Chapter Text
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Ivan blew frustratedly out of his nose, trying his best to maintain a tight-lipped smile as he found himself dragging Natalya, screaming and crying, to school for the second time that week. Ivan was no stranger to disdain of the American education system. But this was on another level.
“Нет! Нет!” she shouted, scratching up the wood on her door frame from her long nails. Ivan looked tiredly up to Katya, who had a look on her face like she was about ready to quit.
“Natalya!” she moaned, “Please just tell us what’s wrong! Are you being bullied? Is it because you can’t speak English? Are your teachers terrible? Do you-”
“Katya, let’s not- let’s not pressure her. Clearly she does not want to talk,” he whisper-hissed, immediately letting go of Natalya’s scrawny arm. She fell back into her room, almost eliciting a cruel laugh out of Ivan. “...I suppose she can skip today. There is no harm in one day, right?
Katya sighed and rubbed her hand over her short bangs as Natalya slammed her door in front of them. “...Yes- yes, we will figure it out tomorrow.”
They exchanged weary smiles and continued out of the hallway: Ivan to the living room to grab his trumpet, and Katya to the kitchen to cook breakfast.
He sighed, sitting himself down on the springy, Ikea couch, and pulling out his trumpet from its case. He hadn’t oiled the valves in a while, had he? Ivan inhaled the breath he had just sighed out and grabbed the bottle.
His trumpet felt hollow, Ivan thought as he unscrewed a key. Not in a trumpet-hollow way, but in a way that made it feel like another piece of brass. Well, he knew this already– playing for money and not for passion was never the way to go, but what choice did he have? They were barely getting by as it was.
Ivan frowned. Alfred had always played for passion. When he got kicked out of their middle school band for completely changing his clarinet material for new wave jazz. When he started his own band, and still stuck with it for a pushing two years now. But…Ivan couldn’t even see himself ever quitting the school’s band. Even putting money aside, everyone would be talking about it. He’d be ‘the Russian kid that lost his talent’ forever. And in a town as small as his, surely no one would let it go for a hundred years.
Ivan flinched as the feeling of the valve colliding with his free hand sent a throbbing sting up his wrist. He must’ve pushed it in too hard, and too carelessly, and missed the tube completely…
Oh well. That was the last valve, and he didn’t have band practice that day anyway. And he’d bought $20’s worth of weed from some random kid behind the bleachers the other day by promising to do his homework for the next two weeks. So, his evening plans were set.
“Katya! Natasha! I’ll be going to school!” Ivan shouted as he packed away his trumpet into the case and grabbed his bag. A noise of acknowledgement came from Katya in the kitchen, but no such thing from Natalya’s bedroom. He sighed. Perhaps another day.
Dusting off the couch pillow he was previously sitting on, Ivan lifted his head up and skipped over to the door. With a quick goodbye to Katya, he pushed open the door and started his way to school.
The morning air was chill against his face, but that was only expected for that time of year. Ivan almost felt a little disappointed at the thought of the burning summer months disappearing behind him. Of course, even in west Texas, it never got any colder than four degrees, but the chilling bite of winter brought back some unforgiving memories. He shook his head roughly. Now was not the time.
Fortunately for him, the walk to school wouldn’t prove to be too long. Ivan made it to the building in less than fifteen minutes (likely because of his uncomfortable walking speed, but he wanted to believe it was some sign from the universe).
Unfortunately for him, not a single familiar face was spotted outside the bustling school yard. For a split second, he could’ve sworn he saw Alfred’s blond mop in the crowd somewhere, but the image disappeared as the next round of bus kids filled the lot. Ivan sighed. He’d have to enter school alone as usual. He couldn't quite understand the twinge of disappointment tapping at his gut; walking to school alone had always been normal for him. It was going to be fine. Obviously Alfred wouldn’t be there to greet him every day. So then why did he feel so disappointed?
