When certain feelings get out of hand, how can you tell your best friend that you have feelings for him (without throwing a monkey wrench into your dynamics)?
Trigger warning for attempted suicide (and swearing courtesy of Al).
“I don’t even know what to do anymore at this point.”
It was well into the fourth year, first semester at the local university, which normally meant it was crunch time: getting thesis plans together, working on the body of what the graduation candidates were going to be presenting in the next semester, everyone literally running on coffee at this point to stay awake—and alive.
But for one of the brightest minds in the Aeronautical Engineering department, there was something else bothering him entirely. While Ivan Mikhailovich Braginsky had one of the highest grade-point averages to ever cross into the Engineering department’s halls, he had other things on his mind…
He’d take to hanging around the top floors of the tallest buildings on the premises, staring into nothingness while his mind was relentlessly tormented by thoughts of rejection—and potential awkwardness, if it ever came to pass. While he’d confided in Matthew about the nature of his dilemma, he wasn’t exactly too sure on how he would eventually tell Alfred about what was on his mind.
To be honest, it’s been there since second year… but I don’t know how he’d feel about it. I mean, you rarely see… you rarely encounter individuals of my orientation around here. Everyone’s straight as an arrow. But I’m sick and tired of turning down so many girls, it makes me want to just throw up when I think about it… he thought, sitting down right on the ledge of the Engineering building’s tallest spire.
I know they made a game out of it, but even I’m just. I don’t get them at all. It’s so strange… he continued to ponder, taking a sip from the package he had—a bottle of Stolichnaya vodka he’d smuggled along with him.
He wasn’t aware that Matthew had noticed his little trips up to building rooftops in the evenings, and had secretly told Alfred about his odd behavior. What he knew, however, was that he’d told one that he was gay; but not the other. I’m not even sure how he’d react if I told him…that’s what I’m so afraid of… he thought, knocking back another long drink before closing his eyes for the briefest of moments.
“Alfred… how am I supposed to tell you that I… that I have feelings for you in such a way you’re not going to get weirded out by my confession?” he muttered to himself, hiding his face in his hands before taking another deep breath. “M-maybe I shouldn’t tell you… because it’d ruin our friendship, and I don’t want that…”
He was completely oblivious to the fact that Matthew had trailed him when he’d snuck out of his dorm room that evening; and had called Alfred to come join him. While Ivan had a feeling he was being followed, his tormented thoughts had more than blocked out his instincts at that point.
“I… sometimes I hate it. I hate being…different,” he continued to himself, running his hands through his ash-blonde hair and wringing them afterwards. “Is it so wrong to be… to be this way?”
He then took another drink from the paper bag, before letting out another sigh. “Maybe I should just… fly.”
“Can you hear what he’s saying?”
“I can’t, bro. Sorry…”
The two whispering figures were hanging around the roof access staircase, taking precautionary glances every few moments at the figure who was sitting on the very ledge.
“Al, I think you should go check on him…” the soft whispering of Matthew’s voice passing between the two. “I’ve… well, you should, yeah.”
“Why fucking me, Mattie?” the other one asked, folding his arms into a tight formation. “Why not you?”
“Look, I’ve already heard his side. I think it’s best if you—“ he trailed off; his mauve eyes widening in alarm at the sight he’d noticed.
“Shit!” came the hiss from Alfred, as he quickly stood up and made a mad dash for it. “Ivan fucking Mikhailovich Braginsky, don’t do what I think you’re about to do!” he shouted, standing up and making a desperate run for it; the better to save his best friend who’d seemingly taken a leap into the unknown.
Ivan had already made up his mind—if he couldn’t tell Alfred about his feelings for him, he’d take the secret to the grave. He’d already pushed off and was in freefall for the briefest of moments when he suddenly felt a painful jolt rush through his right arm, and looked up in surprise to see the very angry face of his best friend, who was hanging onto him!
“Wha?!” he began, before he heard an angry series of hissing and colorful expletives rip from Alfred’s mouth.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” he heard, his own face suddenly screwing up into concentration as he threw all his weight against the ledge, desperately trying to pull his best friend back up. “What did I tell you?!” he continued.
“A-Alfred?!” was all Ivan could stammer before he raised his left hand and tried to prise the other’s grip off him. “P-please, j-just let go of me…”
“And be fucking responsible for your damned death?! No fucking way, Ivan. No. Fucking. Way,” he growled, adrenaline suddenly coursing through him as he managed to haul him back up topside.
Due to the sudden movement, Ivan had indirectly pinned him down, and was now staring at the brightest—not to mention the angriest—pair of bespectacled blue eyes that were now ripping a hole through him. “I…” he began to stammer, before looking away for the briefest of moments to try to stop the emotions that were welling up inside him.
“Don’t make me call you a little piece of shit,” came the angry snarling from Alfred’s direction, which forced him to suddenly look back at him—and then the words came pouring out of him; accompanied by tears.
