Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sound of electric guitar strings pierced the silence of the room, bouncing off the walls. Warm wind ruffled the already tousled ashen hair, caressing the skin.

Green branches brushed against the windowpane, producing a whining sound muffled by the roar of the musical instrument.

It was the height of spring, and finals were approaching a time Ivan, naturally, was diligently preparing for. The same couldn’t be said for his longtime friend, Gilbert. He sat pensively on one of the studio’s massive speakers, lazily smoking a cigarette, occasionally commenting on Ivan’s guitar playing.

The soft thud and muffled murmur behind the studio door created an atmosphere of detachment, of seclusion. As if the students bustling outside were merely background objects existing just to exist.

A new chord proved difficult, frustrating him enough to keep playing until his fingers bled. Another chuckle rang out, a spiral of smoke curling up toward the high ceiling, and the ash fell like small flakes onto the parquet floor.

«Haven’t played for two weeks and already forgot how to hit the notes?» - Prussia grinned, swinging his legs boyishly in the air. The tip of his cigarette flared up once more before he flicked the rest into a cluttered corner of the room.

Ivan sighed irritably, rolling his eyes.

«Oh, just shut up»

The tips of his fingers were red and sore from the pressure. A burning pain made him pause again, his attention caught by sudden noise from the hallway.

The door burst open, the handle slamming against the concrete wall with a bang, nearly knocking Gilbert off the speaker. He cursed out loud.

«Found you!» - a loud voice, belonging to the ball of energy in their group, hit their eardrums like a slap, causing a grimace.

Messy wheat-colored hair fell in disarray over his forehead, and in that chaos, there was something oddly magnetic. Tall, with a lean, wiry build, sun-kissed skin, and those unmistakable blue eyes: piercing, expressive, alive.

Ivan’s gaze lingered on the sweat glistening on his forehead, the trail that ran down his temple and jaw. His T-shirt was soaked through, and the heaving of his chest and ragged breath made it obvious: the guy had come straight from training.

«Yo»

He darted toward Gilbert and, as usual, enveloped him in a warm hug. Gilbert tried to push him away in disgust, muttering complaints while Alfred laughed brightly. The sound of it filled the studio, sending goosebumps across the skin.

Finally, his gaze flicked toward Ivan, who sat on the stairs with the electric guitar in his hands. That familiar spark lit up his eyes, and a slow smile spread across his flushed face.

«There you are», - he drew out the vowels, stepping close enough to throw an arm around Ivan’s shoulders, completely unbothered by his sweaty state.

And, most notably, Braginsky didn’t push him away, he just gave him a friendly pat on the back.

Somewhere in the background, Gilbert snorted. He’d already lit his second cigarette of the morning.

«Alf, for fuck’s sake, you could’ve at least showered, - he grumbled, taking a drag. - You reek of sweat»

Braginsky let out a low laugh while Jones kept bickering with Gilbert, only to suddenly turn back to Ivan.

As usual, it triggered an instant reaction: Ivan’s ears and cheeks flushed crimson. Alfred always had a habit of staring at people, like he was trying to read them. No matter how long they’d been friends, Ivan didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

«How’s the melody going?» - Jones asked softly, beaming at him.

His eyes were slightly hooded, and his breathing had calmed. His gym shorts had ridden up a little, exposing half of a sculpted thigh, not that he cared in the slightest.

«Mmh... not great, honestly», - Braginsky muttered, concentrating as he searched for the right chord. He was doing his best to ignore the piercing blue gaze fixed on his profile.

No, there wasn’t any subtext here, of course... it just made his stomach flutter in a strange way.

Suddenly, a warm palm touched the top of his head, fingers sinking gently into his roots. A simple, absentminded gesture one Jones often reserved just for him. The touch stirred something. A memory.

Their friendship had started long ago, back when they were still kids. Around the age of eleven, maybe.

An international school in Europe, where Ivan had moved with his parents to get a good education and escape the ridicule he’d faced due to his family situation. Children don’t like those who stand out, right? The ones who are a little different.

A scratched-up, faded wooden bench stood in the middle of the schoolyard, its varnish peeling from years of use.

His mood was neutral, acceptable. A light breeze played with his hair, and the shouts of students and teachers rang from the sports field. It seemed like a game was underway. Ivan peeked at it from the corner of his eye.

He’d never had friends. Maybe because of his nationality, or maybe his personality. Who’d want to be friends with a quiet, forgettable oddball, a teacher’s pet? Only the most unhinged, right?

Footsteps and labored breathing sounded nearby, and then someone plopped down beside him. Ivan glanced quickly at the boy - probably around the same age. Blond hair gleamed in the sun, painfully bright.

«An unapologetically extroverted guy»

Ivan thought.

The boy’s brow was furrowed, and sticky sweat dripped down his face. Oh, he must’ve been on the red team - his jersey said so. They sat in silence.

Ivan tensed internally when the boy casually sprawled out on the bench, taking up more than half the space and stretching out his legs. Then, without warning, he began looking at his own shoes... then at Ivan’s. Ivan, meanwhile, was quietly sipping berry juice from a plastic bottle his mother had packed for school.

The sweet liquid was refreshing, cooling him under the blazing sun. It was late May, after all.

He nearly choked when a thin, boyish voice suddenly broke the silence:

«Your shoes suck. These, - the boy pointed to his sporty sneakers, - these are the real deal»

Yeah, that kind of sneaker was definitely trending at the time. But they were expensive, and Ivan’s parents couldn’t afford such things.

While little Braginsky struggled to process the comment, the strange American, judging by his accent, had already returned to the field.

Ivan stared daggers at the nimble boy playing on the grass.

«Well, congrats, I guess», - he muttered bitterly to himself, the sun beating down as he trudged back toward the school building. The bell would ring soon, probably.

That was the start of a long and, as it turned out, strong friendship.

It was the dead of winter, the kind that seemed to exist only in Russia. Snowflakes drifted from the sky, melting upon contact with skin. The school windows were frosted with delicate patterns of ice and frost that looked like intricate artwork.

Children and teens trudged through the cold toward the towering school building, the weather casting a heavy, melancholic mood.

It was the last period of the day, and the long-awaited bell snapped the boy out of his thoughts. Students hurried to gather their things, chatting among themselves, eager to head home. Of course, they had friends. Naturally.

«Ivan, could you come here for a moment?»

The gentle voice of the teacher caught his attention. Braginsky nodded meekly, slinging his backpack over his shoulders and walking up to the woman, she looked about thirty, as the rest of the class filed out.

Her warm brown eyes looked at him kindly, and her soft hand gently took his, giving it a light, soothing stroke.

«Your parents mentioned that you play guitar?»

He hesitated, eyes dropping to the floor, nervously tugging at the hem of his white shirt. He wondered if he should lie.

But after a moment’s thought, he replied softly:

«Yes, miss»

The teacher brightened, giving his hand a slight squeeze.

«Wonderful, Ivan. Would you mind playing a melody for the school festival? - she asked, gently placing a hand on his forearm. - You’ll be performing with a boy from the parallel class. He wrote the lyrics himself»

The proposal didn’t exactly light a fire in him, but a spark of interest ignited somewhere deep inside. And the thought of making his parents proud by playing on stage warmed his heart. Though, there was still the lingering anxiety... he wasn’t the most comfortable being in front of a crowd.

Ivan bit his lip, mulling it over, then quietly answered:

«All right, miss. I’ll try…»

And that, really, was where this warm, brotherly bond began.

Countless rehearsals at each other’s houses, sweet dry biscuits and sickeningly sugary soda; walks in the rain and sleepovers with hushed conversations lasting until dawn.

These memories rarely surfaced, but whenever they did, they were always a comfort. Back then, they were carefree kids, untouched by the world. It was just the two of them.

A familiar dark head peeked through the door, snapping Ivan back to reality. Alfred had been chatting animatedly with Gilbert, who was now wandering around the studio, picking up random instruments.

«We’ve got class, guys», - came the tired voice of another one of their friends, directed more at Ivan, they were in the same department. Philosophy.

Jones broke off his conversation, turning toward the boy who was lazily packing away his guitar.

«Good luck», - he winked, returning to his chat.

Ivan’s cheeks flamed again, and he just hummed in response before slipping out the door with his friend, disappearing into the corridor.

Already seated in the lecture hall, the professor’s voice reached Ivan’s ears like a distant echo, he was completely lost in thought.

Wang Yao diligently scribbled the professor’s words into his notebook, paying no mind to his friend who was clearly off somewhere in his own head.

An image of Alfred surfaced again. All those touches, the jokes, the smirks tossed his way, the lingering stares.

Braginsky didn’t like the way he reacted to it all. After all, they’d been friends for years, it wasn’t normal to focus so much on how his friend treated him.

Yes, undeniably, Jones was handsome. Ivan had always been surprised that, back in junior grades, the other kids used to tease him about his looks. It made no sense to him.

And now? He got plenty of female attention and not just female.

If it weren’t for the professor’s firm voice calling on him to answer a question, Ivan might’ve just sat there, lost in thoughts of his friend.

Thankfully, with a hint from China, he managed to snag a decent grade.

Compared to most, today was relatively light. Just three classes, which meant more time to rehearse in the music room and finally grab a proper lunch.

The hum of students echoed through the spacious cafeteria. The mix of smells made his head spin a little, and though the food didn’t look especially appetizing, the taste was surprisingly decent. The place was packed, and to his surprise, every table was taken.

Their group decided to squeeze into a corner by the window, which offered a view of the university grounds.

Hot pasta slightly burned the roof of his mouth, making him wince. The presence of a certain someone nearby only worsened the situation.

A tanned hand rested on the back of Ivan’s chair while the source of his discomfort chatted animatedly with Gilbert, occasionally brushing his leg against Ivan’s with his own.

It wasn’t anything new. Alfred had a habit of taking up space, probably a mix of boundless energy and confidence.

«Oh yeah! We did a great job and scored a prize!» - Jones laughed loudly, leaning back just a bit, brushing Ivan’s shoulder blades with his arm.

Even the slightest touch from his friend always felt like fire against Ivan’s skin.

He tried to distract himself, his friends laughing at their own jokes, students walking trays back and forth, random snippets of conversation. But ironically, Alfred’s voice always felt the closest.

China silently chewed what must have been cold rice, while Prussia shot Alfred a sideways look.

«You? With that busted leg? - he said, sipping his soda, - Maybe try healing it completely first?»

His tone was laced with the usual sarcasm, which earned a tired click of the tongue from Jones.

Ivan felt a hand shift to his shoulder, squeezing gently. A casual, friendly gesture - nothing more. But it still sent a small shiver down his spine.

«Oh, c’mon, - the blond drawled lazily, flashing Ivan a wide, innocent grin. - After Vanya helped patch me up, I’m back in action»

Fingers gently stroked his trapezius muscle, and Braginsky swallowed thickly, forcing a strained smile.

«Oh please, Jones», - he chuckled, trying to sound casual as he turned back to his food.

The hand stayed on his shoulder, occasionally giving a light massage. His fingertips tingled, and the ticklish sensation sent sparks down his spine.

No one seemed to notice Ivan’s awkwardness at their friend’s antics. The conversation continued uninterrupted - mostly between Alfred and Gilbert.

No one was surprised by Alfred’s constant need for physical contact. Truth be told, pretty much everyone had fallen victim to his spontaneous hugs and even kisses.

Braginsky couldn’t remember exactly when it all started. The memory of the first time just kind of surfaced sometimes.

It was summer again, how often it featured in his memories. A season full of love, tenderness, and sweet detachment.

Sunlight filtered through heavy curtains. A record from their favorite British band «Blur» was spinning on the console.

Their music had shaped part of Ivan’s world since childhood, rekindling his love for sound and his desire to play various instruments, especially the guitar.

Fifteen-year-old Jones was rummaging curiously in a dark corner of his friend’s room, where clothes, CDs, and vinyls lay scattered.

The boys practically spent every day at each other’s houses talking for hours, playing games, listening to music. Sometimes, Ivan would play a cover or an original melody on his acoustic guitar.

«Ooh! Vanya, - Alfred exclaimed, eyes wide, turning toward the boy sprawled across the bed. - Play this one for me»

Braginsky looked up at the album in his friend’s hands, filled with song titles and sheet music from some old band.

Requests like these were becoming more frequent, and they always embarrassed the Russian boy. He wasn’t used to anyone taking interest in his hobby. He never expected anyone to actually listen, let alone ask him to play.

«Well… I don’t know if I can—»

«Oh, don’t give me that, - the blond interrupted, mock-irritated. He got up from the floor, stopped the record, and flopped down beside Braginsky. - You’ve got this. You’re amazing, man»

That odd laugh of his brought a small, shy smile to Ivan’s lips. He picked up the guitar, settled into a playing position, and glanced at the sheet music out of the corner of his eye.

The way Alfred watched him so intently only deepened his blush. But the encouraging words gave him the confidence he needed.

The hesitant strumming slowly transformed into a complete melody, much to Ivan’s own delight. In the past two years, he’d gotten a lot better, and his unique playing style had truly started to form.

When he finished, he awkwardly set the guitar down beside the bed and lifted his violet eyes to his friend - only to flinch slightly at the open admiration on the other boy’s face.

«He’s so easy to impress…»

«Dude, that was genius, - Jones grinned, clapping enthusiastically and shaking Ivan by the shoulders. - I never doubted you!»

Braginsky finally burst out laughing, trying to calm down the blond by grabbing his wrists.

«You’re just too easily impressed», - he joked, turning his face away as Alfred suddenly hugged him.

The scent of lilac and some kind of kid’s shampoo filled his lungs. It was odd how such a combo could make someone even more attractive.

«Hey, I’m serious! - Alfred huffed, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. - You really sell yourself short, and I hate that»

His brows furrowed, forming a cute crease on his forehead. Then his gaze shifted, taking in every detail of Ivan’s face with quiet curiosity, tilting his head slightly.

It flustered Ivan deeply, so he tried to laugh again, masking his unease.

«Yeah, yeah, thanks. I knew you’d like it»

But no reply came. The boy just kept looking at him with surprising seriousness, studying every part of him.

And then, Ivan’s heart skipped a beat when he heard a quiet mutter:

«May I kiss you?»

The lump in his throat made it impossible to breathe. Braginsky shifted nervously, feeling the heat creep up his neck and ears.

Alfred, seeing his friend’s shock and confusion, gave a strained little laugh and clarified:

«I mean, uh, like… on the cheek? No tongue, or maybe on the lips or something…»

The words tumbled out, quick and clumsy, like he was scared he’d chicken out. His cheeks were pink, but his eyes stayed fixed on Ivan nervous, but sincere.

For some reason, it didn’t sound so bad. In fact, Ivan wanted it. And before he could stop himself, he mumbled:

«Yeah… yeah, if you want to»

He took a shaky breath and shut his eyes, heart fluttering with anticipation.

There was a rustle, and teen - warm fingers cupped his flushed cheek, and hot breath brushed against his skin. Lips followed soon after.

It was clumsy, inexperienced, a little rough.

Ivan froze, unsure what to do, as the tanned hand gently caressed his cheekbone and soft lips pressed against his own.

The euphoria of that moment still lived in his body, as if it was happening not just in the past, but right now.

An innocent kiss, childish in a way. Affectionate, full of tenderness and emotion.

Before pulling back, Jones gently bit Ivan’s lower lip, ending the kiss.

It was awkward.

It was embarrassing.

It was sweet and thrilling.

They stared at each other, breathless and stunned.

Ivan cleared his throat, lowering his burning red face. Alfred, meanwhile, hid the lower half of his face behind his sleeve, giggling.

«Oh, that was… uh…, - his voice was muffled by fabric, shy undertones peeking through, - that was pretty cool, yeah»

He ruffled his hair, maybe trying to shake off the tension, then stood up with a casual air. The console had stopped playing a while ago, and now he was rummaging through their pile of CDs.

«Should I put on another band?» - he asked, as if nothing had happened.

His hands trembled slightly as he shuffled through the cardboard covers with a kind of frantic energy. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who got nervous. Kissing your best friend wasn’t exactly a smart idea, was it?

Ivan sniffled quietly, licking his lips. His mouth felt full of saliva, which he quickly swallowed as he turned to his wardrobe.

«No problem»

His voice didn’t shake, thanks to pure force of will. A song by an American singer from the ’70s started playing.

It was unforgettable.

And eventually… it became routine.

Chapter Text

Since then, such impulses had become more frequent, less like sudden urges and more like the quiet, steady rhythm of a deep-rooted teenage feeling that had only grown stronger with time.

It wasn't like it happened all the time, just with a kind of reassuring regularity.

A week and a half had passed since their first kiss - intimate and «adult» enough that neither of them really knew what to do with it. They had silently agreed not to dwell on it.

Ivan’s father, a product of the USSR, was always outspoken in his conservative opinions about Americans and their ways. Even though they lived in Europe, he remained loyal to his Motherland, which made him less than thrilled about his son's friendship with a foreign boy.

Ivan’s mother, on the other hand, was entirely enchanted by their bond. She was only happy that her son had finally made a friend, wasn’t being mocked by classmates anymore, and had learned to talk to kids his age. She never questioned how close they were.

The heat in Ivan’s room was stifling, unbearable. They had resorted to fanning themselves with old magazines and soaking their hair with cold water. A walk outside? Out of the question.

And even if the weather had allowed it, right now it just wasn’t possible.

«Tsk, ow!» - Alfred winced, jaw clenched in pain.

«Just hang on a bit longer, please», - Ivan said softly as he gently dabbed at the cuts on Alfred’s face.

They were sitting on the carpeted floor beside the bed. The soft rug tickled their bare toes, and Ivan’s hands trembled with the fear of hurting him again. He didn’t exactly have much experience in first aid.

«Why did you even argue with him?» - Ivan muttered with frustration, carefully blotting away the blood.

He called you gay, so what? Doesn’t mean you have to throw punches. Seriously, grow up

Another pained groan escaped Alfred’s lips as Ivan swiped a sponge over a fresh cut. Ivan sighed deeply, peeling open a bandage.

«Okay, okay, almost done, - he said calmly as Alfred exhaled shakily, resigned. - Now I’ll take care of your knees and then you’ll be good to go, alright?»

Alfred couldn’t help but feel warmed by those words. That familiar tug in his chest something close to affection, briefly eased the pain.

Ivan looked unbearably cute like this, focused and serious. Alfred had always loved watching him. He often stared without realizing, which annoyed Ivan to no end.

Their skin tones contrasted. Their personalities couldn’t have been more different. And yet…

Whenever Ivan was nervous or worried about him, it was like he automatically stepped into the role of older brother, even though, technically, Alfred was the older one.

Right now, that same mature sense of responsibility flared in Ivan again, he became a little firmer, more assertive, scolding his friend in a way that only made his concern more obvious.

He was carefully mixing the antiseptic for Alfred’s knees when he noticed Alfred had gone quiet, completely lost in thought. When he turned and caught that clear blue stare, Ivan froze. Eye contact had never been his strong suit, especially not with someone this handsome.

But Alfred didn’t speak. Just breathed softly. Ivan continued working, until Alfred flinched again, grabbing Ivan’s forearm too tightly. Ivan hissed at the sudden sting.

«Use something else to hold onto, it hurts», -Ivan muttered, trying not to flinch.

Alfred groaned from the pain, finally letting go, head falling back. That sound, raw and emotional, startled Ivan. It was almost too intense, too much.

Did Alfred even realize how good he looked like this? Even the bruises and swelling couldn’t dull his charm. Would he grow up to be a model or something?

At last, the wound was dressed. Ivan wrapped the bandage, pretending not to notice the way Alfred was still watching him.

Was it just Alfred who looked at him like that? Or was Ivan simply too shy to handle being looked at at all?

«Done», - Ivan murmured, stretching his legs and sighing in relief.

Alfred tested his knees, neck tilting:

«Thanks, man», - he said, breaking into a grin.

«Don’t mention it. Just don’t get into another fight»

Ivan tugged at his shirt collar, trying to let in some air. He was about to stand up and put on some music when Alfred grabbed his wrist.

Under Ivan’s questioning gaze, Alfred blushed, voice quieter now:

«No, really. Thanks, man»

His tone sent a shiver down Ivan’s spine.

«It’s… really not a big deal», - he muttered.

Alfred crawled closer, still holding his wrist.

«Can I… k-kiss you?» - he asked, stammering, unsure.

Ivan blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected that - not again.

But the memory of their first kiss still lingered, and the desire to feel it again pulsed in the back of his mind. So, hesitantly, he nodded.

He shut his eyes tight when Alfred’s warm breath brushed his skin.

The kiss was gentle, not vulgar, but meaningful. A simple way to say what couldn’t be said aloud.

Alfred kissed differently, less messy now, but still clumsy. Honest.

Ivan gripped his friend’s arm, slowly responding, mimicking his motions.

Then, breathlessly, he broke the kiss, licking his lips absently.

This was definitely blurring a line. Was this still friendship?

Alfred just smiled at him. No awkwardness, no pretending it hadn’t happened. Ivan, flustered, rushed over to the console.

The record slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. He muttered curses under his breath, cheeks burning. Behind him, Alfred laughed softly.

«Vanya?»

Ivan flinched awake in the library, head buried in his sketchbook. A familiar voice and a warm arm wrapped around his shoulders.

«Mmh… yeah?», - he murmured, rubbing his eyes. Alfred’s hand moved up to his hair.

«Whatcha drawing? - Alfred leaned over. - Whoa, is that me?»

Ivan blinked, still half-asleep. Then Alfred kissed his cheek, just a quick peck.

«Dude, that’s fire. You’ve gotten way better like, way better than a few months ago»

The warmth lingered on Ivan’s skin. He never got used to that.

After that second kiss years ago, they’d stuck to cheek kisses. Occasionally, the neck. But Ivan had never initiated.

Alfred always had enough boldness for both of them.

«I don’t know... It’s supposed to be you, but something feels off», - Ivan mumbled, studying the unfinished drawing.

«Bro. Don’t make me annoyed about this», - Alfred groaned.

He dragged his chair noisily closer. His hip pressed against Ivan’s and his arm slipped around his shoulders again. His chin settled against Ivan’s collarbone.

Only around Ivan could Alfred fall quiet like this.

«Practice was brutal today», - he mumbled, tugging at Ivan’s hoodie absently.

«Mhm», - Ivan hummed, pencil moving again.

«And finals won’t study themselves. Ugh. I don’t wanna deal with it», - Alfred whined dramatically.

Maybe he was just trying to get Ivan’s attention.

Ivan looked at him briefly, frowning slightly, then went back to drawing.

As the sketch became more detailed, Ivan occasionally glanced at Alfred’s face for reference.

Then, softly, Alfred whispered against his neck:

«I… I miss you»

And he really did.

Just as Ivan was about to respond, Alfred continued:

«Like, we don’t hang out like before. School’s busy. And I miss it a lot»

He buried his face in Ivan’s neck. That familiar smell, cigarettes and something warm, made him feel safe.

Ivan bit his lip. He’d noticed it too.

Quietly, Ivan pulled him into a side-hug:

«I miss you too», - he said.

Alfred melted into him with a sigh, lips curving into a soft smile.

«Alf, quit it!» - Gilbert frowned dramatically, nudging his friend away when Alfred interrupted his acoustic jam session.

Laughter rang through the attic, a chaos of sound in an equally chaotic space. It was a perfect spring evening: Gilbert’s old, worn-down loft, cluttered with forgotten junk and vintage furniture.

It all felt like childhood again, just the three of them, Gilbert, Ivan, and Alfred, sorting through stacks of vinyls and CDs at his place. Back then, his parents had nearly tossed the whole collection, thinking it was nothing but trash. Ivan used to take that very personally.

The smell of dust clung to the air, catching in their noses, but none of them cared. The sweet scent of damp grass and blooming lilacs drifted in through the cracked window, mixing with the faint glow of a streetlamp outside.

«Dude, you’ve got so much cool shit in here», - Alfred muttered, pacing around the dim room as he dug through old boxes like a raccoon on a mission.

He held up a few treasures: a worn notebook from one of Prussia’s relatives, a once-expensive wristwatch now rusted and long dead.

Noticing the antique glint in Alfred’s hands, Yao jumped to his feet, eyes instantly lighting up with interest. He reached for the watch, turning it over in his fingers like it was made of gold.

«You could totally sell this, - he said, awed. - Stuff like this is collectible now»

Ivan chuckled softly at the pure enthusiasm gleaming in Yao’s dark eyes. The guy had a thing for vintage trinkets, especially the kind you could resell. You couldn’t really blame him.

The electric guitar in Ivan’s hands gave off an unsure, slightly off-key sound, making Gilbert flinch and rush over to help him tune the strings. Low twangs blended with their voices and laughter into a rough kind of symphony.

Between huffs of focused effort, Gilbert threw a sarcastic jab over his shoulder, not even bothering to look at the others, who were fully consumed by their treasure hunt:

«That crap’s worthless, Yao. Stop acting like a damn pawn shop, it’s too much enthusiasm for you»

Ivan snorted and gave the white-haired a shove in the shoulder for the comment.

Ivan shot him a sideways glance, smirking to himself. The guy radiated a kind of eccentric, almost ridiculous energy. That languid pace of his, like he was always half-asleep, only made the whole aura more intense.

Yao, clearly a bit embarrassed, slicked back his short dark hair with a hand after hearing the jab. It seemed to hit a nerve, he suddenly looked doubtful, like he regretted saying anything at all.

Noticing the shift in his friend’s expression, Ivan responded warmly, absentmindedly plucking at the guitar strings now that Gilbert had fully tuned the instrument:

«Don’t sweat it, Yao. He’s just messing with you, do whatever you-»

«Oh!» - Alfred cut him off, eyebrows furrowing in surprise as he turned an odd, elongated object over in his hands. The dim light in the room made it hard to tell what exactly it was.

«Quit yelping like that», - Gilbert grumbled, taking a long drag of his cigarette while Ivan instinctively lifted his head, curious.

«A mic? Seriously?»

Yao stepped over to Alfred, eyeing the thing in his hand with interest.

«Think it still works?...»

«Let’s find out»

With that, Alfred pressed something near the base and loudly spoke into the microphone.

The blaring sound made both Ivan and Gilbert groan in sync, Alfred’s voice boomed through the attic like a bomb. Yao just stared at him, utterly confused about what had just happened.

