously. "Over…something my DAD did, years ago, you….but why? Ivan, you're lying, you can't have left your country to…."
He trailed off because it sounded stupid; if Ivan were willing to chase him down and…there was no ending to that. Not yet. "..Ivan, I felt bad for you, you were hurt, I asked my Dad to help you. If anything, t-thank him, because I did jack squat. But that wasn't, like, an invite for you to track me down or anything—" What, did bandaging someone's wounds count as a marriage proposal in Ivan's culture?
"You are perfection," Ivan interrupted lazily, now showing a hint of teeth in his smile and Alfred wished that he had his wallet so that he could pay the Russian not to do that. "Created to live in me, my darling little matryoshka." His grip doubled and soon Alfred was wincing and trying to hit Ivan with his stuck legs. What did Ivan eat every morning, cement? "And it always made me sick how little most people appreciate you."
Oh, slicing up Kiku into pieces and leaving the vital organs for last would be exquisite, sinking his sharp teeth into those eyesockets and tearing out the murky-ugly shit eyes out would make his blood finally lighten in weight, his mind free of tangled-nettles that stuck and stricken happy dreams.
"Um…okay…I feel very appreciated. Thanks, Ivan. And now, I'd REALLY appreciate your untying me and my brother and—"
Ivan kissed Alfred's shoulder to make him shut up, thought about nibbling a mark. Tempting, but unnecessary, considering no one but he would ever see his little one again. Still, he could get to that later, he had yet more explaining to do….
"I don't wish to scare you, sunflower, but case in point was Ismael. And Arthur. And Yao," he chirped, pleased as punch he got the share the fruits of his labor at last. Suddenly, he felt like a small child shyly presenting a long-labored on and well-thought out art project to a teacher. "They're gone now, gone into the great darkness, and demons are trodding on their skulls in hell."
…
…oh.
Well, at least he could now say he had a moment scarier than his first time watching Children of the Corn or The Exorcist. He nearly wet himself. "Oh, Christ. Oh, oh, please, no, you're lying-tell me you're lying-"
Ivan lifted up a tanned leg and drew up the dress, pressing his lips against Alfred's tanned thigh and skillfully ignoring just how badly he was shaking.
"Nyet, angel. I could show you the evidence, if you are still unconvinced, but I'd rather you not see right now." His smile grew larger. "You might lose your appetite."
He ought to scream again, scream loud and hard until someone came running, but Alfred was too scared to make a sound. "You are still shaken. Maybe later. You should go back to sleep now. Don't be afraid. I will take care of you."
"You…" Alfred's voice cracked. "Ivan…why would you…" An aghast snort. "You murdered these people?"
"You say the funniest things sometimes, sunshine," Ivan commented lazily, cupping Alfred's cheek and tenderly thumbing it. "If by 'kill,' you mean, 'maimed, tortured, and tore them open to bathe in their blood,' yes, Alfred, I killed them.
"I always knew it would be the two of us," He chirped merrily, nuzzling into a completely motionless blond's neck. "Just sooner than I expected, and it is such a relief—I was not certain how much longer I could keep my hands off you! Spending time with you only a few hours each day was hardly enough—the photos were poor compensation." He must have felt Alfred stiffen in his arms and he caressed, to soothe. "I know it is a big change, Alfred, and I am sorry I had to steal you in such a way. Was not my intention. The little pig-boy…he kissed you, did not know you were already promised to me. I had to make him not exist,"
And with those words, his mild voice began to bubble with the hint of giggles, to be lined with teeth, very real and very ShArP teeth wanting to sink and rip life out. Alfred was his, his, his angel.
"And then your brother came out and I could not let him go. Poor Matvey! I never hated him, but he had seen me and the Japanese rodent outside." He sighed. "If the vermin disappeared...and he would if I were to set him on the Judas chair...Matvey would remember me and it would be the end of one of us. I had to take him, which meant I had to have you. Your delicate little heart would have cracked in two if both your brother and your best friend went away, so I had to pull you underneath the bed. Forgive me."
This was either the worst practical joke in the history or forever or he was starting to dry heave. Sickened, Alfred wondered if it'd be worth the effort to start calling for help again, but could Ivan just...really kill someone, as in, stop someone's heart...
...like that? Snap his neck and actually want to do it?
"Ivan…" His voice, pealing high and trembling, cracked.
"What do you think's gonna happen, that we're just….just gonna get...fucking m-married—and you can keep my brother and my best friend in bondage for the rest of our lives?! Sooner or later they'll escape and you'll be real, real in for it, so just make it easy on yourself now and let us go! I…I won't even press charges! Honest!"
Such sweet naivety. Ivan hummed, wondering what he ought to cook later on for their repast. He wasn't very hungry now and a kill always sated him in more ways than one, but his poor little chick was probably ravenous.
"You are in the right, Alfred. They can't stay here. Which is why you must say goodbye to them now."
Alfred startled, feeling the tension in his shoulders deflate with relief. "You're springing them?" Even if Freddy and Jason's protégé were a complete crackjob, he could probably distract him long enough for Kiku to get help….
"Da, dearest." Ivan kissed him on the brow and stood up, flexing his hands. "From this life. Say goodbye, little sunflower."