“A-Alfred, I’m s-sorry for this, but… there’s something bothering me for the l-longest time now,” he began; staring right into the ocean-blue that was now glaring right at him. “It’s… you see, I’m—“ he managed to get out before he suddenly felt a hand snake through the back of his head and his lips suddenly crashed down on his best friend’s!
Back at where Matthew was waiting, slightly hidden from the other two, he felt a smile twitch at the corner of his lips before turning around to give the two some privacy—they did need it, after all.
He was too stunned to notice that Alfred’s lips had met against his own; his body had gone cold for a few moments before he’d closed his eyes and let instinct take over. He didn’t resist as he felt his head tilt dangerously close, although he had to angle himself slightly because the eyeglasses (and his own prominent nose) were getting in the way.
Much as he wanted to yank them off; he’d instead decided to lose himself in the sensation; that burning feeling he’d kept buried for so long finally rising as he slowly let his hands wind their way around Alfred’s neck (and his body) as he slowly shifted around, hauling him into a much more comfortable position before finally coming up for air; eventually meeting the ocean-blue with his own deep-purple gaze.
“I—“ he began to stammer, looking down before he finally buried his face in Alfred’s shoulder to hide the fact he was crying again.
“Dude. Don’t fucking cry. You’re r-ripping me up inside, too,” he heard his best friend whisper, his other hand still resting in Ivan’s hair. “I s-swear to f-fucking hell, d-don’t make m-me freak out like th-that again,” he added, his other arm winding around the taller man’s waist as he tried to quell the shaking that was coming from the other.
“Tell me what's on your mind, big guy…” he began after a few moments of silence; he knew he had to let he crying run its course.
I have something stewing for a fanfic for a certain humanverse!au but I'm not sure I can bring it justice.. even if I've got an enthusiastic beta reader I'm not sure if it should see the light of day. I hope it's not overdone! Tentative title for the entire series is "Heart of the Ocean". Now if the title isn't such a dead giveaway, then I don't know what is anymore. Should I bring it to the light of day???
15 rusame? :D With happiness; no angst *evil smirk*
15. “Shhh, they’ll hear us.”
Ivan was just about to retire for the night when heheard soft, clattering noises on his window. Wondering what could be causingthe racket, he then pulled himself out of the comfortable bed and then lookedout, an eyebrow raised.
Another small pebble clattered against the windowand he then traced the trajectory of where the obstacle had come from, deeppurple eyes coming to rest on a shadowy figure down on the grass, waving up athim with an ever-mischievous look in the ocean-blue that was staring up at him.
“What… Alfred?!” he all but stage-whispered, openingthe window as quietly as he could manage. “What’re you doing here?” he asked asloudly as he dared; because he knew that his parents weren’t asleep yet. “Whydidn’t you call me?” he added, a bit of a cross look on his face.
Instead of answering, the figure on the ground beganwaving at him, first pointing at him, before gesturing down to where he was. Thesunny-blonde young man then repeated the gesture twice more, before seeminglytapping his foot in a mocking motion against the grass.
“Ch-chto?! You… you want me to sneak out?!” hestage-whispered, hoping that his voice didn’t carry too much.
A nod from the second figure.
“Are—are you crazy?! What if—“ he trailed off,before Alfred repeated the gesture rather insistently, before looking at awatch on his left wrist.
He then turned around for a few moments, an internaldebate raging within him—should he risk getting caught by his strict parents,or just go ahead and join his best friend of more than eleven years—well, hewasn’t sure if they were just that, or they were more than that at this point,the way he felt his heart race whenever the American would turn up at hislocker in school; or they hung out together during break time—or even spentmore time than what was normal doing normal, everyday things together.
After a few more silent moments of indecision inwhich he tried to calm himself, he sighed, before turning back around andnodding.
“Alright, but make it quick,” he muttered, beforevanishing into his room to grab a jacket and his wallet.
Expectant sapphire eyes then watched as the tall, ifsomewhat skinny Russian teenager shimmied down the pipe on the side of thehouse—Ivan’s room was conveniently located here, so it made sneaking out asimple matter—and in moments, his feet touched the damp grass.
“What is it? Why couldn’t it wait until morning?” heasked once he was close enough.
“Shhh, they’ll hear us,” was all the American wouldsay, before quickly taking his hand and dragging him along, raising a finger tohis lips for his companion to keep quiet as they shot through the back lawn.
For the record, Ivan was slightly exasperated—why couldn’tit wait until they met in school later? What was so important?
Not until they were several streets down from hishome did Alfred finally turn to face him, a blush on his cheeks. Ivan thenlooked at him, confused expression on his face, and was about to open his mouthwhen the shorter youth held up his hand to silence him.
“I’m going to let you know now, it was hell tryingto get out of my home, too. Anyway, I really can’t put this off until later… I haveto tell you, now.”
“Tell me what?” he asked, a perplexed expression onhis face, scanning Alfred’s face for any hints. “Is it too dangerous to talkabout over the phone—“ he began, before he cut across Ivan.
