Psycho

"I'll make them all disappear. One by one. I'll kill them all, for hurting my precious. Don't cry, love. I'm happy, too..." Mysterious disappearances. Gifts from no one. An obsessive shadow. Will Alfred be the next one to be taken away? Crazy!IvanxAlfred Rusame

Hey, everyone. Really hoping you guys enjoy and review! Please?

~*oOo*~

Chapter 1:

The Disappearance of Arthur Kirkland

(~*o0o*)~

It had been a rainy day in September when he had first come to school. He'd attracted curious glances and whispers almost immediately after setting foot in the gloomy old school building, and many students actually doubled back on their way to their lockers to get a better look at him.

The new student was very tall, even without his boots. Both his complexion and his hair were very fair—his skin looked like it had never seen the light of day, and had a curious pallor to it. His hair was silvery blonde, and betrayed Ivan's youthful skin. Some girls watched him pass out of the corner of their eyes, and immediately engaged in a giggling debate as to whether or not the boy dyed his hair such a funny color.

While the weather was fairly cool outside, Ivan was dressed as though bracing for a blizzard. He wore a long beige overcoat that went to his knees, and a powder-pink colored scarf was wrapped around his neck. His hands were clad in thick leather gloves, and he wore dark boots that had some heel, though they contributed very little to Ivan's height, much to the jealousy of the boys. He had a prominent nose, and soft, serene violet eyes that no one wanted to meet. People uneasily shifted away from the kind face, feeling strangely unsettled.

A look at his ID stated that his name was Ivan. It was too difficult to tell what his last name was, but he was certainly a stranger here, a stranger amongst teens who had grown up together in this sleepy hamlet.

He approached a locker, and started fiddling with the dial, but to no avail. The minutes ticked by on the clock, and several people hid amused smiles as Ivan obviously became more flustered. He set his books on the ground—they all looked thoroughly secondhand—and started struggling with the obstinate, rusty old lock, looking dismayed. No one offered to help him.

Two girls strode past Ivan, craning their necks so that they could gawk at him. One of the girls stepped on one of Ivan's textbooks and left a muddy footprint. If she'd noticed, she didn't apologize.

Ivan bit his lip and tried yet another new way to open his locker, only to fail once again. He glanced up at the nearby clock and returned to his work, looking frazzled and unhappy.

A young man nearby had been in animated conversation with a small gaggle of fellow students around him, one of which looked nearly identical to the chirpy ringleader who was animatedly telling them a story. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an unfamiliar face, and the curious young man slowly trailed off with his storyline.

Bemusement appeared on Alfred F. Jones' face as he watched Ivan struggle, and pity followed it a second later. With a sigh, he gave his friends a "Well, what can you do?" sort of shrug before he crossed the hall towards the stranger. Alfred's friends uncertainly hung back from the duo, but the popular teen paid no mind as he approached.

"Hey. You new here?" He wasn't sure why he bothered asking; Alfred was fairly certain he knew every kid in this student.

Ivan fumbled with his papers, muttered something, and his ears turned dark pink. He looked up with a worried expression on his face, though the look gave way to relief when he saw Alfred. A friendly face.

"D-Da—ah! I m-mean yes. I am sorry. I…"

He trailed off, and Alfred's heart just about broke with sympathy. Geez, fuzzy kittens and wailing damsels in distress had nothing on this guy, who looked like an oversized child lost in the big city. Smiling his most winning grin, Alfred airily waved off Ivan's apology before bending down to scoop up Ivan's books.

"Nah, dude, it's all good. 'Da,' huh? Is that German? Or Russian?" His bright blue eyes flickered away to Ivan's locker. "Havin' some trouble with your locker? I can help ya if ya want. I have to fight with mine every mornin' because it's possessed by the devil, but my brother Mattie just says it's cause I'm a slob." He made a face and cheerily waved to his twin brother across the hallway, who slowly waved back, a nervous smile on his face. Ivan's height and bulky form made him look somewhat intimidating.

Ivan smiled timidly, looking slightly confused.

"Ah…yes. I mean, it is Russian, da. And I would like some help with my locker, if it is not too much trouble."

Alfred rolled his eyes and strolled over to the lock. "Pffff, no trouble. So, Russian, huh? The language of lovers, or something? You must get all the chicks. Nothing's sexier to girls than a big Russian dude, except when he has a fluffy cat and is plotting to take over the world."

"I…"

"See, you got to turn these damn things counterclockwise two times before they'll work," said Alfred patiently, twirling the dial. "Gave me a headache first day of school, lemme tell ya…anyhoodle, wanna try your combination number?"

Ivan tried. The lock popped open. Sighing in relief, Ivan put away some of his books and took off his heavy jacket. Alfred tried not to stare. The dude reminded him of a shaved cat without his coat, for some reason. All foofy looking with it, much thinner without. He kept his pink scarf wrapped around his neck, for some reason.

"I cannot thank you enough—"

"Nah! Like I said, it's all good, buddy." Alfred gave the new boy a friendly pat on the shoulder. "What year are you?"

The Russian smiled, his violet eyes twinkling slightly. "Senior."

"Awesome, me too!" Alfred crowed. "Oh, sorry to be so rude, my name's Alfred F Jones, but just call me Al. What's your name?"

"I-Ivan. Ivan Braginski."

"Neat! What's your first class?"

The awkward boy scrambled for his schedule. "Ah….World Literature…."

"Sweet!" exclaimed Alfred. "That's my first class. I can show ya there if you like, and I can introduce you to my friend Francis, who's also in my class. Well, he's more buddies with my bro Matthew, but he's still a nice guy. You can poke me awake if I happen to fall asleep."