It took him a moment and then there was the iron-hot rush in his veins and he rolled to his feet, tugging and ripping at the ropes in a mad frenzy, his frantic words not registering in his ringing ears.
"Ivan," He sobbed, hot tears gushing down his face once again. "Nonono, please! Don't hurt them, no, don't do this, don't leave me here like this! Please!"
He watched the angel struggle for a moment and then kissed him. "Matthew will have a painless death," He assured as went across the room to fetch a pack he'd left by the door. "I wanted you to be able to say goodbye before I took him to die."
"NO!" Alfred shouted, digging both his teeth and his nails into the rope, fingers shaking with little tremors of pain, clawing for life. "Iv, please no, god no, no, no, no, I don't want this, I never asked for this, please, oh God, leave them alone—"
Ivan wandered over to the two prisoners, pulled what looked like a fucking faucet pipe out of his bag, tossed it, caught it. Still smiling that tiny, serene little smile, he unchained Kiku from the chair and the wheezing boy dropped to his knees.
Arms still tethered to his sides, Alfred's poor darkhaired friend staggered clumsily to his feet, obviously making a beeline for the door. But without so much as a warning Ivan struck him in the back with the pipe, sending Kiku crashing to the floor before he kicked him brutally in the ribs, a loud cracking sound echoing in the tiny cottage. Kiku let out a scrambled shriek, squeezing his watering eyes tightly shut, his gag dampening with blood and spit. Ivan didn't seem to notice Alfred's furious rebuttals and vicious death threats, though he did cast him a gentle smile.
"When I come back, I will bring food. You rest."
The American turned white, his cry cutting off. He glanced down at his feet, wringing his hands.
"…..Vanya." Hadn't he heard Katyusha calling him that? "Vanya…please...come to me right now before you go? Please?"
Surprised by the suddenly quiet and meek tone, the Russian paused just as he meant to grab Matthew. He uncertainly glanced down at the suffering wretch at his feet, at Alfred, who had gone very red again—red, pale, red, pale, the angel was very good at changing hues—and was biting his lip, shyly glancing up at Ivan through his eyelashes. How completely and unbearably sweet.
He stepped on Kiku, who whined in pain, and shuffled timidly over to the angel again. What did it want? It let out a breath, still wet with tears and flushed with emotion. He dared place a finger underneath its chin and drew it up so that the creature would consider him.
"…just until I f-fall asleep..." Like hell he was sleeping here not under the influence; who did Ivan think he fucking was, the Phantom of the Opera? Christ, he was going to need therapy tomorrow when he went home, and then the day after that, and possibly until the day after the end of his life.
But bless soap operas and bad romance novels; he'd see to it as a hero no one would get hurt.
Steeling himself, not wanting to make eye contact with the ugly, murderous as all fuck monster again, he took hold of Ivan's sleeve, playing with it. He'd always relied on his charm and wit to save himself, and if only coldhearted Grinches like the now-dead Mr. Yao were immune...
"Please, I'll make it worth your while," Alfred entreated earnestly, hastily grasping hold of the beige coat and dragging with all his might, though Ivan did not budge. "If, y'know, just for a little while, you could just…I'm scared. I don't know even where the hell I am!" Well, he wasn't lying there; were they even still in Minnesota? How long had everyone been out?
Hating himself, he pressed his face against Ivan's coat.
"...I'm really scared. Please. S-stay with me for right now." Someone had to know that they were gone, someone had to have called the police. What time was it? His Mom and Dad were likely scared out of their goddamned minds, probably already called the National Guard. "I don't want to be in here without you."
He kept tugging and murmuring dumb sweet nothings, pulling a mute Ivan Braginski back over him, onto the bed, coiling all his limbs around the well-toned body and fighting back more tears. Then again, maybe they could only help him at this point. His hands wouldn't stop shaking.
He just needed to stall until the SWAT team burst through the doors. Just had to coddle and encourage Ivan to a degree that he felt obligated to stay where he was. There'd be no reasoning with this maniac he'd called friend for so long.
At last Ivan began to respond, his hands clasping Alfred's shoulders and eliciting goosebumps as they wandered to his cheeks, fingers rubbing wonderingly at the little hollows underneath Alfred's eyes. Most unwillingly he looked up at the pale face considering him quietly, eyes liquid and cold.
Alfred's insides positively boiled and he squirmed, very conscious of the fact that one of his legs were wrapped around the sicko's waist. A murderer. He was touching a creep that claimed to fucking love him or some shit, took off his clothes.
Ivan bent and kissed his forehead, than his cheek. His lips wandered hopefully over to Alfred's mouth and then shyly darted to the hollow in his throat, and after a moment teeth languidly began to nibble. Mind hazing just a little, the blond gazed at the ceiling, ears pricked for the sound of sirens, of footsteps, Ivan's ragged breathing. Could he really have such an effect on someone, even a loony?
He had to keep Ivan touching him, even if it led to…he prayed Ivan thought his shivers were from pleasure and not revulsion.
His thoughts were rudely burst by gentle petting at his head, and after a minute or so he started to babble what sounded like Russian endearments, tenderly kissing Alfred's hands, fingers, sucking on the digits.