“Ivan. The reason why I couldn’t tell you over thephone is… well, you know how hard it is living with a bunch of homophobic relatives…”he trailed off, before taking a deep breath, and then blurting it all in onego;
“Ivan Mikhailovich Braginski, I’m in love you, and Ithink I’m terrified. Terrified, because what if it gets out? You know how it iswith my family…”
On the Russian’s part, his brain was trying tountangle the reason why he’d been called out at such an ungodly hour, at leastuntil he’d processed the words that Alfred had blurted out without taking asingle breath.
“I know it’s insane, I know I’m really fuckingpushing my luck here, but I—“ the American began to ramble before he wassuddenly enveloped in a pair of strong arms, hugging him very, very close. The faintscent of cinnamon hung on Alfred’s jacket as he bent down to whisper into thesunny blonde’s ears, “Alfred Fitzgerald Jones… there is no need to be afraid.”
“W-why?” he heard the muffled reply. Ivan wasn’tsure if his best friend was crying, or shaking, or trying not to throw up andpass out.
Set in the same au as Static. Part of a series. Yes, it’s another sneak peek!
Trigger warnings for angst and feels.
AU where Al is immortal, Ivan is not. Inspired by an anon received by @wavesofinkdrops. Only with much more angst. (Possible partner to Snapshots???)
—–
“Who are they?” A curious voice asks Alfred, who’s idly tracing the letters of his fallen team mates’ names etched in the black granite.
“Oh,” he began, not looking up as he traced his captain’s name slowly, fighting down the urge to scream. “They’re… they were good friends of mine. The other ladder companies said I was lucky to get away with my life,” he added with a dry voice, almost mocking. There was something… oddly familiar about his companion’s voice, but he couldn’t place it just yet.
“Ah, I’m… I’m sorry if I brought up something terrible,” his companion’s voice continued, looking down at the names as well. “You were here the day this happened?”
“Y-yes. It was… the most horrible day of my life. I wad lucky to not have lost my brother… he’s over at the other side there, visiting his company,” he continued, voice going down to a whisper. “It was… hell. On Earth.”
“My sister told me about it. A little, I mean. I… I’m sorry if I made you remember things you don’t want to think back on,” the second voice apologized.
“Nah, it’s okay. I just… I haven’t exactly come to terms with-” he trailed off, looking up by chance. His eyes met a very familiar amethyst-colored gaze, and although his companion was much younger, a lump suddenly rose in Alfred’s throat.
“Ivan…?” He whispered, to which the young teenager blinked, astonished.
“How… how do you know my name?” The youth asked him, curiosity alight in that gaze. “Do I…?”
Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT! Alfred’s mind screamed. Too soon! This is WAY TOO SOON! his thoughts continued, slowly backing away from his companion, his throat very dry before breaking out into a run away from the youth who was staring back at him, curiosity replaced with utter confusion.
“M-mister! Wait!” The youth shouted, noticing that something had fallen from the man’s retreating figure.
It was a pair of what appeared to be engagement rings hung across a thin chain, showing signs of aging.
After putting enough distance between himself and the young boy (he didn’t look older than sixteen at the most) Alfred found himself at the Northern pool. He was pretty sure his brother was looking for him back at the Southern pool, but that would wait for much later.
He didn’t know if it was coincidence or not, but he’d found himself at the Cantor Fitzgerald block of the memorial, as always. His eyes wandered around again, skating that familiar dance as he finally spotted his fiancé’s name and held back a strangled cry as he stared at the name carved into the rock.
“Uhm… mister?” A familiar voice began, startling the fuck out of him and causing him to whip his head around-meeting the haunting, familiar gaze that was looking at him with an eternally curious glance. “You, uhm… you dropped this.”
Held in the youth’s outstretched hand was the thin silver chain that held two rings; one with an amethyst inlay, the other set with a single sapphire that burned blue like the sky reflected in Alfred’s moist eyes.
Speechless, Alfred forced himself to take a deep, shaky breath as he quickly grabbed the chain and inspected it, groaning minutely and seeing that it had broken. His gaze then began to shift from the young boy, to the necklace, to the name carved in the rock-
“He… this one shares my first name,” the younger man continued, having noticed the name “Ivan Alexandrich Carter” on the memorial. “Is this… was this…” he trailed off, leaving the question unanswered.
“…yes,” Alfred finally managed to answer, once he’d hidden the broken chain (and the rings) in an inner pocket of his bomber jacket. “That’s… he… he’s my fiancé. I proposed to y-him first, at Windows on the World… just one month before… before it fell.”
Taking a deep breath, he continued, “He was over the moon. Vanya. His smile… is so beautiful. We met at a bar. I was just a newly-minted 5th-level ladder fireman… fresh out of the probie. He’d been dumped, and I was dared by my crew to go flirt with y.. him,” he continued, having to mentally correct himself every time he’d almost slipped up.