Ivan opened his mouth, closed it, and just smiled warmly, his face lighting up. Mission accomplished, crowed Alfred inwardly. He'd made the new kid feel welcome, done his good deed for the day.

"Da, that would be wonderful."

"Then let's go!" Alfred impatiently took hold of Ivan's sleeve and led him down the hall. The boy did not protest.

The bell rang, and the remaining students in the hallway hurried to the classrooms. Whistling, Alfred made his way towards room 1301, where Francis waited with a nervous smile upon his face. Ivan floated behind Alfred like a little duckling, face lit up with relief and joy.

That's all it began.

~*oOo*~

A few days later…

One warm and pleasant fall afternoon after school, Alfred had decided to retreat to the school's soccer field to shoot a few goals while Matthew was at hockey practice. For some weird reason, Ivan had somehow wound up drifting after him, waiting patiently on the bleachers as Alfred scurried around the field like a busy ant.

'Doesn't he have anything better to do?' thought Alfred somewhat crossly as he scored a goal against an imaginary goalie, and Ivan burst into muffled applause from the other end of the stadium. 'The guy already follows me around the halls and to the freakin' bathroom; why can't he just leave me to practice by myself?'

It was weird, having Ivan constantly stare at him—his neck kept prickling unpleasantly as he tried to concentrate on his game. He'd never minded playing in a crowded stadium alongside his teammates, but no one was just looking at Alfred. Well, maybe his brother and his parents, yeah, but even they didn't look at him for very long. There was something always distracting them—a particularly good kick that sent the ball flying to the other side of the field, an injury, a scuffle between the teams—that was what Alfred loved about soccer. It wasn't boring, like golf that wasn't the miniature kind. Soccer kept you guessing, your eyes moving everywhere.

But Ivan just kept gazing at Alfred like a particularly large puppy, not reading or being distracted by anything. He just couldn't take his eyes off Alfred. It was getting disconcerting, and Alfred was tempted to ask Ivan to stop, but it sounded like a ridiculous and mean request. He took out his frustrations on the ball, kicking it over and over again as if it owed him money.

As Alfred maneuvered around several invisible opponents—whom he decided were ninjas—he heard Ivan cheering for him. He snorted, but felt ashamed quickly afterwards.

Alfred learned that Ivan didn't just move into a new high school and a new town. He moved to a whole new freakin' country, with just his two sisters! Al wondered about to Ivan's parents, but judging by the tight smile that had appeared on the Russian's face, it was a touchy subject, so Alfred had let it go.

So what if he was lonely? He'd only been here for about a month now, and he didn't seem to be much of a social butterfly, and so as far as Alfred knew, he hadn't made very many friends. Maybe he'd never played soccer before, and just wanted to see what it was like. What did it matter? Having Ivan around was kind of like having the little brother he'd never had—a little brother who just happened to be a head or so taller than him.

Alfred changed directions, and raced towards the bleachers, not seeing how Ivan's eyes lit up. He slowed to a walk, huffing and puffing.

"So Alfred, you call your futbol here….soccer?" Ivan asked, his pronunciation of 'soccer' sounding an awful lot like sucker.

Absentmindedly kicking around the black and white ball, Alfred had laughed. "Yeah. Something like that. Dude, it sounds confusing when you guys call it that."

"Why?"

Alfred kicked the ball high into the air, and hurried forward to give it a good head-butting. "Well, we've got this sport called football already here in the states, and lemme tell ya, it's a far cry from what we call soccer."

Ivan watched Alfred give chase after the shadow of his fleeing soccer ball, soft purple eyes glowing serenely. He smiled.

"It is confusing. Everyone back home just calls it 'futbol.' I think makes more sense to call it that. You know, 'foot'….and 'ball'….?"

"Yeah, well nuts to you, buddy," mumbled Alfred, giving Ivan a good-natured slap on the back as he hurried by, desperately flailing to keep the ball in the air. "I don't even know what soccer means, but it's universally-ow!" The ball struck Alfred dead on in the nose and the young man's hands flew to his face, swearing under his breath as he removed his glasses, peering at them anxiously. "Geez, I better not have broken these or something….."

"Well, if you continue to play like that, I'd say you're in danger of knocking out what few brains you have left."

Alfred and Ivan's heads turned. Rolling Alfred's soccer ball lazily with his foot, a young man smirked at them, green eyes glittering mockingly. Alfred scowled, gritting his teeth.

"Buzz off, Arthur. This is a private party."

The one named Arthur smirked. "Ooooh, I'm so scared. What, you honestly think you're going to impress the coaches imitating star plays against nonexistent players? Oh, you'll bring us to state this year, Alfred."

Alfred's nails dug into his palms.

"Yeah, like you sitting around on the sidelines drinking tea and criticizing everyone last year was really helpful Arthur," he growled, advancing on Arthur. "Just gimme my ball back, okay?"

Arthur icily kicked the ball to the other side of the field.

"It's called strategy, Alfred, which you so appallingly lack. That's why I suggest you stay away from try-outs this year, and do us all a favor—"

"S-shut up!" Alfred snapped, blue eyes lighting up with anger. "Can't you take a clue and get lost? I'm sure you're late for your third-daily eyebrow waxing appointment-"

"Do you really need Braginski to come be your cheerleader?" drawled out Arthur, smile widening as he watched Alfred's hands turn into fists. "Well, I suppose you need all the help you can get, considering-"

"I think you will be leaving Alfred the alone," said Ivan firmly as he descended the steps. Arthur warily eyed him, sizing him up, and took two steps back. The teen laughed.