The flurry of kisses and murmured promises trailed on the inside of his arms after Ivan impatiently pulled the sleeves up, leaving little bites everywhere he could. Unconsciously grinding his hips into the warmth underneath him, he groaned and Alfred shivered, the room growing more uncomfortably warm by the second.
But when Ivan made to get up, Alfred seized his arms and forced the startled boy into a kiss, eyes brimming with tears. Their teeth accidentally knocked together and it hurt, but a second later Ivan's lips were crushed against his and he kind of forgot to breathe, room spinning as Ivan looped an arm around his waist and pressed them together, too hard, too hard and it kind of felt nice in a perverse way. Fingers slid into his hair as Alfred, not knowing at all what to do, kissed back, the dress positively stifling now and he wildly wondered if he were having a panic attack. Too hot, Ivan's hold too tight and he was twitching all over. His legs were still wrapped around Ivan's cool body and he didn't think to pull them away.
He broke away to breathe, but Ivan wasn't having it, falling back upon him like a wave, pressing him deeper into the bed, mouth still frantically moving over his. Ivan's tongue eagerly slithering into his mouth and Alfred half-wondered if he should bite it; what did he do with it? Uneasily he shifted it away from the probing touches, the heat steadily improving to a burn as Ivan took that as an invitation for a game of tag, tongue curling around his and shifting out to taste his swollen lower lip again before sinking back inside to caress the wet muscle.
"Aah, Alfred," Ivan gasped, tugging back slightly and Alfred about slapped him when he set his hands over the Russian's face. He let out a weird keening noise and planted his large hands over the blond's. "L-later, we…have all the time in the world for thi…
"Oh," He breathed, and suddenly Ivan was straddling him, both hands positioned over the blond's chest cavity as if they wanted to sink inside and seize the throbbing organ within.
"Oh, your heart. It's singing for me." He swallowed, and then his hands slowly went to the bow at Alfred's neck, untying and tossing it aside as it became more of a hindrance. Teeth began nibbling another small mark there, and Ivan sighed blissfully, his face radiating pure ecstasy. "Like a bird…it is beautiful…"
Sinking deeper into a stupor, Alfred's eyes lidded and he didn't notice when both of Ivan's hands crept around to the zipper at the back of the gown-
Boof!
Jerking at the noise, the mortified American pulled away, glancing up just in time to see a shoe bounce off Ivan's neck and fall to the floor. Ivan's smile did not diminish in the slightest as he sat back, but Alfred immediately shrank back, not daring to touch him for another second. Holy hell.
His eyes flicked to the floor and he saw Kiku glowering at Ivan, minus one shoe. He'd kicked it off and managed to fling it directly at Ivan's head. Nice.
But the bottom of his stomach dropped when the Russian stood up, and he anxiously seized the man by the wrist.
"Ivan, ignore him, stay with me, let's….I-I'll let you…"
"Work before pleasure," Ivan merrily reminded him, shaking him off and tapping Alfred admonishingly on the nose. "Later, my love. I promise. Rest your weary head and leave your Vanya to his work."
"No!" Alfred gasped, seething with fury as Ivan effortlessly scooped up a frantically wriggling Kiku, tucking him underneath his arm as if he were a misbehaving animal or infant. Matthew, who remained still for the entire spectacle, was draped over his shoulder. "Noooooooo! Ivan, don'tdon'tpleasedon't come back!" Again the nibbling and the tearing, and he'd successfully chaffed his wrists to such rawness one of them was beginning to gleam red. "Come back! PLEASE! MATTIE! WAKE THE FUCK UP, GET UP, RUN!"
But Matthew was still even as Ivan threw another log in the fire, and headed out into the rain. Alfred SCREAMED, he SCREAMED and he swore and he ripped at the ropes that would not come undone:
"IVAN, DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT WITH ME, I DON'T CARE, JUST DON'T PLEASE NO STOP STOP STOPPIT!"
But with a wave, Ivan was gone. Alfred howled, and he continued to howl until he thought his voice would shatter completely. His blue eyes flew around the room, looking for a sharp anything he could use to cut himself free. That still left the problem of actually getting it, but it didn't seem to matter; he could glimpse nothing promising. That only left his teeth-thank Christ these weren't actual chains.
He got to work, biting-biting-biting for dear life, gnawing and ripping at the slightest fray he'd managed to create, teeth and gums aching fiercely. Damn it all, why weren't humans born with fangs?
Fear made him messy, and though he worked at it for crawling minutes, the ropes held intact and he let out another shout of frustration, going into a frenzy.
Had to get outside, had to get outside, or everyone would die. And he'd be a slave for life.
He sobbed tearlessly as his other wrist began to bleed, still biting at the ropes. He couldn't possibly chew his own hand off, could he? "HELP! HELP ME!"
"What?" He heard someone shout over the wind still moaning outside. "Where are you?! Who is there?!"
"Aaaaaa!" Alfred cried out encouragingly, renewing his efforts to rip himself free.
"IN HERE!"
Had he heard anyone at all? Nonetheless, Alfred threw his head back and screamed:
"PLEASE! HELP ME! HE'S GOING TO KILL THEM BOTH-HELP ME!"
CRASH!