“Things were never the same when we sorted our feelings out and we realized we loved each other. It was… it still is a honeymoon. Although, now, it’s been almost sixteen years since then. Sixteen beautiful years wasted…”
The youth could only stare at Alfred, who’d pretty much poured out what was on his mind without him realizing it. “I should’ve stopped him. From going to work that day. My gut instinct was yelling at me to have him stay home, but seeing as he… he was one of those high-level managers, they had a meeting that day. That day… the day New York fell.”
His companion was staring, transfixed, at a point just beyond Alfred’s shoulder. While his mouth was open in a silent gasp, the older man continued to talk, sharing what was on his mind.
“I was headed out from a rough evening shift then. We’d just crossed one corner when all the fire trucks were screaming in the streets. We had to go back. Even if we were all exhausted and desperately needed to sleep. We had to… had to go back. And rush towards the Towers. It was… awful.”
Silence then fell between the two, before he heard a voice asking hesitantly, “…and then?”, as if waiting for him to continue.
“And then. It was insane. All the radios were blaring, the Towers were under attack-my company headed here. For this tower. I was the only one from my ladder company who made it out alive. I lost… a lot of good friends that day. Worst of all… I lost… him. My sunflower. He’d proposed back to me just the week before he… he died,” he ended, his voice going down to a whisper before he held back a strangled cry in his throat, whimpering softly as he fell to his knees and touched his forehead against the cold stone of the memorial.
Pairing: Russia x America, humanverse!au
WC: 2,983
Inspired by: this
Crossover with: The Fault in Our Stars
Summary: It’s just a normal day for the rest of the world. For Alfred Braginski, though, it’s another thing entirely.
Even without his alarm clock going off, the slumbering sunny-blonde slowly clambered out of bed, rumpling his hair and stretching his hands over his head. Realizing that he’d taken off his prosthetic limb the night before, it was lucky he hadn’t gotten up entirely—otherwise he’d have crashed to the floor (and looked totally uncool; not to mention making his older brother worry about the loud noise he’d have caused) in a heap.
Fumbling around as he slipped the fake limb on the stump of his right leg, he then gave a few experimental kicks, before reaching for his phone and scrolling through the menus, until he’d reached the “Messages” and scrolled to a particular name, punching in a message as he did so.
“Good morning, Vanya~
How’s my beautiful sunflower today?”
- sent 07:22
Once the message had been sent, he then lumbered off to the shower and proceeded to go through with all his morning rituals before picking out what he was going to wear today. It was a fine day, and just as he’d finished wearing his favorite Captain America shirt, two messages buzzed into his inbox. Reaching for his phone, he then scrolled to the recipients, and quickly shot off a reply to each of them.
As he’d finished dressing up, he then made his way down to the kitchen, seeing his older brother Matthew tucking into a piece of toast slathered with what looked like to be jam, reaching for his office coat and slinging it on himself.
“Hey, Al. Good mornin’. I’ll try to get home early tonight to make us dinner… Hopefully work doesn’t keep me too long again,” Matthew said his way, to which Alfred nodded.
“Mornin’, bro. I’ll be going out today too. Keeks already asked me to come over to his place, he said he’s gotten another new model kit he wants to throw together and he needs my help; and then after that, Nat’s invited me over for lunch at their place,” he replied, reaching for a piece of bread and lathering a generous amount of peanut butter on it. “If I take too long, I’ll let you know, okay?”
Matthew nodded, before reaching for his briefcase and then making his way to the front of the house. “Sorry, Al. I really have to go. They need me in the office,” he muttered around the piece of bread, before the sound of clinking keys were heard, followed by a slamming door. He then took his time with his breakfast before reaching for his phone again and opened it, sending a second message:
“I’m going over to Kiku’s place first.
He said he got this new model kit,
and he wants me to help him build it.”
- sent 07:57
Once he’d made another peanut butter and jelly sandwich for the road, he then went to the front of the house, grabbed his own keys, and locked up before heading out to his best friend’s place.
His visit to his best friend’s home had taken up most of the morning, and the two had fun popping out the colorful plastic bits from the frames they came in, before sanding them down and snapping them together to form the body. While Kiku had taken care of assembling the plastic pieces together as best as he could manage with his remaining eye, it was Alfred who had taken charge of painting the pieces that had already come together—between them, he had the steadier hands to paint the miniature details in.
“You’ll come by again, Alfred?” Kiku’s soft voice asked once the two had finished cleaning up their messy work space—and while he was offered to stay for lunch by Kiku’s older half-brother Yao, he politely declined, before explaining why he couldn’t—even if he really wanted to.
“A’course, Keeks! I’ll come by as long as you need my help! You know I can never turn down a friend in need,” he replied with a genial grin on his face, wiping his hands down after he’d managed to scrub the last of the paint off his fingers. “Sorry I can’t stay for lunch… I already agreed to have lunch elsewhere.”
“That’s alright. So, same time again tomorrow?”
“Definitely!” he chuckled, before waving a hand and letting himself out of the Honda home, closing the door behind him and taking his phone out again, scrolling to the same contact he’d sent a message to several hours earlier.