"'I think you will be leaving Alfred the alone,'" he sneered. "Maybe you wouldn't have to join this loser for the cheer squad tryouts if you ah, spent a little more time actually learning English….or losing weight…."

Ivan's face went red, but Alfred saw red. He seized Arthur by the collar and shook him, ignoring Arthur even as the young Brit scratched at his arms in an effort to free himself.

"Yes, yes, hit me—hit me and get kicked out of school, you and your little immigrant freakwad, maybe you'll both get deported together—"

At that last comment, Alfred punched Arthur in the nose, landing a stunned Arthur wide-eyed on the grass. He certainly hadn't expected Alfred to actually sock him.

Breathing heavily, Alfred cast the boy a disgusted look before he turned around, eyes cold.

"Pick on me all you want, you big fat jerk. But if I get kicked out for hitting you, you'll get kicked out for saying such horrible things to Ivan. That's a new low even for you."

Still scowling darkly, Alfred strode away, eyeing his soccer ball.

"C'mon, Ivan, let's blow this popsicle stand."

Ivan quietly followed, expression strangely buoyant as Arthur rubbed at his nose, now identical to Alfred's swollen one, and attempted to staunch the bleeding.

(~*o0o*)~

"Sorry about that," Alfred sighed, burying his nose in an icepack. "I didn't mean to get you caught up in anything."

"Do not worry about it, Милая. Is not your fault, da?"

Sitting side by side with Ivan on his front porch, Alfred vaguely wondered what 'mee-la-ya' meant. Probably the Russian equivalent for 'buddy.' Noticing that his ice cream was dripping, Alfred hastily lapped at the chocolate like a hungry little dog, missing Ivan's amused expression.

"He seemed like…quite the…." The Russian fumbled over his words. Alfred sighed again.

"Prick? Yeah. Arthur's been like that ever since we were kids." The blue-eyed boy grimaced. "We met when we were in kindergarten—I think I wanted him to play with me, but he just kept playing with his stuffed unicorns and called me a dummy."

Ivan started chuckling.

"Stuffed unicorns?"

Alfred laughed.

"Yeah. I'd totally use that to destroy him, but he still remembers when I had an imaginary alien friend named Tony," he said, leaning back and looking thoughtfully at the sun shining overhead. Ivan's breath hitched, and Alfred gave him a curious glance. "Hey, you okay?"

Ivan nodded robotically, just gazing at him. His abandoned ice cream was dripping all over his fingers. Did he have something on his face? Unsettled, Alfred teasingly commented, "Hey, dude, your ice cream…"

The tall boy started, blushed, and hastily started licking at his own fudgesicle. Alfred finished up his, and drew his knees to his chest, still sitting in the sunlight. The wind played with his hair, and the teen enjoyed the breeze for a moment.

"Anyway, I got tired of seeing Arthur sitting in a corner by himself, so one day, I grabbed one of his unicorns and ran into the playground. He ran after me of course, which was totally what I wanted, but I tripped and fell with the unicorn into a muddy puddle. You should have HEARD him holler. You would have thought he was being stabbed. I apologized like half a dozen times, but it took two teachers and a playground aide to finally get him off me. They put the unicorn through the wash, but it was ruined. After that, Arthur kinda became my Dr. Blofeld."

"Your what?"

"You haven't seen James Bond? Dude, we have got to fix that. Anyhow, we became rivals in just about everything in elementary school. I kinda hoped we'd just ignore each other in high school, but he's just this awful little slug." Alfred swore quietly.

"'Slug' is a good word for the bad little boy," Ivan said thoughtfully. "Thirteen years is a long time to hold a grudge. Someone ought to do something about it."

Alfred stretched absentmindedly.

"Yeah, right? But there's nothing we can do. I've punched that kid God knows how many times and he's broken my glasses God knows how many times, but nothing ever changes. The teachers tried putting our desks together in third grade in an attempt to make us learn to get along, but that only lasted one day. An hour, actually."

"What happened?"

"Let's just say it involved paint, pink hair, a moldy tuna sandwich about four weeks old, and our classroom getting evacuated," said Alfred sadly. "But I can't believe that little crap said those things about you! Uggh, the next time I see him, I swear I'm gonna-"

"Do not be the worrying of it, please," soothed Ivan, patting Alfred on the shoulder. Then, he suddenly looked worried himself.

"Alfred, am I a bother to you?" he asked timidly, twiddling his pale fingertips.

The teen sent the Russian a startled look.

"What? Why-oh, c'mon dude, don't let Arthur get you down. He's totally just a bogus shithead; he'll say anything if he thinks it'll make him feel better about himself."

Ivan still looked unhappy, so Alfred squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "C'mon, buddy, cheer up. You're my friend. I wouldn't hang out with you if I thought you were a real pain."

Ivan's expression brightened considerably, as if he were a dying man given a second chance at life.

"What? I am…we are….friends?"

"'Course," replied Alfred cheerfully. "Isn't it obvious, you big lug?"

As cautious as though approaching a butterfly, Ivan's hand slowly landed on Alfred's hand on his shoulder, lightly keeping it there. He seemed radiant. Alfred smiled encouragingly.

"And you're not fat; you're just tall. But I tell you what: Next week when the soccer trials start, I say I'll be ready to kick ass, take names, and wipe the smirk off of Arthur's mug!" Alfred hopped to his feet, extending a hand to Ivan. "Wanna help me practice? I can teach you the rules if you like."

