Ivan opened his eyes to the usual comforting darkness and the muffled sounds of morning. The stab wound throbbed painfully; the painkillers he'd taken last night had definitely worn off. Last night...

His thoughts turned to the strange feelings he'd experienced then. Alfred' s touch still burned his hand. He didn't understand the warmth he now felt in his chest at the memory. It was pleasant, nothing like the fear and guilt that had gnawed at his heart in the past years. When he thought of Alfred' s smile, his kind eyes and boundless energy, Ivan couldn't hate himself.

"Ivan?"

He jumped involuntarily at the sound of Alfred's voice. The man in question was standing at the doorway. Ivan almost missed the trademark grin that had been absent since yesterday's bizarre events. Now he looked concerned and a little hesitant. It didn't suit him, this strange sobriety.

"Yes?" Ivan tried to keep his voice neutral, but a slight tremor still sneaked into that one three-letter word. It was harder to face Alfred after the closeness they shared than Ivan thought it would be.

Alfred stepped closer. Just stepped, not bounced like he used to. He's like this because of me, Ivan though with a pang of guilt.

"Are you ok?" asked Alfred, "You look a little red. You're not feeling feverish, are you?"

"N-no. I -I am fine," Ivan stuttered in reply. He would never admit that the unwelcome blush on his face had nothing to do with fever and everything to do with Alfred's increasing proximity.

This was all kinds of wrong. At first he'd felt nothing but irritation at the American's presence. He was annoying, always sticking his nose into other people's business, imposing himself quite unexpectedly on Ivan's quiet, lonely life.

Alfred moved closer still. "Are you sure? No offense man, but you don't look fine. Let me just -"

"No!" Before he could think properly, Ivan found himself on his feet. He didn't know why exactly he didn't want Alfred to touch him again. It felt wrong to know that the touch would make him happier and warmer than a bottle of his best vodka. He wasn't supposed to feel anything like this, especially towards this roommate of his.

"Hey, Ivan! What's wrong?" Alfred's concerned voice broke through the strange haze that enveloped Ivan's mind. Maybe he wasn't supposed to be up just yet.

He tried to back away a little more while grappling at the couch arm for support. It mysteriously eluded his grasp and Ivan felt himself falling forward. Through the multitude of stars that obscured his vision he saw Alfred's eyes widen further behind the omnipresent glasses. Hand still clutching at the air in a desperate attempt to grasp something that might support him, anything, Ivan fell.

He'd mentally braced himself for a painful collision with the floor, none came. Instead Ivan felt arms holding him up, Alfred's arms. The guy was certainly stronger than he'd first thought.

If he could, Ivan would have laughed at the irony. But the touch that he'd tried so hard to escape was now sending rushes of heat down his body. He froze, mortified at the absurdity of the situation.

He heard Alfred calling his name through what seemed like a thick layer of blankets. "Ivan, man, talk to me." Ivan tried to speak. He heard the urgency in Alfred's voice, and he wanted to tell him that he was fine, that there was really no need to sound so worried. Ivan didn't deserve Alfred's concern.

But he couldn't utter a single word. So Alfred still held onto him, giving him the support that Ivan's own legs couldn't provide at the moment. He half-dragged, half-carried Ivan back towards the couch.

Ivan didn't know what to do. He listened as Alfred spoke, his voice strained with exertion. "It's all right, I got you," he kept saying, "We're almost there."

Once he had been deposited onto that abominably creaky couch, Ivan could no longer avoid the blue eyes that stared at him, shining with concern. He could feel his face burning with embarrassment.

The feeling of Alfred's hand on his. Alfred was checking his pulse, most likely.

"Alfred," Ivan managed to choke out.

The other man's eyes turned back to his face. "Ivan!" he breathed a sigh of relief, "You really freaked me out."

"I'm sorry."

"You're not ready to move yet, you know," Alfred didn't sound angry. He spoke more softly than Ivan had ever heard him speak before, "What happened to you?"

Ivan hesitated. He felt an absurd yearning to tell Alfred the truth, but it sounded wrong even in his head. No to mention that as a monster, Ivan felt he was undeserving even of the right to open up his own feelings.

Instead he just shrugged, avoiding Alfred's eyes. He tried to pull his hand from Alfred's grip, but that was not as easy as he first thought it would be.

"You're still lying to me," Alfred said sadly, still holding on to Ivan's wrist with a firm grip, "Ivan, it's alright to tell me if something's wrong."

And, all of a sudden, Ivan knew that he couldn't hold in this desire much longer. It was impossible, no matter how fear and self-loathing held him back, not to tell Alfred what he really felt. A painful lump formed in Ivan's throat, and a strange pressure constricted his chest. It was hard to breathe all of a sudden.

Oh no, Ivan knew what was coming, All this because of a guy I haven't even known for a week? I really am insane.

He felt a tear slide down his cheek.

I'm back with more of this... thing.

thanks to everyone who reviewed my last chapter!

I really enjoy reading h/c but now I see that I'm not very good at writing it. Aww.