“It was fun, Keeks bought this MG model kit thing.
MG means Master Grade, if you’re curious. It had so many pieces!
Lucky, with two of us working on it, it’ll be done in no time!”
- sent 13:47
Once he’d sent this message, he then proceeded to walk through the sunny neighborhood, weaving his way through the streets and sticking to the shade. For some reason, it was unbearably hot today; luckily the next house he was going to was only a few blocks away.
He then began whistling a tune to keep himself preoccupied, exchanging pleasantries with the other familiar faces he’d encountered while on the way to his next destination.
“You’re late.”
“S-sorry, Nat. I wanted to leave much earlier from Kiku’s place, but—“ Alfred began to apologize, scratching the back of his head sheepishly in the process.
“Well, as long as you’re here. Come on in, myshka,” Natalya conceded, stepping aside to let their guest in. She then held the door open, waiting for Alfred to wipe down his sneakers before closing it behind him.
“You’re lucky syestra Katyusha is home today, you’ll get the chance to taste her cooking,” the long-haired young woman said, before heading to the kitchen to help her older sister out. “Surely you don’t mind waiting in the living room until we’re ready?
“Really? Awesome! A-and yeah, sure, I don’t mind waiting,” he said, this unreadable grin on his face as he then redirected his steps to the Braginskis’ living room, looking around before relocating himself on the couch and settling there, reaching for his phone as he absent-mindedly began to scroll through it.
Lunch then came and went, with Alfred praising the unique taste of Katyusha’s cooking, and even asking for seconds in the process. The older sister was more than happy to oblige their American guest’s requests, smile growing wider on her face as she did so.
Eventually, the table then fell into conversation—one side being Russian; the other in accented English.
“So, what else will you be doing today, Alfred?” Katyusha inquired, picking up the plates and clearing out the table.
“Well… oh, hey, lemme help you,” he said, standing up and grabbing the remaining dishes on his side of the table.
“Oh, no, no need to—“ the older sister began, embarrassed at the gesture.
“I insist,” Alfred offered, having circled around his side of the table and already holding the stack of dishes in his hands. “I-I mean, it’s the least I can do…” he trailed off, giving both sisters and their parents a rather knowing look as he did so.
“O-oh. W-well, thank you, Alfred,” Katyusha remarked, bustling off to the kitchen with him following suit.
After helping out in the kitchen, Alfred had found himself parked on the couch in the living room again, re-reading a rather worn copy of Love Found, and Lost that he’d found stuffed between the pillows. There was an unreadable expression on his face as his eyes scanned the lines he was focusing on, silently commiserating at how Pierre was now looking for the person he truly wanted to give the iris ring to—but being unable to find him, he could only wander around, lost.
“Come on, Pierre, don’t be such an idiot, keep searching,” he muttered softly, raising the book upwards so that he could hide his face as he continued reading through it, reaching the bottom of the page and turning it so that he could silently cheer on the exasperated hero of the book, who continued to traverse through the streets of Paris, looking for the one who had helped him some time ago. At the same time, he couldn’t help but look at his own spider flower ring, the sapphire inlay glinting faintly in the late afternoon light, before returning his attention to the page in front of him.
“I know you can find him…” he continued, unaware that both Katyusha and Natalya were now observing him from behind, muttering in whispered Russian, before Katyusha had left her younger sister staring at the back of Alfred’s head.
He continued to read through the pages of the book until he’d reached a part where a bookmark had been left; no doubt by the previous reader. It was here he stopped, and he felt his breath hitch for a few moments, his fingers softly touching the worn paper.
“Myskha, getting a bit sentimental there, I see?” Natalya decided to say at that moment, catching Alfred completely off-guard and very nearly causing him to jump a mile in the air!
“Ah, shit, Nat, you… you scared me,” he chuckled, quickly snapping the book shut and holding it close.
“Honestly, I don’t know what you see in that book, myshka. I tried reading it, but it… it didn’t make sense for me,” she said, waving a hand around before suddenly realizing what she’d said. “I mean, I tried to, but I can’t understand anything better than sheet music, and—“ she trailed off, an attempt at apologizing to Alfred.
“No need, Nat. No need…” he muttered, still holding the book close to him. “I… s-sorry. I think I should… go,” he continued, his voice going down to a whisper. “I-I mean, I’ve intruded long enough on your hospitality. Please give my regards to Irina and Mikhail for me, will you?”
“Da, I will.”
He then set the worn book down on the coffee table, giving it a loving pat before hurriedly exiting the house. For some reason, there was this heavy feeling starting to come over Alfred; but he fought back and reached for his phone, blindly punching in a message before breaking out into a run.
“I had lunch at you place. I was lucky to get to taste
your older sister Katyusha’s cooking. Let me tell you now,
It. Was. Amazing! Who knew that Russian food could taste so good?!”
- sent 17:32
He didn’t know why his feet were leading him towards that one place. He was trying to avoid having to go there, because by then the futility of what he was doing would rear its ugly head. But he kept his head up high, and went through with it anyway.