The door flew open and Alfred's back hit the headboard, because now the situation had gone from bad to worse and his hands flew over his head as a dark shadow rushed in, clutching a big stick and staring at him with that hunted expression—
"KAT—"
"Shhh!" The stick clattered to the ground and the young woman silenced his cry by pressing her hand over his mouth, her large and horrified eyes flicking over her shoulder. "Everything will be fine, but please don't shout, or Vanya will hear you!"
Baffled, Alfred just gawked at her as she thrust her hand into her pocket and drew out a tiny knife, slowly advancing on him. Hysterical, Alfred flew back against the pillows, feeling around for a weapon of his own. "Oh God! Katyusha I don't wanna die! No, nooooo!"
"Please," Katyusha begged, holding up both of her madly shaking hands. It was a wonder how she managed to flick open the little blade at all. "S-stop struggling. Let me get these ropes off. It may take a second but I can get them off!"
Trying to silence his frantic wheezing, Alfred nodded and she bent to start sawing at his bonds, muttering unhappily when the jagged teeth of the knife would get caught in the strong wire inside the rope. "Oh, please tell me you are unharmed, Alfred, please tell me he has not touched you..."
He goggled at her for a second before stammering, "I'm fine! But how'd you even get here?" He demanded, craning his neck to look hopefully at the door, wondering why police officials were not already storming inside. Maybe they'd gone to catch Ivan first? "That doesn't matter, oh God, I'm so happy to see you.
"…but wait…you….knew?" He asked faintly, not even registering when Katyusha successfully sliced through the first rope and was making hasty work on the other. "About…"
"No," she insisted, looking up at him with tear-filled, stormy eyes. "And yes. Alfred, I beg you to forgive me for not acting earlier, but I wanted…." Her face screwed up and she bowed her head, sawing harder than ever. "I so wanted to believe Vanya was better, I had to try, but…" Now he clutched her hand and quietly entreated her not to cry. "On the weekends he never came home…told me he was busy with you…." The tears came spilling down her face. "Oh, Alfred, I am so sorry! Forgive me! Forgive me, please!"
"It's okay," He assured her shakily, closing her eyes because this horror show was going to have a happy ending. "Everything's g-gonna be just fine." A pause.
"Um, you do have the police with you, right?"
"I put a GPS," Katyusha muttered, avoiding eye contact with Alfred as she continued to struggle with the second rope. "In our car, unbeknownst to Ivan. A friend told me about very handy tracking device to have here in states...this is how I found you. I'm sorry it took some time, but I did not know what to think and when I discovered Ivan had come all the way to this state, I just—"
"Kat," Alfred interrupted, head spinning. "You told the police and they're coming, right?" When the woman did not answer, he gripped her shoulders and shook her. "Right?!"
Biting her lip, Katyusha just shook her head. His eyes about popped free of their sockets and he had to resist yet another scream, as well as from strangling her then and there. She was still holding a knife.
"W-what?" He asked weakly. "Why?"
"They would stop me," She said quietly, at last slicing through the bond and he might have kissed her. "From doing what I must. Matthew? Where is he?"
Blinking, he shakily got to his feet, but his muscles, terribly sore after being stagnant for so long, gave out underneath him and he fell to his knees. "Oof! He took them both," He jerked his head towards the door. "Outside, I don't know where, I don't know where we are, please tell me you brought a weapon at least!" The dinky little pocketknife against that big ass blunt pipe?
He looked up at Katyusha, who had gone very still and very white. "Matthew?" She croaked, getting close, much too close—to check his expression for affirmation. "He has Matvey?"
"Yes, he has my fucking brother, my fucking best friend!" he cried, shakily getting to his feet and seizing the knife from her limp hold. "Gimme that! I have to go!"
He made to storm out but with a surprisingly firm hand Ivan's sister pushed him back, his stiff legs trembling with fatigue. The Russian woman hastily picked up the fallen object on the floor, which on closer inspection was revealed to be a pitchfork.
"You must run," She said simply, hurrying to the door and craning her head outside. "Ah...the woods are too narrow for the car…he must have walked. I will go after Ivan. He will not hurt Matvey, Alfred," She avowed, turning to face him with a resolute frown, pressing the shaking fist not wrapped around the wooden pole with a death grip to her breast. "I swear upon my life. Go! Now! It is too dangerous for you. Ivan has killed many times before and if he wants you, he will find you."
"I'm not just gonna-Katyusha!"
But the woman had already darted out, sprinting for her very life. Cursing, he hobbled after her to the door, just in time to see Yekaterina fleeing towards an enormous sea of swaying trees, still covering in a gloss of melting snow, in the threshold of winter. Cursing, Alfred ducked back in side, angrily kicking his feet so as to get more feeling in his limbs.
There had to be something, some tools, a big butcher knife, preferably a gun of some kind-but he found nothing, even as he tore apart the tiny house in seconds. Cursing, he settled for the little blade growing hot in his fist and was off like a rocket, white train billowing behind him as he pursued Katyusha, already a shrinking figure being swallowed up by the distance.