«Fucking hell, man», - Ivan muttered through clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling the guitar away from his body as he winced at the sound.

«Shut the hell up!» - Gilbert shouted, covering his ears like a kid and curling up toward his knees in protest.

Alfred burst out laughing, fiddling with the mic’s settings and turning the volume down.

«Dude, this is sick. We could totally throw a concert up here», - he grinned, now cycling through different voice effects on the handle.

Yao let out a ridiculous snort-laugh at the absurdity of that statement, nearly choking on his own spit.

«Do you even know how to sing, frontman?»

But before Alfred could start defending himself, Ivan struck a loud new chord on the electric guitar, cutting him off mid-thought. Gilbert seized the moment to make fun of him, contorting his face into mocking expressions that drove home just how little anyone took Alfred’s concert dream seriously.

Clearly offended, Jones started kicking an empty box lying nearby, using it as a football substitute as he sulked.

«I do, actually, - he shot back, pausing to look over at the two guys playing guitar. - Vanya can vouch for me»

«You mean the shower or your soul, dude?» - Gilbert deadpanned without lifting his head, casually humming a tune to himself. The stub of his cigarette had long since died at his feet.

Yao let out another snort of laughter and collapsed into a dusty armchair, clearly on the verge of dozing off. His head rested on the still-soft backrest, his legs curled up lazily against his chest. He looked truly relaxed - sleepy, even.

Alfred clicked his tongue, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

Ivan finally stopped strumming and looked up, catching the expectant stares of the others.

«Uh… I don’t know, - he shrugged. Then Alfred fixed him with those wide, glassy blue eyes, waiting for a compliment, clearly, - I’ve heard him once or twice. He’s… fine, I guess»

«Awesome! - Alfred lit up again, ignoring the groans from everyone else as he eagerly tweaked more mic settings. - Play some '80s stuff. Shit’s about to go down.»

Time dragged on strangely slowly, the kind of night that stretched out more than it should. Long evenings weren’t anything new for this time of year.

The group had sprawled out across the attic, each in their own little world.

Musical instruments were scattered on the floor near the worn-out couch, where Ivan and Gilbert now sat. They were planted on opposite ends, with a large gap between them as they each leaned against the armrests.

The cigarette in Ivan’s mouth was nearly finished, ash occasionally falling straight to the floor from his fingers. He didn’t smoke often, usually only during intense emotional moments. Or, rarely, with friends.

Meanwhile, Gilbert had swung his legs over the side and was deep in thought, listening absentmindedly to the faint singing around him.

Yao looked like he was practically snoring in the armchair, half-asleep and clearly losing the battle against exhaustion.

Alfred was still humming softly to himself, playing around with pitch and rhythm like a kid with a toy.

It was obvious the boys were completely worn out and with classes tomorrow, too. The broken window let in flickers of moonlight and dim lamplight, barely illuminating the old, forgotten items leaning against the wall.

«Alright. We’ve got uni in the morning. Everyone, time to hit the hay», - Gilbert mumbled groggily, rubbing his eyes like that might somehow wake him up.

Ivan hummed something incoherent in response. No words - he was too drained.

A chilly draft crept through the room, and Alfred shivered as he got up, adjusting his hoodie. His soft laugh broke through Yao’s peaceful breathing. Yeah, he was definitely asleep.

«So… where’s everyone sleeping?» - he asked, sticking his hands into his pockets. He looked exhausted too.

«I’m obviously in my room, - Gilbert joked weakly, catching Ivan’s skeptical purple-eyed glare. Okay, bad joke. - Alright, two downstairs, two up here»

Ivan yawned and licked his dry lips, frowning slightly as he glanced at Gilbert:

«It’s kinda cold up here»

He got a half-hearted shrug in response, followed by a tired voice:

«Well, excuse me for not owning a mansion that fits four», - Gilbert looked over at Alfred, clearly waiting for his vote.

Alfred glanced at the sleeping Yao in the armchair and let out a light chuckle:

«Yeah, I’m good»

«Perfect. In that case..., - Gilbert trailed off, scratching the back of his head. - I mean, Yao might catch a cold up here. His immune system’s trash»

Ivan had just started to respond when Alfred cut in:

«It’s fine. Me and Vanya’ve crashed together before»

Right after those words, Ivan caught a fleeting glance: sharp, glinting cold, with a sly smile. Aimed straight at him. Just for a split second. It sent a chill down his spine.

«Cool. We’ll wake you guys if we need to», - Gilbert added, then spent the next two minutes trying to wake their deeply asleep mutual friend before dragging Yao downstairs to the living room.

After being told where to find the bedding, the two remaining guys quickly put together a makeshift sleeping setup in the coziest corner of the attic.

Unfortunately, the couch was totally unusable, too broken and ancient, so they had to improvise.

Ivan laid down closer to the wall, using an old blanket as a mattress, a folded sheet as a pillow, and a thin cover on top. Alfred mirrored the setup a little further away, leaving some space between them. They had to sleep in their clothes - it was the only way to stay even remotely warm. The attic got colder by the hour.

Surely the night will pass peacefully. They're both so worn out. Surely, the moment their eyes close, the world will fade into darkness, straight into the arms of Morpheus… right?

Chapter Text

The whole world seemed to have fallen into a deep slumber. Total darkness swallowed the room, making it impossible to see anything. The only sound was someone else’s steady breathing, gently rocking the silence like a lullaby. Alfred was lying on his right side, turned away from his friend. He was probably deep into some dream by now - God knows which one.

Occasionally, faint sounds of passing cars reached the window. The streets were empty, and the once-chattering streetlights no longer illuminated the world, hiding behind the horizon.

A chilly breeze kept sneaking under the blanket, crawling under Ivan’s clothes. His skin prickled; his body ached from the cold. No matter how he twisted and turned, how much he tried to wrap himself up or curl into a ball - nothing helped. The unpleasant chill froze his limbs, and his hoodie didn’t help.

Through all that shifting, a hoarse voice, heavy with sleep, cut through the silence startling him:

«Vanya? - Alfred slowly turned to his left side, facing him. - You still awake?»

The awkwardness of possibly waking his friend weighed on him like a heavy burden.

Ivan’s cold fingers tugged the blanket up to his chin, burrowing into it, mumbling quietly:

«Yeah… Just cold, is all»

A beat of silence. Then he added, more softly:

«Sorry for waking you. - A sheepish smile tugged at his lips. - It sucks, honestly»

A faint tsk, and Alfred suddenly cracked open his blanket, scooting a little closer without taking his eyes off him:

«Come here»

An invitation.

In the pitch black of the room, Ivan couldn’t see Alfred’s face. But he felt his eyes, even in the dark, even tired. That gaze, the way only he could look.

Ivan hesitated, holding his breath without realizing. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t make himself respond. Even though, back when they were younger, they used to fall asleep next to each other all the time. So why was it suddenly different now?

«C’mon», - Alfred gently coaxed, nudging him closer. He shifted again, now lying even closer, waiting.

There was the sound of shuffling sheets and a shaky breath. Then, finally - Ivan’s cold body pressed into his.

He buried his nose against Alfred’s neck, squirming a little when, surprisingly, a hot hand wrapped around his waist and pulled him in, stroking his back. Comforting.

Even in the cold, the heat radiating from his body was palpable, it was unreal how warm Alfred had gotten.

A soft, weightless kiss was pressed to Ivan’s hair, tearing him away from his spiraling thoughts. The way those arms held him: firm, protective, almost tender - it was disarming.

Ivan swallowed hard, placing a shaky hand on Alfred’s back, curling his fingers slightly into his hoodie. A second kiss landed on his forehead, leaving behind a warm tingle.

«Any warmer now?» - came the low whisper, somewhere in his hair. Alfred’s breath was calm and even.

«Mhm», - Ivan’s voice was small. His cheeks burned.

And he wasn’t lying. Because somehow, the cold had started to fade, replaced by a new kind of heat coursing through him.

Alfred’s hand rubbed small, slow circles on Ivan’s back, goosebumps rising in its wake. The other hand tangled gently in his hair, tugging just a little. It… it made him melt.

«I love you», - Alfred murmured suddenly, his voice rough, fingertips ghosting along Ivan’s side.

No. No, no, no. This shouldn’t be a surprise. Alfred had said that before. So why did this time make Ivan shiver?

Summer evening. Finally, summer break. 10th grade. The sunset spilled pink-orange light across the fresh grass. The distant shouts and stomping of playing kids filled the air with warmth.

Mom was cooking in the kitchen - the smell drifted lazily through the house, clinging to everything. Dad was working late. That was the plan.

The record player spun slowly, the needle dragging out a lazy melody. It sounded like The Beatles. Dreamy, soft, whispering that everything was going to be okay.

Familiar warmth pressed against his side. A lazy conversation pulled a quiet smile from him.

«Britney Spears? Yeah, - Alfred laughed, holding up one of her albums. - She’s not bad. Not bad at all»

Ivan rolled his eyes. Of course that was what was on Alfred’s mind.

«No, seriously, come on, - Alfred jabbed at a glossy magazine photo of Britney in a revealing outfit. - Look at her: the figure, the face…»

These conversations were getting exhausting. Ivan had lost count of how many times Alfred made comments like that. It always made his chest tighten. Because it was always about girls.

«Not interested», - he muttered, turning away.

«Aww, you mad?» - Alfred asked in that sickly sweet voice, leaning over and giving Ivan’s shoulder a little shake.

Ivan just waved it off, worn out from the day. They already had too much studying to do, exams were coming, and college was just a year away. The last thing he needed was Alfred eyeing other people like that on top of everything else.

«Alf. Cut it out, will ya?»

«Aww, I’m sorry, do you want me to call you cute too?» - Alfred asked, whining a little, but with a hopeful note in his voice.

Ivan nearly choked. What even was that sentence? He wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity. Did Alfred seriously think that was better?

«Alfred, what the hell are you saying? Shut up already», - Ivan said, frowning.

He started to get up, about to change the record, when a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist and yanked him back onto the bed.

«Hey!» - he yelped. Alfred leaned over him, arms on either side of his head.

«Don’t be mad», - he said. Dead serious.

Ivan’s brain shut down for a second. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. Alfred was way too close. His face. His arms. The weight. Guys don’t lie on top of each other like this. Right?

«I’m not mad, Jones»

He tried to sit up again, but Alfred pushed him back down.

«No, seriously, don’t pout. You are really pretty, you know?» -  Alfred’s voice went soft, his eyes wide and apologetic.

What the hell. This was so weird. So insanely weird.

Then, out of nowhere, Alfred leaned in and pecked Ivan on the cheek. A tiny, wet kiss that made Ivan want to die on the spot.

What the actual fuck is going on with this guy?

That sentence kept looping in his head: He called him pretty. Not just anyone. Alfred called him that. And Ivan had no idea what to do with it. No clue how to respond. One second they were looking at some dumb magazine, and now this?

No one ever really commented on his appearance. And he himself considered himself a completely ordinary, gray cog in society. His eyes - yeah, those he could be proud of. But that was about it..

«Jones, stop it, I’m not ma-ad», - Braginsky whimpered, trying to push away his friend, who was now showering him with kisses.

«No singer can compare to your beauty», - Alfred kept repeating between smooches, like a mantra.

It started to get a little overwhelming, because strangely Ivan felt like he didn’t have the strength to resist, as if inviting himself to submit. What kind of thoughts were these?

«Alfred! Are you listening?» - he still couldn’t get through to the teenager, pushing him away in vain.

«Sorry, sorry, sorry», - Alfred said quickly, suddenly kissing his friend’s neck wetly.

Ivan froze for a moment, realizing what had happened. The place was burning, and a pleasant warmth twisted in his stomach.

The teenager could see Jones slightly blushing. His eyes had a feverish gleam, and his hair was slightly tousled, falling over his forehead.

Their ragged breathing drowned out the silence. Alfred stared at him with wide eyes, then at the neck - that place where the kiss had landed. Whether it was intentional or accidental, nobody knew.

...

«I love you»

The voice trembled, revealing the boy’s charming nervousness.

Ivan slowly raised his hands to his face, either to hide or wipe a veil from his eyes. As if all this was happening in a half-dream, detached from reality.

«Idiot»

The Russian teenager jerked the confused Jones to himself, hugging him.

Now they lay entwined. Alfred on top of his friend. Both their faces were flushed to the limit, and their racing heartbeats were felt through the skin as their chests rose in unison.

A lump in the throat was choking him slightly, and words refused to come out. His mind felt empty.

A touch, then a stroke through the hair, brought the boy back to reality.

Ivan cleared his throat, but it didn’t help to remove the hoarseness from his voice, still feeling the hand on his side:

«Yeah, me too»

A quiet chuckle slipped from his lips, and Braginsky felt a slow smile on the other’s face with his head. He slid his palm to the blond’s shoulder blades, settling down more comfortably, shifting slightly.

Alfred seemed to hold his breath, suddenly replying:

«I know»

Playful tones pierced through his words. A cocky asshole.

Braginsky lightly patted him on the back, muttering a sharp phrase under his breath. He got a quiet laugh in response.

«Quiet, you’ll wake the others», - Ivan murmured somewhere into Alfred’s neck, suddenly feeling goosebumps on the blond.

It made him a little uncomfortable, and he tried to pull away slightly, thinking he might be causing discomfort.

«No-no», - Jones quickly said, pulling his friend back. His hand slid again from Ivan’s waist to his back, then down to his lower back.

The sensations were incredibly pleasant.

Soon their breathing slowed, became even. Voices quieted, and sleepiness hit with double strength. Both boys fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other.

The unbearable heat suffocated, not letting him take a full breath. Strange hands held him tight, leaving no chance to pull away. The blanket reached almost to the crown of his head, making it even more unbearable.

Ivan woke up with a pounding, heavy head, crawling out from under the covers to breathe deeply. They were still holding him.

His gaze caught the calm, something rare, face of his still-sleeping friend. Wheat-colored hair covered half his face, and light eyelashes fluttered slightly. Beautiful.

Struggling to throw off the blanket, the Russian felt a sharp pain in his spine. Apparently from the hard surface and uncomfortable position. He was already about to get up when movement nearby caught his attention. Then the gaze of blue depths was fixed right on him.

«Good morning»

The sleepy mumble from the older one made Ivan chuckle, and he ruffled his friend’s hair, rasping out:

«And to you»

A wide smile instantly bloomed on the other’s face when he heard Ivan’s voice.

Braginsky started to get up, but was pulled back down:

«Let’s sleep a little more», - Alfred began to beg, looking at him plaintively.

His heart beat faster from that look. His cheeks flushed at once, and Ivan reluctantly muttered:

«I've got class first period, I can’t», - he grimaced from the pain in his back. Being bent like that was extremely uncomfortable.

There was a clicking sound, then Jones tugged him onto the sheets, looming over him with a frown. He always made that face when his whims weren’t indulged. No, not indulged - disobeyed. Important distinction.

The arrogant, self-absorbed American.

«Is it hard for you or what?» - the blond lowered his voice, sliding his gaze over the boy lying beside him.

No way, again. It was as if the guy was deliberately tormenting him with his antics. Does he even realize how he affects him?

Ivan habitually licked his lower lip, attracting the friend’s attention with that gesture. Damn it.

«I still have to wake Yao, Alf», - he tried not to show his vulnerability and confusion. His voice, like his body, hadn’t yet fully woken up, so the hoarseness was still there.

His attempt to get up again failed; now Alfred was looming over him.

Alfred just looked into his eyes. Looming. Pressing him to the bed. Remind you of something? Seems that teenage boy from the past still wakes up in him sometimes.

«If only you knew how much I don’t care»

After those words, he didn’t hesitate and kissed the boy on the cheek. Definitely trying to kill him.

Braginsky wanted to howl from helplessness, embarrassment, shame, awkwardness before this handsome guy. His cheeks, neck, and ears flushed deeply, lips pressed into a thin line. Should they even be doing this?

But he wasn’t a coward, right? He was from Russia, he was Russian, damn it. Was he really going to melt like a girl now? Immediately dissolve in front of such an attractive guy, his friend?

Slowly closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, gathering all his willpower into a fist, he suddenly grabbed the blond by the nape, squeezing hard and got a hiss and a surprised ouch

«I told you, I can’t stay»

Alfred stared at his red face with wide surprised eyes when he was pulled slightly forward. Close. A tight knot formed in his lower stomach. Ivan deliberately lowered his voice to a deep baritone, now his rasp and hoarseness sounded very clear.

Still feeling the firm hand holding the back of his head, he glanced at the boy’s hands, where the biceps tensed from effort, and violet veins showed through pale skin.

There were simply no words. This was just his best friend Vanya.

But Alfred’s fleeting uncertainty didn’t last long.

Braginsky noticed a mischievous spark in the cold eyes, completely unfamiliar to him. And pink lips stretched into a crooked smile.

«I love your deep voice»

Before he could react, Jones suddenly leaned toward him, lips colliding.

It stunned Ivan, who let go of the blond’s hair, clutching the sheet with his fingers. They were friends.

This was their third kiss, six years after the second. Braginsky was so surprised he couldn’t even react when a tongue brushed over his lower lip and then pulled away.

Still, this kiss didn’t cross the “allowed” boundaries. Like old times - a brush and a lick. That’s it.

But does that cancel everything else?

The boy tried to catch his breath, staring at the ceiling while Jones, blushing, wiped the corner of his mouth.

This episode was literally just like many years ago.

There was Ivan, lying down, and Alfred above him. They kissed. Both red, embarrassed, messy.

«So now you’ll stay?» - Jones suddenly asked, looking at him with a shy smile.

And how did he have the audacity to be so clingy and shameless?

Braginsky shifted awkwardly, thinking over the other’s words. Well, maybe once is not a big deal, right?

«Okay»

Alfred laughed loudly, raising his eyebrows:

«I knew you couldn’t resist me», - he plopped down next to his friend, pulling him close for a tight hug.

After all that, it was already stuffy, and when that heated body pressed to his, it became unbearably suffocating and stifling. Hot.

«I’m gonna suffocate, let go», - the Russian growled, pushing the blond away.

Deliberately raising his voice, Alfred whined plaintively:

«Come on, let me hug you, - he tried to hold the boy, but he was stronger, - please»

«Go away with your clinginess», - Braginsky hissed, not even thinking of giving in.

Enough already, seriously. Everyone always has to crawl before him. Where’s the justice?

There was a clicking sound, then Jones raised himself on his hands again, grabbing the Russian by the wrists, spreading them to both sides of his head, pinning him to the bed.

A surprised sound escaped Ivan’s mouth, muffled by the blond’s shoulder.

He just brazenly lay on top of him. Pinning him to the bed. Pinning his hands, damn it, to the bed, not letting him escape.

He buried his face in Ivan’s neck, breathing steadily. Then a short kiss under the ear.

Please, kill him.

Chapter Text

«For fuck's sake, did we really have to oversleep by a whole damn hour?!» - Yao burst out, nearly shouting, as he stormed down the alley strewn with fallen green leaves. His irritation boiling over for what felt like an eternity.

He and Ivan had missed their first class, and now they'd have to make it up. Not exactly a thrilling prospect. Lucky bastards those two leeches of theirs only had to show up for second period. Of course Alfred just had to convince Braginsky to doze off a little longer.

Waking Yao was damn near impossible: either he needed a dozen alarms shaking the entire apartment, or you had to rely on the Russian to take the initiative and wake him up himself. But today? Yeah, no.

The rest of the trio trailed behind groggy, sleep-deprived, and grumpy. Well, except for Jones. That guy's infinite energy never seemed to run out. Ever.

«Don't stress it, Yao, - Alfred drawled lazily, throwing his arms around the shorter boy's shoulders as Yao grumbled under his breath. - It was kinda nice not having to wake up at the crack of dawn, right?»

That syrupy voice of his clearly got on Gilbert’s nerves, who was already finishing off his second cigarette in under an hour. He occasionally offered Ivan a drag, which was always met with a polite decline.

«Easy for you to say! You're not the one who’s gonna have to deal with the aftermath!» - China snapped, folding his arms with an audible huff. He was caught in a firm, clingy embrace, which only fueled his frustration further. Morning wasn't exactly the best time to test his patience, especially with how fussy he could be.

«Oh, c’mon, man!» - Alfred pressed on, as if actively trying to push his buttons.

«Jones, for the love of God, shut it already. My head’s about to split open», - Prussia growled, taking an especially deep drag. Maybe that was his way of calming down, so tightly wound he felt like a live wire.

Braginsky smirked lazily as he watched the chaos unfold. There was something oddly entertaining about observing the way his friends interacted. They were all so different, and yet… something bound them together, something that drew them into each other’s orbit like gravity.

But Ivan didn’t say a word. Mornings always brought the same desire sleep. Not lectures.

They picked up the pace mostly thanks to Yao’s urgency and finally reached a tall, well-maintained building buzzing with life. The noise wasn’t exactly welcome.

There weren’t that many people inside the campus, which, frankly, was a relief. Probably because most were already seated in their lecture halls. Lunch was still a while away.

Ivan, lost in his thoughts, suddenly remembered he needed to grab the right notebook for history from his private locker. Either way, it looked like he was going to be late.

His heart gave an involuntary tug when he caught sight of Alfred casually pressing a kiss to Gilbert’s cheek mid-conversation, despite the latter’s exaggerated protest. Not hard, but enough to feel it. And sure, it wasn’t anything new. The blond did stuff like that all the time: hugging someone from behind, planting kisses, jumping on people’s backs… all that.

To him, it never really meant anything. Just a way to have fun, steal attention, or whatever else went on in that head of his. It wasn’t surprising, but still unpleasant.

Not wanting to linger on those thoughts or let them settle in too deeply, Ivan decided to retreat toward his academic obligations before they could spiral. He threw a quick parting remark over his shoulder:

«Yao, I’ll be a bit late. Cover for me with the professor, yeah?»

All three of them turned to look at him at once, and the sudden shift in attention made him feel a little awkward.

«What happened?» - China asked, frowning behind his thin-framed silver glasses.

Ivan swallowed under Alfred’s gaze - intense and oddly suspicious, like he was piecing something together. Weird.

«I need to grab some stuff for class. I’ll try to be quick», - Braginsky muttered, trying to shield himself from those piercing eyes. It was always like this.

With a low murmur of agreement from his friends, the Russian trudged down the corridor toward his corner of the building.

The locker setup was decent multiple shelves and space for a few clothes. The outer surface, plastered in punk and rock band stickers, always gave him a small sense of satisfaction. Only a couple students loitered nearby, preoccupied with their own things. That helped. Ivan didn’t do well with crowds.

As his eyes scanned for the right notebook, the sound of footsteps and an obnoxious laugh rang out behind him. That specific, grating kind of laugh that made your eyes roll on instinct. He already knew what was coming. Bracing himself, Ivan took a slow breath.

«Hey, Vanechka-aa», - came a sharp, slightly high-pitched voice from behind almost childishly naive in tone. A chill ran down Ivan’s spine. Not from fear, exactly, but more from tension and a very clear unwillingness to deal with some idiots.

«Well, well, isn’t our little honor student skipping class? What about your precious grades?» - another voice chimed in as Braginsky turned around. The tone left a sour taste in his mouth—enough to make him want to spit. Preferably, right in their faces.

Sighing, the Russian tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat, just to make sure his voice didn’t crack from irritation.

«What is it this time, Poland?»

He didn’t have to wait long for their disgusting little crew to react. There was clapping slow and mocking laughter, and the usual string of nasty comments:

«What, without your boyfriend today? Or did sweet little Alfred find someone better already?» - Germany asked in an exaggeratedly squeaky voice, making an innocent face.

That line made Ivan want to swing at him right across his smug face.

«Naaah, Ger, come on. He just lost his little puppy, isn’t that right, Vanya?» - Lithuania chimed in with a mean-spirited chuckle, grinning wickedly while watching Ivan with those dark, scheming eyes. The Russian remained silent, listening.

He didn’t have much experience in fights, nor did he want to start one not with these pricks, and especially not when they outnumbered him two to one. But swallowing those kinds of jabs? That wasn’t going to happen.

And he didn’t plan on walking away empty-handed, either.

He had a few observations of his own. And keeping his composure, he casually tossed back:

«Lithuania, if I were you, I’d watch my mouth. - With the most indifferent expression and a faint, knowing smile, he shifted his gaze to Poland. - After all, you should think twice before making out under the stairs with your groupmate»

His pulse quickened so much so he could hear it pounding in his ears and a faint blush crept up his cheeks. Fights like this didn’t break out every day, but it wasn’t like they were rare either. The exact reasons were always murky. Still, one thing was always certain: it could escalate into a full-blown brawl at any moment.

It was laughable, so laughable it hurt. Laughable in the kind of way that twisted your gut and bruised something deep inside. Back in high school, Poland and Lithuania used to taunt him, always bringing up Alfred in their jabs. Just because they’d been too close as friends.

And now, years later, here they all were at the same university, still harping on the same damn things. Same routine. Same roles. Some people call that consistency. Ivan just called it hell.

The air was dense with tension, like a weight pressing down on his lungs. At least the corridor was empty classes had probably already started.

He noticed it the second it happened: Lithuania’s expression changed. His lips twisted like he was looking at something disgusting, and Poland he looked like he was about to explode. They hadn’t expected it. They didn’t think Ivan the guy who always played it cool, always played it safe would actually call them out.

«Piece of shit», - Lithuania hissed, shoving past the German guy standing next to him and slowly stepping forward.

Yeah. That line was definitely crossed now. Ivan’s breath caught. His heart was beating so hard it hurt. Palms clammy, adrenaline flooding his system, a slight tremor settling into his limbs.

All his focus tunneled in on the furious student storming toward him, barely registering the voices echoing around them:

«Little bastard, someone should smash his face in»

He braced for it. No way out now.

Until a familiar voice rang out:

«Hey. Back the hell off, assholes»

Ivan, lost in his thoughts, suddenly flinched at the sound of a familiar voice and the attention of everyone present shifted to the newcomer.

«Oooh», - someone in the group whistled.

«Our sweet little Alfredushka, darling», - Poland drawled mockingly, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Was that supposed to make him look tougher?

«Came to protect your boyfriend? Like a rabid dog?» - Lithuania sneered, egged on by Germany's jeers.

