Last chapter, guys! I'm not going to say much, just enjoy!
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Ivan opened his eyes to blue sky and puffy white clouds. So Alfred wanted to talk before he went back to that room? Tht was fine with him, he would never pass up a chance to see the blonde. He might even be willing to give him some answers, maybe say something other than his name for once. He laid there for a few more minutes, steeling himself. This may be the last time he got to see Alfred, so he would have to make it count. He got up from where he lay in the grass and looked toward the hill, heart thumping in his chest. He didn't want to go, he didn't want it to end. Maybe if he stayed here long enough he would just wake up knowing nothing more than what he knew already. He would stop looking for the mystery behind Alfred's presence and just continue to visit his spirit in his dreams and his painting in the secret room. But he knew he couldn't do that. He couldn't go through life knowing he'd come so close to solving the mystery and giving Alfred his final peace just to throw it away. Not only would it nag at him until the end of his days, but he would feel as if he failed Alfred. And he couldn't stand to see his love suffer, imprisoned eternally in the dreams of whoever occupied the house. So he sighed sadly and began the trek towards what might be the last meeting with the boy he had come to love so much. He had only ever said a handful of words to him, but he felt the connection as strongly as if the boy had been alive and in his arms the entire time. If it would mean Alfred's happiness, Ivan would give up that love in a heartbeat. It seemed to take forever to get to the middle of the sunflower field, almost as if Alfred didn't want the meeting to occur just yet, either. But at long last he was standing beside the blonde. No darkness clouded the edges of his vision and there was no sign of the dream ending. They merely stood together, not saying a single word. There was nothing to say. They both knew what the other was thinking. Alfred looked troubled, his face as dark as a storm cloud. He was making a decision that he didn't want to make, that was for certain. But suddenly he seemed to come to his conclusion and he turned to Ivan with a sad smile, leaning up to peck him on the lips. Before Ivan could return the kiss the scene changed and he was standing alone in the library. He looked around for the blonde ghost, but he was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, a blonde man burst into the room in a fury. Heavy boots tapped out a rhythm on the carpeted wooden floors and green eyes held a fury that all but the bravest would run from. He strode across the library, passing through Ivan as if he were air. Ivan turned to look after him as he made a beeline towards the armchairs in front of the fireplace. What he saw there shocked him. Alfred himself, as he had been when he was alive, was lounging in one of the chairs, reading a book. Above the mantlepiece was the portrait from the secret room. It couldn't have been painted more than a few months ago, the likeness was so similar to the actual person. His breath caught as he realized that Alfred was showing him what had happened. "I told you I'm not going! You can go fuck yourself for all I care, there is nothing wrong with me, dad!" Alfred growled, trying to struggle out of his father's hold. But the older man had a tight grip on him and wouldn't let go. No matter how hard his son struggled, the elder man held firm. "Nothing wrong? You're a goddamn sodomite!" He growled, pushing his son to the ground and aiming a swift kick to his midsection. Alfred groaned in pain and doubled up, clutching the wounded area. Ivan saw red and tried to take a swing at the older man. But his fist passed through his head as if through a cloud of smoke. "Don't think I didn't see you making eyes at that stableboy." The elder blonde growled, another swift kick being aimed at Alfred's vulnerable back. He heard a sharp cry of pain as the blow hit home. "If you think I'm a sinner, which layer of Hell are you going to for beating your son?" Alfred taunted, eyes glinting dangerously. "You're no son of mine. You're a disgrace, a monstrosity. You aren't worthy of even one moment of my concern you filthy, wretched, faggot." Alfred's father punctuated each statement with another blow, raining them down like hellfire on Ivan's beloved Alfred. And there was nothing he could do. How does one stop events that happened so long ago? Ivan's heart ached to watch it, but there was nothing else to do. Alfred merely laughed, hauling himself partially off the floor. He could barely lift himself on his shaking arms and there was blood dripping out from between his lips, but still he laughed. "And you're no father of mine, Arthur seemed to come to, realizing what he had done. A look of pure horror crossed his features as he swiftly knelt down to check his son's pulse. Ivan