With another slow sigh, he begrudgingly dragged his feet up the steps and into the somehow even colder school building. Kids bustled past him with an almost shoving force, pushing Ivan to go actually find a familiar face to stick with. He could, thank god, spot Yao from across the hallway, and quickly maneuvered in and out of passing students to get to his locker.
Yao slammed his locker door shut, almost surprised to see Ivan pop up behind his door.
“Ah- hey, Ivan,” he yawned, turning around and kicking his leg up against the door, “What’s up?”
“Nothing much, unfortunately,” Ivan sighed before pausing, “Have you seen Alfred anywhere?”
This seemed to catch Yao’s attention as they started the journey to their respective homerooms. He raised a curious eyebrow before humming, “That guy? No, thank god. I think he runs away from me anyway. I’m pretty sure he owes me at least a hundred dollars by now…”
A small flame of anger, and possibly shame, boiled under Ivan’s skin. “He is better than you let on.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry, y’all are…close now, right?” he laughed awkwardly, trying a smile. “But, wait- I gotta ask you something. About Alfred.”
This intrigued him. For whatever reason, the mention of Alfred’s name always drew him in. For whatever reason. “Hm? What is it?”
“Well, I don’t know, but…” Yao started up, a frustrated look on his face, “I feel like he and Kiku are up to something. I mean, I know Kiku’s been weird. He’s…going somewhere after school, and getting all nervous and secretive when I ask him. I don’t know much about Alfred, but Kiku’s always mentioning him as well. You don’t think- well, you don’t think they’re dating or something, do you?”
Ivan felt the familiar crunch of jealousy build up in his stomach. But it was the nerves he noticed first. Yao was likely talking about the studio they were renting out. Had Kiku not told his brother? Wait, but if he didn’t know, then was it a bad thing to have told Matthew yesterday-
“Ivan? You there?”
He immediately blinked, feeling a frustrated frown bend onto his face. He had to take care of something else first before he let his other nervous thoughts take over. “Kiku and Alfred cannot be dating,” he forced a smile, all while hoping he sounded more stern than he felt, “Kiku would not be able to handle that. So there is no need to worry about it, because it is not true.”
Yao raised a suspicious eyebrow, though Ivan could tell it was at him and not the actual concept of Alfred and Kiku being an item.
“Uhm, ok…?” he hummed as they stopped right in front of Yao’s homeroom. “As if anyone could.” With that last poke, Yao opened the door to the classroom and let it swing behind him, leaving Ivan standing by his lonesome in the bustling hallway. The unsaid ‘But I could handle that.’ lied protruding in the air, like an unswattable mosquito.
*+•🎺₊.♬.₊🎸•+*
Ivan sighed as the shrill school bell signaling his next period filled the classroom. He picked up his books and stood up, rushing to the door. This passing period was one of the only times a day he got to see Alfred in the hallways. They only had one or two periods together anyway (It used to be once more, but after their first few fights, the schedule had been unfortunately changed.), so this specific passing period grew to be time Ivan was really looking forward to in his day.
Probably grinning like a fool, he shuffled across the hallway to meet Alfred at his locker.
He stood there for a couple seconds, eyes shifting through the hallway for any sight of the other boy. Then, as luck would have it, Alfred’s familiar face immediately caught his eye as he exited the bathroom with a flushed look on his face. Ivan felt a grin split onto his face as Alfred, too, made magnetized eye contact from across the hall. Though, oddly enough, the second Ivan raised his hand halfway, Alfred was darted in the other direction. Huh? Did he not see him?
Ivan's immediate reaction was to rush after him through the hallway in a desperate attempt for a single ‘hi’. But he stopped. Alfred was likely busy (with one of his other friends, Ivan thought hotly), and just…didn’t have time to talk. That was it.
But he couldn’t shake the prickling feeling biting at his skin as the periods of the day flashed by without a single glance from Alfred.
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Well. Alfred was definitely ignoring him.