The blond ran a hand sharply through his hair. It looked like something he did when his emotions ran high. His jaw was clenched so hard his muscles stood out sharply. His tone dropped lower than usual a threat barely restrained.

«Where’s your leash?» - a high-pitched voice piped up. Ivan didn’t know the student, but he already found him revolting.

The whole scene was sickening. Not the nicest things to hear, of course.

Braginsky truly didn’t know how to act or what to do. Why wasn’t Jones in class? What was going to happen now? How were they going to fend these idiots off? Why did he even come here, for god’s sake? This was only going to make things worse.

Jones grimaced, clenched his fists, and quickly strode over to the Russian. Almost immediately, Ivan felt arms curl around his shoulders reflexive, like a protective shield.

«Jones, for fuck’s sake, what the hell are you doing here?» - Ivan whispered tensely, standing just behind him, but got no answer.

«What, Vanya can’t fight his own battles? Needs his boyfriend to hide behind?» - Lithuania spat, gaze darting between them.

Ivan’s hands itched to knock him out. That phony masculine tone of his made it worse.

The noise from the group ramped up more insults, more jabs. Alfred had had enough.

«Scum», - he growled.

The next second, Lithuania was knocked off his feet, and his cry echoed down the hallway. He clutched his nose with a pitiful look it had started bleeding, while small tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. A pathetic sight.

This kind of thing, honestly, was bound to attract attention. And it did.

«Jones, - Ivan hissed, grabbing him by the shoulders just as Alfred was about to go in for another hit, - enough. Don’t»

That was not at all how Braginsky had pictured things playing out. Deep down, he’d still hoped the conflict could be resolved peacefully or at least smoothed over. Especially since he was more than capable of standing up for himself.

A strange sense of clarity came with that realization. Maybe it was his Russian blood flaring up?

But it was like Jones didn’t even hear him. Ivan could see how fast he was breathing, how the muscles under his fingers were tensed so much so that they seemed sculpted. And the sweat gathering under his fringe was now dripping down his temples.

It felt like Alfred knew, deep down, that he had to protect his best friend. That feeling was raw, uncontrollable. Rage blurred his vision, and he wasn’t even trying to hold back his strength. He simply couldn’t. It was like this was his element - protecting. His duty.

Still in shock from what had just happened, the whole group seemed to snap. Poland shoved Germany off him when the latter grabbed his elbow, nervously glancing around. A crowd had started to form not a good sign for the bullies.

«Shit - get over here»

Poland raised a fist toward Alfred, ready to strike back and Alfred was clearly about to hit him too, but the shouts of nearby students stopped them. A couple of younger guys from their department had rushed over to where Lithuania was lying. By that point, Germany and another guy from their group were already tending to him, wiping the blood from his nose with some napkin.

The invisible weight of tension lifted just slightly, enough to let them breathe. Ivan felt his heartbeat begin to calm, and it seemed like Jones was finally coming to, too. His muscles started to loosen, his posture less taut less like he was about to spring.

A crowd of students gathered around a whining Lithuania, who kept spitting out all sorts of insults at the two boys, while Poland’s groupmates tried to calm him down.

But the emotions inside were a mess. Ivan couldn’t figure out what exactly he was supposed to feel gratitude? Or anger that Alfred had put himself at risk like that? Annoyance at his recklessness, or affection for his bravery?

The noise and buzz of the people around them sounded muffled. Suddenly remembering that classes had long since started, Braginsky felt a pang of guilt toward Yao.

And under the scorching stares of that rotten company, he grabbed the blond’s elbow who was still silently observing the chaos and pulled them both away to a quieter place. Just to give themselves a minute, slow things down, process it all.

Behind him, Jones was breathing heavily, trying to keep pace. The entire way, no one said a word.

Usually, you couldn’t get Alfred to shut up, but now he was dead serious. Too serious. Maybe because he’d nearly gotten into a fight. It was hard to say for sure.

Ivan led them to the farthest building on campus, into a dim, rarely used corner. Students didn’t really come this way no one liked wandering off too far from everything else.

It was quiet. Jones was still silent, but Braginsky, caught in a wave of emotion, didn’t notice. He turned to the wall and rubbed his face tiredly, sighing:

«That wasn’t smart, Alf», - he muttered.

Behind him, the blond shifted a little but still said nothing, which only irritated him more. Why couldn’t he just say something?

«Goddamn it, why the hell did you step in?» - Ivan turned toward him, though his gaze remained on the ground. Maybe out of awkwardness. Or guilt.

Alfred just shoved his hands in his pockets, silently absorbing his friend’s frustration. His expression was exhausted, distant. Gloomy, even. Completely at odds with his usual self.

«What if they’d hit you too? They could’ve snapped your neck with all of them together! Or worse: if someone had seen us, we’d be expelled», - the Russian snapped, speaking to no one in particular.

Braginsky ran a hand through his hair. The fear for his best friend was so overwhelming that the usually composed, quiet guy just couldn’t hold it in. It was like all that tension had finally crushed him and now had to spill out somehow.

«You didn’t think about the consequences at all! You know they’re idiots, so why provoke them? Why risk yourself?»

The entire time Ivan ranted and burned with emotion, he hadn’t looked at the blond even once. Only when he clicked his tongue and straightened the cuffs on his hoodie did he remember Alfred’s presence.

His strangely quiet demeanor set off alarm bells, and Ivan finally looked at him. Now he could see that Jones was nervous too.

He noticed how his body trembled slightly, and how his eyes held both frustration and tenderness. The entire time, he hadn’t said a single word. Just stared.

This wasn’t how he wanted the conversation to go. Ivan rubbed the bridge of his nose, suddenly overwhelmed with a strange wave of care and… love? Like his mind had been dunked into a pool of swirling feelings.

He didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. He had been scared terrified for Alfred. And that’s how it all spilled out.

Lowering his head, Braginsky spread his arms slightly, as if inviting a hug:

«Come here»

His knees nearly buckled when that warm body immediately pressed against his, strong arms wrapping around his neck tightly.

The beat of another’s heart echoed in his chest. Ivan embraced the blond around the shoulder blades, feeling the tremble in his torso. Alfred rested his chin on his shoulder, one hand buried in Ivan’s ash-blond hair.

«I don’t give a damn. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if any of them laid a finger on you», - Alfred mumbled, swaying slightly.

Ivan let out a shaky breath, gently running his hand over the blond’s back, getting lost in his scent. Pleasant.

«Idiot. I’m not fourteen anymore»

Suddenly, Alfred pulled back sharply to look into his eyes. Still silent, which made Braginsky swallow hard and avert his gaze. He couldn’t hold eye contact.

«Oh, cut it out», - the Russian muttered irritably when those eyes kept staring at him. He couldn’t take it. It pissed him off that he couldn’t look him in the eyes. But really did he even have to?

The blond suddenly cupped his face in both hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. What was he trying to do?

«It just puts me at ease when you're with me. Is that answer good enough for you?» - he said calmly. His brows raised and pulled slightly inward in that charming way. His gaze held that familiar, gentle softness something only Alfred could give.

It only made Ivan feel more conflicted and shy. They were so different that sometimes he forgot how Jones could just say whatever was on his mind directly, without hesitation, without holding back. No filters.

Old memories floated to the surface.

They were fourteen, both sitting at a desk in class. The room was loud, noisy. Their classmates were running around, horsing around while the teacher had stepped out briefly. Probably to hand over the classroom keys to someone.

Back then, they didn’t even know what “exams” meant. It was a simpler, kind of wonderful time.

Ivan, as usual, had one earbud in, listening to some unknown punk band with Jones, who sat next to him. A sketch was forming on a sheet of paper, the pencil occasionally smudging under Ivan’s wrist, which annoyed him.

Paper balls flew across the room. Someone’s pencil case. Sometimes even backpacks. The two of them just prayed nothing hit them in the head.

«Idiots. If they throw something at me, one of them’s flying out the window», - the blond hissed, rocking in his chair. His phone screen showed some celebrity website or a bio page, Ivan wasn’t sure, too focused on his own world.

The Russian boy chuckled softly, bobbing his head to the scream of an electric guitar in his ear.

Suddenly something hit his forehead, leaving an instant red mark. He winced in pain as it started to burn, and both boys looked at the paper airplane and pen that had landed next to their chairs.

A loud, obnoxious laugh erupted from across the room. Ivan saw Poland and Lithuania laughing at their little prank:

«Sooorry. Next time we’ll aim straight for the eye»

They picked on Ivan a lot. They loved mocking him, but Alfred they never touched directly.

Naturally, that didn’t sit well with him.

Braginsky didn’t plan to make a scene, he didn’t see the point. He just shot the two idiots a warning look and returned to his drawing. His forehead still burned, but after rubbing it with his fingers, it eased up. Might leave a mark though.

He forgot, of course, who was sitting next to him and how quickly Alfred could snap.

All this time, the blond had been staring at the laughing “monkeys", as Ivan called them, his face unreadable. Then, without a word, he got up from his seat under Ivan’s puzzled gaze and walked around the desks toward them.

«Alfred!» - the Russian called, but it was useless. The earbud slipped out, dangling off the chair.

Ivan saw the blond standing over the two, and their laughter immediately stopped. Their faces shifted from amused to annoyed and even nervous. Lithuania always acted tough, but in reality? A coward who hid behind his friends.

Ivan couldn’t hear what was said, but he saw Alfred place a hand seemingly friendly on Poland’s shoulder, gripping his shirt tight. The guy tensed instantly.

He hadn’t expected his friend to confront them directly. Most of the class didn’t pay attention to the commotion in the back, too caught up in their own noise. That made things easier.

Ivan was about to intervene and drag Alfred back when he heard Lithuania snap something and Alfred hiss in response, causing him to back off immediately. The sight actually made Ivan smile a little. It was… pretty sweet of him.

The only part he heard was:

«Try messing with him again, and we’ll tell the teacher. Got it?»

After that, Jones returned to Braginsky, clearly irritated, casting one last cold glance at the now-silent clowns.

He dragged his chair back with a loud scrape and flopped down:

«Freaks. Bet their moms dropped them as babies», - he muttered, jamming his earbud back in.

Warmth spread in Ivan’s chest as he looked at his friend’s adorably grumpy face, smiling in gratitude:

«Thanks», - he ruffled Alfred’s wheat-colored hair, switching the song on his phone.

Braginsky flicked his gaze from one of his friend’s pupils to the other. Then, unable to take it lowered his head again, murmuring:

«Yeah»

And so they stayed like that. In the end, Ivan missed another class which he would definitely regret. And Jones eventually headed off to his practice.

Yao would definitely chew him out later.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving behind the last glowing streaks of light. A cool spring breeze crept under their clothes, brushing against the skin like a ghostly reminder of the day ending.

After what had happened that morning, Ivan went to his third class, doing his best to put the incident behind him. Of course, he got chewed out by Yao, but once he explained everything, the guy calmed down. They weren’t the type to skip classes without a reason.

Now, in the evening, the three friends were hanging out in Ivan’s small apartment, one he’d actually managed to save up for and buy. Everything in it reeked of the past: worn-out furniture, old wallpaper, and rooms a little too cramped. But it had this comfort to it - a quiet kind of homeliness that made it easy to live in.

Maybe it was something about the Russian’s presence or his knack for decorating and using space well, but the place felt alive: posters of 90s rock bands everywhere, DVDs scattered around, and barely any artificial lighting. Just a couple desk lamps and one warm-toned string of fairy lights. The yellow glow wrapped the place in a calm, cozy vibe.

Yao couldn’t stay the night with his closest friends this time, so it was just the trio like usual.

The symphony of instruments and Alfred’s voice blended into the background noise. Thankfully, the apartment had solid soundproofing, so the neighbors wouldn’t be banging on the walls over the music.

«Gilbert! You're off beat with my singing», - Jones protested, sitting in the corner of the small room. His entire posture spoke of his usual outward ease or, more accurately, sheer cockiness: legs spread wide, body slumped right where he sat, and a not-so-pleasant singing voice pouring out of his mouth. Still, somehow, in the context of the whole atmosphere, it felt like it belonged.

For once, Prussia wasn’t smoking during their hangout. Maybe out of respect for Ivan’s place. Or maybe his conscience finally woke up. Who knows.

«Shut it, blondie. You're the one with the issues», - Gilbert shot back, tapping his foot in time with his playing like he couldn't care less what Alfred was saying.

Through all the noise, Ivan still caught Alfred’s snort as he let out a chuckle. As usual, he was adding depth to the melody, playing his electric guitar.

Jones gave the note another shot, but Gil’s playing threw him off again. Either he was off or the whole damn riff was wrong.

«Come on, Gil, you're off note again!»

Apparently, that pushed Gilbert over the edge. He slammed his guitar with a dramatic thump.

«You're seriously pissing me off! Is it so hard to just follow my lead for once?»

Ivan, who’d been silently waiting for them to get it together, finally snapped. Realizing words wouldn’t do a damn thing, he yanked at his bass string hard. The gritty, deep hum cut through the room like a whip both guys actually jumped.

Gilbert almost dropped his guitar. Alfred, still slouched, bent his knees tighter as if to brace himself. Their startled gazes turned to the Russian, who was now irritably plucking at the strings.

«If you don’t zip it this second, you’re both flying outta here on a tailwind»

At the sound of Braginsky’s low voice, especially in situations like this, Jones suddenly smiled in a strange way. A mix of shyness and mischief played across his face.

Gilbert groaned dramatically and flopped back onto the couch. Ivan sat on the floor at the foot of it.

«Well, since we’re at it, let’s wrap this up then», - he sighed tiredly, practically melting into the couch.

No one argued. They all felt that familiar ache in their bodies and the haze of sleepiness settling in. Thankfully, tomorrow was Friday, only two classes, and not even in the morning.

Jones slowly got up from the floor and settled himself between the two guys. Silence fell.

His gaze wandered around the room, not focusing on anything specific. Gilbert nearby was quietly drifting off to sleep. It was clear how drained he was after the long day.

Ivan sat on the floor at the foot of the couch. His head rested against the soft upholstery, and next to him was the blond’s leg.

A warm hand suddenly touched the top of his head, then fingers tangled into the grown-out, casually falling locks over his face. The gentle scalp massage nearly made a sigh burst out of him. Braginsky himself didn’t quite understand what had come over him or when this simple head massage became such a pleasant experience.

Snapping out of it, reminded of how close they were to crashing for the night, and eyeing Gilbert’s half-passed-out state, Ivan muttered lazily:

«One of you takes the couch. The other one gets the floor. Figure it out yourselves»

That earned him some tired, half-hearted grumbling from both sides.

Soon everyone scattered to their sleeping spots. Ivan, being the apartment’s owner, settled into his room. Moonlight seeped through even the tightly drawn curtains.

The evening chill only deepened the urge to crash into sleep, at least until noon.

For a couple of minutes after lying down, he still heard some rustling and soft whispers, but those quickly faded away.

Before long, the entire apartment slipped into drowsiness, leaving behind a thick silence, broken only by steady breathing and darkness.

Chapter Text

Already lying in bed, Ivan found himself unable to sleep - intrusive thoughts kept bubbling up at the most random moments. So, instead of trying to force it, he decided to put off sleep a bit longer, aimlessly scrolling through various websites and social media feeds.

Only occasionally did cars pass by outside the window, their muffled hum spreading quietly through the street. The sound even managed to soothe his nerves

But then, quiet footsteps caught his attention, followed by a knock on his door that barely lasted a second before the handle turned and the door opened without waiting for a reply.

A wheat-blond head peeked in.

«Vanya, did I wake you?»

Ivan rubbed the sleep from his eyes, squinting into the dark to make out the silhouette in the doorway.

«Alf? Why aren’t you sleeping?»

Careful not to make any noise, Alfred closed the door and walked over to his friend’s bed. Ivan had already pushed himself up on his elbows. His voice sounded way too alert like he hadn’t been asleep at all.

«I'm cold»

That was all he said. And yet the way he was looking at Ivan made it weirdly clear he was expecting something.

«I think I’ve got an extra blanket, you can-»

«Can I warm up next to you?»

Alfred cut him off mid-sentence. His tone didn’t leave much room for argument. Like he wasn’t asking just stating. Persistent.

And how could he say no? But the whole thing felt weird, if he was being honest with himself.

Ivan went quiet, swallowing. For some reason, it didn’t sound the way it should. Or was that just him?

The silence stretched on for long, agonizing seconds, at least to the Russian’s perception. Quiet rustling and the shifting of a blanket echoed in the room, while Alfred waited patiently. Simply watching his friend with a serious expression, who was tormenting himself with doubts. The moonlight occasionally illuminated the blond’s face.

«My bed’s kinda narrow…», - Braginsky mumbled uncertainly, lowering his head. The awkwardness was getting unbearable.

«Dude, you think two people can’t fit in that?» - Jones drawled mockingly, brushing a few strands of his hair out of his face. Honestly, he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the situation. Or the fact that, at least theoretically, he might be inconveniencing someone.

Ivan took a moment to process his words, his skin slowly heating up as his face started to burn.

«Fine, just-»

«Perfect, buddy. You’re really saving me here», - Alfred cut him off again, like he was doing it on purpose.

From the way his face looked in the occasional flash of light from the window, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. What principles or logic he was operating on. Was he really cold?

Sure, it always got colder at night, but cold enough to freeze? Then again, if you’re sleeping on the floor - yeah, you’d definitely start to freeze down there.

Braginsky tried to make as much room as possible, pressing his back to the cold wall. The mattress dipped noticeably under someone else’s weight, and then that someone immediately pressed up against him, body and all, lifting the blanket as they went.

Doubt and suspicion had only just begun to creep in when someone’s warm hands suddenly landed on his waist.

A quiet sigh slipped from his lips before Ivan could stop it, but he quickly suppressed it. After all, he couldn’t let himself react like that.

«You’ve really warmed this spot up», - Alfred chuckled out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around him. His words came across as just a little too, goddamn… suggestive?

The Russian couldn’t explain what exactly he felt, what he was experiencing when he was held this tightly. He also noted that, judging by his body temperature, the blond didn’t seem cold at all.

Hot breath burned against his skin, a foreign nose nuzzled into his neck, and hands gently stroked his lower back. From the excessive, let’s call them "sensory inputs" Ivan even flinched slightly, letting out an annoyed breath.

He was pissed at how he was reacting to the touches. What the hell was up with the way he was shaking?

A warm hand hooked under the hem of his T-shirt, suddenly slipping beneath it to run over the dimples at the small of his back.

«You don’t mind if I warm my hands up, do you?»

Alfred’s quiet mumble broke the silence, and Ivan let out an incoherent sound, something between surprise, frustration, and… agreement.

But maybe that’s just something close friends do? There was nothing wrong with helping your best friend warm up.

Against you.

«…Is this okay?» - Alfred asked, a hint of shyness in his voice as he slowly traced his fingertips along Ivan’s spine.

A small smile tugged at his lips when he felt goosebumps rise across the Russian’s skin, and his stomach flinch from the ticklish sensation.

Ivan squirmed awkwardly in response, instinctively trying not to arch into the touch this light, tingling prickling. His feelings about Alfred’s actions were still a mixed-up mess.

«…Maybe?» - he muttered barely audibly, not quite sure what he was supposed to say. It wasn’t a question, really more like the admission of not knowing what he was doing. Of uncertainty.

No, it wasn’t because he found it unpleasant, disgusting, or anything like that. In fact, it was the exact opposite. It was just… too physical. Too intimate. Or maybe it only felt like something sacred to him. Maybe Alfred didn’t care at all. Maybe he really did think this was just something friends did all the time.

Jones suddenly placed a short kiss near Ivan’s collarbones, hands trailing down to his sides. He held back a pleased little laugh when he felt the other boy shiver slightly.

The Russian bit his lip so hard it hurt, threading his fingers into Alfred’s wheat-blond hair, unable to take it anymore.

«Alfred»

«Hm?» - came the casual hum in response, and the tip of that nose burrowed deeper into the muscle of his trapezius.

A loud gulp. Ivan pressed his lips together, hesitating before he asked:

«You’re not actually cold, are you?»

The blond's shuffling pulled him out of his inner turmoil, and Braginsky glanced over with a questioning look.

In the end, Alfred’s arms wrapped around his waist, and a deliberately casual voice murmured somewhere against his neck, sending a ripple of goosebumps across his skin:

«Not anymore»

Was he faking it? Messing with him? He clearly knew what the guy meant.

Or was that his way of hiding how nervous he actually was?

Naturally, that answer didn’t satisfy Ivan at all, and he added, tenser now:

«You know what I mean. You didn’t come because you were cold, right?»

Silence settled between them. Alfred’s breathing felt too loud. And just when Ivan had given up hope of hearing any kind of answer, a voice a bit more alert now broke the stillness:

«What makes you think that?» - there was even a hint of fear in his tone.

He really hadn’t expected to be asked that. Was it really so obvious?

And honestly, why had the Russian thought that? He wanted to roll his eyes and snap back with something sarcastic, because clearly Jones was playing dumb. He knew exactly what was being asked. Was it that hard to admit the truth?

Braginsky licked his dry lips and shifted a leg under the blanket to get more comfortable:

«Your hands are warm. You’re hot. I’m literally overheating already»

A deep laugh rolled out, vibrating against his body, and Ivan turned his gaze to the wall, biting his lip until it stung. A hand patted his waist gently.

«Took you this long to realize how hot I am?»

Thin fingers grabbed a fistful of blond hair at the back of his head out of pure irritation, trying to shut him up. The laughter stopped immediately, replaced by a sharp hiss.

«If you don’t quit joking around, you’re sleeping in the hallway»

«Shh! Ow! - Alfred whined, offended by the pain blooming in his scalp. - Okay, okay»

Ivan stopped tugging at his soft hair, resting his chin gently on Alfred’s crown.

«So?»

«I had a nightmare. I thought spending the night with you would be a great idea, - Alfred murmured, pressing the tip of his nose softly against Ivan’s collarbone. - I was just too shy to admit it»

That confession stunned the Russian. Really? He was frightened by a dream and too shy to say so?

Doubts lingered, but Ivan decided not to press his best friend and buried his fingers back in Alfred’s hair. The blond twitched, and Ivan immediately began to pull his hand back, worried he’d gone too far.

«No, please, - Alfred pleaded softly into Ivan’s neck, guiding his hands back. - Keep stroking»

A surprised laugh escaped from Ivan’s lips, and he quickly resumed his touch.

Such requests though rare weren’t unusual from Alfred. Ivan had noticed how vital physical attention was to him: a stroke, a peck, anything mattered. If ignored, Alfred felt unanchored, upset.

He couldn’t go a day without touch.

Placing his arms around Ivan once more, Alfred pressed himself tightly, leaving no gap between them, like a loyal pet yearning for affection. Cute.

Ivan’s hand slid down the back of his neck, then returned upward. Alfred exhaled sharply and planted a soft kiss on his sharply defined jawline.

A wave of heat stirred low in his stomach, and Ivan shifted nervously, trying to calm his quickening breath as he stroked his friend’s hair.

Suddenly Alfred’s hand slid down and draped a leg over him, knee tucked between Ivan’s thighs. From the outside, they probably looked like one legs interlocked. Or maybe they really did.

What would their other friends say if they saw this?

Ivan heard Jones swallow hard, and his whole body instantly tensed up. Whether it was from realizing what they were doing, or something else entirely, he couldn’t tell.

It wasn’t lewd or obscene. What they were doing felt… erotically intimate.

When Ivan pulled lightly at a wispy curl, Alfred teased into the helpless silence:

“Seems I’ll never tire of how you stroke me. I hope this tradition carries on for many decades.”

Another light kiss on the neck.

The air thickened. Every breath felt laborious. Ivan’s face scorched, skin tingled, Alfred’s warmth only intensified the sensation.

Ivan managed a soft laugh, continuing to stroke his head, occasionally burrowing his hand in again. But one question still weighed on him.

«Alfred»

«Yeah?» - the blond replied sleepily, shifting his foot restlessly.

It felt extraordinarily embarrassing to ask now, they’d never questioned this before. But Ivan mustered his shyness:

«What we’re doing right now, - he paused, words faltering, - is this… normal for close friends?»

Alfred froze, clearly caught off guard. His gentle breathing ceased, his hands tightened on Ivan’s waist, fingertips pressing into skin.

He stayed silent for a couple of seconds, pondering what was said, then, in a voice uncharacteristically timid, he whispered:

«I don’t know»

They lay there, tense and quiet. It was as though that thought unsettled them both. Maybe Alfred never questioned what they were doing. For him, it might just feel natural, regardless of Ivan.

Or it made him uneasy to think too deeply about it.

To break the awkwardness, Alfred titters softly a tactic he used when embarrassed.

«Well, I rely on the fact that it feels comfortable for us. I don’t want to worry about it»

Ivan bit his lip, puzzled by the sudden sadness in himself. From that answer?

«We are still… best friends, right?» - he asked, voice trembling, chest tightening.

Alfred seemed to frown, then replied with passion:

«Of course! Why would you ask?»

Perhaps that was enough for the night. He wasn’t even sure what time it was, maybe around two or three in the morning. Sleep was creeping in.

Not wanting to sink into melancholy from the lump lodged in his throat, Ivan softly said:

«Just got a little sleepy, that’s all. Good night»

Alfred sniffled, casting a wary and clearly suspicious glance upward at the sudden shift in Ivan’s mood. But when he noticed Braginsky had already closed his eyes and seemed to be drifting off, he simply ran a hand gently along his side and murmured, almost as a farewell:

«Night»

And just like that, they fell asleep curled up close to one another, quietly breathing in unison.

The one thing Ivan genuinely enjoyed “gifting” Jones was his fondness for being petted on the head. Maybe it was a form of relaxation, like a personal massage. Or maybe there was something deeper behind it.

He still remembered the first time Alfred showed that kind of affection.

It must’ve been one of those early spring evenings, or something close to it. The soft glow of a desk lamp lit up the small, familiar room.

Same old house. Ivan’s place. Same dusty record players, vinyls, and the bands they both obsessed over. Eighth grade. School was finally out for the holidays. No more homework. They could stay out late and just enjoy life.

At some point, he couldn’t remember exactly when, Alfred had picked up Ivan’s favorite acoustic guitar, clumsily strumming with untrained fingers. Every now and then he’d let out a frustrated little whine when a new callus began to form on his hand.