Ivan took Alfred's hand as if accepting a Faberge egg, smiling broadly.

"Da, what a question. It have been many years since I play, but I do remember the rules. Perhaps I will try out for team too, da?"

Alfred enthusiastically agreed, although privately he didn't think Ivan had much of a chance if the guy hadn't played for years. Still, he was too lit up by the fires of determination and the idea of watching Arthur wilt like a balloon to care, or to notice how happy Ivan was with the prospect of being with Alfred every day after school.

(~*o0o*)~

Ivan turned out to be a beast on the soccer field. If this was how the dude played after allegedly not playing for years on end, Alfred could only guess how the professional Russian athletes played.

For being so tall and awkward-looking, Ivan was very fast and light on his feet, and it was all Alfred could do to keep up. He could easily send a ball flying to the other side of the soccer field with a moderate kick, and his plays weren't shabby. His size made him an excellent candidate for a goalie, and Alfred only once succeeded in getting the ball past him. His stubborn pride refused to accept the idea that Ivan had only let the teen get that one in.

Days later, both Ivan and Alfred made it onto the school's soccer team. Arthur Kirkland's face had looked like a melted snowman's when everyone read the posted results, green eyes ablaze with indignity.

"I'll see to it that both of you slimy gits are off the team before the first game," he hissed warningly to them both as he swept down the hall. "I swear it."

Alfred only gave him the finger, and wickedly laughed with glee as he and Ivan high-fived. Ivan was giving Arthur a very ugly look, but it soon melted to laughter when Alfred started doing a dramatic victory dance in the hallway. They got more ice cream to celebrate.

(~*o0o*)~

"Hey, Braginski, Jones, Kirkland! You're up!"

The boys stood up from the bench, Arthur smirking, Alfred scowling, Ivan smiling. The boys were in their ninth practice, and their first game of the season was tomorrow. Alfred was looking forward to rubbing it in Arthur's face when they celebrated their first win of the season—with both boys still on the team.

True to form, Arthur had done his absolute best to make their lives miserable whilst on the team. When coach wasn't looking, Arthur kicked at their shins, deliberately shoved them while rushing after the ball, and mouthed nasty names in the halls, though the latter wasn't exactly new.

"I think we need to exterminate this insect, yes?" Ivan asked Alfred as he headed towards the goal. While coach worked with other team members, the boys were to split in groups and practice drills.

Alfred laughed as he ran out to midfield to meet Arthur and the ball. "Yeah, that'd be great! Let's do it!"

Arthur smirked as he kicked the ball towards Ivan, only to have Alfred give chase and whack it straight back with a good headbutt. Arthur only kicked it back harder, and soon both boys were desperately chasing after it. But for some strange reason, Arthur started making kissing noises when they started grappling.

"Missing your big, bad, Russki bodyguard?" he asked hotly as a distracted Alfred blindly kicked out and missed the ball by inches. "I can understand why coach put you on defense…you two are inseparable. Tell me, did you marry him so that he could get a green card?"

Alfred scowled furiously and hastily swept the ball away from Arthur, heading towards the opposite goal. "Get bent!"

Gritting his teeth, Arthur retaliated by kicking the ball back to midfield, and the two began to scuffle over possession of the ball once again. Just when it seemed Alfred had reclaimed the ball, Arthur raised his foot, and kicked Alfred as hard as he could in the ankle.

A sickening crack rang out through the air, like a gunshot, and Alfred crumpled to the ground with a cry of pain. Eyes widening in horror, Ivan immediately sprinted away from his post to the field, leading Arthur free to kick in the ball to the now empty goal.

The coach's whistle sounded, and the team scurried out to meet Ivan, who was already kneeling beside Alfred, posing anxious question after another. A surly Arthur drifted up behind them, looking torn between guilt and contempt.

"Oh, get up already. I hardly even grazed you."

The look Ivan sent in Arthur's direction would have wilted a field full of daisies. Arthur shrank back as Ivan turned his attention back to Alfred, who was still clutching his ankle, gritting his teeth and hissing softly.

"I-I'm fine," Alfred panted, dazed blue eyes meeting the fretful violet orbs hovering above him. "But I dunno if…accck, coach, that hurts!"

The man had bent over Alfred and was carefully feeling the injured limb, which was now beginning to swell considerably. Soon enough, it would be sporting brilliant purple bruises.

"Not broken," he muttered calmly as he drew back, not looking happy. "But that's one hell of a bad sprain. Kirkland, take Jones to the nurse's office. We're gonna want to get some ice on that puppy quick."

Both Alfred and Arthur's eyes widened with dread; luckily, Ivan stepped in.

"I will be taking him," said the Russian sweetly, voice clear that this was not open for discussion. The coach shrugged, not caring.

"Fine. Braginski, take him to the nurse and stay with him till she can get him fitted up for a crutch. Jones, I'm really sorry, but it doesn't look like you'll be able to play in tomorrow's match."

Horrified, Alfred sat up, and immediately attempted to stand. He didn't get very far; as soon as he tried to move his foot, he hissed in pain, and Ivan gently but firmly pushed him back down into the grass.

"W-what? I thought you said it was only twisted! I can totally play tomorrow! Coach, I gotta participate in all the matches I can if I want to get the scholarship!"

Coach cast him a pitying look, but he only shook his head no. "I doubt you'll be fit to, son. We'll take a look at it tomorrow, but I think it'd be a miracle if you could manage to walk on that thing, let alone run."