Ivan had made at least five separate attempts to talk to Alfred during the day, with every single one resulting in Alfred darting the other way or sometimes not even acknowledging him. The most embarrassing instance being after Ivan stalked behind Frida to the lunchroom in hopes he’d catch Alfred there, but only ended up looking like an idiot after standing by the cafeteria door for more than ten minutes.
So, being a logical person, Ivan decided to book it to the library to eat by himself. He wasn’t quite in the mood to talk to Yao or Tolys.
He sighed, pushing open the door a little too hard and accidentally causing it to slam against the wall. The old librarian’s violent shush was louder than the door itself, but Ivan decided not to comment on that.
So, he made his way through the shelves to sit at a small table in the back of the library. Almost conventionally for him, he looked up to see the back of Alfred’s head on the other side of the table. …No, this couldn’t be Alfred. The boy’s hair was grown out, as were his roots, and Ivan could imagine a million different scenarios with none ever including Alfred sitting by himself in a quiet library. Ivan didn’t think Alfred was allowed in the library.
This was Alfred’s brother, wasn’t it? What was his name? Matvey?
“Hey,” he whisper-hissed, causing the other boy’s head to nervously swivel Ivan’s direction. “Alfred’s brother. We spoke yesterday. What is your name?”
Matvey raised his eyebrows curiously before mumbling something too quiet for Ivan’s ears.
“What?”
“...Matthew. My name’s Matthew.”
“Ah, I remember now,” Ivan pushed a smile. Perhaps Matthew would know what was up with his brother. “Have you seen Alfred at all today?”
Matthew’s expression morphed into one of disappointed realization, with his mouth returning to an ‘O’ shape. “So you’re asking about Alfred?”
“Yes, I just said that.” Ivan didn’t want to come off as rude, but who else could he be asking about? “Is he…upset because of me?”
“Uhm, I don’t know how much I can say,” Matthew mumbled distantly. Huh? What did Alfred tell him? “Do you want my advice, or something?”
“Yes,” Ivan stuttered, hoping he sounded less desperate than he felt.
Matthew continued picking at his fingernail beds, glazing around the long bookshelves as if he’d find his answers on the spine of a book. “Maybe…give him some space? I- I don’t know! I just, I just notice that, when he’s mad or upset or anything, he hates being cornered. If he wants to make up, he’ll probably do it on his own.”
Matthew must’ve noticed the dark, stuck expression on Ivan’s face, because just a second later he was bumbling about some ‘It’s up to interpretation!’ and ‘What do I know?’.
“Thank you for that,” Ivan smiled coldly as he pushed himself out of the table and grabbed his untouched lunch. “I will take your advice to heart.”
Hopefully, his already planned smoke break would make him forget all this, even just for a few hours.
The bell rang, and Ivan took it as a sign to dart out of the library and straight into the busy hallway. There were still a few more people he had to ask for advice from.
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“Has Alfred ever been mad at you?”
“...What?”
Ivan frowned. Kiku’s expression stayed stoic, but Ivan could sense the air of confusion between them. So, he asked again.
“Has Alfred ever been mad at you? Upset with you?” Kiku only continued staring up at him with eyes full of anxiety and confusion. Ivan had no idea why. All he did was pull him aside from the hallway to interrogate him in the locker room.
Kiku scratched his chin and hummed, “I can’t remember. Well, I should rephrase. Yes, Alfred’s been mad at me, but I don’t remember any specifics,” a pause, just as Ivan was about to pack up shop, “Wait. No, one time we got into a small argument about…the band, I think. I can’t remember the specifics, but we couldn’t agree on something…”
“And? How did he forgive you?”
Kiku raised a slight, suspicious eyebrow at Ivan’s insistent pestering. “Uhm. He didn’t. He kind of just…ignored it. And then acted like nothing happened.”