«Vanyaaa, - he groaned, holding up his reddened palm for Ivan to see, - I’m gonna get blisters on my hands now»

Ivan wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with another one of Alfred’s dramatics. He was digging through a corner of his room, sorting through a stack of old discs he thought were probably broken. Dad would most likely tell him to toss them into storage. What a waste.

«Ugh, Alfred! Stop whining, - Ivan frowned slightly, not even glancing back, - you knew that was gonna happen»

All he got in response was a grumble, followed by more disjointed chords that made Ivan wince. It was mildly irritating, but he knew it was part of the learning process. You had to power through the ugly sounds to get to the music. Just a matter of time.

He picked up another dusty disc with a faded cover, forgotten in the mess of old tapes. But Alfred’s sudden burst of irritation nearly made him drop it.

«Ugh, I don’t get this note! How am I supposed to read this crap?»

Alfred puffed out his cheeks, huffily pushing the guitar away from himself and pulling his knees up to his chest. His expression radiated confusion and pure, childish impatience, clearly upset that his playing didn’t sound anything like Ivan’s right from the start.

Honestly, the blond couldn't stand it when something didn't work out on the first try. Don’t even mention second attempts forget it. Childish.

He figured there was nothing hard about plucking some stretched wires and making a melody. Yeah, piece of cake.

Ivan sighed deeply and slowly turned toward him to see what was going on. He nearly laughed when he caught sight of Alfred’s face:

His blond brows were furrowed in frustration, and he’d buried his face in his knees, arms wrapped around himself like the world had wronged him personally. The guitar lay tossed aside near the bed, and the sulky grumbling didn’t stop for a second.

Slowly closing his eyes and keeping a calm expression, the Russian boy got up from the floor and walked over to this chaotic mess of all possible emotions.

«Hey», - Ivan called out softly with a small smile, nudging Alfred's shoulder.

In response, there was only an annoyed click of the tongue. The blond shrugged away from the touch without lifting his head.

Braginsky rolled his eyes with quiet exasperation, deciding to wait it out. He glanced at the guitar, then at the beginner’s booklet full of chords and practice tips, and nudged it closer to Alfred.

He plopped down beside him, thoughtfully studying the page in silence. That tactic, after a short pause, worked.

«What?» - Alfred finally grumbled, his voice laced with complaint as he lifted his head just enough to follow his friend’s gaze.

With a moody scowl, he stared blankly at the book, running a hand through his already messy hair.

«What part’s giving you trouble? I can show you», - Ivan said, handing the guitar back and watching Alfred’s hand placement.

«Everything’s not working, - the blond muttered bitterly, furrowing his brows, - I don’t know how to play this damn chord!»

Ivan rubbed his face to ease the irritation building up, then reached his hands out toward the instrument:

«Let me show you the chord progression. You copy what I do, okay? I’ll break it down step by step»

Apparently, that offer was acceptable enough. With a reluctant sigh, Alfred handed the guitar back, eyes fixed somewhat sulkily on Ivan’s long fingers as they moved skillfully over the strings.

«Look, first you press here on the third fret, and then here», - Ivan explained calmly, demonstrating with clear, practiced movements.

When he looked up, he saw Alfred was watching him closely, eyes locked onto every motion, his focus fully engaged.

For some reason, seeing him like that so invested and quiet, made something warm bubble up in Ivan’s chest. Without thinking, he reached out and ruffled the blond’s already messy hair with a quiet chuckle:

«Think you can copy that?» - he asked, smiling. There wasn’t a trace of mockery in his voice, no matter how it might’ve sounded.

Alfred nodded enthusiastically, a familiar spark igniting in his blue eyes the kind he always got when something finally clicked.

«Perfect»

Ivan handed the guitar back again, occasionally correcting Alfred’s hand positions as they went.

You could instantly see the change in him. The second he picked the guitar back up, Alfred seemed to light up, strumming the strings with fresh determination. And before long, the messy noise gave way to something that actually resembled music.

With more practice, it could become a full melody - clean, without sharp or off notes.

Eventually, Alfred set the guitar aside, looking at his fingertips with a twisted grimace that barely masked his pride. The calluses, redness, and string marks caught his attention.

«Ow. That really hurts», - he muttered, lowering his head with a defeated sigh.

It was rare to see the boy genuinely downcast. Usually, Alfred was all energy and light, always cracking jokes, always on the move. An eternal optimist.

Just the sight of it stirred something inexplicably tender in Ivan a quiet sense of care and some other warm feeling he couldn't quite name.

Moved by that impulse, Ivan reached out and gently ran his fingers through Alfred’s hair, petting the crown of his head.

The touch startled the boy, who flinched slightly, turning to Ivan in surprise. But then, slowly, his face lit up in a wide, blinding smile. It softened every sharp feature, made him almost painfully adorable.

He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Ivan’s shoulder with a quiet, content sigh:

«That feels nice»

The unexpected sincerity of it threw Ivan off for a moment. He froze, processing the words - so open, so simple and earnest.

«Can you… keep doing that?» - Alfred asked softly, almost childishly, fidgeting with the hem of Ivan’s shirt between his fingers.

And of course, Ivan obeyed.

His hand moved gently through Alfred’s hair, stroking from the crown to the nape in slow, careful motions, repeating the gesture a few times.

Ever since then, Alfred would sometimes bring it up. Usually in that same offhanded, boyish way, saying things like:

«Only you do it right»

or

«I don’t like when anyone else does it, just you»

Things like that. Was it something personal?

Maybe.

Chapter Text

The next day greeted the guys with gloomy weather. There was no desire to go anywhere, just sit and, on top of that, study. The sun hid behind gray clouds that seemed to promise a light rain.

After what happened last night, Ivan tried not to think about or recall all those touches, conversations, and most importantly - the kisses.

He sincerely tried to convince himself that such "unusual" behavior was completely normal for close friends.

Still, he felt somewhat drained. He hadn’t slept well because of that damn Alfred.

Classes at university went calmly, nothing seemed out of place. Students moved quietly through the buildings as usual. The only, let's say, nuisance was the gossip.

Specifically, everyone was whispering about the fight that had broken out between the "fourth-years." Not exactly pleasant news.

After all, who would want to walk onto campus only to be met with wary, curious stares? The attention made Ivan shrink inward, his movements growing clumsy and awkward as a result. To hell with all of this.

Lunch break came. Groups of young guys and girls bustled through the long corridors. Crowds of students filled the cafeteria and main halls, making the desire to go home and shut out the world grow stronger than ever. But he had to endure.

«Shit, I’m starving», - Gilbert muttered thoughtfully, walking down the corridor while smoking a cigarette.

Smoking inside? Probably prohibited, but Prussia never cared. Bad boy.

«Oh, me too, Gil, - Yao groaned miserably, throwing his head back. - Let’s hit the cafeteria before everything’s gone»

Ivan wasn’t really hungry. He had managed to have breakfast this morning, somehow. His thoughts were busy with completely different things. Totally different.

«Agreed», - Gilbert replied, flicking the stub into a corner of the building. He put his hands in his pockets, walking thoughtfully across the marble floor.

«I’m out», - Braginsky refused.

He wanted to clear his head and be alone for a while. Nervously biting his lip from inner tension, almost chewing it.

Both guys glanced at him suspiciously but only nodded in the end.

«By the way, where’s Alf?» - Yao suddenly asked, looking at the Russian.

Good question.

«At training», - Ivan snorted shortly, staring at his feet.

He was unbearably sleepy. His head ached and his body felt like cotton. Even his friends’ chatter couldn’t cheer him up.

«Then we’ll go», - Prussia sighed, pulling China toward the spacious cafeteria.

«Get something for Jones too», - Braginsky called after them as he moved on through the hall.

He walked past his locker, and the scene of the fight sprang to mind at once. For some reason, now that a bit of time had passed, the whole thing struck Ivan as oddly ridiculous. Silly and stupid. Not even worth paying attention to.

He met few people on the way. Probably almost all the students were already gathered at lunch tables, starting their meal.

So lost in thought, Braginsky didn’t hear quick footsteps behind him.

The next second he was almost knocked off his feet when a warm hand grabbed his shoulders and squeezed him tightly.

«Morning, Vanya! How’s your mood? Hope you slept well?» - Alfred said surprisingly cheerfully despite the weather.

He must have run straight from training: wet sticky hair stuck to his forehead, heavy breathing, and damp clothes clinging to his slim body.

Ivan could feel the boy’s heart pounding wildly against his shoulder. An odd sensation. Unlike anything else.

But faced with that rapid-fire stream of questions and words, the Russian winced, unable to respond. He had just started to enjoy the quiet, a moment of silence at last.

Still, he couldn’t deny the warm feeling spreading inside at their sudden meeting.

Could it be that he’d been looking for him?

«Jones, not now», - Ivan brushed him off, continuing down the hall. At some point, not a single soul was in sight.

Alfred’s arm was still slung over his shoulders, steering them straight into... nowhere. A kind of aimless stroll.

Their steady footsteps echoed sharply through the corridor, each step bouncing back at them like ripples. Alfred kept rambling about something, swaying side to side with his usual, carefree energy.

«God, you’re all sweaty, fuck’s sake», - Ivan grimaced, feeling the damp heat seeping through his own shirt.

Too close.

«Sorry, can’t really help it», - Alfred clicked his tongue, still not letting go.

Before they realized it, the two had wandered into some godforsaken wing of the building, one students clearly avoided.

Only a single stairwell reminded them they were still technically on campus. The lighting was dim, and any normal person would’ve thought twice before hanging around here. Something about the place just felt... off. But with Alfred’s non-stop chatter filling the space, it all sort of faded into the background.

Then - laughter. Soft shuffling. The sound of footsteps somewhere nearby.

Ivan, like Alfred, clearly caught it. But neither said a word. Whatever. Probably just someone else ducking in here. It’s public space, after all.

«So what, you actually dropped the ball? You were ten steps from the damn touchdown», - Ivan muttered with a frown, eyes following a bead of sweat rolling down Alfred’s temple.

The sight made his lower stomach tighten uncomfortably, and he rubbed it with his right hand in a nervous, almost involuntary motion.

Braginsky had caught himself more than once staring at that sun-kissed, golden skin.

He figured that with Alfred’s coloring, the definition of his muscles, veins, and tendons stood out too clearly, almost inviting attention. Or maybe it was just his attention.

Realizing he'd been staring at Alfred's face this whole time, Ivan snapped out of it abruptly, scolding himself internally for losing control.

Alfred didn’t seem to notice.

«Try running when two hundred pounds of rage are charging at you», - Alfred grumbled, suddenly stopping in his tracks.

Ivan felt fingers clamp down on his shoulder - firm, like they were anchoring him in place. The look in those blue eyes was alert, and for a split second, he caught a flicker of... heated curiosity in them.

Following Alfred’s gaze, he suddenly locked onto a rather, uh, unconventional scene.

So that’s what those noises had been.

Heavy breathing, and then - Lithuania pinned against a concrete wall, while... Poland kissed him with reckless intensity.

The way their hands roamed, all desperate heat and urgency - it was something else entirely.

Busted.

Ivan’s brain short-circuited. His face flushed all over: cheeks, ears, neck, everything. Embarrassment crashed over him like a wave. He turned away instantly, trying to step back, needing out.

But he didn’t get far.

«Jones!» - he hissed, pushing Alfred, but the grip on his shoulders held firm.

«Shh, just wait a sec», - Alfred clicked his tongue seriously, not taking his eyes off their… activities.

Ivan tried to figure out if he’d heard that right. Jones was acting, at the very least, really weird. Seriously, he was watching those two troublemakers practically devour each other.

By the way, the two friends were standing a little away from the stairwell where the sweet couple was. They positioned themselves so that, thanks to the iron beams and the whole “interesting” situation, no one would notice them.

«What the hell, Alfred?» - Braginsky shoved him, burying his flushed face in his hands. Why the hell did he have to watch Poland shove his hands under Lithuania’s white button-up?

With all the heavy breathing and occasional spicy murmurs coming from that corner, the two friends’ voices were completely drowned out. So at least they didn’t have to worry about being caught.

«Dude, just stay still! - Jones hissed, clamping a hand over his mouth and holding him in place. - You’re not even curious?»

If the universe had gifted people with the ability to physically roll their eyes out of their skulls, Ivan would’ve done it right then and there. What was wrong with this guy?

«Are you serious right now?» - Ivan asked in a low voice, trying his best to sound calm as he pointedly avoided looking at the two getting it on nearby.

A sudden moan cut through the already unbearable silence, and Ivan genuinely felt like he might cry. This was a nightmare.

Both of them instinctively turned toward the sound, just in time for Braginsky to catch sight of Lithuania sinking his teeth into Poland’s neck while the latter fumbled with his belt like his life depended on it. They looked absolutely feral.

Whether it was Ivan’s hypersensitivity or something else entirely, his knees visibly wobbled from the scene, despite not even being part of it. What the hell…

Jones must've felt the subtle tremor, because he glanced down at Ivan’s lower half with an unreadable look. This was all way too much for Ivan’s poor brain. Someone needed to get him out of here.

«Alfred, go to hell», - he hissed, crouching toward the floor like he could somehow vanish into it. His skin was practically buzzing from how embarrassingly red he’d gone.

The other boy’s hands stayed firm and insistent on his shoulders, holding him in place. Ivan couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why the hell Alfred was so determined to watch this trainwreck. And involving those two of all people?

«You like girls, don’t you?» - Jones asked suddenly, his voice flat, almost indifferent. He turned to face him, his expression unreadable, gaze just as blank. What the hell was Ivan supposed to make of that?

«Y-yeah…», - Braginsky stammered, though even he wasn’t so sure anymore. Not with the way he’d been feeling lately—especially about him. God, grant him patience and courage to finally sort himself out.

That look on Alfred’s face - strangely serious, focused held Ivan’s gaze like a silent question. Like he was... testing him? What was even the point of that question?

But just a second later, all of that intensity vanished. His face shifted back into that same breezy, unbothered expression as before, and he said, deliberately light:

«Well, same here. Nothing’s gonna happen just from watching, right?»

Ivan stared at him, wide-eyed, completely failing to grasp what was even happening. Was this a dream? Or had his overstimulated brain just decided to throw out random hallucinations?

«Jones, you…»

«Oh, come o-on, dude. Don’t tell me you’ve never watched porn before», - Alfred said, arching a brow as he met Ivan’s eyes.

A subtle shiver ran down Ivan’s spine from the way that gaze held him - calm, unbothered, almost teasing.

Braginsky’s mouth dropped open at the absurdity of the statement. What...

«What are you even talking about? Why would I enjoy watching this!»

«Ah, shit!» - Lithuania yelped as his pants were tugged down and Poland slowly sank to his knees.

Were they seriously about to…

Honestly, Braginsky couldn’t quite grasp reality. He just silently turned to Alfred, who was now holding him by the waist, a silent question in his eyes.

And… the other boy just kept watching, face lit with pure interest. He was actually watching them.

The sound of a zipper being undone seemed to jolt Alfred and he suddenly started patting Ivan’s hips, near his pockets, not even looking at him as he did it.

«What the-»

«Where’s your phone? Hurry», - Alfred puffed, cutting him off. Without waiting, his hands dove into Ivan’s pockets, rummaging around until they finally fished out the phone.

«Calm the hell down», - Ivan growled, teeth clenched, reaching to snatch it back.

But Alfred caught his wrists and pinned them down, keeping the phone out of reach.

«You wanna teach them a lesson, don’t you? So they’ll stop messing with you», - the blond said, voice dropping to a coaxing murmur.

With a swift swipe of his finger, Alfred opened the camera and pointed it at the not-so-innocent couple.

Ivan, at a complete loss for words, turned his head toward the obscene scene. Lithuania’s pants were, for God’s sake, off, while Poland was… giving him a blowjob.

His cheeks flushed violently all over again, and a fresh wave of shame crashed over him, making him wish the ground would just swallow him whole.

What shocked Ivan most was Alfred’s total composure. The guy was calmly snapping pictures, eyes glinting with amusement like he was photographing cute animals. And it was on his phone, no less.

Honestly, the guy had never been into this kind of thing before - watching it happen live, between two guys…

Lithuania’s bony fingers tangled in Poland’s hair, and Braginsky’s hands began to shake against his will while saliva pooled in his mouth. It was too much. It was obscene. What else could this even be?

Alfred, meanwhile, was biting his lower lip in concentration, brows furrowed as he kept snapping photos. It looked like he was analyzing the whole scene.

What could anyone possibly be thinking in a moment like this? That Poland was quietly choking on his own gasps?…

«Mother of God, I can’t watch this», - Ivan exhaled weakly, finally turning the other way, away from all those sounds.

Luckily, there was no protest from the blond. All he heard was a disappointed sigh. Did he seriously like this?

The poor guy retreated to a far-off corner, where none of the gasps or moans could reach him, sliding down the cold wall. Leaning back against it, he covered his face with his hands, trying to steady his pulse.

Alfred, apparently, was still there. Was he seriously just… still watching? What the hell had gotten into him?

Thoughts were racing chaotically and messily through his mind. None of them could be caught or held onto for a moment. Everything seemed mixed up, just like his feelings.

Ivan simply couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, figure out if he liked it or not. Because his mind rejected it, but his body, on the contrary… craved? No, more like wanted to… try?

Measured footsteps were coming closer, and Braginsky timidly lifted his head to see Jones approaching.

Jones was staring down at his phone, not watching where he was going. His face showed some kind of… calmness, or something like that. Pleasure. He had lost it.

Already approaching the one sitting by the wall, the blond smiled, shifting his gaze to him:

«Great shots, - he laughed, as if deliberately ignoring his friend’s downcast mood, - now we have dirt on them. Relax, buddy»

Braginsky stared at him with confusion, curling into a ball without even noticing. For heaven’s sake, that was the last thing on his mind right now.

A look of surprise lit up his friend’s handsome face, and he raised his eyebrows, knitting them together:

«Dude, is this really too much for you?»

Without waiting for an answer, Alfred moved closer and crouched right in front of him, placing his palms on his knees:

«Hey, are you okay?»

Ivan genuinely couldn’t understand how he could be so... gentle, so caring after everything that happened. He frowned, pulling his knees tighter to his chest.

«You... damn it, are you serious right now?» - he said coldly, unintentionally lowering his voice.

A feverish gleam flashed in the blue eyes opposite him, and the warm hands stroked his legs, gently squeezing his knees.

God damn it, did he really have to touch him even now?

Ivan didn’t know if he was okay with being touched like that.

«Come on, dude! Vanya, just relax», - Jones said, sliding his hands down to his hips, which brought him pretty close to Ivan’s face.

Ivan, no joke, was really tense from this behavior. He was barely recognizable. Was Alfred always this... curious? Yeah, definitely. But not about stuff like this.

«You like girls, you told me yourself. So this kind of thing shouldn’t turn you on, right? - the blond suddenly said, lightly squeezing his skin through the jeans, - or what’s the problem, buddy?»

Ivan’s violet eyes almost popped out of their sockets, and the stroking of his legs only added fuel to the fire. Something was definitely off with Alfred. It was felt in every nerve of his body.

«I-I... Jones, I don’t understand you»

«Would you want to try it out exactly like that?»

His voice was softer than usual, and the light, pretty casual tone created a weird contrast. In his cold eyes flickered a mix of curiosity and gentle insistence. Was he serious?

Silence hung in the air. The words lingered like a film.

The Russian was cut off. He wasn’t allowed to finish - he was hit with this:

Try it? With your childhood best friend? With a guy, after all?

A choking lump stuck in his throat, stopping him from saying anything, and his mind couldn’t form a coherent thought.

Alfred, as if suddenly embarrassed or feeling like a complete idiot, maybe he just changed his mind, reconsidered everything, it was unclear, nervously laughed and patted the guy’s thighs:

«Relax, dude, I’m joking, - there was a tremor in his voice, - I was just curious about your reaction»

Under Ivan’s shocked gaze, he ruffled his hair, looking away:

«I like girls, you know, just a funny situation. Thought I’d tease you a bit, you know my humor»

He seemed to be trying to justify himself. From awkwardness, he scratched the back of his neck, a faint blush coloring his face. What a strange guy.

And, still under that same silence from the other side, Jones sat down on the floor next to him, shoulder to shoulder, fidgeting with his feet. He was clearly on edge.

Nearby came a shy, quiet murmur, and then, finally clearing his throat, Braginsky managed to squeeze out:

«Of course, I get it. But you’re an idiot for watching that»

At those words, Jones chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand.

And then, for the rest of the break, neither of them said a single word. Not one. Not even the blond.

As for their enemies, who had been up to their mischief earlier, they apparently left long ago, never realizing they’d been watched the whole time.

The school day was coming to an end. Ivan had to stay back for a couple of extra hours due to some unexpected academic consultations. Damn him for ever mentioning to the professor that he played music - even if only as a hobby. There was supposed to be a project involved, but the professor gave him time to think it over.

Funny thing was, Ivan had promised he’d consider it seriously, but the answer had been clear from the beginning - he wasn’t going to do it.

He hadn’t even eaten all day. The situation with Alfred and that pair of enemies kept playing in his mind on loop. Scenes from earlier refused to let go of him.

The uncertainty in his actions, his emotions - it weighed heavy. He was completely lost in himself, in his friendship with Jones. One thing was for sure, though: many students found the blond attractive. He had no shortage of admirers - mostly girls. And honestly? That fact had always bothered Braginsky more than he liked to admit.

Which made it all the more insane to hear that “joke” from Alfred. And what was even more insane - was that Ivan, if he put aside all his principles, his shyness, his pride… found the suggestion intriguing.

He could swear he’d been seriously thinking it over.

The Russian was so worn down by everything that had happened lately, his nerves were starting to fray, and the lack of proper meals only worsened the situation. His vision would darken now and then, and the faint tremor in his hands had grown stronger. The thought of upcoming exams completely threw him off balance.

He’d already said goodbye to Prussia and China. Apparently, they had some kind of joint project to work on. Weird, considering they were in different departments, but Ivan assumed it must be something for the university committee or an interfaculty presentation.

At some point, while descending the stairs, his head started to spin and hum, his whole body turning to cotton. His brain seemed to shut down completely - every thought vanished in an instant.

The only thing that flickered through his mind was the instinct to grab the railing and try to sit down. Thank god he didn’t pass out on the steps - he probably would’ve cracked his skull open at the very least.

Carefully lowering himself onto the cold concrete, the nausea began to intensify. Most students had already wrapped up their day.

His vision started to blur with stars, and then - things took a sharp turn for the worse.

Someone touched his back, and he caught sight of a pair of sneakers. Seemed like it was a girl.

«Hey, are you okay?» - she leaned in carefully toward his face, trying to assess what was going on. Her wide eyes gave away just how unsure and startled she was.

Ivan could barely process anything at that point. With difficulty, he managed to mutter something like:

«I don’t think so»

His ears were ringing, and the ache combined with exhaustion hit him like a freight train. It was so intense, he nearly slipped down the steps from the wave of lightheadedness that washed over him.

Hands caught his shoulders just in time. And through the haze of it all, a familiar voice suddenly cut through:

«What’s wrong with him, Japan?»

«I’m not sure, - came the reply. - He looks really bad. He’s as pale as a sheet»

The next moment, through barely parted eyes, he caught sight of Jones’s worried face - who, as far as Ivan remembered, had left earlier with the rest of their friends. So why was he here? How did he even know?

What sounded like incoherent mumbling at first turned out to be the blond’s swearing. He looked completely thrown off by the state Ivan was in.

The expression on his face, deeply concerned and unexpectedly tender, sent a sharp ache through Ivan’s chest, stirring something raw inside him.

Alfred cupped his cheeks with both hands and leaned in, his voice soft, almost trembling with fear:

«Vanya, can you hear me? Can you look at me?»

Warm breath brushed against his nose, and Ivan winced from the deep, aching discomfort that kept him from responding at all. It was baffling, how could such opposite qualities coexist in Jones so effortlessly?

«He’s about to pass out - we need to get some water», - the girl’s voice came again, shaky and anxious as she held Ivan steady by the shoulders and glanced around for help.

«Fuck, - Jones cursed under his breath, brushing the damp hair out of Ivan’s face. - Help me lift him»

With practiced ease, Alfred hooked his arms under Ivan’s knees and shoulders and lifted him up. In the next second, Ivan found himself pressed against his friend’s back, cradled in a way that was… honestly, weirdly comforting. Even in this awful state, it felt good.

Pleasant. Yes, it was definitely pleasant to receive Alfred’s attention. Somehow, only Alfred knew how to touch him - how to hold him just right. Why the hell was he even thinking about that now, when he was about to throw up all over the floor?

Oh, right. This whole thing felt strangely familiar. There was a time when Jones had been in his place too - though not from sheer exhaustion, but from an injury during practice.

Chapter Text

Measured steps swayed both of their bodies slightly with each movement. Ivan pressed his face into Alfred’s trapezius, doing his best not to focus on the nausea still rolling in his stomach.

There was no way to tell if Jones was struggling under the weight. And anyway, where were they even going? He could probably guess, since they were still walking, but in his current miserable state, his brain refused to process anything at all.

And yet, even like this, Ivan... felt completely safe. Just knowing he was in good hands brought a strange sense of calm.

Yes, they were still best friends. And yes, with a nearly desperate warmth, he felt ready to forgive Alfred for everything he'd once considered unthinkable, inexcusable.

Jones was always there. He was always willing to help him. Somehow, friendship and understanding always bloomed between them, no matter what.

Ivan wondered, when he had carried Alfred like this before, had the blond felt the same? Had he felt safe, thankful?

Their school days. Fifteen years old.

That was probably when their bond truly began to take root: warm, strong, and nearly inseparable.

Classes passed at their own pace, the spring sun finally emerging to kiss the tops of their heads with gentle heat. The grass was turning green again, buds on trees and flowers beginning to bloom, offering the world their delicate beauty.

A faint scent of lilac clung to the air, sinking under the skin, while birdsong outside the window lifted the mood, making everything feel a little lighter. Almost like flying.

Ivan was impatient for the lesson to end, eager to see his closest friend again - Alfred, who was currently out on the American football field. The thing was, their class also had lessons outdoors, but with a heavy focus on the sport, Alfred often vanished there for hours at a time.

And then - the bell rang. No more classes, and it was Friday. They’d see each other and head home together, maybe watch a movie or work on one of their songs.