~o*oOo*o~
It had stopped raining some time ago, but the evening sky was still set with shadow, the wind still whistling, sharp and cold. Far from feeling uncomfortable, Ivan raised his head and closed his eyes. While he much preferred the sunshine and gentle warmth of this temperate climate, there was a sort of lucidity that came from being in cooler weather, one that had his nerves tingling and so much more apt to help him luxuriate in his more animalistic pleasures. A pleasure that had become a sacred calling, for the bride-child still in its little bejeweled nest.
Intoxicating. Alfred had been intoxicating and he ardently wished he hadn't stopped, that he'd turned Alfred into a mewling mess with his tongue and teeth before he tenderly took him apart. It would have served Kiku right, to have made him watch, and Matthew likely would have slept throughout the entire thing. Well, perhaps not, and that would have been a disaster.
Upon arriving to his usual glade—he didn't like to set up shop in the long-abandoned cottage because it had taken forever to get Arthur's bloodstains out of the wood—he threw a squealing Kiku down and lit his lantern. The tip of his tongue wet his lips as he watched the tiny flame feebly sputter to life, illuminating the clearing full of toys he had created himself.
Gag still stuffed in his mouth, Kiku watched with enormous eyes as Ivan happily lit another lantern from his pack, and another. Now the place was flickering with light, full of questionable-looking contraptions, many of which were marked by dried blood rain had not been able to wash away.
There was what looked like an iron casket lit with scorch marks, old coals underneath it—was it used to broil someone alive? There were chains covered with spikes, there were wooden planks lined with knives, and Ivan was cheerfully pulling out a series of bottles from his pack, considering them all carefully like a child trying to decide on a movie to watch or a picturebook for a parent to read. "It is a shame I did not think to starve some rats…" He remarked, looking up at Kiku as the Japanese boy forced himself to his feet, nose oozing blood because Ivan had allowed his face to smack into a tree on the way there.
"You Japanese are fond of slicing your tummies in order to return lost honor, no? I would have liked to have done that to you, maybe cut you open and fill you with hungry little rats to eat you from the inside." He shook his head wistfully. "Ah, that would have been suiting…but I am just as content doing what I plan to do to you, dear Kiku, as nothing will pardon you for your sins."
Kiku made to run for his life, but like a jaguar Ivan pounced, only enduring the series of vicious kicks and punches the desperate boy aimed at him to free himself. And then, without thinking, he grasped the boy's arm and promptly broke it.
CR-ACK!
He frowned as Kiku began to bawl in misery. Oh. Well, that had happened a little faster than expected, hadn't it? He'd best rein himself in before he accidentally crushed the boy's face. He deserved to suffer a long, terrible night.
Ivan dragged Kiku over to a yew tree—oh, his work truly was poetry in and of itself—and tied him up, raising his voice to the heavens to sing a hymn in beautiful Alfred's name as Kiku accentuated them with his screams.
"Aaaa! No! Stop it, you evil freak! Alfred! ALFRED! HELP ME! HEEELLLP MEEEE!"
Oh, this would be a lovely night. He smiled beautifully but then looked down, his excellent mood dimming just a little.
Near his feet, Matthew's body was also lying on the ground, almost forgotten. Ivan had seen fit to give him more anesthetic so that the poor boy wouldn't wake for a long while. Maybe it had been a mistake, telling Alfred the truth, but this way it wouldn't worry about Matthew's worrying for the angel. And to be frank, he really was tired of lying to someone he so badly wished to confide in.
Speaking of which, he really ought to handle that sooner rather than later. He wished, wished with all his might that the teen had not gone to investigate him. Matthew was not unkind, and he looked so much like Alfred that his task would not be a pleasant one.
"Please!" Kiku gasped, cradling his broken arm as he struggled to get into a sitting position against the tree trunk. "Let me up. Let me up and let me fight you myself, if you're a real man!"
Ivan looked up and spared him a giggle, distracted. Oh, Kiku was always good for a laugh. A shame, really, that he had to have to be crucified. And then burned to bits and salted to erase any evidence of his existence.
Chuckling slightly, he slowly crossed over to Matthew and hoisted the unconscious boy up to the shoulders, considering him. Would he feel any pain if Ivan were to break his neck? Or would it better to dig out the rat poison and inject him with that? Then again, perhaps he ought to put that in Kiku's eyes so that they would bubble and melt out of his head. That would be fun. But then he wouldn't be able to see any of the fun…."My mother always discouraged me from playing with my food, you little whore." His gloved hands circled Matthew's neck and he calmed himself with a mental picture of Alfred. The angel needs me to do this. And so he began to squeeze.
"Stop that!" Kiku demanded, his face ashy gray and sweating as he shakily hoisted himself to one leg, leaning against the tree for support. Now Ivan turned to consider him again, purple eyes wide with curiosity. His grip even slackened.
"Stop! You are going to kill him! You are going to kill him and he has done nothing!" The Japanese beetle spat at Ivan's feet. "You pathetic, ugly coward! No wonder Alfred can't stand the sight of you! It's a wonder how anyone could!"
"You are lying," The man said smoothly, even as Matthew slid out of hold and crumpled to the ground. Noiselessly, he slowly began approaching the yew tree again, a foreboding glint appearing in those wide plum eyes above his effervescent smile.