Well, Ivan already knew Alfred was non-confrontational when it came to apologies. Ivan knew that better than anyone. But, since he had Kiku there, surely it wouldn’t hurt to ask one more thing…
“And you and Alfred are friends? Nothing else?”
“Uhm…yes? Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Goodbye.”
Ivan pushed open the door to the locker room, making sure it slammed shut behind him just inconvenient enough for Kiku where he’d have to push it back open just as it closed.
He still had to visit the last person on his list, since apparently no one was giving him any answers.
Well, not the last person. The last last person he had to ask was Alfred himself, but not even Ivan wanted to subject himself to that kind of torture.
So, tracking down the long hall, Ivan made it his goal to find out Tolys’ schedule somehow…
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Ivan finally spotted Tolys standing by his locker, with his back to Ivan and his face towards Felix. Ivan reluctantly tapped on his shoulder, causing a slight flinch to come from the boy.
“Ivan? What are you doing here?” Tolys jumped.
Ivan just let out a shaky, frustrated sigh before pushing a smile onto his face, “…I do not want to be talking to you. But your advice worked last time, so I am here.”
“Huh?”
“Your advice. I…need more of it.”
Tolys blinked twice— once in disbelief, twice in frustration— and slowly turned back to Felix. He mumbled something incomprehensible to Ivan’s ear, but he could form some kind of idea, as Felix deserted almost immediately. Ivan had to sigh in relief.
“So, uh,” Tolys muttered as he shut his locker, “What do you need help with?”
Ivan had to pause a moment before finding the right wording, “Say you suspect your friend is mad at you. This isn’t the first time this person has been…upset with you, but this is the first time you don’t want them to. What do you do?”
“Uhm,” Tolys trailed off, fiddling with a piece of his hair with his fingers in thought. Ivan was starting to get annoyed at the slow pace. “Well, I guess you should start with finding out what you did wrong. And then…finding out why this person is mad. After that, as long as the other person’s not super stubborn, it should work itself out. I think.”
Ivan nodded bluntly. He already knew Alfred wasn’t quite the type to just…lay everything out for him, Ivan guiltily hoped their new ‘friend status’ would offer some help.
“And, if this person won’t talk to you, what do you do then?”
Ivan could faintly make out Tolys mumbling something incomprehensible under his breath before biting his lip nervously. “Well, you should give them space. Maybe wait it out?”
“Wait it out,” Ivan repeated darkly, trying not to glare holes into Tolys’ forehead. Sure, he could be patient. But Alfred sticking to his side like glue for the past month had given Ivan a new set of feelings. It was like some kind of high, he realized. And now he thought Alfred was ignoring him, like withdrawal.
Wait. Ivan frowned. Comparing a friend to drug use probably wasn’t normal, right? Especially since he hadn’t ever considered that view with Yao or his sisters. But…Alfred didn’t really feel like that. Ivan’s chest heaved in on itself at the thought–
“Ivan? So, what do you think you’re going to do?”
He blinked. Well, what was he going to do?
“Uhm. I think I’ll just…give him…time,” Ivan mumbled, wanting to bury himself in his scarf to hide the heat on his face at the thought of Alfred. “Thank you.”
Tolys glanced up at him with suspicious eyes before adjusting his books in his hands and backing away slowly, leaving Ivan standing by himself in the hallway.
Well, he was going to continue being confused at himself and let Alfred…be Alfred. He’d want to come back eventually, right?
Right. For now, Ivan had half a bag of marijuana to use.
*+•🎺₊.♬.₊🎸•+*
Ivan groaned as the lock on the flat door jammed. He wiggled the doorknob a bit harder before eventually giving up and leaning his forehead against the door in defeat. Would anyone mind if he started smoking in the hallway…?
He sighed, pushing himself off the door and trying it one more time. Wait. That was weird. Why was the door opening from the inside-
“Ivan Braginsky!”
Oh, so that was why.