Outside. Ivan walked along the familiar wire fence, scanning the field for a particular silhouette. Among the mass of players and kids from their class, he finally spotted Alfred.

Ivan’s attention briefly shifted to the crowd of students streaming out of the school building, their lessons done. But when he turned his gaze back to the field, he saw Alfred lying on the grass.

It wasn’t hard to guess - he probably sprained something. That kind of thing was a regular occurrence among the players.

The Russian teen jumped up from the bench he’d been sitting on and rushed toward the large field. The blond was lying on his side, clutching at his foot with both hands. Their coach was crouched beside him, inspecting the injury.

A faint sting tugged at his chest at the sight, and Ivan dropped to his knees, hoping to help his friend somehow.

Alfred hissed in pain, and when he noticed Ivan approaching, he tried to smile through it. But the burning pain shooting through his leg didn’t let the smile fully form.

«Shit, this really hurts», - the poor boy groaned, dropping his head back onto the artificial turf.

His face flushed slightly as the coach left to grab first aid supplies. The ankle needed to be cleaned and wrapped, and for a while, Alfred probably wouldn’t be able to play.

Braginsky, clearly concerned, gently brushed the sweat-damp hair off Alfred’s forehead, his eyes dropping to the injured leg.

«Show me where it hurts», - he asked softly, trying to see what he could do, anything, to ease his friend’s pain.

«Shit, man, just hold my hand, alright?»

With that, Alfred gripped Ivan’s hand tightly, exhaling rapidly. Some of the boys still playing nearby threw curious glances their way.

A few teammates had wandered over to check on Alfred or offer help, but it wasn’t until the coach returned with the first aid kit that things settled. After disinfecting and wrapping the blond’s ankle, the man announced he’d be excused from classes for the time being, an impromptu break, of sorts. That comment, at least, managed to draw a tired grin from Alfred, though it quickly melted into a grimace of pain.

Ivan carefully supported his friend’s back, slinging Alfred’s arm over his own shoulder to let him lean his weight. The blond could barely walk, his steps awkward, limping, and slow, and the two of them struggled to make it as far as the bench.

Realizing they’d be crawling at this pace for ages, Ivan didn’t think twice before offering:

«Want me to carry you?»

Alfred blinked, surprised:

«You think you can hold me up?»

Braginsky clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. What a stupid question.

«Yeah, well, we weigh the same, genius»

He bent down slightly to make it easier for the other boy to climb on. Hooking his arms under Alfred’s knees, he helped him settle securely on his back.

Strong arms wrapped around his neck, firm legs pressed against his sides. Warm breath stirred the hair at the back of his head, and he didn’t even realize he was getting goosebumps from the contact.

«Thanks, man, - Alfred chuckled suddenly, pressing a kiss just below Ivan’s ear. - I love you»

Yeah, that was such a Jones thing to do.

Alfred had been throwing those three words around a lot lately. It seemed like it had become a habit by now, but Ivan still never quite knew how to respond.

So, as usual, he just nodded in quiet acceptance and held on tighter.

Alfred’s mood seemed to lift the moment they stepped off school grounds. Ivan had passed him his backpack to carry so it wouldn’t get in the way.

«But Coach praised me today, though! Said I did a damn good job!» - Alfred started bragging, kicking his legs mid-air as Ivan carried him.

Even like this, he managed to act cocky and full of himself. Like a kid. Honestly.

«Yeah, yeah, I got it», - Ivan waved him off, doing his best not to focus on the way warm breath kept brushing against his ear.

Alfred couldn’t stand it when Ivan didn’t laugh at his jokes or play along. He ruffled the younger guy’s hair, shifting on his back to get comfortable.

«Hey, you did a great job too, buddy, - the blond drawled with a pout, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. - I wouldn’t have made it home without you. Thanks for sticking around, man», - he said, getting all fired up with his usual drama.

God, either this teenager had some seriously developed emotional intelligence or empathy, or he just liked to annoy Ivan. A sweet trait Ivan didn’t really know how to take: Jones loved praising himself, and somehow Ivan too. What kind of angel was this?

And always in moments when it made zero sense. This time there was absolutely no reason for it. But Alfred clearly thought otherwise. He believed it was necessary.

«Alfred, stop it», - Ivan muttered shyly, lowering his head to hide the flush creeping over his cheeks.

«Vanya?»

A soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He was still being carried with baffling ease - Ivan could feel it in every cell of his body.

He only hummed in response, vaguely, focusing on the discomfort churning inside him. Though the fresh air had brought him some strength, enough to register the reality again, his head was finally starting to clear a bit.

«Still feeling like shit?» - Jones asked gently, his grip tightening around Ivan’s legs slightly, as if to soothe him. Ivan could no longer control his own reactions, he felt the heat of those hands on him, and honestly, he was so damn tired of himself.

Clearing his throat and swallowing thickly, the Russian muttered weakly:

«Yeah»

A sigh followed, and then Braginsky shifted a little on his back as Alfred pulled him up higher. They’d been walking for quite a while now, and Ivan couldn’t help but wonder - was Alfred really not tired?

«Let’s take a break? I can walk from here», - he offered, struggling with the words, but it was progress. His gaze flicked up to Jones’s jawline, worry flickering in his chest. He hated the thought of being a burden.

«Dude, don’t start», - the blond replied, a trace of unspoken irritation slipping into his voice.

Ivan wasn’t sure if it was his own predictability or if Alfred just knew him too damn well, but after a brief silence, the blond added in a serious tone:

«It’s not hard. You’re not a burden, so calm down. I chose to carry you, stop torturing yourself with this overthinking. You always do this»

At those words, Braginsky let out a shaky chuckle, burying his face into the fabric of Alfred’s T-shirt over his shoulder.

God, his head was spinning again.

«Got it», - the Russian mumbled quietly, trying not to hold too tightly around his friend’s neck - he didn’t want to choke him.

«Sorry if that came off harsh, - Alfred added, hands smoothing over Ivan’s legs again, - I just know what’s going on in that head of yours, man»

Of course, only Alfred could know him this well. And Ivan, without a doubt, liked that. God, the way it tugged pleasantly low in his stomach whenever Jones showed that kind of gentle, what even was it, dominance? Care? Attention? How was he supposed to interpret it?

Whatever it was, Braginsky liked it. All of it.

Absolutely everything about him.

They were both kind of weird in their own ways, let’s be honest. Each with their own personal brand of chaos. But then again, wasn’t everyone?

«Yeah, I know», - was all the Russian could manage, wrapping his arms around Alfred’s neck.

So warm. So safe. Screw the nausea - he didn’t care anymore.

Eventually, Ivan figured out that they had come to Gilbert’s place, where he and Yao were working on a joint project. It just so happened that their mutual friend’s apartment was within walking distance of campus, hence why Jones had carried him here.

The guys gave him something for the nausea and fever, and then everyone went back to doing their own thing.

There was no time to relax, though. So the moment Braginsky started to feel better, he dove into his studies. Just around then, Gilbert and Yao wrapped up their deadline, while Alfred had already collapsed on the couch, thumbing through his phone.

Final papers and exams were looming, and Ivan and Yao still had a mountain to prepare for.

Braginsky joined his friend at Gilbert’s desk, while the apartment owner followed Alfred’s example, flopped somewhere with his own phone. Both of them scrolling through social media like finals didn’t exist. Lucky bastards.

Thankfully, Ivan absorbed information with ease and knew exactly how to apply it. Their major’s subjects came naturally to him, and he picked things up quickly, unlike the poor guy sitting next to him.

«Could you explain formal logic to me? And help me build this table?» - Yao asked shyly, nervously adjusting his glasses at the bridge of his nose.

It was clear he felt awkward about asking for help, probably because he was known as one of the more capable students.

Ivan paused his notes on a completely unrelated topic and glanced down at the textbook, right where China was pointing.

«Yeah, sure. Look», - the Russian replied calmly, effortlessly launching into an explanation.

Apparently, this little shift of attention sparked Alfred’s curiosity. He glanced up from his phone, eyes narrowing slightly as he tuned into the sound of his friend’s voice.

Meanwhile, Gilbert didn’t give a damn about anything going on. The stink of his cigarette drifted lazily through the room.

Seriously, when did he even light that thing?

At first, he just watched the way Ivan’s long fingers glided across the glossy page. Yao nodded along actively, clearly doing his best to keep up.

Then, Alfred’s gaze slid sideways - toward his friend’s profile.

The way his Adam’s apple shifted every time he spoke. The slight rasp in his voice, lower than usual, that made something twist gently in Alfred’s stomach.

Ivan’s neck vertebrae stood out beautifully as he tilted his head back slightly to stretch his stiff muscles. His bangs fell over his forehead, and a thin curl kept falling into his eyes, which he would brush away each time. Alfred was totally hooked.

He was seriously hooked, studying the entire figure of the person sitting across from him. His friend.

How Braginsky had tucked one leg close to his chest, practically making himself smaller. It was charming. How patiently he explained the topic when Yao couldn’t grasp it right away. With focused concentration, his hands drew tables while simultaneously clarifying each definition he wrote down.

It was... beautiful.

Alfred had always found intelligence sexy-hot, even. Now everything made sense.

There had been plenty of times Ivan had helped him with schoolwork too, of course. And even then, Alfred had noticed something about it, how it drew him in, but he’d never really thought too hard about why.

Late autumn. The most miserable subject: algebra.

Alfred hated solving equations. Couldn’t stand the numbers, the logic, the tiny symbols that made zero sense.

But somehow, he’d managed to convince the Russian kid to sit with him for the last period of the day. Not that he planned to pay attention - hell no. He’d already tuned out the droning voice of the teacher and was fully committed to ignoring whatever new math hell they were supposed to be learning.

Music videos and games on his phone were way more interesting than some stupid chalkboard.

Next to him, Ivan was diligently working through another sample problem, the soft rustle of his notebook filling the quiet. Suddenly, Alfred got a shove in the side.

«Start writing already. She, - Ivan nodded toward the teacher, - is about to check the notebooks. You want a failing grade or what?»

Alfred clicked his tongue without looking away from the bright, intense video game he was playing, sticking out his tongue as usual. The lesson itself didn’t interest him in the slightest.

«Math? Screw that», - he muttered, cursing under his breath as “game over” flashed on the screen.

Frustrated, the blond slammed his phone down on the desk and ran a hand through his hair, fidgeting in place to the disapproving huff of his friend. He was gonna get himself in trouble.

«You’ve already got one failing grade. Want another? End of the term it’ll be a C, what will you tell your parents?» - Ivan grumbled, trying to reason with him.

Just as Alfred was about to brush off the warning, he suddenly looked up surprised when the teacher called his name:

«Alfred, you’ll solve the next problem»

Only then did he realize they were done with the lesson and moving on to practice. Their classmate was up front at the board, clearly clueless on how to solve the assigned problem. Poor guy.

With an exasperated sigh, Jones turned to the busy Russian kid and slid his notebook closer:

«Damn it, can you help me out? Please explain how to solve this», - he whined, folding his hands as if begging.

Now things were really tense. Alfred didn’t want, seriously, to embarrass himself in front of the whole class by messing up at the board. Not at all.

Ivan gave him a tired look, silently reproaching his carelessness, and quickly started writing the problem in the margins of Alfred’s notebook.

Alfred listened carefully to his friend’s patient explanation, soaking in every word.

«Here, you need to find the percentage of the total. Just divide these two values», - Ivan explained calmly, trying to make it as clear as possible for his bright head.

Jones nodded actively, feeling more confident that he could get a good grade.

After making final notes and clarifications, Ivan penciled it all down and looked up at his engaged friend:

«Clear? I can explain it again if you didn’t get something», - he said quietly, licking his lips.

«Got it, got it!» - Alfred said cheerfully, but then it was already his turn to go to the board. Nervously, he stood up and walked with the textbook to the middle of the classroom.

From Ivan’s point of view, it was kind of sweet to hope that Jones wouldn’t forget the solution in a couple of days. Or maybe he thought differently? Either way, the blond was seen off with a nervous look full of unwavering support.

Great. Feeling better, Alfred made his way back to the last row when he heard a positive evaluation. His brain worked faster under stress.

He quietly pushed his chair back with a creak, plopping down while Ivan murmured:

«Well done»

«Damn, dude, thanks. Seriously, you saved me, bro», - Jones chuckled, pulling his friend close by the shoulders.

He noticed how the Russian boy seemed to grow shy, hiding his face behind his hair and lowering his head. The top of his head was resting right beneath Alfred’s chin.

«It’s no big deal, you know that, Alf...», - was what Jones managed to catch through the rising noise in the classroom.

Alfred without even realizing it, bit down on his lip as he kept watching his friend, his chin tilting up slightly.

A chuckle from the right made him flinch barely noticeably, and he looked over questioningly. His brows furrowed when he saw a lazy smile on Gilbert’s face - he was watching him with a mocking expression.

Oh, for God’s sake, don’t give me that look.

The phone was still in Prussia’s hands, screen lit, but clearly he’d been watching Alfred watch their mutual friend for a while now. Little rat.

Alfred shot him a glare, then quickly turned back to Ivan, tuning into the ongoing conversation. He still couldn't help but keep sneaking glances.

«Thanks, Ivan. I seriously have no idea how I'm supposed to pass that stupid exam», - Yao whined, scratching at the top of his head. The guy was naturally anxious - nervous to the bone. He constantly needed someone to calm him down or distract him from spiraling.

Braginsky let out a soft sigh and gave his shoulder a casual pat:

«Don't stress. You'll pass, Yao. There's still time»

At some point, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that someone had apparently been watching him this whole time. Or how else was he supposed to interpret that look on the blond’s face?

The blonde was resting his cheek in his palm, gaze absentmindedly sweeping over his figure with a contemplative expression. That look alone sent chills down Ivan’s spine and made his heart pound harder in his chest.

In moments like this, Ivan had no idea what to do. Every time he realized someone was watching him, didn't matter who, his body would betray him. Hands would get clumsy, movements stiff, fingers twitchy. Like suddenly even the simplest things refused to cooperate.

So, blushing from being watched so closely, the poor guy tried to act natural, like nothing was happening, not paying attention. Because he didn’t have the guts to call his friend out on it.

At one point, without looking up from his phone, Prussia muttered with a sly, teasing tone when Ivan finished his impromptu lesson:

«Alfred, you know, Vanya really explains things well, - he glanced meaningfully at the friends who turned to look at him, - you could learn a lot from him»

Right after that, he got kicked in the knee. Ivan snorted embarrassedly, and China watched with a frowning surprised look. Who even asked him to open his mouth?

«Thought you were busy smoking? Then get back to it.», - Alfred snapped, blushing a bit, squeezing Prussia’s side so hard that he groaned in pain.

Ivan could only guess why this joke hit Alfred so hard and why he reacted that way. Nearby, Yao was muttering some complaints about the noisy friends.

«Ah, Jones, go screw yourself!» - Gilbert started whining, trying to fend off his friend. They were tickling him, and he curled up, gasping from laughter and almost crying.

«So what should I say then, huh?» - Alfred kept poking the struggling white-haired guy in the side without mercy. The guy seemed exhausted from resisting and started screaming.

It was painfully loud, and Ivan clenched his jaw, turning with clear irritation to the pair:

«For God’s sake, shut both of you up», - he growled at Yao, but his voice got drowned out by Prussia’s next shout.

«Alright, alright! - his shirt rode up a little, revealing a small patch of his lower stomach. - I won’t do it anymore, I won’t, I’m sorry, alright ouch! Ah, come on, cut it out!»

A sun-tanned hand brushed against his hip bone, forcing poor Gilbert to let out a jumble of squeaks and gasps. But Alfred didn’t seem to notice. Weren’t those the words that should’ve stopped him? So why didn’t he? Why did he keep pinning him to the couch and tickling him?

A sudden, irrationally stupid thought slammed into his head the moment Ivan, for whatever reason, focused on Alfred’s strength. It was like something clicked, he finally understood why girls might drool over athletic guys, why so many of them played weak or helpless around them. Not all of them, sure. But still - a lot.

The way the blond pressed down on Prussia’s knees to get better access to his torso and grabbed his wrists sent shivers all over the body. The sharply defined veins and muscles on his arms caught the eye.

Even though Prussia was a guy, and not exactly weak, he was still being held down. What a crazy sight, it was just... intoxicating somehow. So this is how girls and women must feel in moments like this, now it’s so clear.

He could swear his insides flipped over in his stomach watching the scene.

«I swear, if you two don’t stop, I’m gonna kill you», - China growled, finally pulling his friends’ attention.

Ivan snapped out of his wild thoughts and swallowed the lump in his throat. Damn, why the hell was he even thinking about this? Do normal guys think stuff like that?

«Alright-alright», - Jones finally stopped, reluctantly straightening up and throwing a warning glance at the sprawled Prussia.

Prussia tried to catch his breath, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. His chest rose and fell quickly, and he sprawled across the couch, reaching for his phone lying nearby.

«Clown», - Gilbert muttered quietly, trying to catch his breath, earning a cold, steel-eyed glare in response. It was more of a joke than serious.

Alfred flopped back onto his spot on the couch, grabbing his phone again. His hair was a complete mess, but it was no surprise he looked good in any situation. Absolutely any.

Now that scene with Poland and Lithuania didn’t seem so… disgusting to Ivan anymore.

Looks like he really needed to stop overthinking, like Alfred said a few hours ago. Definitely. Please save him from his own conclusions. Even studying couldn’t distract him from these thoughts.

Soon, the friends began wrapping up their notes, scrolling through social media, and chatting casually.

The question came up again: who was going to sleep where? Everything would be fine if not for Yao’s complaint:

«I’m not sleeping in the same room with him, - he said, pointing a hand at Gilbert, who looked offended by the remark. - Only a deaf person could stand that snoring»

«You asking for trouble?» - Prussia snapped, turning to Yao, who flat-out refused to spend the night with them.

It was clear what had to happen - they’d have to switch rooms. Which meant no sleeping with Alfred for Ivan. Did it upset him? Something fluttered inside, a hint of disappointment. Hard to say for sure.

And what about Jones? His thoughts were unclear - he showed no reaction. Only a sly smile as he watched the friends’ back-and-forth, occasionally glancing at Ivan. Probably didn’t care, unlike Braginsky.

«Shh, okay, then I’ll sleep with Vanya, - Prussia finally waved it off, pulling the Ivan closer by the wrist, - you’re with Jones in the attic»

Ivan wasn’t sure what he had just seen, but it seemed for a moment that Alfred’s gaze changed after hearing that. It felt like it grew colder, and when Prussia hugged his friend, the jealousy in Alfred’s eyes became even more obvious. But again, it was hard to say for sure, maybe he was just imagining it.

«I’m fine with that», - Alfred answered quietly, a rare restraint, as he looked at Gilbert’s hand, as if searching for something.

«Great! But know this, - Prussia said, turning to Yao and releasing Braginsky from his grip, - it’s a bit chilly up there. Catch a cold, don’t complain later»

And with Yao’s sharp remark hanging in the air, everyone went off to their assigned spots. Was there some unspoken tension left lingering? Probably.

Chapter Text

The couch felt far too stiff and uncomfortable to actually sleep on. And on top of that, it was narrow. How did Yao even manage to sleep here? Was he just too polite to say no?

Gilbert made the executive decision to have Ivan sleep in his room - right on the floor. Well, not like Ivan wasn’t used to that.

After digging out what he hoped was a clean set of sheets, the apartment’s host tossed them toward the Russian. But the chilly spring night made him second-guess that decision.

Ivan would definitely freeze on the floor.

Was it weird to share a bed with your long-time friend? Alfred would’ve screamed “absolutely not” without a second thought.

«Hey, Vanya»

The Russian heard a hesitant voice behind him as he was spreading a sheet across the wooden floor.

«Yeah?»

«Let’s go to bed? Together», - Prussia mumbled, clearly embarrassed and avoiding eye contact.

It was obvious how flustered he was by his own suggestion. That, oddly enough, amused Ivan a little. It was rare, almost jarring, to see Gilbert in such a… human state. Vulnerable, even.

Up until that moment, Ivan hadn’t realized how normal it was for him and Alfred to share a bed. It never crossed their minds that it could be considered… weird?

«Alright, fine, I can just sleep on the floor», - Ivan said with a quiet chuckle, returning to smoothing out the sheet.

He felt a sharp awkwardness hanging between them. But really, there was nothing strange about this, was there?

A tired sigh sounded behind him, and Gilbert stepped closer, grabbing the edge of the sheet, almost as if to stop him:

«Come on. I’m not asking a third time, - he said more firmly, nodding toward the curtained window. - It’s freezing down there, you’ll catch a cold»

Just as Ivan was about to joke it off, Prussia added, clearly trying to hide his own awkwardness:

«I won’t hit on you, I promise»

Under his quiet chuckle, Braginsky smiled shyly, hiding his face. Jokes like that only made things more awkward, no doubt about it. Well, that’s just Gilbert’s style, really.

Blushing slightly, Ivan finally gave a small nod and picked up an extra blanket and pillow.

«Alright. Deal»

Under the faint draft slipping through the crack in the door, the two of them settled onto the narrow bed, trying to lie as far apart as possible, at least as far as the bed would allow.

Gilbert laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, hands folded over his stomach. His breathing was loud in the otherwise quiet room. Ivan turned onto his side, back to him, pulling his blanket up to his chin. The lingering chill made it hard to fully relax, let alone fall asleep.

The distance between them was actually not as big as they thought. If Gilbert tried to roll onto his left side, he’d definitely end up poking Ivan with his knees. So both of them felt a bit awkward.

«You asleep?» - Gilbert’s quiet voice lingered in the air as he let out a slow exhale and pressed his legs together.

«Nope»

«Cold, huh?» - he asked, as if trying to keep the conversation going, to distract from the awkward tension buzzing between them.

Deciding to mirror his friend’s position, Braginsky rolled onto his back, catching a quick glance from him out of the corner of his eye. If he were spending the night with Alfred right now, no doubt about it, he’d be burning up. The funny thing was, he wouldn’t even have to ask for it; Jones simply wouldn’t give him a choice and would just snuggle up close.

«Yeah. It sucks», - the Russian finally muttered after a short pause, offering a brief glance at the other guy, only to return it to the wall across from him almost instantly.

For a while, both of them stayed silent, as if lost in thought. Then, after casting another tentative glance at Ivan, Prussia seemed to hesitate, like he was mulling over a question that felt unusually important to him.

«Hey, uh..., - he finally started, shifting under the blanket, - has Jones, um... always been like that?»

Ivan, not quite sure what he meant, turned to face him. Their eyes met - awkwardly.

«How exactly?»

«You know... kinda clingy. The first day we met, he already hugged me, - Gilbert chuckled, letting his arms drop to his sides with a soft thud against the sheet. - At eighteen»

That comment made a faint smile pull at Ivan’s lips. The sheer confusion behind Gilbert’s question was... oddly endearing. But it also made him think. He and Alfred had known each other for so long. And even though those constant touches still made him feel uncertain sometimes, he had... gotten used to them. Sort of.

He didn’t really think about these things every single time. It was more like it became ordinary, a habit. Just look at their recent nights together...

«Yeah, Alfred’s pretty open. I’d even say a bit too much, - Ivan let out a soft chuckle, catching the crimson-eyed gaze lying beside him. - Does it bother you?»

He noticed Gilbert actually paused to think about it, his eyes drifting back up to the ceiling. It was hard to imagine him kissing any guy, honestly - he just didn’t seem the type. If anything, he always acted like he found that kind of thing gross.

Funny, though. He still stayed close with Jones. Even let him kiss him on the cheek sometimes. Then again, why was he even thinking about stuff like that? It’s not like every guy who’s a little touchy is automatically gay.

«Mm… maybe just a little…, - Gilbert muttered, scratching at his forehead, then glanced over again. - I guess it’s normal for some friends, right?»

He was also thinking about this?

The realization brought a weird sense of comfort to Ivan, like maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling confused about it all.

And Gilbert being so chill and… honest? That surprised him. Especially since lately, he’d been hanging out more with Alfred and Yao. With Ivan, it was usually just quick banter when they were in a group. Even though they’d known each other since they were eighteen - same as him and Alfred.

Braginsky shifted his legs under the blanket, chewing lightly on his bottom lip as he thought.

«If I knew, Gil..., - he murmured with a dry little chuckle, still facing the ceiling. - As far as I’m aware, he’s into girls»

The glow of passing headlights danced along the pale walls, briefly illuminating the crowns of their heads. Outside, the rustle of leaves filled the silence between words.

They both let out a quiet snort at that, and then, out of nowhere, Prussia extended an open palm toward him.

«Thanks for the clarification, really, - he said with a teasing lilt. - So we’re just targets of a very passionate boy who doesn’t exactly act like someone who’s into girls»

Strangely honest. And kind of comforting.

Ivan hesitated, then placed his own hand in Gilbert’s, looking into his eyes. The warmth in Prussia’s touch was soft and grounding - different from the burning, restless heat he’d gotten used to from Alfred. Somehow, that contrast made him smile a little.

«I think you two have a much stronger bond anyway, - Gilbert added, almost offhandedly. - So I’ve got no complaints»

And in the dim light of the room, Ivan saw such a warm smile on Gilbert’s face - so genuine, it softened his sharp features into something almost gentle.

Squeezing his hand lightly in return, Ivan offered a faint, grateful smile:

«I’m glad we understand each other»

After a brief pause, they wished each other good night, adjusting the blankets around them and slowly drifting off. It felt like the kind of sleep that comes only after saying things aloud that have been sitting on your chest too long - deep, dreamless, and quiet.

The loud blare of the alarm pierced through his ears, making Ivan wince with a sharp urge to sleep just a little longer. Early mornings always greeted him with springtime chill and dew, creeping under his skin.

And yet, half-asleep, he was pleasantly surprised to realize he’d finally warmed up. His body temperature was just right for the weather - neither too hot nor too cold.

As the blaring sound by his ear dragged him back to reality, he started to feel a growing pressure on his stomach. Ivan couldn’t quite register what it was, not until he heard and felt someone stirring right next to him.

Only now did he feel someone else’s breath brushing against his nose, and with effort, he cracked his eyes open, only to come face-to-face with a pair of crimson-red ones. Startled, both boys jerked back slightly, and Gilbert looked just as thrown off as Ivan felt.