Once he’d entered the memorial park, he then let his feet go on auto-pilot until he’d ended up in front of a singular marker, on a lonely hill under a tree.
“Hey… big guy,” he began, crouching down as he then brushed away the last of the trimmed grass to reveal a slab of polished black granite, fingers tracing over the foreign letters carved in the stone. He was a bit surprised to see that there were flowers there, before he remembered what day it was. While he knew that Ivan’s family did come to visit from time to time, it was Alfred who’d more often than not be spotted here, sitting for hours on end as he seemingly talked to himself.
But really, he was talking to his husband.
“How’s it up there, Vanya? Are you… are you flying? Like… like how the Firebird does at the end of the story, f-finally free from its tormentors…?” He began, a brave attempt at conversation that ended up with him breaking down instead as he fell to his knees and surrendered himself to his grief.
He’d already told himself that he wasn’t going to cry, no, not since the time he had to act as a pall-bearer at Ivan’s funeral; him crying in his older brother Matthew’s arms as the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground; him picking up a handful of dirt and throwing it into the hole, along with a single sunflower he’d brought along before Ivan’s family followed suit; him very nearly fainting on the spot due to the grief that had overtaken him back then.
“H-how long has it been s-since… since you left, sunflower? Has… has it really been a year now? It feels so… so much longer, though,” he hiccupped quietly, rubbing his right hand against his eyes, his left having taken hold of his glasses in the meantime. “I-I miss you, Vanya.”
Today would be different; for instead of spending the rest of the day talking to Ivan, he’d leave not too long after, his emotions getting the better of him. He’d already promised himself he wasn’t going to get so wound up whenever he’d visit Ivan’s grave, but today was just a bit too much…
He’d spent the rest of the late afternoon until evening wandering listlessly around the neighborhood, tracing the steps they’d taken as they walked through the area, talking about their favorite books; remembering what had gone down in Paris; reminiscing about how afraid he was when he saw that Ivan was struggling to breathe; that one fateful night he had to rush to the hospital because his sunflower had collapsed without warning—
It wasn’t until he’d looked up that he’d realized that he’d wandered back home; before sighing once again. The lights inside weren’t on—which meant that Matthew was still in the office. He then reached for his phone and flipped through it, seeing that there were several messages—one from Natalya, another from Kiku, and a voice message from Matthew.
He then chose to read Kiku’s message first, firing off a reply as fast as his trembling hands would let him. After that he scrolled through Natalya’s, asking if he was okay.
No wonder Katyusha was home… they must’ve gone to visit him earlier this morning while I was at Kiku’s place… that must explain the flowers… he thought to himself, typing out a reply while walking up to the door. He then poked through his voice mail and listened to his older brother’s message, before sighing once again—why did he believe Matthew’s words, anyway? He was always busy…
On impulse, he then dialed a certain number, listening to it ring, before hearing the distinct click as he was redirected to the number’s voice mail.
“Privet, Ivan here. I’m busy at the moment, but if you leave a message, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” the recorded message warbled, before Alfred heard a beeping noise. Alfred had often dialed Ivan’s number just to listen to his recorded voice; but never left any messages.
Today, though, would be different.
“I—Vanya. Sunflower, h-hello. S-sorry I was late visiting you today. I just… I just wanted to say that I love you. I love you, and I miss you so much…” he said with a trembling voice, before ending the call and taking a deep breath to calm himself down.
Once he’d regained some semblance of normalcy, he then reached for his keys and opened the door to the house, before flipping through the “Messages” menu, and texting again as he stepped inside:
“Aww, dang. Mattie’s at work again.
Well, he’s always in the office, he’s been too busy as of late.
It… it hurts today, you know? I told myself that I wasn’t going to cry,
but sometimes it proves to be too much.
I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get you sunflowers today, Vanya.
Maybe tomorrow…”
- sent 21:39
After hunting through the cupboards, he’d managed to secure himself some ready-to-heat dinner, and had popped it into the microwave. He was busy poking around the television, mindlessly channel-surfing. As the ding of the microwave went off, he then stood up to retrieve his dish; and the smell of macaroni and cheese pervaded throughout the area, making him drool slightly in the process.
He then dragged the steaming hot bowl with him to the couch, and ate in front of the television, only paying half-attention to the comedy show that he’d decided to watch for a while, as his mind was wandering elsewhere.
Once the bowl was empty, he then took it to the sink, and rinsed it out before wiping his hands dry on the nearby dishtowel. He’d left his phone on the nearby counter, and then picked it up, before sending another message:
“Don’t worry, I had something to eat…
even if it was just mac ‘n cheese. At least I had something, right?
It… it feels lonely without you here.
I miss you so much.”
- sent 22:49
He then proceeded upstairs, dimming most of the lights but leaving the front light open for when Matthew got home before heading to his room. After running through his evening rituals, he then sat down on the bed and took off his prosthetic leg, before leaning it against the night stand and throwing himself backwards on the soft surface. Staring up at the fluorescent stars he’d stuck up on the ceiling long ago, he then groped around, dimming the lights in his bedroom and watching as the green glow slowly came to life, tracing a luminescent path across his ceiling.