Ivan flinched backwards as Alfred’s frustrated face slammed the door open from the inside. He was standing in the doorframe, as if he’d been preparing himself for a good long while to finally pull open the door.
“Alfred? What- what are you doing here?” Ivan nearly jumped, scrambling to grip his trumpet case harder. While the shock quickly faded, Ivan was surprised to feel that emotion replaced by relief that Alfred, though negatively, wasn’t ignoring him anymore.
“I- you- just come in, I guess,” Alfred huffed, as if it wasn’t Ivan’s day to be at the flat, “You have some explaining to do. Or, I guess, I have some explaining to do.”
Ivan sighed. Well, he’d been planning this for a while.
“Well- have you been ignoring me today?” Ivan pressed as Alfred backed away from the door frame and sat himself down on the crusty carpet by the couch. Ivan took this chance to sit himself down on the couch with a thump and a dust cloud in his wake. He set his trumpet down, with just enough force to pull a flinch out of Alfred. Disgust twisted in Ivan’s guilt at the familiar feeling of enjoyment of Alfred’s distress, but he chose to ignore it.
Alfred sighed loudly and clapped his hands together, like he was starting some kind of meeting.
“Alright,” he huffed as Ivan took the opportunity to pull out his weed-bag and rolling paper in his pocket. He couldn’t help but feel an amused smile crawl onto his face at Alfred’s shocked eyes on him. “Hey!” Alfred hissed, “I can’t be the only one having this conversation sober!”
“Well, I can’t let you get addicted to weed,” Ivan replied with a cold smile and continued rolling the joint. Alfred’s eyes seemed to widen further the closer Ivan got to finishing.
Alfred scooted closer to the couch from his knees and huffed, “If you’re not gonna let me smoke then I don’t think you should either. It’s not fair for this serious, communicational, healthy conversation we’re about to have!”
‘This conversation doesn’t seem very serious, communicational, or healthy,’ Ivan thought amusedly to himself, though he decided not to say that part out loud.
“Alfred, give me some grace. I don’t even know why you’re here,” he sighed, but put the joint away anyway. He had Alfred back. That was like his drug, wasn’t it?
“Oh. Right,” Alfred mumbled, “I guess I haven’t done much of a good job at setting the stage.”
“No, you have not.”
Letting out a readying sigh, Alfred rubbed his hands together and shot up. “I am very upset with you, because you crossed my personal boundaries and told my brother a very vital thing he wasn’t supposed to know, and I would like you to apologize!”
Huh? Ivan blinked. So, it was about that after all. But why in the world did he sound like that?
“Alfred.”
“...Yes?”
“Why are you sounding like a therapist?”
“I’m not! I- in order to maintain a healthy and thriving relationship, one had to be able to admit their wrongs and move on, and I hereby apologize for-”
“Alfred! Alfred, please, I get it,” Ivan rushed to stop him, rubbing his forehead frustratedly as Alfred stared up at him with his confused eyes, like a lost dog. “Is this about your brother? That I told him about…your band?”
The other boy seemed to light up. Apparently, his therapist-speech-idea had worked. “Yeah! Because- it was a breach of privacy, and you…uh, overstepped a boundary, yeah-”
“Stop! Why are you talking like that?” Ivan interrupted again before sighing to himself, “Did you, did you look up these things beforehand?”
He didn’t expect Alfred’s face to turn a bright tomato red, down to the roots of his hair, at the implication. Despite immediately scrambling to deny it, Ivan could tell everything he needed to know based off of Alfed’s face alone.
“But why?” he hummed, resting his head in his palm as he stared down at Alfred through curious eyes. The boy nearly looked caught in headlights– it was amusing, Ivan found, seeing him reduced to such a face. “You have many friends already. Surely you’ve gotten into arguments before?” Well, thanks to Kiku, he knew that, but Ivan wasn’t about to expose himself like that. Saying he stalked all of Alfred’s friends made him sound weird.