«Shit, sorry», - Prussia mumbled groggily, awkwardly pulling his hand away from where it had been draped across Ivan’s waist. He immediately shifted toward the opposite edge of the bed, trying to put some distance between them.

God, had they really slept like that for half the night? That would explain why, in his sleep, Ivan kept feeling like someone’s leg was pressing into his thigh.

With clumsy hesitation, Ivan finally shut off the alarm, falling back onto the pillow to catch his breath. Awkward.

«It’s okay», - he said quietly, shifting his gaze toward a visibly flushed Gilbert, who was aggressively rubbing the sleep from his face. His messy hair stuck out in every direction, honestly a disaster.

Ivan suddenly chuckled, the shy tension between them hitting him all at once. The whole situation was kind of funny.

«Hey, yeah, so we ended up cuddling... it happens», - Prussia muttered hoarsely, trying to justify it as he flopped back onto the bed, following Ivan’s lead. God, neither of them wanted to get up.

«Chill, it's fine», - Ivan replied, still chuckling to himself, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Technically, they should get up now if they wanted time for a shower and breakfast. But the pull of just thirty more minutes in bed was way too real. Classic morning dilemma.

Their lazy silence was broken by the sound of footsteps outside the room, followed by a knock.

«Who is it?» - Gilbert called out, voice still scratchy.

With a soft creak, the door opened to reveal a yawning, sluggish Alfred, still groggy from sleep. He rubbed his eyes, frowning slightly as he looked over the two friends who, for some reason, had spent the night together.

«Morning. And why, exactly, are you two sleeping together?» - Alfred asked, stepping closer to the bed, specifically to Ivan’s side.

Under the weight of his stare, Ivan almost flinched, clutching the blanket tighter around himself. The shame crept in slowly, uninvited, rising from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his ears, which flushed red on instinct.

It genuinely felt like he’d just been caught cheating on a spouse. Which was insane. Right? Right - unless you were dating your best friend. Which they weren’t.

«Floor was cold. I told him we could share», - Gilbert muttered sleepily, clearly planning to snooze for another five minutes if the universe allowed.

The blond’s eyes flicked from the half-conscious Gilbert to Ivan, like he was silently demanding an answer. Ivan, for his part, summoned every ounce of willpower not to avert his gaze. What was he even supposed to say? The situation explained itself. Why was Alfred still staring like that?

«Yeah»

All that Braginsky could get out of himself, not knowing what to add to the explanation of the friend lying next to him. To lighten the absurdly tense situation, he tilted his head to the side, scattering his ash-blond hair with a light brown sheen across the pillow, and a faint smile played on his face.

Apparently, that worked. A second later, the sharp look in Alfred’s eyes softened, still cool, but layered with something unmistakably warm. He didn’t respond right away, lingering on Ivan’s face for another few seconds as if... checking something?

Suddenly, the mattress beside Ivan dipped under Alfred’s knee, and the next moment he collapsed on top of him, pulling the guy into his arms.

Of course. How could he not have seen this coming?

From somewhere nearby came Gilbert’s muffled grumble, half-smothered by the bedding:

«Here we go again», - Gilbert muttered, burying his face in the pillow and rolling over to turn his back on them. Clearly, he didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire of whatever this was. Poor guy was probably offering Ivan his silent condolences.

«Jones, you’re heavy», - Ivan groaned as Alfred straddled him, arms locked tight around his middle.

In his usual manner, Alfred settled himself right on top of Ivan, practically nuzzling his nose into the space just beneath his jaw. The Russian could swear he heard him inhale against his neck.

The weight pinning him to the bed brought back yesterday’s thoughts - specifically, the way Gilbert had been pinned and tickled. God, he hated that he was thinking about it like this.

«Deal with it», - the blond murmured with a quiet sigh, the tip of his nose brushing against Ivan’s skin and sending a wave of goosebumps in its wake.

As if determined not to leave anyone out, Alfred stretched out an arm and blindly reached for Gilbert, hooking a lazy hand around his waist in a sloppy half-hug.

Apparently, his love had no boundaries.

«Move your hand», - Gilbert hissed through clenched teeth, twitching as if trying to shield himself from the touch. He still didn’t turn around, grumbling into the blanket pulled up to his lips.

Jones’s weight felt suffocating, and Ivan’s breathing quickened, releasing sounds close to a quiet laugh. Seriously, he was about to be crushed. Were they doing this on purpose?

On top of that, a rapidly growing awkwardness and embarrassment overwhelmed Ivan completely. It felt like what Alfred was doing now was downright indecent. And their friend was right there beside them.

At Prussia’s fairly clear request, the blond complied, moving his hand somewhere to Ivan’s side.

Unable to bear the pressure any longer and beginning to blush, Braginsky persistently pushed Alfred’s shoulders to push him away:

«Enough, - he muttered with effort when Alfred showed no sign of getting up, - seriously, Alf. Get off, damn it»

Only after that, with a scowl and a displeased expression, Alfred straightened up, now sitting on Ivan’s hips. This was...

«Jo-ons», - the Russian boy groaned miserably, seeing the movie title on the old laptop screen.

«Pacific Rim»

Seriously? All American teens are apparently wired to love giant robots, action, patriotism, special effects, and cheesy catchphrases? What nonsense.

«What?» - Alfred asked sincerely, plopping down on the soft bed next to his friend.

Outside, the evening rain loudly tapped against the apartment windows, sometimes drowning out the sounds coming from the laptop. But what an atmosphere it created.

Teenage romance, humor, and cheesy chips lying on Braginsky’s stomach. Their favorite flavor, by the way. Alfred was clutching a bottle of sweet soda, occasionally taking sips and sharing it with the boy sitting next to him.

«What is this nonsense? Do you really want to watch this?» - Ivan looked at the blond with a sour expression, shifting his gaze back to the movie.

Alfred, with his usual lively manner, started munching on the chips, occasionally pressing his hand against the Russian boy’s stomach. It was accidental, completely unintentional, but that only made the situation worse. Because Ivan couldn’t ask him to stop.

How would that even look? Too dumb.

«Oh man, this movie is so freaking awesome, you’ll get it in a second! - Alfred started hyping it up, taking a big swig of cola and wincing at the fizz. - Look at those sick shots!»

He pointed excitedly at the glowing effects on the screen, watching the unfolding scenes with genuine awe in his eyes.

Ivan, deciding to keep quiet, sighed deeply and gave in to the viewing. The sound of rain outside occasionally distracted him, but it wasn’t unbearable.

Events were rolling by one after another, and Braginsky found himself stealing glances at the utterly absorbed Jones, noting the vivid excitement in his gaze. Such raw, unfiltered interest.

Funny. Ivan reached out and ran his hand over Alfred’s crown, fingers sinking into his hair, just in time to feel the boy flinch.

He must’ve been so absorbed in the movie that the touch caught him completely off guard. His hand had been buried in the chip bag, mid-reach for a few more pieces.

With a look of adorable confusion, Alfred turned to face him, locking eyes for a brief moment - then smiled sweetly and popped a couple of oversized chips into his mouth, practically melting under the strokes to the back of his head. He loved when Ivan did that.

«You like the movie?» - Alfred asked suddenly, purring under the touch. His hand dipped back into the rustling bag, carelessly pressing against Ivan’s stomach again.

Braginsky swallowed, the oddly pleasant weight on his body mixing with the warmth of the blanket - an unexpectedly luxurious feeling.

«Does it not show?» - he threw out with a mocking arch of his brow. Yeah, sure. Ivan was clearly thrilled by such a “groundbreaking” movie.

In response, he heard a dramatic tut, and then noticed the blond had nearly devoured the entire bag of snacks. Ivan scowled.

«Hey, hello? What about me? - he snatched the bag and held it over his head, just out of reach. - I barely got any!»

This, unsurprisingly, sparked Alfred’s outrage:

«Hey! Who stopped you? They’re so good!» - he shot back, frowning and immediately reaching for the chips to take them back.

«I was trying to savor them», - Ivan retorted, making no effort to give them up. He twisted away from the quick blond hands that caught him by the wrists.

Alfred’s other, tanned hand was pressed down by Ivan’s head, holding up most of his weight. The boy could feel the mattress dip from that pressure, his attention briefly flickering to the sensation. Why was he even noticing this?

The blanket had bunched up, and the movie still played on. They’d probably made it past the halfway point by now, but all the action and noise didn’t matter anymore. Neither of them was really paying attention.

«Give it baaack», - the fourteen-year-old whined, straddling the Russian boy in a burst of excitement, clutching tightly to his wrists.

Oops.

The crumpled bag was long forgotten as they both tried to catch their breath, looking at each other in a thoroughly disheveled state.

Their hair was a mess, clothes bunched up awkwardly, with some skin even showing in spots.

Even in the dim light of the room, Ivan could see the shine in Alfred’s eyes. His pupils were wide, practically swallowing the blue of his irises, making him look... wilder. And somehow kind of... magnetic?

«Perfect», - Alfred chuckled, snatching the bag from Ivan and straightening up. He didn’t seem in any rush to get off him, just sitting comfortably on his hips. Cozy?

Seeing someone like this, especially Jones, from this angle was… something else. Hard to put into words. Feeling someone sit on you? Weirdly nice. Really nice. Or was that just an Alfred thing?

Ivan’s cheeks turned bright pink and he tried to snatch the chips back, but Alfred grabbed his wrist again.

«You didn’t leave me any, Jones!» - Ivan huffed, voice slightly shaky, falling back against the pillows.

God, was this really how he needed to reclaim a bag of chips?

After a beat of silence, with Alfred still crunching happily and still sitting on Ivan, the Russian boy mumbled shyly:

«You planning to sit there forever?»

Too embarrassed to meet his eyes, Ivan turned his head toward the laptop, where the movie was still playing. After that, who cared about the damn movie?

Alfred, feigning irritation, flopped down against Ivan’s chest and rolled onto his side. Back to their normal positions. But Ivan could still feel the phantom weight on his hips.

«I’ll buy you your own big bag tomorrow», - the blond muttered suddenly, pecking Ivan’s cheek with a sheepish smile.

Little shit.

«Get off», - Ivan hissed, shooting a glance at Gilbert, who had already curled up and dozed off. Lucky bastard.

The image of Jones sitting on top of him just wouldn’t leave his mind, especially after he practically slid right over his crotch, while climbing off.

«You guys are so boring», - Alfred muttered, pushing off Ivan’s knees to get down to the floor. Did he just do that on purpose?

Ivan watched him walk away with wide eyes, instinctively pressing his knees together. Seriously, could that even happen by accident? How the hell?

Was someone trying to test his patience?

Chapter Text

And again, the usual routine. The cold university walls, behind the panoramic windows stretched beautiful views of blooming lilacs and singing birds. It made you want to just run out of the lecture hall and dash down the path for some ice cream.

As usual, the group of friends trudged to the cafeteria during the break, since absolutely everyone was hungry.

Passing by the tables, Ivan caught a glimpse of Poland and Lithuania, along with their other teammates.

Then, under the stairwell, he didn’t even notice Lithuania’s nose covered with a plaster. From that moderate distance, he could see the swollen, slightly bluish skin - there was some swelling. Not critical, but still.

Of course, if he had noticed that detail back then...

Through the thin sweater, warmth was felt, and then, as always, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Turning around, Ivan met Alfred’s knowing smile, full of barely concealed glee and mischief, who was also watching the sweet couple. Honestly, he enjoyed the little show.

They probably didn’t notice them. At least those two didn’t. As for the others, it was uncertain. For several reasons, they might not be acting out a scene right now. And that was for the best.

The group of friends settled in the far corner by the window. It was cozy and comfortable there. The whole space opened up to the spacious room.

As usual, they sat in pairs. Braginsky with Jones. Could it have been otherwise? Most likely not. Because the blond wouldn’t allow it.

The tanned hand, nothing new here, rested on the back of Ivan’s chair. His leg kept nudging Ivan’s thigh every now and then, sending electric jolts through his skin.

Their conversation flowed easy and playful. There were jokes, teasing remarks, and, of course, complaints. How could it be any other way?

It seemed there wasn’t a single day when Gilbert didn’t complain about life, and Yao about studying.

Yet, amidst all the words and phrases, Braginsky lazily chewed on a veggie sandwich until he suddenly felt a hand on his thigh. That was... unexpected.

The fingertips casually but playfully stroked the skin through the fabric of Ivan’s loose jeans. The tickling made him squirm, his brow furrowing in confusion. What the hell was this American doing?

Meanwhile, Alfred’s face showed no hint of awkwardness or shame that anyone might notice. Yeah, of course - that’s exactly what happened.

Things like that always stand out, even when they happen under the table.

«Yeah, Vanya hardly lets anyone close, almost never. He really loves his personal space», - Yao said, seemingly oblivious to the strange gesture Jones made under the table.

His tone was calm. It looked like China was seriously thinking about the topic, as if solving some important problem.

When did this conversation even start? And why was it even relevant here?

Ivan heard a chuckle nearby. Alfred, damn him.

Taking a loud gulp of some fruit juice from his glass, Prussia chewed his food, throwing a sly look at Jones, who was listening to their talk.

«Right. Alf also loves Ivan’s personal space», - his red gaze fell on the blond’s hand, which was hidden under the table.

It was obvious, really. Alfred’s hand was still resting on Braginsky’s thigh, now giving it a small squeeze after what had just been said.

Clearly, Ivan was too naive. Because it was obvious from the start that Alfred wasn’t going to pull his hand back. Not even going to pretend to.

In a desperate attempt to shake it off, Braginsky tensed his leg and gave it a jerk. But Alfred’s fingers only dug into his knee in response, and the blonde pulled the most innocent face he could muster.

Was he insane? What the hell was he doing and right in front of their friends? Not to mention the other students sitting nearby.

«Well, Vanya’s just really shy. I’m only trying to help him loosen up», - Alfred joked, suddenly sliding his hand toward the inside of Ivan’s thigh.

His fingertips lightly traced the seam of his jeans, dangerously close to where they absolutely shouldn’t be.

Idiot. God, what a fucking idiot.

Instinctively, Braginsky snapped his legs together, then quickly crossed his right leg over his left - trapping Alfred’s hand right there. Between his thighs.

And that made him an idiot, too. He’d only made it worse. What the hell was happening?

He should’ve stopped it right there. Told Jones off, shoved him away. But… he didn’t.

For a brief moment, he locked eyes with those cold blue ones where a flicker of mischief and playfulness danced just beneath the surface. Alfred liked doing this. To his best friend. A guy.

This wasn’t just some friendly touch. It was far past that line.

Their friends just laughed at Alfred’s words. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice what had happened or at least, no one showed it. Yao quietly kept chewing his veggies, and Gilbert was throwing jokes around with Alfred like nothing was off.

«Yeah...», - Ivan muttered, swallowing hard. Just so no one would ask any more questions.

When that warm hand squeezed his thigh again, he finally snapped - slapping it. And miracle of miracles, it actually worked. Alfred flinched in surprise, straightening up in his seat and placing both hands on the table.

He’s never sitting next to him again.

The blond even let out a sheepish chuckle, tossing out some jokey line to their two friends, both too deep in their own thoughts, and apparently too hungry, to notice the very audible slap.

Ivan didn’t want to look at the now-reddened back of Alfred’s hand. Nope. That was way too physical.

Only now did he realize he'd completely forgotten about his food. The ghost of that touch still burned on his skin. That... that had been way too blatant. Friends didn’t do that. Definitely not.

Honestly, he didn’t even know what to think anymore.

Picking up his half-eaten sandwich, he took a bite, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Alfred, who was now loudly chatting away with Prussia.

Soon, the group finished their meal and headed for the exit.

However, Gilbert suddenly remembered he needed something and asked Yao to come with him to talk to some student. What for - unclear.

After what had just happened, being left alone with Alfred felt… uncomfortable. Way too much.

With a nod to their friends, the two of them stepped aside, settling somewhere near the wall of the crowded room, leaning against it.

Jones didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by what he’d done. Still the same carefree, upbeat look on his face.

The only thing that might’ve betrayed any trace of shame was a faint pink flush dusting his cheeks.

«Think Poland shows off in public how bad he wants Lithuania?» - he muttered with a teasing lilt, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The way he acted was a little different than usual - he wouldn’t meet Ivan’s eyes, like he was… shy?

Not expecting the topic to turn back to their sworn enemies, Braginsky glanced at his friend in confusion, searching for answers to all the unspoken questions. He probably thought Alfred might explain himself or something like that…

Ever since they’d caught that sweet couple in the middle of such filth, it had been awkward for him to even look at them.

«Jones, what was that?» - Ivan finally dared to ask, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the other boy. No, it didn’t help.

Right after the question left his lips, Alfred hesitated. It felt like he was desperately trying to act like nothing had happened. But the micro-reactions in his face still betrayed his nerves and maybe even a hint of embarrassment.

«What exactly?» - With his head lowered, Jones scuffed the marble floor with his shoe. His question quickly drowned in the clatter of dishes, loud conversations, and the sharp clicks of heels against tile.

Ah, so the blond really was feeling guilty about his little stunt, if he was putting on the fool act now.

With a sigh and a fresh reserve of patience, Ivan, still refusing to look directly at him, clarified:

«Why did you..., - he cracked his knuckles, hardly believing he was saying it out loud - ...why did you have to touch me like that?»

It was easier to think about these things in his head. Way easier than actually saying them. Especially to another person.

Alfred let out an awkward little laugh, scratching the back of his head. Clearing his throat, he finally dared to glance at Braginsky. His eyes flicked between Ivan’s left and right pupils, like the nerves were getting worse with every word and he was desperately trying to keep it together.

«Dude, I was just trying to check something. Compare, you know, - Alfred said, unusually flustered, even more than China usually got. - Like, between guys and girls. You get it, right?»

At that, Ivan shot him a look, brow arched in disbelief.

How was he supposed to get that?

«I don’t get it», - he mumbled, looking away, only to catch sight of Poland whispering something to Lithuania. What a pair, honestly.

With a deep sigh, like he was resigning himself to something, Alfred pushed his bangs back, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

«Well, y’know... I wanted to see how you’d react to it. Whether it’s different from how girls react», - he gave another awkward little laugh, glancing in the same direction the Russian just had.

Every day Alfred’s behavior made less and less sense.

«You’re comparing me to girls?» - Braginsky stared at him, confused, biting his lip.

Didn’t that sound dumb? It sure felt like it.

«No, um... I was just curious», - the blond looked back at him, gaze full of feelings he wasn’t saying out loud.

Ivan noticed the uneven breathing, the darting eyes, and how Alfred kept touching his hair like he was trying to get it under control. All of it unnecessary, just clear signs of how insanely nervous he was.

«We’re still best friends, right?» - Alfred suddenly asked, like a kicked puppy. It felt like he was holding his breath and the words carried this aching kind of hope.

What kind of questions were those? Honestly, they’d never talked about this stuff so often before, because they never had to. What changed?

«Yeah...», - Ivan mumbled, feeling the heat crawl up his neck and spill over his cheeks. It was getting warm.

Alfred visibly relaxed at that. His shoulders dropped a little, and he wiped his palms on his light blue jeans, which, judging by the look of them, had gotten a little sweaty.

«I'm glad, man», - he said with a soft smile, scratching the bridge of his nose in that shy way of his as he glanced around at the students bustling through the room.

It was as if he was checking for something, then suddenly grabbed his friend by the wrist, tugged him a little closer, and planted a quick kiss on his temple. If he actually went for that, it meant no one had seen.

Well, hopefully not Poland or Lithuania, who were still loudly talking with their group nearby.

The whole thing felt painfully awkward and intimate given the context. Only Jones would pull something like that.

Right then, their friends showed up, probably deep in conversation and not catching the strange tension between the two. There wasn’t much of the school day left, so the group headed back to class without much rush.

The group had long since returned to Ivan’s apartment - a familiar overnight stay that had become part of their near-daily routine. No one minded it.

It had been a packed day, so everyone had drifted off to different rooms, doing their own thing: Yao was at the kitchen table, working on some individual project a professor had assigned him. A real workhorse.

The rich smell of fragrant tea had spread through the apartment. Probably bergamot. Not bad. The soft rustling of China's notebook carried through the rooms like a muffled hum.

Gilbert was sprawled out on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through social media. Every now and then, loud trendy music would burst from his phone, something he was probably listening to. Alfred sat at the other end of the couch, doing exactly the same.

From time to time, the two of them would chat about something or other, giggling and joking. Sometimes they’d nudge each other, headbutt playfully. Everyone was in their element.

Including Ivan, who was sitting on the floor in his room, leaning back against the foot of his bed. He could finally sort through the pile of DVDs and old vinyls that had built up. Most of them probably didn’t even work anymore — it was time to free up some space in the apartment.

The smell of dust, musty and warm, filled his lungs, stirring thoughts of something familiar, something comforting.

Especially the faded, battered cover of an '80s rock band album. Oh, he and Alfred had listened to their songs to death back in their teenage years. The most wonderful time, one that he now remembered fondly.

Back then, it felt like there were no real problems in life, and the world’s troubles couldn’t touch those two boys.

They would often wander through the small woods, where crystal-clear streams stretched out and twigs snapped underfoot. Alfred loved swimming there, always calling out for his friend to join him.

Their favorite spot was an old, towering oak tree. Its green leaves cast a wide shade, under which both boys would lie and chat about everything and nothing. Jones would complain about how much Ivan read, and then pepper him with annoyed kisses.

These fleeting memories pulled a smile onto the Russian’s face. Even if the record likely didn’t work anymore, he decided to keep it, unwilling to sweep away such warm feelings tied to it.

But in the next second, the door handle turned, and Alfred appeared in the doorway, his gaze immediately falling to the scattered items on the floor.

«Ooh, Deep Purple, - the blond said with a fond smile, leaning down to get a better look at what was in his friend’s hands. - It’s been so long since I’ve even thought about them. Didn’t know you still had this album»

Ivan smirked to himself, quietly pleased that Jones seemed to feel just as nostalgic about those times.

«I’d forgotten about it too», - he muttered, stacking the record with the rest of the things he didn’t plan to throw away.

As Braginsky cleared the floor from the mess, Alfred suddenly sat down right in front of him, practically pressing against his legs. It trapped the Russian between the bed and him.

A hushed tension instantly settled in the air, heavy and wordless.

You couldn’t really tell what Jones was planning to do, but it was definitely something out of the ordinary. Ivan could tell, because Alfred was chewing on the inside of his cheek, nervously gripping the hem of his pale hoodie.

It was impossible not to feel the shift. The Russian found himself uneasy, not because of fear, but because the roles felt reversed. For once, he was calm, while Alfred was the one clearly on edge.

Quick glances tossed in Ivan’s direction, lips being licked, sweaty palms wiped on his jeans. The silence stretched, and neither of them made a move to break it.

There was only confusion, why had Jones suddenly sat down next to him, and so close at that, only to stay silent? He had clearly come over with something to say, or maybe to ask for something.

Usually, in their “pair,” it was Ivan who played the uncertain one. But now - it felt like everything had flipped in an instant. It was strange, almost unsettling, to see his friend act this way.

And after what felt like a long while, the silence broken only by the soft crackle of old plastic boxes and the faint rustle of movement on the floor, Ivan couldn’t take the tension anymore. With genuine confusion, he asked:

«Did you want something?»

Jones startled, as if waking from a nap, and turned to him. That faint blush was back on his cheeks, and his gaze held a kind of nervous pleading.

«Nah, I just remembered how psyched I was when you played 'Smoke on the Water' for me on your guitar», - he laughed, scratching the back of his head.

Under that odd look, one glittering with barely hidden curiosity and anticipation, Ivan swallowed and covered a small smile with his hand.

«I remember that too. You were, uh, a bit too enthusiastic about my playing», - he muttered in response, his gaze drifting to the floor.

He felt as if he were being pinned down by a gaze of steel and a body no less heavy. Braginsky desperately tried to convince himself that just because you feel like you're being cornered, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true.

But again, they both fell into silence. Ivan couldn’t understand what was expected of him. Alfred’s hesitation was suffocating. He didn’t know what to do, what was being asked of him, or what Jones wanted.

Then, Alfred swallowed audibly, and Ivan heard it clearly. His friend looked at him again - directly this time. And then that gaze, which couldn’t be hidden, dropped to his lips. Alfred licked his own again, as if he was just about to speak.

Ivan’s body tensed instinctively. Even he hadn’t expected to react like that. His knees pulled in closer to his chest, and the space he'd cleared was left with only a fine layer of dust.

Then, cutting through the electric, anxious silence, Alfred’s voice dropped low, almost too low to catch, but intense enough to burn through the quiet.

«Can I kiss you?»

Every cell in Ivan’s body screamed that something was off. Why these questions? Why now? Why was he supposed to answer them at all? It used to be easier - back when Alfred didn’t ask. When he’d just do it. No warning. No choice.

And maybe, Ivan thought, that made decisions easier. Maybe he was just an irresponsible person.

«When was the last time you asked for my permission?» - Ivan muttered with a flustered, nervous laugh, trying to release some of the tension in his chest.

He hoped, genuinely, that it would make Alfred smile. That it would break the serious expression etched into his face. He even raised a brow at him, silently saying, «Seriously?»

But Alfred didn’t even flinch. He kept studying Ivan’s face - his eyes drifting repeatedly to his lips.

God, what does he want?

«No, um. I…», - Alfred’s breathing hitched. His words stumbled, tripping over themselves. He licked his lower lip again, eyes still locked on Ivan’s mouth.

«I want to put my tongue in your mouth»

Chapter Text

The ground felt like it had slipped from under his feet, as if Ivan had been knocked completely off balance. He stared at the flushed Jones with wide, stunned eyes, watching him lick his already-wet lips again and again.

Seriously? No, that couldn’t have actually just been said out loud.

The blond was watching him expectantly. His chest was rising and falling heavily, his gaze fixed on Ivan like a silent demand.

«W-what?»

Maybe he imagined it? Maybe he was actually asleep in his own bed right now and this was all a dream. Or maybe it was a hallucination, because, come on, kissing your friend with tongue? Your close, best friend?

«I want to put my tongue in your mouth», - Alfred repeated, more evenly this time, staring straight at him. His voice was steadier now, and that look on his face was practically daring Ivan to say yes.

And really, how the hell was he supposed to say no?