"Then Arthur should not be allowed to play either!" said Ivan fiercely, pointing in Arthur's direction accusingly. "He kicked Alfred on purpose to get ball back. That is dangerous play—he should be penalized."

"I did not!" protested Arthur. "I did no such thing. I tried to kick the ball. I kicked Alfred's foot by mistake, he slipped, and then he sprained his foot."

"Dude, I saw you freaking raise up your foot and you kicked me!" exclaimed Alfred angrily, still rubbing his aching ankle.

"Boys," said the coach wearily, raising his hands. "I was too busy working with Antonio and Romano on a drill to see who did what. People get hurt in soccer-it's just how the game works. But I'm sure Kirkland didn't mean to hurt his own teammate."

The dismayed look on Arthur's face turned into smugness. Alfred would have kicked him if his foot were not hurting so badly. Hands still tight on Alfred's shoulders, Ivan's once angry face was now strangely composed, though something certainly looked off in his eyes as he gazed at Arthur. Alfred shivered slightly, but he did not know why.

(~*o0o*)~

At least there weren't very many people hanging out after school to see this, else Alfred would have hid his head in the ground like an ostrich for the next hundred years or so. Wincing as he tried again to put weight on his foot, he was forced to lean against Ivan, whose arms were wrapped around him tightly as Alfred awkwardly bunny-hopped down the halls.

"I could always carry you, you know," said Ivan mildly. Judging by his expression, he seemed to be enjoying himself way too much. Alfred sent him an affronted look.

"Yeah? In your dreams, buddy. This might take a little longer, but at least I can maintain some dignity."

"Da, you're right, it does take longer," agreed Ivan, caressing Alfred's back. The boy shivered, and started to hop faster, squawking when he slipped, only to be steadied by Ivan. He wished the other boy would stop trying to physically comfort him. It felt weird.

"I don't believe Arthur!" Alfred howled in frustration as they approached the nurse's office. "I'm gonna need a pair of crutches and everything….now I don't even get to play tomorrow! Stupid bastard's probably laughing it up right now!"

"He will not be tomorrow, when the team loses," said Ivan firmly as he led Alfred inside, a nurse rising from her desk to meet them. "When you and I are not there."

Alfred gave the boy a surprised look as Ivan tenderly sat him on the examining table. The nurse hurried off to fetch some ice. "Dude, what do you mean? I probably can't play, but you-"

"I will not play out of protest. If you cannot play, neither should Kirkland."

Alfred smiled, partly out of exasperation and the sweetness of the intent. "That's really nice of you buddy, but that's just giving him what he wants. 'By the first game…' blech. At least one of us should be there to prove him wrong."

Alfred's breath hitched as Ivan leaned towards him with a pensive frown, leaning his forehead against his. "I would much rather be hanging out with you, Alfred. You are whole reason I joined soccer team. It is good to be with you."

Alfred leaned back, swallowing heavily. Suddenly, the room felt incredibly hot. He wished the nurse would hurry back with the ice, and not just because his ankle was throbbing with pain.

Ivan was being borderline creepy, but Alfred nervously patted Ivan's shoulders and forced himself to laugh, not looking at Ivan's intense gaze. Okay, so the guy was being a little weird. So he was a little clingy because he hadn't made many friends yet. That would change.

"Well….I just hope you enjoy it. Enjoy it enough to give Arthur a taste of his own medicine when you make the other team cry," he said cockily, relieved when Ivan smiled, tension broken.

"If you insist."

(~*o0o*)~

Two days later, Alfred was still gingerly getting around school with crutches while Ivan trailed around him more than ever, carrying his books.

Unfortunately, despite Ivan's fantastic play, the team still lost. Kirkland could be heard raging in the showers over it. The thought didn't make Alfred feel much better as the final bell of the day rang, and Ivan followed him once again to his locker.

Okay, forget little brother. Ivan was like a little puppy that trotted at his heels. The mental image was almost too weird for Alfred.

"So, what are you doing this weekend?" asked Alfred, hoping Ivan wouldn't insist on hanging out with him again. Much as he liked the Russian, he was really hoping for a bit of alone time with Matthew.

Ivan smiled faintly.

"I? I have….let me see, what do you call it? I have cleaning that is meant to be done at springtime."

Alfred blinked. "Spring Cleaning? Dude, it's September."

Ivan shrugged. "Well, I have to tidy up, nevertheless. Will be spending most of weekend taking out garbage."

Alfred winced in sympathy. "Aww, your sisters are making you clean over the weekend? Lame. I guess I've forgotten how much of a pain moving can be. Do you want any help?"

"No!" the answer was so sharp that Alfred stopped in his tracks and turned to give his friend a bewildered look. Ivan hastily retreated.

"I-I mean, it will be very b-boring," he said gently, wringing his hands anxiously. "I may have put the work off for far too long, but that is no reason to ruin your weekend. My sister Natalia will help me if the workload is a bit much."

"Dude, sounds like you're cleaning up an entire dump. You sure you don't need any help?"

Ivan chuckled softly as they resumed walking, and headed to the parking lot. "That is kind of you to offer, Alfred, but there is much filth to dispose of, and I'd be much less embarrassed to do it by myself."

Alfred snickered as they approached Ivan's minivan. Normally, Alfred just rode his bicycle home while his brother took the car so that he could drive to hockey practice, but Ivan had insisted on driving Alfred home these past few days.

"Messy room, huh? Hey, if it makes you feel any better, Mattie once put a 'Warning, biohazard' sign on my door when it got trashed enough."

Ivan held the door open for him, carefully lifting the young blonde inside as carefully as though he were made of glass. Alfred snorted.

