Breaking Things into Pieces

Ever since Ivan was very small, he loved breaking things. He didn't just like breaking random things either, he fancied destroying items that people loved. "They put their soul into the objects," He once explained, "and so I feel it my duty to destroy a part of them, without causing them physical pain."

This went on throughout Ivan's whole life. He broke his sister's favorite locket, his mother's precious wedding ring, his father's prized watch, and even his neighbors porcelain doll. All of these were special to the people; his sister had possessed the locket since she was a baby, his mother's ring was obvious a memoir of her wedding, his father's watch had been passed down generation-to-generation, father to son, and his neighbor's doll had been a gift from the girl's dying grandmother upon her death bed. Once, Ivan's big sister got a piano for her birthday. She loved it the first time she laid eyes on it, and announced that she would be learning to play on the morrow. Well, tomorrow came, and the family only discovered that all the piano's keys had been cruelly removed, and there were holes struck upon the wood. Ivan was definatley to blame.

By his thirteenth birthday, his family could take no more of him. Ivan was shipped off to live with his very rich aunt in a distant country...far away from Russia's beautiful white, snow, and the chilling winters that made his hands shake with ache. He arrived at a lovely mansion, and was greeted by many servants. One in particular, looked quite nervous to meet him. He was a small boy, about two inches shorter than Ivan, although he claimed to be two years older, with shoulder-length brown hair and sparkling green eyes.

"G-greetings, Mister Braginsky, s-sir." The child stammered upon meeting him. "I-I am your p-personal servant, T-Toris." He wouldn't look Ivan in the eyes, which made the boy quite sad, and so he grabbed his newly acquired servant by the chin and raised his head, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Hello." He said, not unkindly. "Call me Ivan please." Giggling, Ivan leaned forwards until his lips were only a few centimeters away from Toris' ear. Then, he whispered, "I like to break things." Toris didn't said anything in response to that, and Ivan quickly lost interest in him, though it was nice to have a friend around.

As his time slowly passed in his aunt's manor, Ivan began to realize just how boring it was here. His aunt had told him not to break anything, or he would get into big trouble, but Ivan just felt the urge, so bad, and he wanted to destroy every prized thing the woman owned.

It began with the servants. A butler who wore his favorite tie, which was a gift from his girlfriend, found it suddenly missing, straight off his neck, as if someone had cut it off while he was not paying attention. A day later, the man found it shredded on the doorstep. Then, the cook's teakettle, which she had spent a whole year decorating with lovely paintings of flowers and meadows, was found shattered on the floor. Soon after that, the coachman's expensive jacket dissapeared, after he had hung it up upon coming inside. A week later it was found, disposed in the horse stables, dripping with horse feces and full of holes.

Ivan never got caught, which he found astounding. He told Toris about everything he did; Toris had to do anything he said, and he said Toris was not allowed to tell on him. Remaining loyal, the boy did not. "My foolish aunt thinks she could punish me for breaking things," he snickered, "but look at how well she has failed at that." Once more, Toris did not respond to Ivan's bragging. He only bowed his head and smiled, a bitter-sweet, morose smile.

Since he never seemed to get caught, Ivan grew more and more daring each day. Finally, he went over the line. His aunt had a collection of old and valuable paintings on the wall outside her room. The old feeling of wanting to destroy hit Ivan so hard, that he knew he must destroy them. They had her soul in them - he had seen her looking at them dreamily, every morning when she arose from her bed - and therefore he wanted them gone all the more so. Thus, when his aunt was out riding, Ivan took black ink...and threw it all over the paintings, and then he stabbed forks upon their surfaces, and raked them along wickedly. Toris was watching the whole time.

"Look Toris!" He squealed, enjoyment apparent in his voice. "See how wonderful it is? Don't you want to join in, and destroy precious things?" He paused for a moment, holding out a fork to his servant.

Shaking his head no, Toris replied, "I really rather would not. I would feel bad if someone destroyed my precious thing..." and with that he reached into his pocket, and withdrew an old, faded photo of a family. "See? This is very dear to me. It's a photograph of my family and I, before the crop failure...before they sent me away, damning me to eternal servitude. How would you feel if someone broke something you loved?"

"Let me see that!" Ivan snapped, and he plucked the picture from Toris' fingers, and then, much to the child's dismay, he tore it into two pieces. "Breaking~." He squeaked merrily, shredding the picture even more between his fingers. "Breaking it into pieces~." He sang out.

Although he trembled, Toris made no move to retrieve the picture fragments from his young master. The boy only bowed his head, shoulders heaving, and tears forming in his eyes. "I-I s-see..." He whispered, tears dripping from his face and spattering upon the ground.

Tilting his head to the side in wonder, Ivan grinned. "That troubled face of yours is so precious, Toris." He giggled, reaching forwards to lay his finger upon the smaller boy's quivering shoulder. "I have nothing I love, so there's no need to worry. I just love breaking other people's precious things."

Wiping his tears away, Toris looked up. "I know." He muttered quietly, forcing a smile upon his face. "It's ok, Ivan." He told his master, and then leaned forwards and gave the Russian a hug. Ivan seemed confused for a moment, but then he smirked, and ran his icy cold fingers through his servant's hair. He felt strange inside; he didn't understand the feeling.

When Ivan's aunt returned home, her nephew was not found in the house, but automatically she knew who the culprit was. Her face turned completely red, and she ordered her private servant to find Ivan and his servant and bring him to her for punishment. Ivan was extremely scared whenever he was told this, and his aunt's butler had to practically drag him back into the house, for he kicked and screamed the whole time. "You can't hurt me!" He howled whenever he was locked inside the room and facing his aunt. "Papa and Mama will hurt you if you do!" Toris looked at him when he was talking, looking very scared for some reason.