And what was he supposed to think? How was he supposed to act, for fuck’s sake? Because apparently, he didn’t mind. It would’ve been so, so much easier if Alfred hadn’t asked, if he’d just done it.

Because Braginsky couldn’t force out an answer, silently flicking his gaze down to the blond’s lips. His heart was pounding like crazy, and no matter how hard he tried, the words just wouldn’t come out. Goddamn it.

Jones waited patiently, fidgeting in place like he couldn’t quite get comfortable. He was nervous too, clearly, but retreating didn’t seem to be on his mind at all.

Was the door even closed?

And Ivan just… nodded, slowly, his fingers clenching around the denim fabric. The record, still in his hands a moment ago, slipped and landed on the floor with a dull thud when Alfred leaned in - suddenly, and a bit too fast.

Something about the way they were positioned made Braginsky feel unbearably self-conscious. Alfred had to brace himself and lean across Ivan’s thighs, because the latter hadn’t moved them apart. No, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The thought of Alfred lying between his legs was just… just too intensely real. Like something actual couples would do.

Hot palms cupped the Russian’s flushed cheeks, and warm breath fanned across his nose. Just like years ago, when Alfred had asked him for a kiss. Back then it had been something unknown, innocent, but now... it had taken on a different turn.

And then - soft lips pressed against his in a hesitant, almost tender kiss. Ivan clenched the denim on his thighs, feeling the full weight settle onto his legs.

A foreign tongue traced along his lower lip, leaving a wet trail behind, and fingers gently tightened around his jaw, as if guiding him. Braginsky made a weak attempt to respond, realizing he'd been frozen this entire time.

The warmth of the body pressing into his was enveloping. The kiss felt like something out of adolescence - tentative, as if testing limits. Just a gentle nibble on his bottom lip, then a soft drag, like it was afraid to scare him off.

Right up until the moment Alfred suddenly pressed into his jaw, as if urging him to open his mouth.

Ivan exhaled sharply, as though realizing what was happening only too late - and, without knowing why, obeyed.

With an unexpectedly wet sound from the kiss, Jones pushed his tongue deeper into the boy’s mouth, making him breathe faster. The tanned hand moved from his jaw to the back of his head, and the tongue tangled more insistently with his.

This was pure madness, no other explanation.

It felt like the first sparks of arousal had begun firing signals to his brain, because something in him flipped from these sensations.

Braginsky squeezed his eyes shut with particular force, clutching his jeans hard enough for his knuckles to go white. The sensations were insane. His mouth tasted vaguely sweet - probably from the soda the blond had drunk earlier. And that slippery tongue was doing unimaginable things.

The silence was broken only by the rustling of their clothes and the clicking of their tongues. Blond strands tickled his temple slightly.

A faint shiver ran through his body when Jones let out a satisfied breath, one hand burying itself in the younger’s hair, the other braced on his knees.

And in the next moment, he slowly pulled away, catching his breath. The faint light from the desk lamp illuminated half of their faces. But in the gleam of those rays, one could see the feverish glint in both of their eyes, and how swollen and glossy their lips were, slick with saliva.

They just stared at each other with dazed expressions, trying to comprehend what had just happened. The heat rushing through their veins made it impossible to think clearly, and the desire to keep going only made it worse.

It was too wet.

«That's cool», - Alfred mumbled after a brief pause, suddenly climbing over Ivan’s knees to straddle him - making it that much easier to get to his mouth.

Wasn’t this supposed to be just one kiss?

Startled, Braginsky jerked back, not fully processing what was happening. Alfred had settled down right on his crotch, pinning him to the bed, and was kissing him again - this time with more insistence.

The move was so sudden and sharp that the back of Ivan's head hit the mattress. With a quiet gasp, he grabbed a handful of his friend’s hair, fingers tightening slightly. Reflexively. He just needed to hold on to something. He needed it.

Hot hands wrapped around his neck, and Alfred’s tongue slid deep into his mouth again, exploring every corner.

A mess. Just an absolute mess. Weren’t they both supposed to be into girls?

At that moment, Ivan wasn’t even thinking about how Alfred hadn’t technically locked the door behind him.

Or about the fact that, technically, they were still friends.

The blond pressed up against him, palm forcing his jaw open wider to take up even more space. He was absolutely unhinged.

Now it made sense why Poland and Lithuania had been kissing like they couldn't get enough. Ivan felt the exact same way right now.

For some reason, the air had suddenly become catastrophically scarce, and he tried to break the kiss, tugging Alfred back slightly by the hair.

Alfred only pulled away to catch his breath. God, this was their second kiss like this.

Braginsky swallowed the saliva that had built up, the other's weight pinning him to the floor. It felt disturbingly good to be in that position. Comforting, in a way. Had he completely lost his mind?

«You okay?» - Alfred asked, voice shaky, bracing his hands on either side of Ivan’s head on the mattress, just trying to cool down a little.

Both of them flushed, out of breath, a mess of spit and chaos. Their hair was mussed, bangs falling into their eyes, and their lips stung from all the biting. There were probably cuts.

To that question, Ivan only gave a dazed nod, staring at the closed door behind him. God forbid one of their friends walked in.

«I like it», - Jones mumbled nervously, licking his lips again. His gaze, burning with need, was locked on Ivan’s face, and Ivan prayed that his body wouldn’t do anything out of line.

His face was already on fire, and that phrase, said with such genuine warmth and desire, awakened something deeply tempting inside.

«You like it? I want more, please», - Alfred blurted out quickly, not even waiting for an answer. His hands were back on Ivan’s cheeks in an instant, and Ivan buried his fingers in the wheat-blond hair, massaging the crown of his head. That earned him a particularly loud gasp that caught them both off guard.

Alfred pressed down on his torso with his full weight, making Ivan’s stomach tense with every shift, his head still firmly pinned to the mattress.

«Feels good? - Alfred murmured into the kiss, practically licking into his mouth. - It feels really good to me»

God, his mind, like his brain, like his body - simply refused to function properly. Especially when Alfred's finger suddenly pressed into the corner of his bottom lip, forcing his mouth wide open.

A short, involuntary, hesitant moan slipped past Ivan’s lips, making him panic and try to pull away.

«Fuck», - he rasped, exhaling, but then their lips crashed together again in another uncontrolled kiss.

It tasted fucking incredible. So good it was dizzying. Both of them knew - knew, they could kiss like this forever. And honestly, what was stopping them?

The line between friendship and something more had been crossed a long time ago.

Alfred shifted on his lap, forcing Ivan to grip his shoulders, while those burning hands of his moved from cupping Ivan’s cheeks to sliding down his neck, then to the back of his head.

He was tingling all over, shivering, his hands trembling faintly. His lips already ached from being constantly crushed, bitten, licked. The blond clearly knew what he was doing.

After one last lazy lick against Ivan’s teeth, Jones finally pulled away with a breathless sigh. He seemed just as wrecked, and yet that hunger still hadn’t burned out, still pushed him to keep devouring Ivan’s mouth over and over again.

It was all too tender, too fevered, and far too telling. Everything they’d spent years not saying out loud had found its way into this. Everything they’d been carrying, it spilled out here.

Exhausted, wrecked, both friends now sat in silence, catching their breath, wiping away the smears of spit on their skin. Who the hell knew what this might turn into. God.

There wasn’t even a thought of trying to untangle the situation. As if that wasn’t necessary. As if it would just figure itself out.

Alfred suddenly leaned in again, pressing damp kisses to his face - starting at the corner of his lips, then the tip of his nose, moving up to his forehead, and finally trailing down to his jaw. Probably as a breather. Their simplest way of expressing everything words never could.

It was a tradition that had followed them since they were teenagers.

Then, for the last time, the blond sealed Ivan’s worn-down mouth with his own, kissing lazily, almost absentmindedly. He had no strength left. He just sat there straddling the other boy, their fingers intertwined over Ivan’s stomach.

There was no heat here, no fire, no desperate passion. Just an aftertaste. A slow, deep glide as Alfred nipped at Ivan’s lips, earning a quiet, contented exhale. Their bodies were loose, mouths barely moving, tongues tangling with unhurried familiarity.

And so, Braginsky couldn’t really say when it ended, how it even unraveled after that. They never really talked about it.

After straightening himself up, more or less, Alfred gave him one last peck on the lips, soft, parting, before slipping back into the room where the others were waiting.

This was probably going to leave a mark on their «friendship». One that wouldn’t fade.

Had Ivan ever dreamed of this? He didn’t know.

Nothing new was happening at the university; nothing even remotely worth paying attention to. The whispers about the recent scuffle had long since died down, and everyone’s focus had shifted back to everyday worries and looming exams - so much so that many students were staying late in the library.

The friend group had dispersed into their respective lecture halls. As usual, Ivan and Yao sat through the professor’s monotonous droning, trying their best to absorb the new material. Maybe it’d earn them an automatic pass. Who knew.

Neither of them had brought up the kisses from the night before. Not once. They barely exchanged words at all since then.

Whether it was because of awkwardness or the simple inability to process their feelings, or maybe something else entirely, Ivan didn’t know.

Just like he didn’t really know how to feel about Jones at this point. What even was going on between them now? One thing was clear: this wasn’t friendship anymore. Not for a second. People had been pointing out their "close" dynamic for a while now, but did any of them suspect where it would eventually lead?

It wasn’t exactly clear what Alfred thought about all this, because he hadn’t offered any kind of explanation or even the slightest comment. His expression didn’t give anything away either: was he stunned, confused? Happy, not happy? That kind of thing. It didn’t make things any easier.

Maybe it would’ve been simpler if they’d talked about what happened right away? Or maybe the opposite. Again, Ivan had no idea.

Honestly, he’d been in some kind of haze lately. Like a full-on derealization episode.

The flipping of Yao’s notebook pages yanked Ivan back into reality, reminding him that he was still in class. The topic was written on the board, the material shown in a presentation too, nudging them to take notes. It felt like these thoughts were just eating him alive. He really needed to relax.

After all - it was the lunch break. Peak of the day, students scattered everywhere doing their own thing: some in the cafeteria, some in the library, like China, busy with his individual project and studying for finals. Someone, not naming names, was currently at practice. As for Prussia, he had no idea where the guy was or how he was doing.

Surprisingly, throughout the entire school day, Ivan hadn’t run into that group of idiots even once. And honestly, he had zero desire to interact with them in any way.

Wanting to kill some time before his next class and clear his head, Braginsky wandered down the long hallway toward the music studio. It had been a while since he and his friends had gathered there. At least he could strum the guitar a bit.

But a sudden, determined touch on his shoulder made him turn, and there it was. His disaster, standing right there.

His face flushed slightly, and the growing awkwardness kept him from even looking the guy in the eyes.

«Dude! What’s up?» - of course Alfred immediately threw his arm over Ivan’s shoulders, casually guiding them down the hallway. It brought back memories of a certain incident that had started exactly the same way, didn’t it?

«Same old», - Ivan muttered with a small huff, trying desperately to suppress the shame clawing its way to the surface. God, they’d been friends for ten years. Was what happened really going to mess that up?

Maybe Jones felt just as off. The way he kept licking his lips, way too often, and staring at the floor definitely gave something away.

Ivan couldn’t say what Alfred’s face looked like. He just couldn’t look at him. He’d probably combust on the spot.

«You were heading to the studio?» - Alfred asked, finally managing to meet his friend’s slightly anxious gaze.

It was surprising, really, how well he knew the Russian. Or maybe Braginsky was just that predictable.

The fabric of his sweatshirt did nothing to block out the heat of Alfred’s arm. At least this time he wasn’t sweating buckets like he usually did. Just a light sheen across his forehead and nose.

«Yeah. What about you, why aren’t you at the game?» - Ivan mumbled, still not daring to look up, gnawing on his lower lip. It stung faintly, right, he remembered why.

It seemed the blond had really gotten into it, biting all over his mouth so that visible marks remained. It was only at the last moment that Braginsky realized he was staring at his lips.

«Just… yeah, - Jones muttered, a bit unsure, - can we go somewhere more private? Please»

That was a weird request, enough to throw Ivan off and immediately send his brain spiraling through a list of possible reasons. None of them were particularly reassuring.

But if he was asking, then it had to be important…

«If you need to»

Alfred led them to one of the stairwells off in the far corners of campus - completely out of the way from other students. Did anyone even come here? Was this place just for staff?

Bare concrete and layers of tangible dust didn’t make for the most romantic setting, but the isolation…somehow felt comforting?

The lighting was dim, and none of the usual voices or footsteps made it this far. What was far more unsettling was the silence coming from Alfred, who was now standing directly across from Braginsky, fidgeting with his fingers like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

«Jones? You good?» - Ivan asked cautiously, slipping his hands into his pockets. Could it be that he wanted to...

He didn’t know why his heart suddenly started pounding so hard. Like it was terrified of hearing something final. Something like all of this was just a misunderstanding. Or worse - that their friendship ended here, and Ivan was never to get close to him again. That everything they’d had for all those years was some kind of mistake.

But… that’s not what was said.

«I dunno, - Alfred muttered, then quickly added, - can I kiss you again?»

Chapter Text

Ivan wasn’t thinking. No, really, he hadn’t expected Alfred to drag him all the way here for a request like that. Again? Seriously?

So that last round of kisses wasn’t enough for him? The wet, insistent kind that left his skin still faintly aching? He’d actually lost his mind.

Daring to meet those irresistibly blue eyes, Braginsky replied uncertainly:

«So that’s what you were looking for me for?»

Was there any point in asking? Or answering? Only God knew, honestly. Neither of them believed their actions were the least bit rational anymore.

Jones blinked his pale lashes in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected that reaction, licking his swollen lips once more. God, had he left that kind of mark on Alfred…?

«Well, not just for that», - the blond deflected with a sheepish giggle. His bangs fell into his eyes, clinging to his forehead. He looked absolutely captivating.

Desperately trying to wrestle down the storm of feelings inside him, Ivan cleared his throat, but it didn’t help with the telltale rasp in his voice:

«You think this is what best friends do?» - he asked bluntly, brows furrowed.

It seemed to put Alfred in an especially vulnerable position, making him hesitate for a second, unsure of his own request. He never acted like this. It was so strange to watch.

With a sharp, nervous motion, he ruffled his hair, as if trying not to lose his confidence - not just in his tone, but in himself, too.

«I'm not sure, - he said, pausing briefly, shifting his gaze to the rough wall behind the Russian - avoiding eye contact, clearly, - probably not»

And that answer flipped something deep inside Ivan. Something he clearly wasn’t prepared to hear. Because it was true.

Growing impatient with the silence, fidgety with anticipation, Alfred asked again, more timidly this time:

«So… can I? Please?»

That kind of desperate tone was something Ivan had never heard from the blond before. It stunned him. Something unthinkable was happening.

And if you looked at it logically, could the Russian even say no at this point? The situation was repeating itself, and he wasn’t even considering turning it down. He was seriously letting this happen. For the second damn time.

When Alfred suddenly locked eyes with him, Ivan dropped his gaze, and simply… nodded. Again. He just couldn’t bring himself to force out the two-letter word. Maybe because he was still, deep down, refusing to accept that he was agreeing at all.

And then came an immediate reaction. So typically Alfred.

Ivan saw a tanned hand press against his chest, pushing him back unexpectedly. Still not lifting his gaze, he simply stepped back, spine meeting the wall. No resistance, not even a single question to that unspoken request.

The cold seeped through his sweatshirt immediately, but the warm hands cupping his cheeks stole his focus, silently urging him to look up.

Jones looked incredibly attractive like this - when he was flustered and buzzing with excitement. It was like seeing the same fifteen-year-old boy again, the one who used to charm everyone with his unfiltered energy and the sheer innocence that came with it.

For the record, he hadn't lost that charm, not even a bit. No need to worry about that.

And in the very next second, Braginsky closed his eyes, letting the blond cover his lips with his own. Ivan’s hands instinctively clutched at the hem of Alfred’s shirt, eyes squeezing shut, just like all those years ago, when Alfred got into a fight and Ivan was tending to his wounds.

At first, the kiss was cautious, as if Jones was testing the waters. Softly molding their lips together, he traced a thumb along Ivan’s cheekbone, sending shivers all down his spine.

But this time, the slow rhythm didn't last long. Just like the night before, the blond pressed hard against his jaw, demanding entrance, and immediately took up all the space between them with his presence.

In that sudden burst of want, Alfred left no distance between them, pressing fully against Ivan’s chest. The closeness made Braginsky lose his grip on reality a little, mirroring every move his friend made.

They’d lost their minds. Both of them. This whole studying thing and their ridiculous over-friendship, had completely driven them insane.

They both exhaled at the same time when their tongues unexpectedly intertwined. The wet sound embarrassed Ivan, and he let go of the blond’s T-shirt, placing his palms on his shoulders.

Suddenly, warm hands slipped beneath the hem of his hoodie, stroking his waist. Braginsky shuddered, clutching his shoulders, realizing how relaxed Alfred actually was.

At the same time, Alfred mumbled against his lips:

«Can I?» - and then pulled back, a thin strand of saliva stretching between them.

Hard to believe this was real, not just some fevered imagination.

Flushed, breathless, and burning, just like his friend, Ivan tried to catch his breath. His pulse now throbbed in his temples, and the urge to continue only grew heavier.

He licked his damp lips, humming in agreement. Alfred, unexpectedly gentle, brushed a loose strand of Ivan’s blond hair away from his eyes and tucked it behind his ear. His nerves were already hanging by a thread, and this soft gesture knocked the ground out from under his feet, leaving him melting in place.

«I just… need to feel the person, you know?» - Jones laughed awkwardly.

Then came another kiss - this time hungry and more telling than any words. Alfred exhaled loudly right away, his hands sliding up to Ivan’s ribs.

A faint whimper escaped Braginsky as he buried a hand in his friend’s soft hair, tugging at the strands, only to be met with another wet sound caught by his mouth. His other hand wrapped around Alfred’s neck, and under his fingers, he felt warm moisture. Most likely - sweat.

A light tickle made him squirm in someone else’s hands, while a wet tongue licked his bottom lip, pushing inside. Pure pleasure.

Ivan couldn’t boast about having much experience in relationships. Back in high school, he kinda had a crush on a girl. They even “dated,” if you could call it that.

Apparently, they kissed once, but it wasn’t really a kiss. Just pressing lips together, some movement, a lick - that was it. Meanwhile, Alfred seemed way more experienced in that stuff.

Ivan still remembered how much he hated hearing his friend talk about going on dates with popular girls. Or how a pretty senior kissed him behind the school. Or how he pinned a classmate to the desk.

Did those stories sting? Definitely. But Ivan always tried to block it out and keep himself in check.

And now? They’re licking each other’s mouths in some hidden corner under the university stairs. And Alfred’s touching him.

He wondered if those girls ever felt what he was feeling now. Did their heads spin like his was?

Alfred pressed Ivan’s neck firmly against the wall, his hand gripping the lower line of his chin. He’d regained that old dominance and confidence in his moves. It made Ivan’s knees shake.

With a loud smack, Jones pulled back, just looking into Ivan’s eyes. Maybe trying to mentally control his emotions, or just calm himself down.

«That's good, right?» - he suddenly asked, tilting his head to the side, studying Ivan’s face. His lips shined with a bit of saliva, and a feverish gleam flickered in his cold eyes.

Some excited fire danced in his gaze, but they didn’t go beyond “simple” touches. Seems like they both needed a break. Or maybe just Ivan.

Ivan quietly hummed in agreement as Alfred’s warm hand gently swept his hair back. That gesture made Ivan’s already shaken, unstable state go even more off-balance.

«Really good. I like it, - Alfred murmured with a shy smile, his hands sliding down from Ivan’s head, stroking his waist again. - So, shall we keep going?»

How could he say such embarrassing things in such a soft, needy tone?

And again a nod, followed by a softer, more tender kiss that left a pleasant aftertaste behind. They lingered there for a while, completely detached from the world, lost in the rush of fleeting pleasure.

Soon after, pulling away from each other, they drifted off to their own business. Neither dared to bring clarity to what had just happened. Ivan was already torturing himself enough with constant thoughts of his friend, and now he simply had no desire to sort it all out. Later.

The familiar bitterness of smoke filled his lungs, leaving a tart aftertaste. Lately, Ivan could only think about Alfred. And after the recent incident in the university’s corner, he decided he needed a distraction. Because if he kept tormenting himself with these thoughts, he’d lose his mind for sure.

Truth be told, maybe he already was.

Only the ringing of an electric guitar filling the small studio, along with the jokes of two friends, kept him sane.

«Vanya, hold it, - Gilbert puffed, chewing on the glowing stub of his cigarette, - that’s the wrong chord»

Prussia had less experience than Ivan. Besides, he was playing bass. Naturally, there were plenty of struggles. But none of it seemed to bother either of them much.

They were sitting on the cool floor, finally managing to learn the melody they had been chasing for so long.

On the windowsill sat China, listening closely to the tunes of his friends. In his hand was an overly sweet chocolate bar, which he was happily devouring with both cheeks full.

Braginsky tore his attention from the strings, glancing at his friend:

«Just keep the rhythm steady, - he said, spitting his cigarette into the dirty corner of the room. - The structure won’t fall apart»

«Yeah», - Gilbert muttered in concentration, setting the foundation.

But it didn’t last long, because suddenly Wang Yao’s voice made them both stop.

«Jones is out on the field right now, they’re training, - he said, glancing at his phone as if reading a message. - A bunch of students are there watching. Wanna go check it out?»

The two guys sitting against the studio wall lifted their heads. Gilbert’s face showed doubt and a clear lack of interest in dragging himself anywhere. Maybe he didn’t care about it at all.

Ivan, on the other hand, felt something stir inside at those words. Only now did it hit him, when was the last time he actually watched Alfred play? Second year, maybe?

Apparently, the weight of classes had made him completely forget about it.

«Yeah, why not», - Braginsky huffed shortly, while China bounced his leg impatiently, waiting for an answer. By the look of him, he really wanted to go. Maybe just for a change of pace?

Gilbert stubbed out his chewed-up cigarette and set the bass guitar aside:

«Seriously? - he grimaced, looking like he couldn’t be bothered, - watching Alf show off in front of the girls?»

That was supposed to be a joke, right? Because Yao laughed immediately, and Ivan decided to follow suit. Though something inside of him ached at the thought.

Yeah, Alfred did love the attention of girls.

«And the guys», - China added with a quiet chuckle, giggling at his phone as if he were texting someone.

And the guys.

«Mm», - Braginsky muttered under his breath, while Gilbert burst out laughing and got up from the floor, brushing the dust off his pants.

Something interesting was definitely coming.

The tall bleachers greeted the trio with clusters of students scattered about. Some were there just to take a look, others were cheering for their friends. Like the squealing group of girls that jumped up clapping their hands every other minute. Sometimes that kind of behavior was just plain irritating.

On the wide field stretched the green turf, long worn down by the players’ shoes. The coach’s whistle and the shouts of teammates carried across the space.

The friends sat close to the edge of the bleachers, a little apart from the others. Honestly, there weren’t too many people there. Lost in thought, Ivan quickly spotted Alfred on the large field. And in his eyes, he looked nothing short of amazing, even if he was dressed simply. Ordinary, even.

The athletic shorts showed off his lean, muscular legs, and the tall socks gave him a boyish edge. A light cotton pullover fit his frame perfectly. Loose enough, but when he ran, the fabric clung, outlining his sharp shoulders. It shielded him from the sun. His hair caught the wind. He was a sight to behold.

In the same situation, anyone else would’ve looked worse for wear - sweat on their forehead, a grimace, shortness of breath. But Alfred? Of course not.

«Our blondie’s showing off, as always», - Prussia drawled with a smirk, nodding toward their friend jogging across the field.

Ivan only just realized he’d been watching nothing but Alfred’s movements.

«I can literally see him holding himself back from ripping that hoodie off», - Yao snorted with laughter, glancing at the friends beside him. Gilbert let out a low chuckle at the remark.

There was no blaming them for such jokes. After all, Jones really did behave in his usual manner: brushing his hair back, flashing that dazzling smile with every successful touchdown, and the constant pats on the backs of his teammates.

At one point, he even slapped some player he knew on the ass. They probably had a friendly bond, but, truth be told, Ivan didn’t like watching that.

Especially when Alfred and one of his teammates scored again, earning points. That same group of girls jumped up from their seats, screaming praise.

Amidst the chaos of shouts, one could make out things like: «That’s my boyfriend!» and «He’s just perfect!»

All three of them winced at the shrill cries, while irritation flared inside Ivan at such sugary, eye-rolling words.

«Shut them up already. Our blondie has charmed every girl in the stands», - Gilbert muttered, puffing on God-knows-which cigarette of the day. Ivan was honestly glad to hear the first half of that comment.

«Agreed», - he threw out under Yao’s disapproving click of the tongue, once again focusing on the source of all his doubts. Including doubts about his orientation. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Yet a feeling much like jealousy made itself known. His fists clenched on the armrest when Braginsky noticed Alfred wink at that group of girls, blowing them a kiss.

The drawn-out squeals hit his ears, and Ivan rolled his eyes in annoyance. No enjoyment left in watching.

«For fuck’s sake, are they not going to shut up?» - Yao grumbled, glaring at the culprits of all this noise.

«God, I’m gonna puke from this show», - Gilbert groaned, watching their mutual friend’s antics.

Then a loud whistle cut through the fresh air. Apparently a break - all the players collapsed: some on the turf, some into the locker room. Alfred disappeared from view, and no one guessed where he had gone.

Until heavy breathing and quick footsteps drew the trio’s attention.

«Did you really bother to show up for me?» - Alfred laughed, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his shirt as he suddenly appeared beside them.

His toned torso flashed into view when the fabric rode up, catching the attention of everyone nearby. It seemed like he only enjoyed that kind of attention.

«More like for your fangirls», - Gilbert muttered, eyeing their mutual friend. Yeah, he was way too hot and everyone knew it.

«Why not?» - Yao shrugged, still fidgeting in his seat and glancing back, as if searching for something.

Ivan locked eyes with that familiar blue gaze, only to be met with a cheeky, playful smile. He fought against the urge to let his mind slip back to that second kiss. No, not now.

«Some girls over there are practically drooling over you», - Ivan finally said after a pause, tilting his head toward the noisy group of students.

With a sly glint in his eyes, Alfred looked over at the girls practically vibrating in front of him. At his attention, the little crowd started jumping up and down, squealing things like, «You’re amazing!»