"Dude, it's just a freaking sprain. No need to treat me like an invalid."

"Mmm." But Ivan still felt the need to buckle Alfred in, though the teen good-naturedly batted at him.

Alfred leaned back in his seat as Ivan began to pull out from the parking lot, day-dreaming about Matthew's hockey game this weekend. It'd been too long since the brothers had been able to hang out on their own.

Yep, he was definitely glad that he would be alone with Matthew this weekend. Ivan spoiled him rotten, which was nice, but the tips of his ears were beginning to burn. The burning by no means lessened when Ivan pulled into Alfred's favorite fast-food drive-thru, and insisted on buying him lunch.

(~*o0o*)~

The weekend passed quietly. Alfred attended Matthew's game on Saturday. Thankfully, the home team had won, so they all went out for ice cream to celebrate, and the twins had spent most of Sunday simply lazing around. All too soon, Monday came. Ivan was waiting for Alfred by his locker as he always did, and insisted on carrying Alfred's books again, despite Alfred's insistence that he was fine. His foot was still tender, but he no longer needed a crutch to get around.

"Did you clean up that mess of yours?" Alfred asked on the way to Geology. Ivan smiled. There were some dark shadows underneath his purple eyes.

"Da. It took long enough, but it is done."

A painful-looking scratch caught Alfred's attention, and he glanced at Ivan's arms. His eyes widened, and he stumbled.

"Dude. What happened to you? Are you okay?"

Ivan's arms were littered with scratch marks, but the teen looked unconcerned. "D-da. Just fine. I had to give my cat a bath, is all. He loves playing in mud puddles, but he is not so….excited when it comes to cleaning up afterwards. He put up quite a struggle."

Alfred's eyes shone with relief and humor. "Oh, dude, I have ever told you about the time our cat Franklin ran into a skunk?"

It was a normal day, pardoning the fact that Arthur Kirkland did not show up to school, or to practice. It would have been perfectly normal for any student—any student—but Arthur, who had been given a trophy for never once missing a day of school in nearly twelve years by the mayor (and was perfectly happy to let you know it, of course), would probably be more willing to gnaw off an arm then to ruin his record.

He was probably home sick. Alfred hoped he was really sick, with a tummy ache and a sore throat and everything. Served the jerk right. It was nice having a day where he didn't have to meet Arthur's glowers in the halls, or worry about his enemy putting 'kick me' signs on him (not that Ivan wasn't good at noticing and removing them anyhow).

"Maybe he's got the flu or something," he commented to Ivan at soccer practice, carefully toeing the soccer ball around. "I really hope so; maybe we can go to our game at Brighton on Thursday and not have to listen to Arthur whine all the time about our plays."

"Da, would be nice," Ivan agreed, moving to the goal. "I think there is good chance we will not have to worry about that this time."

~(*o0o*)~

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday passed, and Arthur still did not show up. Alfred wondered if Arthur had actually switched schools, though that seemed extremely unlikely. Was probably just pretty sick, or milking the attention his parents were undoubtedly lavishing on him at home. Ivan agreed with him.

On Friday, however, Alfred's lovely Arthur-free week was shattered when their homeroom teacher came forward with an announcement. She looked upset.

"The police have asked me to inform you, on request of Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland, that your classmate Arthur Kirkland has gone missing," she said, pausing as students began to murmur amongst themselves. "His parents are extremely worried, and urge you to come forward if you have any information pertaining to their son's whereabouts."

Alfred just sat in his seat, his mind a blank. If under any other circumstances, Arthur's prolonged absence would have made him jump for joy. Now, he was just confused.

"What do you mean, 'missing?'" he asked, bewildered. The teacher rolled her eyes.

"Just as I have said. Missing. On Friday evening, Arthur went out to meet a group of friends of his—"

Ivan scrawled Alfred a quick note beside him. He has friends?

Alfred nearly smirked, but the urge vanished as the teacher continued. "—and he never came home. His friends claim that he never showed up to their meeting. His parents have been tearing the town apart, looking for him."

Silence. Students cast each other unnerved glances. Alfred looked down in his seat and frowned, chewing on his pencil.

He didn't like Kirkland. Well, to be perfectly honest, he hated Kirkland, but that didn't mean he wanted anything seriously bad to happen to him! Arthur seemed the type to criticize people for reckless behavior rather than to do it himself, but he was probably just fine. He'd show up on Monday with some crazy, blown-up story so that he could get attention.

But the tension was so thick in the room you could cut it with a knife. No one knew what to say, or what to think. Girls looked worried. Boys looked troubled. The only one whom seemed immune to the spell was Ivan Braginski, who was idly doodling a sunflower on the corner of his notebook, humming slightly to himself.

~*oOo*~

Arthur did not show up Monday morning.

Or the next Monday.

Or the one after that.

For weeks, the school buzzed like an overturned beehive with rumors of Arthur's whereabouts. He had become tired of the pressures his parents had put on him, and had run away. He had been kidnapped. He had been involved with some sort of satanic cult that had eaten him. He had run off to Las Vegas to marry a girl he met online.

As September passed into October and red, gold, and brown leaves began to tumble from the trees, the soccer season slowly dwindled to its end. While the team did not make it to the final four, they were satisfied with their inter-state eight ranking, which would surely help them next year. 'Not that I'll be there, of course,' Alfred realized at their last game, a bit wistfully. Spend three years wishing for Senior year to come, spend all Senior year wishing that it wouldn't end.