"Alfred likes me better than anyone. Did you not see how the little angel clung to me and wept when I left? The angel would have let me inside, had you not seen fit to so rudely interrupt. That wasn't very nice, Kiku, so I'm going to kill you."
Kiku nearly fainted, leg wobbling dangerously underneath him. But if he were to die, it'd be on his own terms, on his feet. He wouldn't plead for mercy, and even without a weapon, he'd make Ivan feel some smart yet.
He sent up a quick prayer to his ancestors before looking at Ivan dead-on, forcing a smirk on his face though his eyes still watered with pain.
"Alfred wasn't forced to kiss me over you," He drawled, and the Russian paused in his advance. "He kissed you to save Matthew and I. Has he willingly kissed you? Iie. Because he doesn't love you. Doesn't even like you. You terrify him because you're a monster, an ugly gaki, and even if you force yourself on him later on, it's me he'll be thinking about."
Ivan laughed, the sound light and untroubled, something you might expect to hear from a child who has glanced out the window to discover that it will be a white Christmas after all. Kiku pressed on, voice rising in pitch.
"He told me how you unnerved him. How you annoyed him, never giving him a moment's peace. If only you'd never come here, because while you murder for Alfred's sake, he does not appreciate it because he does not love you! Nobody does, because nobody wants you!"
Ivan smiled.
And then, in a blink of an eye, he rushed to his victim, howling. His pipe swung up in the air and Kiku stared at it, hypnotized even as it flew towards him, and sickening pain exploded with that terrible cracking sound in his hip.
The world became red.
If he himself cried out when his weight teetered on his bad leg, sending a cold bolt of renewed agony in him as he fell—it was so loud that it was silent. The smell of grass filled his senses and made his head swim as he lay on the ground, writhing helplessly.
Dazed, he stared at the world, mouth open, and saw a creature with a bowl cut staring at him, silver bangs fluttering about its mad face, eyes alight with a terrible, childish glee. Its mouth was smiling so wide it seemed in danger of splitting back from his face, revealing Ivan's pink dermis, blood oozing past white teeth still grinning at him, those eyes savoring the sight.
Orgasmic pleasure. The stuff of glorious religious epiphanies, what sweet dreams were made of.
The pipe rose in the air again and this time Kiku knew it was going for his head, knew that it would very likely be the last thing he ever saw. Though he knew it was hopeless, he reflexively curled pressed his head against his chest, curling inward like a hedgehog.
But a second later, a woman's scream rang out and he flinched in surprise, daring to look past a hand dripping with blood to see that his captor had turned from him, the whites—or rather yellows—of his eyes so enormous that it seemed his pupils had been swallowed up entirely.
If he got out of this, he'd go on a pilgrimage in Japan and donate to every temple he found. And leave sake and rice paper in front of every grave to every relative he could find.
"LITTLE BROTHER, STOP!"
Panting, Kiku awkwardly heaved himself against the tree trunk to better see the goings-on, face a terrible greenish white. But Ivan's was completely bloodless, body still motionless as Katyusha dashed into view, another scream spilling from her lips as she saw Matthew, immediately kneeling to his side and dropping what appeared to be a long stick.
"Oh! Oh, Matthew! No!"
Sobbing, she dropped her head to his chest and listened carefully, cradling the body to her heart. It was as if she hadn't even noticed Kiku, lungs still heaving painfully against broken ribs. "Still alive, thank God, still alive…but oh, Vanya, what have you done?"
Shaking his head as if he half-suspected he were dreaming, Ivan seemed to get some of his bearings back. "K-Katyusha?!" He slowly took a few steps over to his sister, and started back in alarm when the older woman leapt to her feet, seizing the item she had let fall to her side earlier. Kiku squinted in the dim lamp light to see what it was. A pitchfork?
"What is this?" Ivan stammered, one of his hands flying to his scarf and stroking the frayed edge like a frightened child. "What are you doing here?"
The young woman gazed at her brother, a large frown on her face, her eyes full of an inscrutable emotion as she slowly bent to wrap an arm around Matthew, carefully dragging the boy close, never taking her eyes off Ivan.
"Little brother, stop." She repeated, voice unusually firm. "You must not do this. You will be in terrible trouble, and isn't that why we come to America?" She shook her head and let out something that was part giggle, part cry. "We come to get new, nice life, free of our past! Yet you spatter what we've worked so hard to rebuild!" It took Ivan a few foolish seconds to realize that there was genuine anger in Yekaterina's voice, as there had not been in years.
"And you try to take away the one thing I want! I have never asked a thing from you or from Natalya except that you please, for the love of God, be good, and still you destroy everything!" The tears started trickling down her face, her hand shaking around the handle of her tool. "I have overlooked your other badness Vanya, because I want so badly to believe you and for you to be happy, but I will be dead before you hurt Matthew!"
Ivan's face became impassive again but Kiku trembled at the sight of those eyes. Holy. Shit. He was vibrating and the anger in those shadowy pools had crossed the fine line into pure wrath.
"I had to take him. He saw too much," He said softly, a genuine sadness stealing over him.
Why, oh why, do you damned try to keep me from my salvation?