had to conclude that Alfred was dead when Arthur let out a choked sob, gathering the broken body to him. "O-oh god. Alfred...what have I done?" He whispered, voice raspy and disbelieving. He looked around at the blood on the carpet and his boots and cursed. He lay the body back down and began moving the furniture until it was cleared from the rug. He rolled Alfred's body up in it and dragged it out of the library. Ivan followed, eyes hollow and heart broken. How could Arthur have done that to his own son, and all because he was gay? It was such senseless violence, especially from a man who seemed to actually care that his son was dead. As they rounded the last corner before the back door, they ran into a woman Ivan could only assume was Alfred's mother. She stared, horrified, at the patch of red staining through the carpet wrapped around the body. Arthur looked at her, looking lost and broken. "Monica...Monica I didn't mean to. I-I lost control. I killed our son." He sobbed. Just as Arthur's shovel struck dirt, the dream faded to black
"Alfred! Get up off of your ass and get packed. You are going to West Point and that is that. Maybe the army will be able to fix your little "problem"." The older blonde hissed, grabbing Alfred by the back of his shirt and hauling him up. The book fell to the floor, pages bending and spine stretching as it was flung wide.
Monica took her husband into her arms, petting his hair. She seemed shell-shocked, not really comprehending what had happened. "Shh, Arthur, darling, it's alright. We'll tell them he went away to fight in the war. We'll say he ran off in the middle of the night and we have no idea where he is. Then a few months from now we will tell everyone he died in battle and never speak of him again." She said all of this in a dead voice, obviously choosing not to process the fact that it was her son in that carpet. "Go, go and bury him beneath the oak out back. We'll plant flowers over it tomorrow so the overturned earth doesn't arouse suspicion. Go!" She ordered, pushing her husband in the direction of the back yard. Arthur took up his burden once more and dragged it outside.
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Ivan woke with a start, panting harshly and covered with a sheen of sweat. Tear tracks stained his cheeks and his heart was still painfully clenched from witnessing his love's murder. But he knew beyond a doubt now what he had to do to put Alfred to rest. He jumped out of bed and raced around back to the tool shed, kicking down the locked door for want of a key and grabbing the rusty, dirty shovel from inside.
It was storming, the rain coming down in buckets. He was drenched within moments of stepping outside and it showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. It made the trek up the hill to the giant oak tree slippery and treacherous. He slid down more than once, mud staining the front of his sleep clothes. But he didn't care, he continued on with a sense of purpose as strong as any religious leader.
Thunder crashed overhead and lightening lit up the sky as he struck down into the earth with the shovel, digging frantically. He worked for what seemed like hours to clear away the muddy earth from the grave. As he got deeper and his muscled grew tired he still did not slow, clearing the dirt away at an almost inhuman pace in his desperation to get to Alfred.
Soon enough he struck something solid and he fell to his knees, scooping away the dirt with his hands. There, under his knees, was the carpet that held the long decayed body of the man he loved so dearly. He let out a painful sob, clearing away the rest of the dirt and hauling the carpet out of the grave. He refused t open it, afraid of what he would find inside. But he took the threadbare dirty rug and dragged it down the hill.
Not far from the hill was the family graveyard, Alfred's true and rightful resting place. Ivan was wheezing and hot despite the pouring rain by the time he reached the cemetery, and he wasn't sure if he could dig the grave. But he picked up the shovel resolutely and struck into the grave plot with Alfred's name on it. It was obviously empty, as the real Alfred had been buried 200 paces away. So when he found no casket in the grave he was not surprised. His family had probably bought it for show, to "honor" their son that had "died in war". The thought made him sick.
He climbed out of the grave and picked up the carpet in two arms, laying it reverently in the earth. He would not show such disrespect to the boy who had once been so beautiful and full of life by merely shoving him in. As he clambered out of the grave and shoveled the first clods of mud onto the body, the rain began to slacken off. By the time the last shovelful was patted down, it had stopped completely. The clouds dissipated and the stars twinkled down at Ivan brightly. Ivan smiled up at the clear night sky, heart light. He knew, in that moment, that Alfred would find peace.
