Chapter Text
The plane was the first hurdle. Alfred hated flying- in theory, it was the coolest thing that humans had ever done in their entire history, but it really didn’t like him. Adavan, Benedryl, and Dramamine were going to be his only friends for the next fourteen hours- ten in the sky and four in a layover somewhere in Germany. Getting through O’Hare security was a drag, but now he was boarding, passport and boarding pass in hand.
Alfred didn’t feel any more ready for this than he had when he signed up, like he’d thought he would. Leaving his family for a place he’d never been to live with people he didn’t know where they speak a language he was only moderately familiar with was almost too much for him, but ultimately he knew it would be worth it. “I promise you,” his friend Gilbert, a transfer from Germany who studied at his university full time, had assured him before he left, “That it will be the greatest experience you ever have.” While he appreciated the sentiment, he had a hard time taking it to heart. Alfred had been so close with his family, especially with his brother, that being without them was terrifying.
He did his best to sleep through the entire Atlantic ocean, even though the altitude sickness made him dizzy and nauseous, and the flight attendant had to wake him up when they got to Germany to transfer flights. Luckily, most of the people in the airport spoke English, because he didn’t speak any German.
Four hours of sitting in some of the most uncomfortable seats ever designed, and he was back in the air. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he should have eaten while he was there, but he couldn’t stomach it- a far cry from his usual bottomless pit reputation. He didn’t sleep at all on the way to St. Petersburg.
Alfred had known for years that he was going to study abroad, long before the actual planning started. He was double majoring at the University of Illinois: engineering and the Russian language. He wanted, more than anything in the whole world, to work for NASA, building air- and spacecraft and, maybe some day, actually going into space himself. To do this, though, he would need to be able to speak Russian fluently. And part of that is studying there to practice as much as possible. But all of this time to prepare had still not been enough.
When he got into the St. Petersburg airport, it took a while to get all the way through. It was not only busy, but he was having a hard time understanding the customs officer, who seemed to hate everything around her with a ferocity that he didn’t even know if he could muster. When he finally got through, it was a complicated walk through the airport. Alfred had gotten there a day early, because he was worried about being late to the program orientation the next day, so tonight he would be staying at a hotel near the airport. He had originally booked a cheap hostel, but changed his mind last minute because he wasn’t sure how safe it would be. Horror stories of people’s entire set of belongings being stolen from cheap student boarding hostels filled his mind, and his anxiety made him think twice.
He hailed a taxi and tossed his backpack in the back seat, and climbed inside behind it. The driver didn’t speak any English either, but was kind enough to speak slowly so he could understand. The driver pointed out several important places and landmarks on the drive there, giving a kind of mini tour, and helped him get his luggage out when they got to the hotel. Alfred thanked him politely, gave him a tip, and headed inside. Since it’s summer, it isn’t so cold out that he needs a jacket, but even still, he couldn’t wait to get inside.
Trying to check in was a taxing endeavor. He tried at first to check in in Russian, but the person behind the desk just responded in English, sensing his distress. It’s just because you’re tired, he reassured himself, but doubt was already starting to crawl into his mind. Maybe he wasn’t going to be able to do this like he thought.
The room he was staying in was on the fifth floor, right in front of the elevator. He stepped inside, pushed his suitcase to one side, and threw himself onto the bed in the middle of the room. Finally, a rest all to himself. He took this time to finally let himself cry- the stress of flying so far paired with longing for home and wondering if he had really done the right thing by coming here. He thought about his dogs at home, and how they were probably sitting by the door waiting for him to come home, and his brother who he knew was not taking his departure well. Maybe Matthew was doing the same thing he was, laying facedown in his bed to cry. Because Alfred left on this, this excursion for god knows how long without even thinking about how this impacted everyone else, because he was so selfish to put his own goals above how everyone else f-
His phone rang, shaking him out of his spiraling thoughts. Loud, silly music does wonders for changing your mood in a hurry. On the screen was the smiling visage of his family, waiting for him to pick up the video call. He put his glasses back on, wiped his face, put on his best smile, and answered.
“Hey guys!” he said in a chipper tone.
“So how’s the cold north treating you?” his brother asked. He shrugged.
“It’s alright, not so bad at all! I dunno what everyone is always complaining about, honestly.
“Oh! Let me show you my room in this hotel- it’s super rad.” He went about the room, showing off all of the different things, from the same queen size bed that inhabits every hotel room, to the comically small bathroom and even outside, to the cute sitting area that Alfred bet had never been used by anyone. They talked for a while more, Alfred talking about how his travel had gone, his brother talking about how much the dogs missed him and how he was going to abstain from McDonald’s until he got back, which made Alfred laugh- Matthew didn’t even like McDonald’s anyway.
The call reassured him. This was the right thing to do, he thought, and he was glad that he came here, even if he wasn’t fully convinced that was true. So, having been pulled out of his spiraling pit of despair, his body finally caught up to him. His stomach ached from not having eaten since the drive to the airport the day before, and it was now well into the afternoon- at home, at least. The time change was going to take some getting used to. So he pulled out his phone and got directions to the nearest McDonald’s- what? His brother was the one who had brought it up!