Yawning, he then reached for his phone, sending one final message for the day, not realizing that his emotions had gotten the better of him as he typed out the words,
“Good night, Vanya. I love you, my sunflower.”
- sent 23:32
Setting his phone, along with his glasses on the night stand, Alfred then punched one of the pillows into a more comfortable shape before hiding his face in them; taking one last, long look at the spider flower ring on his left hand before crying himself to sleep.
Warning for: angst. A LOT of angst. (And figure out what else warnings are there when you’re done reading it)
—–
Frantic ringing.
That was all Alfred could hear as he held tight to his phone, frantically trying to reach his fiancé.
“Come on, damnit, pick up. Pick the fuck up, Ivan… please!”
He’d already heard the yelling and screaming as several people he’d passed (who were running to safety from the North Tower) that those who were trapped on the higher floors had tried to make their way down, but the emergency staircases were unusable.
The horrible feeling of his stomach falling out under him threatened to make him collapse to his knees. He was exhausted from his evening shift but what other choice did he have? All of New York City’s firefighter teams were on high alert, and much as he wanted to crawl into bed and sleep the day off, the unexpected news had all of their crew rushing back to the fire station mere moments after they’d clocked out.
“Come on.. pick up, please pick up!” He hissed, punching in the number again and hearing it ringing, ringing, ringing..
After what felt like an eternity the line went through, and with a mingled sense of fury and relief, he all but yelled, “Ivan! Love, please tell me you’re okay!”
The sounds he could hear from the opposite end, though, were discomforting. What was with that whistling noise?!
“Ivan? Van… Vanya?!” He tried, hoping he’d catch Ivan’s attention with his pet name. “Please, I-”
“Fed...ya, ya tebya lyu-” he heard his fiancé's voice over the line in an attempt to speak with him; the very last thing Alfred heard was a crunching noise before the line exploded in static.
Due to circumstances beyond our control, we're here to give you a teaser of our entry for the @aphabriefhistoryoftime event!
Co-written by @huggiebird and myself, this is our take on the Hunger Winter of 1944 - 1945, leading up to the Liberation of the Netherlands.
The story is told mostly from Matthew and Lars' point of view, however there are other characters that'll make surprise appearances here! This is written from a humanverse POV / AU, just a heads-up.
Warnings for: sensitive topic content mentions of the racial discrimination against the Jews / anti-Semitism / Nazi hate / violence / strong language.
Main characters appearing: Matthew Williams (Canada), Lars van den Berg (Netherlands) [at least in this teaser]
---------------
Matthew; November 1944, Rotterdam.
The city is quiet where the wounds still lay gaping, fires long gone and skeletons of buildings still standing where the bombs had fallen four years previously. Some buildings had been demolished just after the Netherlands capitulated and lost the fight for its freedom. They would have been a danger hazard anyhow.
In the shadows of one of the still-standing buildings a lone figure lurked, dressed to look similar to the refugees that were wandering around the area looking for food to eat. Matthew had an idea that something bad was happening, but he couldn’t believe what he’d seen: families fighting over ration coupons; some had even resorted to breaking and entering other people’s homes to find something to eat. While his understanding of Dutch was mangled at best, from what little he could make out was that food in the city was running low, and ration coupons were becoming a precious commodity.
He’d lucked out a few nights previous and had come in contact with some of Het Verzet who could speak English--and from what he’d picked up--there had been a recent arrival of a small platoon of enemy officers who specialized in interrogation. That, and ration coupon hoarding was rampant among the residents of the city. Aside from that, Matthew had picked up information that the one he was looking for was within the city, but as to where exactly he was hiding, they had no clue--just that Lars was around somewhere.
And now he was here, looking around carefully, before quickly making a dash across the empty road to the shelter of the next building. He chose to move around when the sun wasn’t so high in the sky, because if someone like him (who stood out quite a bit due to his eye color and young-faced looks) got cornered for questioning, he was going to get arrested on the spot.
Pulling down the threadbare beret he had on, he continued to look around nervously--trying to check if there was anyone coming from both directions as he took sight of the next building he was going to be making a mad dash towards. He was just about ready to step out of his hiding place; only to hear a rather loud conversation coming from his left side.
Lucky I thought to check before running across… he thought as he ducked back into the shadows before another frown crossed his face--the language was German. He didn’t know if they were just normal enemy soldiers or members of that special squad who’d recently arrived in the occupied city. Either way, they spelled trouble and if he got himself caught, he’d get arrested--which was something he told himself would never happen. Once the loud conversation died away, Matthew then took a chance and peeked around the corner, watching the pair of soldiers disappear around another bend before making his move.