But not before saying goodbye.
He flickered into sight right in front of Ivan, startling him. But Alfred merely laughed, the sound distant and echoing. He crossed the grass between them with weightless steps that made no sound and left no impression in the grass. Ivan smiled down at him, holding out his hand. Alfred took it and Ivan could feel the warmth and love radiating from the spirit. He was happy now, at peace. He leaned up and kissed Ivan tenderly on the lips, fading out of existence as they locked lips.
Ivan opened his eyes to find himself all alone, soaked to the bone and with the dawn just peaking over the horizon.
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It had been three months since the incident, and anyone who had been to the house before would have noticed the drastic change in the atmosphere. Light streamed generously into the house and warmed the rooms during the daytime. Children from the town and nearby farms came to play in the sunflower fields and the lake. Ivan enjoyed having the children over and their parents certainly didn't mind getting some time to themselves.
Yes, it was a happier place now that Alfred had been laid to rest. So much so that Ivan had decided to move his sister in with him last week. She had stepped out of the limo cold and distant, speaking only to assure her brother how much she loved him. But the last week had seen a change in her. It was not immediate or obvious to any but him, but it was there.
She was sitting out on the porch swing now, watching with impassive eyes as the children ran around the yard. She didn't even look over when a car pulled up in the driveway, Toris stepping out. He had been coming to the plantation every day since Natalia had arrived, hoping the change in atmosphere would bring back the feelings they once had for each other. But until today she had not even looked his way. He approached her nonetheless, shaking in his nervousness. He flashed her a weak smile and sat down beside her, not saying anything.
He was about to remark on the weather when a small boy ran up to him and whispered in his ear. "If you wanna get a girl to like you, you gotta give her flowers, stupid." He hissed before pushing a small bouquet of daisies into Toris' hand. Natalia turned her head, looking over at the pair. It was the first time she'd even looked at him since coming to America. Toris blushed and smiled, holding out the flowers. "These are for you, Natasha. They're not as pretty as you are, but I doubt I could find a flower that was." He said in a rare moment of boldness.
Natalia stared apathetically at the flowers for a moment before nodding and taking them. She didn't thank him and she didn't say any more the rest of his stay, but it was good to see her interacting with others. Ivan had high hopes for her recovery.
But his own? Now that was another story. How does one come to terms with and then recover from losing someone you loved who you had never really had in the first place? But he was sure he would manage, even if he doubted he would ever find love like that again.
He stepped off of the porch and into the driveway, nearly being knocked over by a group of teenagers who had come speeding through chasing after their charges. The often came by under the guise of babysitting, but that was just an excuse to play here themselves without seeming like overgrown children. The boy who had knocked into him turned back to see if he was okay and Ivan felt his breath catch in his throat.
Blonde hair the color of ripened wheat and blue eyes as limitless as they sky with an impish spark in them met him as he stared into what seemed to be a blast from the past.
"What's wrong, man? You look like you've seen a ghost." The boy who looked so much like his Alfred said. Was Ivan imagining things, or was that a knowing glint in his eyes? Surely he was just deluding himself.
"Oh...nyet, I am fine. You just...look familiar.." He said, voice soft and distant.
"Who knows, maybe we met in another life." He said. The smirk that curled his lips was unmistakeable. This had to be more than a mere coincidence. "So, what's your name, big guy?" He asked, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Ivan. Ivan Braginsky. I am the owner of this place." He said, still shell shocked. The boy leaned in and for a second Ivan thought he was going to kiss him. Instead, he leaned in to whisper in Ivan's ear, eyes glittering mischievously.
"The name's Alfred."
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AND CUT! THAT'S A WRAP!
I can't believe it's over =OO This is only about the...2nd chapter fic I've ever finished.
And I projected it as being 10 chapters . see how well that worked out? Oh well, at least it's done!
Also, productivity may decrease soon, as I have a prospective part time job and just got my acceptance letter to the University of Oklahoma! Yay me =DD