Alfred bit his lip and huffed, turning away in what Ivan could only guess as embarrassment. “Well- I don’t know,” he started, the red hue still lingering on the tips of his ears. Ivan almost found it cute, “I guess I just wanted to be extra careful. Like, we’re already walking on eggshells here, right? Wouldn’t want to make it worse,” he chuckled weakly, his face already starting to heat up again, “...And, I guess I wanted to stop being mad at you as soon as possible.”
“Hm, yes,” Ivan mumbled in reply. He didn’t exactly know how to put his thoughts into words. Well, he definitely agreed with Alfred. Their friendship was definitely extra risky, for a multitude of reasons, so it only made sense Alfred would want to take…extra precautions. It didn’t make it any less funny.
Ivan sighed as he started up again, “But, I have to ask. Why can’t Matthew know about all this? He is your brother, no?”
“Hm?” Alfred blinked up at him, “Oh, yeah. Well, I dunno, I just thought it was none of his business. Plus, not to be rude- but he’d definitely rat me out if it benefited Dad…”
Ivan’s eyebrows raised in slight surprise as he leaned further against the couch arm cushion. “Really? That’s surprising. Does that mean he’s less close with your mom, as well?”
“Eh, kind of? I mean-” he looked away, “I don’t know if you remember this, but I kind of…avoided her after, say fifth grade. And Mattie’s, I guess, always kind of trailed behind me?”
Ivan nodded, “Yes, I’d get that. Many siblings do.”
“Uhm, I kind of feel bad about it, ‘cuz I convinced him to dye his hair, even though I can tell he doesn’t really like it. I mean, he’s barely re-dyed it since then. His roots aren’t even roots anymore, they’re like, half of his head,” Alfred hummed, taking a piece of his own hair between his fingers and mumbling something about touching up his own roots.
Ivan couldn’t help but gaze down at the boy with curious eyes, “I quite like your natural hair color. It’s cute.”
“Really!?” Alfred flushed pink from head to toe, so much so that Ivan could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. Ivan smiled fondly.
“Yes. It is the same color as those…brown dogs. Labr- labra- the dogs.”
A small snicker came from Alfred at whatever Ivan had just said. “Can you try saying labrador again?”
Now Ivan was the one flushed from head to toe. “What- what’s wrong with the way I say labrador?”
“Oh, nothing,” Alfred drawled mischievously, clearly holding in another fit of snickers, “Your accent is just funny. Lab-ra-do-r,” he repeated in a thick Russian accent.
“I do not sound like that!” Ivan pulled up his scarf in a desperate attempt to cover the obvious blush on his face.
Alfred finally burst out laughing, grabbing his knee as Ivan just sat there stiff, like someone left out of a joke. “No, no!” he laughed, “I love your accent! It makes you sound like- Stierlitz, or something.”
“We were talking about your hair,” Ivan smiled, hoping the irritation wasn’t obvious on his face. Though, he admitted grimly, he was really trying to shift the conversation due to pure embarrassment.
Alfred’s face fell for a quick moment, one so quick Ivan didn’t think anyone besides him would’ve noticed. “Oh, yeah,” he laughed weakly, scratching the back of his neck, “I do really like your accent, though-”
“Why don’t you like your natural hair?” Ivan coughed out, hoping Alfred would forget all about the labrador.
He sighed, as if finally giving in to the conversation shift, “I dunno. I always thought the brown was, I dunno, boring?”
“I suppose,” Ivan hummed, “Do you find everyone’s brown hair boring?”
Alfred scoffed defensively, “No, of course not! I just don’t like the way it looks on me.” Ivan tried nodding in understanding as Alfred continued fiddling with a piece of his bangs, “Did you know I used to have long hair?”
“No. Why did you cut it?” Ivan blinked in surprise.