Alfred and Ivan never spoke about Arthur, even as the gossip turned away from the speculation of Arthur's disappearance to the whereabouts of where his body might be. Mrs. Kirkland was said to be sick with grief, weeping helplessly in Mr. Kirkland's arms every night.

The idea made Alfred queasy, and every once in awhile, kept him staring at the ceiling of his bedroom late at night. If this was some kind of publicity stunt, it had gone way too far, even for Arthur. There was no reason he'd allow his grades, his soccer, his everything just tumble away into nothing; Arthur was too much of a control freak to allow that to happen.

What had happened to his long-time rival?

Right before Halloween night, Alfred and his buddies were busy carving pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns. Alfred had invited Ivan, as he rightfully suspected the teen would not be invited otherwise. Ivan had sidled close up to Alfred on the sea of newspaper, and the two began to chat while their hands awkwardly attempted to cut out shapes.

"I just hope the guy's okay," Alfred confessed, smiling as he carved out a crooked smile from his pumpkin. "Awww, look, my pumpkin's a hero! All he's missing is a cape. But back to Arthur," he said quickly, scrunching up his nose as he removed a squishy handful of pumpkin innards. "Ewww….pumpkin guts."

Ivan had laughed.

"I think my pumpkin looks more like a goblin, to be honest. All big ears and big nose, da? I hope he and Hero Pumpkin don't do battle with each other."

"Nah, Hero Pumpkin likes Goblin Pumpkin," announced Alfred, setting the little grinning pumpkin on top of Ivan's rather large one. "They're buds, so long as Goblin Pumpkin isn't a bad guy. But back to Arthur—"

"I am sure he is fine, wherever he is."

Alfred's big smile dissolved into a slightly worried one.

"But what if he's not actually pulling anything?" he asked anxiously, watching Ivan stab his pumpkin with more force than was strictly necessary. "What if he's seriously hurt somewhere? I've been over it again and again in my head, but I just don't know of anywhere he might be that the police haven't already checked."

"I would not be the worrier of it, Alfred," said Ivan gently, teasingly rubbing his pumpkin-gut covered fingertip over Alfred's cheek, making the teen squeak and flip pumpkin innards back at him. "As my elder sister would say, worrying accomplishes nothing. Trust that the police know what they are doing, and that Arthur will be found safe and sound. Although," he added dryly. "That might not be a good thing for us."

Alfred smiled half-heartedly.

"It'd be a good thing for his parents. That's their only kid. I'm sure it must hurt."

"Da," said Ivan sadly. "If only he were not such a…such a….what's the word you use? Douchebag? He might have been found by now. He might be safe and sound at home."

"…I guess," said Alfred uncertainly, still not looking very happy. "Although I kind of wish it wasn't like that. Arthur might be a jerk, but if he's in trouble…."

"What goes around comes around," said Ivan firmly, tenderly removing Hero Pumpkin so that he could resume pulling out messy globs of pumpkin seed. "Arthur is like rat, and according to you and others, has been like rat for years. He had no right to hurt you. Anything would be too good for him."

Alfred raised an eyebrow as Ivan dropped heavy fistfuls of pumpkin guts onto the newspaper, large hand always dipping back into the gourd for more.

"It was just a sprain."

"That could have cost you your scholarship." Ivan's voice was beginning to rise, and the pleasant smile normally on his features was fixed by the strange look in his purple eyes. Alfred swallowed.

"Well, yeah….but…"

"What if he had broken something, Единственная?" Ivan asked softly. Alfred was about to ask what 'yedinstvinaya-whatever' meant, but was distracted as Ivan kept talking. "You might not have been able to play all season. As it was, you kept playing even when your ankle swelled up and turned purple again. I worry. I worry a lot. You are my good friend, Alfred, and I would have been very sad if you hurt yourself."

Ears burning again, and a hint of blush warming his face, Alfred wiped his hands on his pants and sighed. "Okay, time for a hug, buddy. Uh, no homo, though."

Alfred pulled Ivan into a one-armed embrace, grinning as the girls around him cooed and giggled. "Aww, c'mon ladies, it's just a rad bromance thing. Ivan, no worries. Everything turned out fine."

Ivan's arms were around him in an instant, hastily scrubbing his gooey hands on his shirt before patting Alfred's back gently. "I am very happy for that, Lapushka. I am very happy I met you this year. You are wonderful."

"Geez, yer makin' me blush," muttered Alfred, feeling that the hug had gone on for too long, and released Ivan. But Ivan made no move to stop squeezing Alfred, like a child with a teddy bear or a new puppy they can't bear to let go of. It was getting a little uncomfortable, actually. "You're a rad friend, dude. I'm really glad you're here. Wouldn't be the same without ya. Um, do you think you could…?"

Ivan quickly drew back as if he'd been burned, blushing rosily. But his eyes were sparkling.

"What? Do you mean that, lapushka? Do you really?"

"'Course," replied Alfred, looking away and coloring more. Why had the room suddenly turned so hot? "So…yeah." He gently extracted himself from Ivan's arms, telling himself to 'stop being silly' when they momentarily tightened around him. "Hey, what does 'lapushka' mean?"

Ivan blinked, as if coming out of some stupor.

"Mmm? Ah, well, I-"

"Is it like 'buddy?'" asked a young Japanese friend of Alfred's named Kiku shrewdly. Ivan nodded gratefully.

"D-da. It is like the equivalent of…'pal,' 'friend,' or…um….'bro,'" he said quickly.

"Really? Cool!" exclaimed Alfred. "So I can call you 'lapushka' if I want, buddy?"

Ivan could not stop smiling.