He thrust an accusing, shaking finger in Kiku's direction. "And it would have been bad for our happiness to let him stay, because to let him stay meant the fucker could keep corrupting my angel!" His normally low voice improved to a roar. "You want Matthew so badly you fucking traitor? I will give him to you! In pieces! I will tear anyone to pieces who tries to take MY happiness away! Even you!"
Katyusha swallowed as her brother angrily strode towards her, still gripping his pipe. She braced herself, throwing Matthew out of the line of fire and sending a quick, aimless prayer as her grip on the pitchfork tightened, swinging it around so that now the three sharp ends were directed towards her dear sibling.
But from behind Ivan, Alfred tore into the clearing, tiny blade held aloft as he made for the Russian. Starting at the noise, Ivan immediately assumed it was Kiku and turned round, meaning to deliver a deadly blow. But upon seeing a familiar glint of gold, Ivan let out a gasp and stopped midswing, sidestepping the bride's attempt to press the knife against his neck and sending the blade skittering across the forest floor.
Katyusha sensed her advantage and ran forwards, meaning to stab Ivan in the heart but after shoving Alfred down, Ivan grit his teeth and met the deadly weapon by turning his pipe sideways in hand, catching the pitchfork inbetween prongs and holding it at bay. A loud SKRITCHING squeal reverberated as the two struggled against each other, eyes locked, though Ivan now looked truly scared.
"Angel!"
Head spinning, Alfred looked up, straightening his crooked glasses. Ivan's eyes were locked om him, and sweat gleamed on his face as Katyusha immediately drew back and counterattacked. Again Ivan caught his sister's weapon, this time by hooking it with the spout and tried to drag it out of her hands. Huffing, Yekaterina held fast, though her boots slid forward in the mud.
Ivan pulled her into closer range as she desperately tried to unhook the farming tool, and he suddenly released her, making the surprised girl slip and lose her balance. As she hit the ground and scrambled for the fork, Ivan made to seize her weapon, but Alfred pounced for his legs and held them fast, and the two fell over each other.
"I'll make you pay for this!" He raged at his sister as she grasped her weapon and leapt up again. Swearing, he sent the blond flying again—hard—against the tree Kiku was still struggling against, narrowly avoiding hitting him. Breath knocked out of him, the teen went down.
"Alfred, Alfred, get back to the house!"
Glasses lost someplace, Alfred's hands flew over the ground, desperately pursuing the lost knife. Where was it, where was it?!
"I SAID, GET BACK!" Ivan roared again and it made him jump. "You'll get hurt!"
As the two Braginskis continued their furious duel, Alfred found his glasses and pulled them on, glimpsing a glimmer near his still motionless twin's head. It was only a matter of time before Ivan decided to use Matthew as a hostage to subdue Katyusha…and then, once she was gone—
He ran around the two, Katyusha slamming her pitchfork against Ivan's pipe over and over again, making him keep up his defense and not giving him a chance to strike. She was surprisingly strong but if she wore herself down—!
He seized the knife and dragged his brother onto his shoulder, grunting. The young man stirred against him, groaning something inarticulate.
"Alfred…."
He snorted in relief, though his heart was still pounding as he unsteadily stood at full height, mouth dropping as Katyusha began driving Ivan closer and closer to a tree. Ivan was looking stunned; obviously, he'd been taken by surprise tonight by more ways than one, and while he was viciously countering, the woman was not letting up in the slightest.
Alfred shook his brother, but the boy had gone quiet again. "Damn, Mattie, and you call me a lazy bum."
He considered the knife, which really looked more like a boxcutter. Well, it was small, but if Katyusha managed to drive Ivan into a corner and needed another hand…..but first things first. He rushed to the tree where Kiku was still collapsed and began to saw at the ropes for everything he was worth. Damn, did Ivan know how to tie a good knot.
Ivan snarled, his demented face contorting with agony. "No! Why are you doing this to me?! Why are you betraying me like she did, you filthy whore? You think Matvey will appreciate this?!"
And with a particular harsh stroke, he sent the weapon flying out of Katyusha's hands again. The woman made to retrieve it but Ivan kicked her in the stomach and sent her sprawling, shoving the pipe against his throat.
Almost done with slicing the ropes, Alfred froze, his heart stopping in midbeat. No. Setting Matthew down and brandishing his heroic box cutter, he ran forwards, but Ivan growled, "Alfred, take another step and the bitch dies."
To emphasize his point, he seized his elder sibling by her white hair and dragged her up, holding the pipe menacingly against her throat as he winced and thrashed against his gloved hand, trying to strike her way free. Horrified, the American stopped dead in his tracks, feeling lost in his legs again.
I have to get Kiku and Mattie out of here.
He doubled back to the tree and started slicing through the last bond still stubbornly holding Kiku captive, panic making him clumsy and he cut himself two or three times, though he felt no pain. Matthew stirred feebly on the ground.
Eyes still locked on his sister, the Russian raved, "I have to protect him." He sounded like an angry, tearful child having a tantrum as Yekaterina dazedly looked up at him, blood trickling down her face. "Alfred needs me, and he is my saint, my better self, my child, my bride! I will never—" He hurled Katyusha against a tree, upon which she slumped. "Tolerate you taking him away from me! I will kill you first! Kill you all!"