“Eh, it’s kind of embarrassing,” Alfred looked away with a guilty eye, but sighed in defeat anyway, “Some kids at school said I looked like a girl. So I cut it without telling my mom. She was mad, let me tell you,” he laughed weakly.
Ivan paused. Alfred didn’t exactly seem to like his hair very much at all.
“Why haven’t you grown it out again?”
“I don’t know, man! I like it like this. Makes me look…I dunno, more American,” Alfred hissed, shoving his hands out, “I feel like this conversation has just been you asking me questions! You didn’t- you haven’t even apologized for the Matthew thing!”
More American? Alfred was the most American person Ivan had ever met, he thought, and it really had nothing to do with his hair-
“Ivan? Buddy? You there?”
Ivan blinked open, “I am sorry for telling Matthew about this secret,” he replied, trying to sound as therapist as possible, just as Alfred had done.
“Uh, thanks,” Alfred flushed, turning away again. Was he really shocked that Ivan had apologized? “I guess this means I shouldn’t tell any of your friends or family either, right?”
Ivan hoped his face didn’t darken as much as he felt it did, “Absolutely not. No one can know except the two of us and your bandmates. And your brother, I suppose.”
“...Yeah. Yeah, I’m glad we agree,” Alfred yawned, stretching his arms above his head and adjusting his spot on the floor. Ivan didn’t miss the way he stared at his trumpet case and the abandoned blunt in his lap. Well, it certainly wouldn’t hurt. Alfred had only said he didn’t want to have The Matthew Conversation high. He didn’t mention anything after that.
“Hey! Didn’t I-” Alfred started frustratedly as Ivan tightened the roll and fished for his lighter in his pocket. “Do you have some kind of death wish?”
Well, if only he knew. “Not anymore. But it’s too late anyway. I am already addicted,” he sighed, feigning tragedy, which only riled up Alfred more.
“Not anymore? What does that mean?” he gaped, crawling closer to the couch, “And- and you’re not taking any of this seriously! I don’t want to watch someone else throw their life away because of, because of this stuff!”
Ivan raised a curious eyebrow. Alfred must’ve successfully distracted him, because he put the blunt down anyway. “Someone else?”
“Yeah, man,” Alfred huffed, but he stopped there. “Can you just- not? I don’t even care if you do it when I’m gone. I just…I dunno man…”
“Hm?” Ivan felt himself instinctively leaning closer at Alfred’s words.
Instead, Alfred flushed a bright red and almost jumped forward. “Come on, don’t make me spell it out! I care about you, man! I can’t sit here and let you do all this!”
Oh. Ivan could almost understand Alfred’s embarrassment, because he felt himself heat up to a million degrees as well. No one had really ever cared about him enough to get him to stop. Sure, his sisters loved him. But they’d never find out about this. Ivan could feel his heartbeat speed up at Alfred’s defeated face.
“I dunno, man. I’m just sick of seeing everyone go crazy and not being able to do anything. I don’t- I don’t want to watch that happen to you, too,” he mumbled. Ivan tilted his head and lightly slapped his forehead at a desperate attempt to get his face a little cooler. And why was he so embarrassed? Because Alfred was showing basic human decency?
“Oh. Uhm. Thank you,” Ivan lazily responded, unbeknownst of anything else to say. He secretly hoped Alfred would be able to read in his face what he was truly feeling, because Ivan wouldn’t be able to spell it out in a million years.
Alfred mumbled something under his breath before finally pushing a smile up at his face towards Ivan. “It’s uhm- it’s no biggie. I just figured, since I’m pretty sure no one else knows about your extravagant usage,” Alfred waved his hand around willy-nilly, “I guess I have to be the one to help.”
Did he really have his hopes that high? Alfred F. Jones, naive as always. “You know it will not be that simple,” Ivan laughed anyway.
“I don’t care! We’re friends now, and friends are supposed to help each other like this!”
Ivan didn’t want to acknowledge the fluttery feeling Alfred’s words gave him.
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