"Da. I should like that a lot. But 'Vanya' would be nice, too."

~*oOo*~

The next morning, Alfred woke up earlier than usual (his brother mock-fainted when he saw him, so Alfred playfully swiped at his head), and actually beat Mattie to the shower for a change. While he was drying his hair with a towel, he glanced outside the window and choked.

There, in the driveway, was Ivan's car, two hours early. He could faintly make out Ivan's shape on the driver's side, and, upon seeing a light appear in Alfred's window, looked up and noticed Alfred gawking at him in nothing but a towel around his head and one around his waist. He waved. Upon regaining feeling in his right hand, Alfred waved back, more bewildered than anything else.

Then, he remembered he was virtually naked. Squeaking, and flushing rosily, he immediately beat it from his window to grab some clothes from his drawers, completely befuddled.

Slightly confused herself, the gentle Mrs. Jones was all too happy to let Ivan in shortly afterwards, inviting him to stay for breakfast. Shortly afterward, the rest of the Jones trooped around the breakfast table, although Alfred and Matthew looked slightly confused. Ivan just kept smiling serenely, as content as a cat in a patch of sunlight.

Mr. Jones, who once had been stationed in Russia during his army days, had a lot of questions for Ivan concerning the current climate and government. Mrs. Jones was charmed by Ivan's manners, and teasingly chided her boys for not following Ivan's example. Alfred was still somewhat at a loss for words, particularly since Ivan was sitting so close to him.

Ivan offered to drive both twins to school shortly afterwards, though they were much earlier than usual. Once Mattie had said his goodbyes and had drifted off to find his friends, Alfred headed to his locker, slightly unnerved by the fact that Ivan was following him yet again.

"Ya really are an early bird today, aren't you?" he asked casually as he struggled to get his damn locker open, the way he did every morning. He knew it would be easier if he just cleaned the stupid thing, but there was never any time, and why would he bother when he'd just clean it out at the end of school, anyhow?

"Early bird?" asked Ivan innocently.

"You know what I mean. N-not that I mind, of course," said Alfred quickly. "I just think you'd get bored stupid waiting in a car for two hours." Ivan shrugged.

"I do not mind. This morning, I woke up very early and could not go back to sleep. Was bored. Decided to wait until time to go, though was not aware of how early it was. Took book. Sorry to be bother."

Alfred's shoulders relaxed somewhat. Funny, he hadn't noticed that they were so tense. "Nah, don't worry, bud. Everyone gets those kind of mornings. Bad dream last night?"

"I would not call them bad dreams," said Ivan cheerfully as Alfred struggled with the lock. "Was just restless, is all." He wrapped an arm around Alfred's shoulders, and the boy smiled wanly, stepping away.

"R-right. Just try to get some sleep tonight, okay, la…lapushka?" Alfred finished clumsily. Ivan laughed merrily.

"Da. Thanks. You need help?"

"Nah, it's all good. Just stand back a sec."

Alfred tugged on the handle as hard as he could, cussed, and tried again. To his relief, the thing at last opened, and Alfred prepared himself for the avalanche of stuff that came flying out at him every morning.

But today was different. A little blue pouch tumbled out from the pile of haphazardly stacked books. Alfred caught it by reflex, surprised.

"Hey, what's this?"

Ivan shrugged. Curious, Alfred undid the little ribbon, summer blue eyes widening as he noticed there was a small heart on the clasp. He peered inside the bag, and a large smile fell across his face. "Dude! Someone totally sent me a bag of candy! That's so awesome!"

Alfred took out a colorfully-wrapped candy and turned it around appreciatively. "Oooh, honey chocolate! This person's got good taste, if I may say so myself."

Ivan smiled, looking relatively unfazed. "That is nice. But is there note?"

Alfred peeked inside again, and noticed a small scrap of paper. Extremely curious, he immediately seized it and unfolded it, Ivan approaching to read it over his shoulder.

"'Sweets for the sweet,'" Alfred read, turning the paper to see if there was more. There was not. "Awww. That's just real, real swell of whoever did this!"

Alfred wanted to jump up and down and giggle, and probably would have done so had Ivan not been there. He had an admirer. A girl—very possibly a pretty girl—was interested in him! This was awesome. No, this went beyond awesome. This was awesomic.

"Dude, I can't wait to show Mattie! He'll never believe it!" Alfred crowed. "I wonder who sent it? Man, I hope it was Lili. Or Emily. Or ooh! Maybe Elizabeta! I know it probably isn't, because she likes Roderich, but still…."

Ivan smiled as Alfred babbled away, saying nothing.

(~*o0o*)~

The next morning, Alfred engaged in his daily battle with his locker, hoping that his admirer had left him a note of some kind. He was not disappointed; a strange parcel came sliding out at him when the contents of his locker began to follow. He caught it out of reflex, slightly confused.

A bouquet. A bouquet of paper flowers. That was….well, no one had ever given him flowers before. Whoever this girl was, she definitely wasn't kosher.

Alfred heard Ivan's steps behind him but ignored him; he'd found the note, and had eagerly dug it out from the yellow and black tissue flowers. Sunflowers….?

He read the card and went scarlet, knees trembling like gelatin. He swallowed heavily and turned to the Russian, blushing deeply. Without a word, he handed over the card to Ivan, who read aloud:

"My affections will expire when these flowers do."

Alfred laughed, sounding amazed. "Wow. Uh…looks like this person is playing for keeps, huh?"

"I'd say that's very likely."

-To be continued

Next chapter: Mr. Yao Takes An Extended Vacation

That doesn't sound scary at all...:(