Sneering wickedly, her yellowish teeth showing between her fat, red lips, Ivan's aunt spat, "You're such a selfish boy!" She spat at him. "I'm going to teach you how it feels to watch something precious of yours' be destroyed before your eyes!"

For a moment, Ivan did not understand, but then his aunt's servant grabbed onto his arms and restrained him. He started crying in confusion, and his aunt rang a certain bell, calling in a few more servants (whom she unlocked the door for, but then locked it again after they arrived). "You know what to do." She said to them glumly, and they took Toris by the wrists and jerked him roughly into the corner of the room. Ivan first thought they were going to do something terrible, as they began undressing the boy, stripping him until he wore nothing but his underwear, but then one of them pulled out a cruel-looking, thick horsewhip. This whole time, Toris didn't struggle. He only looked at Ivan with sad, sad green eyes.

"No!" Ivan screeched at the top of his lungs as one of the servants turned Toris around and held him. Tears sprouted in the boy's violet eyes and streaked down his face, but no matter how hard he struggled, he could not get free. "Let Toris go! Don't hurt him! I'm sorry! I won't break anything anymore!" He pleaded and begged, but his aunt only gave him a cold stare, and then nodded her head.

The servants began to beat Toris right in front of Ivan's tear-filled, sparkling plum eyes. They whipped him until the floor had a pool of blood on it, and Toris' back looked like a peice of raw flesh and torn meat. They whipped him raw, even as the little boy screamed and cried in anguish; the sound was the worst thing Ivan had ever heard, and it tore upon his heart. For the first time, he realized why his aunt had given him a personal servant, and the thought made rage grow deep inside his heart. Whipping boy. He thought. My whipping boy. His aunt was grinning at him.

After it was done, the servants dragged Toris into his living quarters and threw him down upon his hard, thin straw mattress. Ivan gave his aunt a look of pure hatred, before turning to run after his friend. "Do you like how it feels, still, Ivan?" She called after him. "Breaking things into pieces?"

Ignoring her, Ivan went to where Toris lie, torn up and bloodied upon his bed, with glistening tears running down his face. Ivan knelt beside him, and lifted the shivering boy's small form into his arms. He brought Toris into his room that night, and let him sleep in the same bed with him. He made his servant lie on his stomach, and got a rag, soaked part of it, and used it to clean up Toris' wounds. He wept as he did this. "I'm sorry..." He cried softly. "Please, please, forgive me, Toris..." Ivan fell asleep with his hand resting lightly upon Toris' battered shoulder.

When Ivan awoke the next morning, Toris was curled up on top of him, on his chest. Flustering at the strange sight, Ivan reached out, curiosity overtaking him, and he touched the top of the boy's head. "T-Toris?" He murmured.

The boy glanced up at him, and he was smiling. "I-I'm sorry." He apologized shyly, looking away from his master's gaze. Ivan hugged him then, but around the neck so as not to disturb the injuries upon his back. "I'm not mad at you." Toris whispered in his ear as he did so. "I am honored to be able to protect you."

"Are you lying to me..?" Ivan asked back, his voice almost a whisper as well.

"Ne." Toris replied in his native tongue. "I love you."

It was then that Ivan realized what the real problem was. He realized what the real precious thing to Toris was - himself. All his life, Ivan had been breaking people's loved objects, but now that he was loved - and even after all the anguish he had caused his friend - he could not handle it. He was a monster, in his own eyes. He told Toris that he loved him too, and demanded he lay on his stomach again, and then Ivan, with shaking hands, ran his fingers through the boy's velvet hair, and kissed every single cut and future scar on his body.

Still tired from the beating, Toris soon fell asleep. Ivan kissed him one last time, on the nape of the neck, before he walked to the window and looked out it. His hands twitched with the familiar urge to destroy. This time, he would be destroying something special, that he had never destroyed before. In fact, this object was so special, that it was called a crime to destroy it. "I'm sorry, Toris." Ivan giggled,

and then he broke himself.

When Toris woke up, he found Ivan in pieces upon the floor. There was no blood, nothing but pieces, as if the boy had been carved out of marble. The clothing had turned to ashes, and everything else was smooth chunks of a shattered statue. The whipping boy knelt upon the floor, his eyes wide, and full of so much not-understanding... He reached into the center of the pile, felt something warm touch his fingers, and pulled away with it inside his hands. A beating heart pulsed upon his palms. Toris was not the least bit disgusted by it, in fact, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Smiling, as if he understood, Toris raised the heard to his lips...and kissed it.

As his lips touched the twitching, red muscle, it began to glow a bright, luminescent yellow. Toris held his lips to the organ, waiting. The heart grew brighter, and brighter, and more powerful, until the servant boy was completely consumed into it's light.

When the other servants ventures into that room later in the day, they found nothing but a pile two piles of destroyed, broken marble. The piles were soon cleaned up, and thrown in the trash, and a search was put on to find Ivan and his whipping boy...but to no avail. The pair was never found.

That winter, a pair of flowers grew in the garden. It made no sense for them to survive, but nothing seemed to kill them, and they were the most beautiful flowers anyone had ever seen. One was a tall, flourishing chamomile, and the other was a smaller, delicate rue flower.

It is said that those flowers still thrive in that garden, to this very day.

I hope this isn't too weird for you guys. o.O

Just to let you know, the chamomile is Russia's national flower, and the rue flower is Lithuania's. Back in the day, noble children and royalty did have other children called their whipping boys, who would be punished if the noble/royal child got into trouble. The whipping boys would get food, and a potential education, etc, but would constantly suffer unjust punishment (depending on how naughty their masters were). This one-shot is also partially inspired by the song "Breaking Things into Pieces" by Hatsune Miku, the vocaloid.