Just as he cut Kiku free, Alfred cried out frantically, "Ivan! I don't fucking need protecting! I'm not in any danger!" Except maybe from you because you're fucking crazy. "I'm safe, not an angel, just a stupid, regular guy! And no one's gonna hurt me, I know that better than anyone! Just c-calm down, man, let her go!"
And to his surprise Ivan did stop advancing on Katyusha with his pipe as the poor woman tried to get her bearings. Whimpering, Ivan dropped to his legs and gnashed his teeth, true horror breaking over his features as he hugged his pipe to himself.
"Aaah!" He cried, before he really started to shriek. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
Laughing maniacally he stood again, brandishing his pipe even as Katyusha held up her pitchfork with shaking hands.
"You're corrupting him," He insisted, and Alfred made a mental note to never, ever question a lunatic guy's reasoning ever again. "All of you. Trying to take my life and trying to trick me! I will annihilate all three of you!"
Time to scram.
But to his surprise Ivan suddenly backed away.
"Wait. I have an alternative to harming you, dear sister." His tattered voice became as smooth as silk and Alfred paused just as he'd hoisted a wincing Kiku onto his back. "Would you like to hear it?"
Katyusha just looked at him. Her brother's voice again became kind and thoughtful, the air of a man who has finally come up with a reasonable solution.
"Leave now." He glanced back at Alfred and he shuddered. "Leave now with Matvey and swear never to return, to tell a soul about what you have seen. That is my last gift to you, Katyusha, and you must promise," he added sweetly, hypnotically. "On your life and Matthew's. And look at me. I have always been able to tell when you are lying."
To Alfred's dread Katyusha's face clouded over with doubt. Sensing his advantage, Ivan urged:
"Think about it. If Matthew is so special to you, you can take him as I took my beloved, be with him as you know you'd like to. I can tell you a good place for the two of you to live in peace…and he will only ever have eyes for you. Wouldn't that be nice?"
Katyusha narrowed her blue eyes, which were rich with sadness.
"That is a tempting offer…more so than you know. But I can't," she said simply and she casually feinted to Ivan's left. In response, Ivan copied her. "Because that is cruel, because that vould be one less person I might have saved. I know what will happen to Alfred if he's allowed to remain in your keep, brother."
"You think I will kill him?!" He seethed, all honeysuckle-sweet pretense of friendliness gone. "My dearest dove, my sunflower?!"
"Some birds," Katyusha said softly, still leaning against her instrument, "No matter what you do, no matter how pretty their cage, no matter how much attention and love you give to them, are not meant to be imprisoned. Ivan, Alfred will die in your hands if you clip his wings, or worse. And even if I fed dear Matvey and saw that he had his physical needs…I would be haunted by his misery, his loneliness! I am not good company to keep alone…and I would return one day to find him escaped, or still…." She shook. "…a-and cold. Matvey must live. Matvey must be happy. That is all I ask.
"My dearest little brother, I love you too," She assured, voice developing a somber and comforting hush to it. "Which is why I will do what I must." One hand still on Kiku's shoulder and Matthew still in his arms, Alfred stared at her uncomprehendingly, mind racing.
What do I do, do I leave her, do I help her? If he didn't get these two to safety, that left them both open to obvious danger and Alfred wasn't sure if a butter knife would really keep Ivan at bay for long. But Kat…
Katyusha spun her weapon like a baton before grasping it with both hands, fixing her brother a determined look. "I will come forward with what I have done afterwards and go quietly. This is kinder…then being locked up for rest of your life."
And suddenly he understood with a lurch just what she meant to do from the beginning. "Kat, wait, please, don't kill him—"
"Alfred," The girl said gently, she and Ivan beginning to circle each other again. "Take Kiku and Matvey and run, little one. When this…is settled, I will come and take the three of you back home, and turn myself into the police."
Not about to argue with that logic, he gingerly hoisted Kiku atop his back, and staggered as he slowly hoisted Matthew into his arms. Oh, boy. He considered himself quite strong, but even so…
"Ivan, Katyusha, don't do this, please! Ivan, this is insane, I'm not worth you fighting your sister to the death over! Please, just stop this and let us go home! I'll visit you wherever they put you, I swear!"
"Alfred….kun…..he is beyond your help," Kiku croaked out from behind him. "Just run."
But he wasn't about to give up just yet. "Ivan!" He cried out imploringly, hysterically. "Please! I'm…I'm really, really….flattered you would do this for me, but you can't kill Katyusha! Katyusha!" The girl sidestepped Ivan's attempt to strike her leg and retaliated by plunging the fork straight at him. Ivan hastily ducked, but she retaliated by making for him again, this time scratching his arm and ripping his sleeve. Judging by the way Ivan winced—and smiled—she'd succeeded in drawing blood.
"What about Mattie?! He likes you! I read his diary! He likes you a whole lot! You can't just throw your life away now!"
Katyusha's fierce expression melted away into one of shock. Ivan slammed his pipe into the trunk just inches away from her head, so that kind of woke her back up, but now she looked almost hopeful.
"Matvey….loves me?"
No $#!+, Sherlock.
I have more than this finished, and I realize that this is kind of a lame place to end it on...but will try to have next part finished soon. Please review, my dearest darlings, if you would like to see more!