The counter was being manned by a girl younger than him who looked like she didn’t care if she made it through this shift or not, but she was surprisingly patient with him as he ordered in slow, hesitant Russian. He took his food back to his hotel room, because he was far too exhausted to stay around people any more than he had to today. After he ate, he took a warm shower with tiny shampoo that didn’t smell like anything, and crawled into bed. It was 11pm in St. Petersburg, so it was a reasonable time to go to sleep, even if his internal clock was still eight hours behind. He drifted off into a dreamless sleep until morning.
He had an alarm set for 9am, but he woke up at seven and couldn’t fall back asleep. At least, he figured, he would have plenty of time to go get breakfast downstairs and prepare for the day ahead. After he got back, he packed up everything he had gotten out that night, put on the same clothes that he had worn the day before, and called an Uber to take him back to the airport. His program had arranged to pick up students from the airport as they came in and take them to their host homes, but he and a few others had gotten there a day or two early, so they just all had to get there first thing in the morning and go together.
Soon enough the bus came, and everyone piled on and threw their stuff in the back, where the last seats had been folded down to make room for their luggage. He took a deep breath when he climbed on, both in anticipation and anxiety. This was it. He was finally going to meet his host family, the people he would spend the next five weeks living with. The culmination of all of the hours he had worked, all of the sleepless nights he spent studying and practicing. It was, in this moment, finally real.
All of the students on the bus, he came to find out, were Americans. He didn’t know if that was just an improbable coincidence, or if his program did that on purpose. They spent the bus ride chatting and making friends, and one by one people got dropped off at their houses. He was the third out of seven to reach his host home, and climbed out sheepishly when his name was called.
In his welcome pamphlet he had been given a description of the family he would be living with, as well as their address and a few things to keep in mind about the house and other family norms that might be different than life in the States. It had told him that he would be living with three siblings that lived together in the St. Petersburg suburbs. The oldest sibling was a woman named Katyusha; she was 29 years old, and worked as a nurse at one of the closeby hospitals. The youngest sibling was Natalya, a 19 year old full time student going to school for international relations, whatever that means; but, because of this, she was proficient in English, which was a relief for him. The middle sibling was the one that greeted him as he got off the bus. The pamphlet had told him that the man was 25 years old, and did mechanic work in a shop by the school, but it had not prepared him at all for what stood before him.
Ivan, his name supposedly was, was tall, easily 6’4’’, and built like a combine harvester. Broad shoulders, rough hands, and blond hair so pale it was almost white. His eyes were equally as captivating- a deep blue that bordered on purple that looked like they could see right through you. He had on a dark red turtleneck shirt whose sleeves had been pushed up halfway. Alfred quickly looked at the ground to avoid staring, but he could feel his face heat up. When he was doing the interview for what kind of family he wanted to be placed with, he had brought up that he was bisexual, and was slightly worried about his safety, so they had been sure to put him with someone who was at least not violently homophobic, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would take kindly to being hit on personally, so Alfred tried as hard as he could to push that out of his mind.
He coughed to clear his throat, and held out his hand to shake. “My name is Alfred,” he said kind of quietly, which he then overcompensated for by practically yelling, “You must be Ivan? It’s nice to meet you!”
Ivan laughed, shook his hand roughly, and turned to lead him into his- their- house. As Ivan was explaining the basics of the house, Alfred found himself tuning in and out of what he was saying. Apparently, both of the girls were out for the rest of the day, so he would meet them at dinner. He was captivated by how high pitched the other’s voice was- it was shocking, because he was so… intense. Ivan also had a sort of permanent smile that Alfred found almost endearing. On one of the walls the man pointed out were dozens of pictures of them and several other people Alfred could only assume were friends. “We have lots of friends,” he explained, “And they come over a lot, so you’ll be able to meet most of them, probably this week.
“You’ll probably meet Natalya’s boyfriend, too.” A sort of darkness flashed across his face for a moment, and Alfred got the immediate impression that he wasn’t fond of this so-called boyfriend.
“You don’t like him?” he asked.
“He is a bad influence,” is all he said.
When they got to the room he would be staying in, Ivan left him there, explaining that he had to go to work still, but that Natalya would get back around four, about four hours from then, and that he should make himself at home. Alfred tossed his overfilled backpack onto the bed pushed into one corner of the room, laid his suitcase down, and sat down next to his bag. The room he was in was bigger than his bedroom at home and almost a perfect square. The walls were painted a light blue with little frogs painted along the bottom above white trim, with beige carpet underneath. There was a desk at the foot of the bed with a little lamp and a drawer with a lock that he didn’t know if he could open. The bedspread was quilted in a way that looked handmade but he couldn’t be sure- he hadn’t quilted since he was maybe ten years old, so his eye wasn’t as good as it used to be.
The first thing he did was fish his chargers out of his bag and plug them into the only outlet in the room, next to the desk. He decided that music would do him well to calm his nerves while he unpacked, so he played whatever playlist was first on the list on Spotify, and got to work.
The backpack came first, which he unpacked pocket by pocket, starting with the biggest one and working his way down until all that was left inside was his wallet, umbrella, and stationary for class. He took a break long enough to finish off the cookies he had brought with him for the flight and had been too nauseous to eat, and then dragged his suitcase onto the bed as well. He took to putting those things, mostly clothes, away with the same methodical strictness, until that, too, was empty, and he pushed it into the closet and out of the way.
By this point, the excitement of the morning had worn off, and the time zone difference was starting to catch up to him. He kicked off his shoes, made sure his phone was plugged in and the sound was on, and crawled into bed, not even bothering to take off his day clothes. He quickly fell into yet another dreamless sleep.