Taking a deep breath, he then ran as quietly as he could across the open road, never mind the fact that the rubble clattered underneath his feet and made it to the security and shelter of the next building just across the street. Leaning against the wall, he took a deep breath and reached into the jacket he was wearing, before pulling out some crumpled paper he’d kept on him ever since he ditched his soldier’s uniform for the disguise he had on at the moment, and there was an address scribbled on it:
Davidstraat 64
Matthew had to find that street to find Lars’ house. He could do that. Possibly. Maybe. If he could read Dutch. Which he couldn’t.
He brushed a stray thought out of his mind; about how complicated it was being in another country that didn’t have English as its main language, but the name of the street stood out in his mind… was there something important about it? Either way, he looked around and continued walking down the street he was no, not realizing that he was headed towards the street he was looking for. He was so distracted by the sight of the ruined skyline he’d almost missed the next turn--and the moment he decided to take a rest from the walking, he’d come upon the street he was looking for!
Squinting as best as he could manage, he then crossed the street and read the unfamiliar letters, before taking out the piece of paper again and comparing it--he’d finally reached the place where the van den Bergs lived before moving across the ocean! Now the question in his mind: was the house still standing?
And for that matter, would he be able to find the one he was looking for in it?
Matthew then picked up the pace, counting houses as he went--his eyes shifting from side to side. If there was one thing that the Dutch did that he appreciated, it was having nameplates with the street name and the house number out on the front visible for anyone to see. He’d started counting numbers when he realized he was headed down, and eventually came to a stop in front of what used to be a bakery, with its front windows smashed in as well as a defaced sign. He didn’t know about it yet, but this was his first time seeing what he’d only read about before. Even if the words didn’t make much sense, he could tell from the way that the sign had been overwritten (and various other words added to it over time) it didn’t mean something good.
Reaching for the crumpled piece of paper he’d kept in the threadbare jacket he had on, he took a look again, and compared the words on it to the barely-visible sign that faced the street. His eyebrows furrowed at the vandalism that he’d spotted, almost overwriting and hiding the name and the number of the structure he was about to enter.
Davidstraat 64
What’s been going on here? he thought to himself as he hid the paper back in the pocket of his jacket and entered the deserted structure, minding the glass that had been shattered and strewn all over the floor. While the outside of the structure still looked respectable, the interior was a complete mess; more vandalism had been painted across the walls; most of the words looking similar to what he’d spotted outside. Matthew had only heard rumors about the persecution of the Jewish peoples in Europe, and he had no idea that it was actually this bad. He didn’t know yet that his brother Alfred would eventually be part of the companies that would stumble upon the horrors of the concentration camps sometime in the future, but from what he was seeing, he wasn’t liking it.
Why so much hate towards them? What did they do wrong, anyway? Matthew thought to himself as he turned to look for the stairs leading to the upper floors. Making sure to walk as carefully as possible, he eventually spotted a semi-smashed stairwell, with half the floorboards missing. Looking up, he saw that the ceiling, thankfully, was still intact. But could it hold his weight if he looked around upstairs? Turning to stare at the stairs once more, he began knocking softly against them before eventually picking out a pattern to climb up the half-destroyed steps, eventually coming up to what looked more like living quarters--since then abandoned and stripped down of anything and everything usable.
His attention was drawn to a dusty frame that had been knocked off its place on the wall, and he immediately walked over to it and picked it up, blowing off a layer of dust before using the underside of one of his sleeves to wipe it down. The portrait he saw in the picture very nearly caused him to drop said frame out of surprise.
Lars; February 1945, Rotterdam. SS detention facility.
Lars wasn’t faring much better than the local residents at the city either. The food he would get was sparse compared to the much larger rationed meals the SS personnel ate every day. They were purposefully not giving him enough, not so little he would die, but little enough to keep him weak and wanting... no, needing more. But the starving tactic was there to make him talk, and he’d finally broken. He had spilled names and information. He was defiant at first and refused to speak, but his hunger had won out.
Most of the people he talked about were still alive, he hoped; not knowing a handful had died from the famine and some others of his ‘circle’ had been captured and tortured. The rest were either in hiding or still fighting from the shadows, he had no idea anymore. Not that it mattered: if he died now, the SS would never know.
Lars felt as bad as he probably looked, face sunken- not as bad as other people hopefully- and he had been able to count his ribs the last time he was allowed to glimpse at himself in a mirror. He had no idea when the last time he saw himself in a mirror either. His clothes were many sizes too big now and they hung off of his frame like a sheet might if he were to stand and pull it around himself. His hands were thin and he had stared at his thinning hands for half an hour before the door opening shook him out of his thoughts once before, when the lack of food had started to affect him more physically.
He had been able to get up and throw a punch in the past, but now he could barely turn around in bed. Forget about getting up and escaping at this point. He was sleeping most of the time anyway, if someone was not asking questions or bringing him things that were supposed to be food. If someone didn’t save him soon from this hellhole, he wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to his family.
The Dutchman weakly turned on his bed, someone was merciful enough to give him another blanket. He stared at the door for a few moments before his eyes became heavy once more and he drifted off.