And when the blond actually started playing along, Ivan quickly grabbed his phone just to tune it out. Enough. Right now it felt disgusting. He didn’t want to watch it.

Suddenly, a warm pale hand settled on his wrist, squeezing lightly as if to draw him back. Gilbert. His fingers were cold in contrast - nothing like Jones’s.

Braginsky glanced at his friend’s wary, almost suspicious expression before lowering his eyes to those long fingers wrapped around his wrist.

«I’ll go grab a soda for Jones, - Gilbert muttered, wincing at the shrill screams, then leaned close to Ivan’s ear, adding, - I just need an excuse to get the hell out before my ears start bleeding»

That earned a faint smile from Ivan. Typical Prussia. But sometimes his antics did help in tense moments.

Apparently Yao had caught the words through all the noise, because he suddenly turned to them just as Alfred turned on his sugar-coated charm with the girls. It was almost funny watching Yao squirm, clearly just as out of place.

«Gil, I need the bathroom. I’ll come with you»

With a silent question in his eyes, Ivan looked over, gauging his reaction. Was he really that nervous right now, maybe needing backup?

But thankfully, Yao just twisted his fingers and fidgeted in his seat, glancing between the two of them. Awkwardly, he stood up, nodding at Gilbert toward the exit of the bleachers.

That, of course, caught the blond’s attention.

«Who’s my loudest fan tonight?» - Alfred drawled playfully, grabbing Yao’s forearm as he passed by. That, of course, drew another round of squeals and cheers.

The Russian couldn’t hear their conversation, but it seemed Jones had asked him where he was headed. After that, Jones let go, and Yao motioned Gilbert to follow. Everything felt heavy with unspoken tension.

A foreign hand released his wrist, and Prussia gave Ivan a quiet, supportive pat on the shoulder before heading after his friend, who had already disappeared from sight.

Staying here was beyond uncomfortable. All that fake charm and forced flirting spilling everywhere, it was suffocating.

«Save that scream for me next time», - the blond laughed, brushing damp bangs off his forehead. With a burst of cheers, he plopped down right next to Ivan, who was still staring at his phone’s dark screen.

He didn’t even know what to pull up anymore, anything just to distract himself.

At last, the girls drifted back to their seats, giggling and chattering about their «conversation». Maybe he could finally relax? Except for that stubborn knot of awkwardness sitting in the back of his mind.

«Dude, I’m right here. Pay attention to me, - Alfred suddenly complained, mock-offended, dropping his hand onto Ivan’s thigh. - Not happy to see me?»

Braginsky flinched, his eyes snapping first to the tanned hand gripping his leg, then up to the slightly flushed blond. Yeah. No denying it - he was beautiful.

«You do realize that whole act looked… cringe as hell, right?» - he muttered, tilting his head toward the now-gone group of girls. At least he wasn’t lying about that.

At that remark, Alfred first shot him a surprised look, eyebrows raised as if he hadn’t fully caught the meaning. Then he burst out laughing, sprawling back on the bench with that cocky ease, legs spread wide. His hand still rested on Ivan’s thigh, and now his knee pressed against his leg as well.

«But the thrill of it, though. It’s funny watching them fawn over me, - he smirked, glancing over his shoulder at the group. - Not bad at all»

Ivan winced at the words. The atmosphere was unbearable. He liked being around Alfred when it was just the two of them, even with all the shyness that came with it. The blond had this way of making you feel at ease, of pulling you into his orbit, like you were the only one in the world that mattered.

Only he could stir up emotions like that. Which was why Ivan hated this moment, because Alfred kept sneaking glances back at the girls mid-conversation. Like someone there actually caught his eye.

Then, suddenly, Alfred turned again, and Ivan instinctively followed his gaze. One of the girls was smiling sweetly, brushing her hair back in that practiced, flirty way. Alfred threw her a knowing look in return.

It was unclear how long this would go on, but Braginsky felt a strange, unpleasant weight pressing down on his chest.

Then, with his body still turned toward the attractive girl, Alfred, wearing a wide grin, quietly and almost imperceptibly said:

«Hold me»

Ivan blinked at him in confusion, not even getting a glance in return.

«The hell?»

Alfred licked his lips, still silently flirting with the girl:

«She’s not my type. Come on - just hold me. Now»

His tone was a little too demanding, like he was deliberately pushing Ivan’s buttons.

With an irritated click of his tongue, Ivan decided to teach him a lesson for that kind of stunt. He yanked him hard by the shoulders, pulling him right against his chest.

The blond let out a startled yelp, face pressed against the side of Ivan’s neck. He landed square on Ivan’s chest, his hand still resting firmly on his thigh. They were sitting far too close.

«Good boy», - Jones snickered, settling comfortably against his shoulder. Was that really why he’d asked for a hug?

Ivan could feel the weight of him, Alfred had gone fully relaxed, idly brushing his thumb against his leg now and then. A shiver shot pleasantly down his skin.

«I don’t like brunettes», - the blond mumbled with his eyes closed, nuzzling closer. Truth be told, the position was surprisingly comfortable. That in itself was unsettling.

Ivan snorted, giving him a side-eye, gaze lingering on that pale head of hair:

«A type? God, that’s so stupid, Alf»

How can you like, for example, only light-haired people? What about a person’s inner world? Honestly, that’s so childish.

Ivan felt him swallow, and the next second, Jones’ voice lowered:

«I like light-haired ones. It’s not stupid, - he said, meeting his friend’s gaze with those piercing eyes, - I can’t help it, you know that»

And then Alfred’s face lit up with a guileless smile, the kind that made Ivan’s heart skip.

«I don’t get you...», - Braginsky muttered quietly, eyes fixed on the floor. Looking straight into those blue eyes was too much. It felt like he was being studied.

«I’m sure you’ve got a preference too, - Alfred pressed, shifting to lean his full weight against Ivan’s shoulder, his hand sliding higher up his thigh. - Come on, man. You like dark-haired ones?»

He didn’t take his eyes off Ivan, watching every flicker of his expression. Hot breath fanned across Ivan’s collarbone, and he absentmindedly parted his lips, tongue brushing the back of his teeth.

«I don’t think so, - Ivan finally snorted after a stretch of silence. - Guess I prefer blondes…»

It was like Alfred’s eyes lit up at that.

«See? Not stupid at all, - he smirked, patting Ivan’s thigh. - I like the light-haired ones too»

Nodding, Braginskiy felt Jones’ piercing gaze burning across his profile. It was unbearable, especially since they were both silent. Out of awkwardness, he turned his head slightly, as if examining the neighboring seats and people.

Finally, Jones stopped staring and pressed his temple against Ivan’s shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. His warmth was familiar, yet such a stark contrast to Ivan’s overall coolness. Thank goodness no one was paying attention to them, not even that same group of girls.

They sat in silence for a while. Now and then Alfred muttered complaints: how exhausted he was, how badly he wanted to crash in bed the moment he got home.

By then, their two friends had wandered back. Gilbert was holding the promised soda, while Yao threw dark looks toward the nearby girls.

Neither of them commented on the way the other two were sitting, instead calling for them to get up and head out. Training was about done anyway, and it was time to head home.

Whose home - that was another question.

Chapter Text

The plans shifted a bit, and going home was put on hold for a moment.

It turned out Gilbert and Yao had to stay with the professor about their joint project. Who even asked them to do that? Surely Yao, being responsible, had agreed and dragged Prussia along.

On top of that, another problem appeared - Alfred had scraped his knees during practice. Damn it, that meant tending to those wounds, but his «not-quite-fans» were in the way.

A familiar weight pressed down on Ivan’s body, heavy breaths scorched his ears, and he desperately tried to hint to Alfred to at least breathe onto his neck.

«Damn it, there are those girls again», - Ivan muttered irritably, carrying the blond on his back. Alfred seemed to have settled in comfortably.

Indeed, the loud clatter of heels and noisy girlish laughter filled the corridor. Both of them mentally knew what was coming.

«Just walk past them, okay? - Alfred whispered in his ear, fidgeting his feet on Ivan’s back as he felt the burn on his knees. - Come on, buddy, don’t pay them any mind»

Yeah, so considerate.

And again, that pointless support. But the way Alfred said it sent shivers down Ivan’s spine.

«Mhm»

Ivan barely managed a murmur when two girls appeared in front of them, one of whom had flirted with the blond earlier. The same one - the brunette.

The odd position of the two friends might have raised questions, but the girls were so excited and animated that at first, they didn’t even notice their favorite’s scraped knees.

«Alfred! Can we go to a café with you?» - the dark-haired girl resumed flirting with Jones, coquettishly twirling her long hair.

Inside, Ivan just wanted to be home because his friend wasn’t exactly light as a feather. His arms and legs were tired from holding Alfred’s weight, so he tugged him up to get a firmer grip.

Without letting him answer even a word, he said coldly:

«No»

He had no desire to listen to those nauseating words right now or to stand there, waiting for it to end. In response, he caught an angry glare from that girl’s friend.

Alfred, behind him, smirked in surprise, letting his arms hang along Ivan’s sides and resting his chin on the top of his head. Bold.

«Baby, I’m all for it, - he said with unmistakably playful intonation, - but look at me right now. I just can’t»

The girl feigned surprise, exchanging a glance with her friend and nervously laughing:

«Well, I could come to you after»

«Next time, okay? - The blond grinned widely, winking as he patted Ivan’s solar plexus. - For now, we’re going with my best friend»

Breathing a sigh of relief, Ivan trudged down the corridor under the thin, disapproving squeals of the other girls standing nearby.

Honestly, it didn’t matter. Jones had wrapped his arms around Ivan’s neck, swinging his legs in the air.

«Let’s go to the storage room. Nobody usually goes there, so we can calmly tend to the wounds», - he said cautiously, sensing the tension in the air.

And the source of it was definitely Ivan. He was furious at the entire situation: Alfred’s behavior, those half-fans, his own fatigue. Anger at everything.

So he didn’t even respond to his friend’s suggestion, marching with a scowl toward the small room.

Inside the storage room Ivan had led them to, space was limited: dusty old boxes, empty inside; old desks; cleaning supplies; and the like.

With effort, Ivan leaned down so Alfred could slide off his back. He did, collapsing onto the floor with a soft whine.

«I’ve got no strength at all», - he moaned, stretching out on the floor with one knee bent.

His arms were splayed, body fully relaxed. He practically filled the entire space.

Frowning, Braginsky sharply pulled the necessary supplies from the first-aid kit the coach had given him. Everything happened in complete silence.

Alfred lifted his head when he felt the gentle touch on his scraped knee. It was clear how irritated the Russian was, yet his restraint always impressed Jones. And on top of that, a faint trace of guilt gnawed at him for his own antics. Curious, why was that?

«Shh, fu-uck, - the blond groaned as Ivan disinfected the wound. - It hurts», - the dull burn spread sharply through his body.

Ivan bit his lower lip, grim-faced, concentrating on the task. He hadn’t once looked at his friend. Damn everything.

«Vanya-a, - Alfred’s whining persisted as he sat up, grabbing Ivan by the shoulder. - Wait a sec»

His voice was pitiful and moaning, igniting Ivan’s frustration even more. Because again, it was intimate. After everything that had happened, he couldn’t see Alfred as just a friend anymore.

With an irritated but patient sigh, Ivan leaned back and, to occupy himself while Jones inspected his knees, began absentmindedly sorting the medical supplies, sometimes even lining them up neatly.

«Are you mad at me?» - the blond asked timidly, breaking the prolonged silence.

Ivan didn’t answer, giving him a cold glance. Let him suffer.

He returned to his task, ignoring the question entirely, answering only with his look.

With a heavy sigh, Alfred ruffled his hair, licking his lips, as if wanting to say something.

«Sorry, - he said childishly, inching closer. - I know I act like an idiot sometimes. Well, sorry»

At that moment, he hissed in pain as he settled onto his knees and suddenly wrapped his arms around the Russian’s waist. He just leaned on him, making Ivan almost topple onto the dirty floor. At the last second, he managed to brace himself with one hand while gripping the blonde’s shoulders with the other.

«Sometimes?» - Braginsky replied, displeased, turning his gaze to the old desk standing in the dim light against the wall.

«All right, often, - Alfred said, pulling back briefly to look him in the eyes, wincing at the sting of pressure on his skin, - but, you know, you know that I love you»

It was said so casually that Ivan sincerely tried to interpret it as a friendly confession. Alfred had said such things periodically… But after everything that had happened, how was he supposed to interpret it?

Still, the gesture itself was very sweet coming from Jones.

A familiar blush rose on Ivan’s cheeks, and he frowned to hide it, glaring at the blond.

«I forgive you. Sit back down, - Ivan said irritably, but Alfred’s genuinely apologetic expression softened his anger, and he added more gently, - please»

Pursing his lips, Alfred flopped back down, giving access to his knees. The throbbing pain receded into the background as he focused on the person beside him.

Ivan resumed his «older brother» role, seriously tending to his friend’s safety. Once again, it all felt natural. As if tending to Alfred’s wounds was entirely Ivan’s duty and the blond couldn’t hide the smile threatening to escape.

Ivan seemed to notice the soft look Alfred shot him but didn’t react.

Still, the internal ice melted a little as Alfred’s gaze roamed over his face, suddenly reaching out. His hand brushed one side of Ivan’s soft hair back, tracing a finger along his cheek. Such a gentle gesture made Ivan sigh and flinch, openly embarrassed.

Completely openly, because Jones didn’t even hide his mischievous laugh, clearly enjoying his friend’s reaction. Idiot.

It seemed to Ivan that Alfred had been expecting exactly this reaction. And he was perfectly satisfied when he saw it.

«Stop it», - Ivan said, frowning at the blond, unable to hide his crimson cheeks.

He was weak. Just weak in front of Alfred. He couldn’t withstand all his antics stoically, leaving himself completely vulnerable.

«Come on, I’m just thinking about kissing you.»

Slowly lifting himself away from Alfred’s scraped knees, Ivan cautiously looked at him. Alfred - flushed red, hair a mess, eyes gleaming, batting his lashes with a goofy grin.

Then, before Braginsky could expect it, Alfred leaned in sharply, crashing against his lips. So, no permission this time.

Whenever Alfred threw himself into something embarrassing, his shyness seemed to vanish, replaced by sheer brazenness.

And of course, Braginsky didn’t push him away, obediently letting the other’s tongue slip past his lips. This was already their third time like this.

The blond, his hands trembling, likely from nerves, wrapped them around Ivan’s neck, deepening the kiss. With a rough exhale, Ivan grabbed at the fabric on his shoulder blades, holding them both steady with the hand he’d braced behind himself so they wouldn’t topple over.

Most important of all, the Russian realized how these touches were becoming… ordinary.

The thought struck him right as Alfred pressed both hands onto his thighs, biting at his lips nearly to blood.

Ordinary. For friends.

With a loud, wet smack, Ivan pulled away, catching his breath. No. No, no, no.

«Something wrong? - Alfred asked, worried, pulling back in alarm. - You didn’t like it?»

How could he even ask a friend something like that, right after a kiss like this?

Ivan parted his lips guiltily, eyes wide as he stared at him. Words wouldn’t come, everything was tangled in a mess: their actions, their relationship, and what should have been clearly drawn boundaries.

Funny, really. Alfred didn’t seem to have heard of those at all.

Shyly covering his damp lips with his wrist, Ivan spoke in a muffled voice, gaze dropping to the floor:

«Let’s just… not get distracted from the bandaging, okay?»

Nodding toward Alfred’s legs, Braginsky nervously began rummaging through the first-aid kit for a bandage.

Alfred, meanwhile, looked honestly puzzled, embarrassed. A sting of hurt rushed over him, as though he’d just been rejected. The brightness on his face dimmed in an instant, along with the heat that had stirred him.

Trying not to show his discomfort, he straightened up a little, asking timidly:

«Would that be better for you?»

He stretched one knee forward, keeping a measured bit of distance between them. Yes, he was really hurt by it.

Finally finding the bandages, Ivan looked at him, biting his lip:

«Yes»

But in the very next second, he froze, because the blond had bitten him again, leaving a tiny cut. It hurt… and yet, it felt unbearably sweet.

Shuffling closer on his knees, Braginsky began clumsily wrapping his friend’s legs, hands trembling. Alfred noticed it, suddenly catching his wrist in a firm hold.

Meeting Ivan’s silent, questioning gaze, Jones answered with a shy smile:

«Don’t worry»

Then, out of nowhere, he traced the inside of Ivan’s wrist, right over the pale blue veins. A pleasant tickle shot through him, racing all the way to the crown of his head, and Braginsky blinked rapidly, just listening to the sensation.

Feeling a sharp pang of guilt toward his friend, he suddenly took hold of his hand with trembling fingers.

«Sorry, I-I, uh…, - Ivan licked his lips and cleared his throat, - …got flustered. Let’s continue, if you want»

A blush spread across his entire face. For the first time, he was taking the initiative to kiss him. And honestly… his intentions weren’t entirely pure.

Alfred seemed to realize it at that very moment.

Breaking their long eye contact, the blond intertwined their fingers, already long forgetting his pain and the reason they were even here in the first place.

«I’m not forcing you, buddy, - he said with an understanding smile, rubbing his sides. - If you don’t want to, then better not. I’m not upset, really»

Braginsky felt like throwing himself into his arms - just from how good he was. So endearing.

Swallowing thickly, nerves prickling inside him, he gave a small nod and leaned toward the blond. Alfred didn’t look away as Ivan brushed a quick kiss against his cheekbone before hastily turning back to the bandages.

With Alfred’s serene smile lingering in his periphery, Ivan wrapped his knees in gauze.

And what was he supposed to be thinking about at that moment?

After a while, once everything was done and the first-aid kit packed, the two boys hurried to retreat and find the rest of their friends. How long they had spent there—unclear.

However, a firm grip on his shoulder distracted Ivan from gathering the things. Oblivious, lost in his thoughts somewhere else, he turned to the blond.

«Uh, wait a sec», - Alfred mumbled, suddenly pushing him back so that he ended up pressed against a dusty old desk by the wall.

«Wha-»

Before Braginsky could finish, Jones leaned toward his neck, planting a kiss somewhere beneath his jaw. Was he completely losing it?

Yes, it wasn’t the first time he’d kissed Ivan in that spot, but it could still be an erogenous… intimate area.

Instinctively, Braginsky clenched his fingers, feeling a mix of pleasure and tension. Yeah, “typical” close-friend behavior.

It seemed there had even been a moment when Alfred had called him “brother”?

«Instead of a normal kiss. Thanks, buddy», - the blond smiled, ruffling the hair on Ivan’s head.

Lost in their own world, neither of them noticed the quick footsteps in the corridor. And when the door suddenly swung open, they startled, spinning toward the sound and stepping back from each other.

Even more flushed than before, Ivan’s face turned deep crimson when he noticed who had literally barged into the storage room.

Poland stared at them with his crystal-blue eyes wide open.

Seeing the expression on his, presumably, beloved’s face, Lithuania slowly turned toward the two friends. His face immediately flashed with embarrassment, surprise, and fear.

It was obvious why these two idiots had barged in. Poland was holding Lithuania by the waist. Their red faces made it clear what they wanted, and their wild, desperate looks only reinforced that impression.

A heavy, awkward silence settled. Ivan and Alfred exchanged a wordless glance, once again shifting their eyes to the “enemies” standing in the doorway.

Lithuania nervously rubbed his deep-red face, trying to hide his embarrassment, while Poland, under the watchful gaze of two pairs of eyes, smoothed down his messy golden hair.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he ground out through clenched teeth:

«What are you doing here?»

With a quiet snort, Lithuania shot an irritated glance at the two friends, crossing his arms over his chest. His light shirt collar was untidily lifted, and the top buttons were undone, revealing faint marks, probably hickeys.

«Same question to you», - Alfred replied, his voice tinged with tension as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He was still close to Ivan.

Poland’s face flushed, his eyebrows knitting toward his nose in unspoken embarrassment. Because of their stance, both “enemies” didn’t immediately know how to respond.

«What the hell were you doing here? - Lithuania suddenly defended himself, nervously adjusting his collar. - Did little Ivan chicken out at the sight of a crowd of students again?»

It seemed much easier for them to get at Ivan specifically than to just stay quiet and try to forget such a ridiculous situation.

Even now, Braginsky couldn’t understand how he was somehow to blame for all their “problems.” He always ended up being the scapegoat, even when he had nothing to do with it.

Take, for example, their budding mix of hatred and love for picking on the Russian boy. That, too, started back in school and has continued, albeit less frequently, to this day.

Back then, Ivan often reflected on it, confiding in his mother. And in truth, the reason for these taunts, as they decided at the time, was simple, he was a closed-off boy. Plain and simple.

It’s no secret that kids and teenagers can sometimes be the harshest creatures. Braginsky had no friends those years; he was fully absorbed in his studies. His tall stature and shyness didn’t help: classmates often made fun of him, not harshly, but enough to leave a mark.

Including these two. Especially, as it still seems to the Russian, Poland’s envy played a big role. How could some ugly duckling manage to win the favor of almost every teacher, perform on stage playing instruments, and even win prizes?

And, on top of that, befriend such a charismatic guy like Alfred. Of course, neither of the “enemies” would ever admit it. Alfred - life of the party, the soul of the group, just a cool guy, took the time to hang out with such an unremarkable boy.

Because of his insecurities, Ivan dressed simply and darkly, further pushing classmates away. And he wasn’t really trying to make friends either. Attempts were made, but soon they proved futile.

So, many factors combined to shape their relationships. In that case, it’s understandable why they wouldn’t bother Jones too much.

Who knows, maybe Poland wouldn’t mind socializing with him even now. But they were from entirely different categories, just like their values.

And Lithuania? You couldn’t really define him as a person. Most likely, it was just an unpleasant trait in his character, a tendency toward excesses. And, of course, his “support” for his friend. Although, maybe there were other reasons? Ivan didn’t know, and he certainly wasn’t going to figure it out.

In the end, as we’ve already established, it’s not a friend but a guy.

Sometimes in life, with certain people, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t find a connection.

Ivan took a deep breath, unwilling to waste his nerves on these two’s antics. He felt Jones press against his shoulder, as if partially shielding him.

«You didn’t get enough last time-»

«Lithuania, do you really want a fight?» - Ivan interrupted Alfred with a displeased frown, fidgeting with the cuff of his sweatshirt sleeve.

After all, who felt like arguing right now, especially with classes already over?

Lithuania seemed slightly taken aback by Ivan’s calm tone. Apparently, he thought he could rile both friends up. Though in terms of restraint, Alfred still paled in comparison to Ivan.

«Maybe I do!» - he shouted with a shaky voice, clenching his fists. Honestly, life hadn’t taught him much.

Now his warm arm was casually draped over Ivan’s shoulder, slung in a relaxed pose yet still shielding him, almost subconsciously protective. That same habit of the blond - always guarding without thinking.

«Looks like our lovebirds decided to have some fun too, huh?» - Poland said, deliberately smirking, raising his eyebrows. Just trying to get under their skin.

Both friends were met with evaluating glances. Probably to assert their superiority?

A short giggle sounded nearby, and Jones leaned all his weight against Braginsky, stretching into a lazy, teasing smile:

«Having fun too, huh?»

Ivan almost laughed out loud at the sheer embarrassment written across both of their faces. They immediately froze, blazing red. A circus, in one word.

«No one asked you», - Lithuania snarled, taking a step toward the two friends. He seemed serious, genuinely offended by the blond’s jab.

But Poland grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him back toward himself, then stepped forward on his own, into a dangerously close distance, by the way.

«Think we won’t smash your faces in? - he practically spat, catching the wary glances of the two friends. - We just didn’t let you»

With those words, Poland shortened the distance between himself and Jones, only for Ivan’s hand to suddenly press against his chest, stopping him from coming any closer:

«Quiet-quiet»

Not wanting to further rile him up, Braginsky tried to say it calmly, while Alfred smirked in surprise.

«What the-»

«Don’t touch him, - Lithuania suddenly cut Poland off, grabbing him by the shoulder and stepping up beside him. - It’s better if you stay out of this right now, Vanya»

Ivan clicked his tongue, taking a tiny step back to keep some distance from them both. But the arm draped over his shoulders held him firmly in place, practically pinning him there.

«If you really don’t want people finding out about your little ‘romance', - Jones suddenly drawled, his sharp gaze fixed on the troublemaker, - then you’d better not start a fight right now»

Both enemies froze, their faces stretching in shock as his words sank in. Almost immediately, they turned their glares on Ivan, who was barely suppressing a smile. They must’ve assumed he was the one who told Alfred.

«What the hell are you talking about?» - Poland spat through clenched teeth, staring at Alfred’s innocent grin.

Meanwhile, Lithuania kept glancing back and forth between the two friends, confused. They clearly hadn’t realized they might have been caught somewhere. After all, in their last argument, Ivan had stumbled over mentioning their kiss, but they’d assumed it wouldn’t go any further than that.

Least of all hearing it now from Alfred.

«The hell are you idiots on about?» - Lithuania rasped harshly, his voice strained as he tried to mask the tension. Maybe they thought bluffing would work - who knows.

Alfred licked his bottom lip, a sly grin spreading across his face as he kept his eyes locked on them. Even Braginsky grew uneasy, unable to guess what his friend might pull next.

And as we all know - Alfred could say or do absolutely anything.

And honestly, for just a split second, the thought flashed through Ivan’s mind of what this blond could possibly pull. He really didn’t know any boundaries.

Slowly raising his fist to his face, Jones, staring straight into the eyes of both enemies, insistently pushed at his cheek from the inside with his tongue, again and again. A single second was enough for everyone to realize: he was mimicking… a blowjob. Theirs.

The gesture was short, even lazy, yet absolutely deliberate.

Then he erupted into loud laughter, spotting the reactions of those standing before them.

No one. No, not even Ivan, could have predicted that he would throw out such a provocation. He could swear that something below had twitched at the sight.

And it seemed that something had indeed twitched in his jeans. Bold. Very bold. On his part.

Alfred’s warm hand squeezed Ivan’s shoulder in a burst of laughter, while Poland and Lithuania stared at the blond with unhidden astonishment and mouths wide open. They really hadn’t expected this outcome. For a moment, they even felt a twinge of pity.

At the same time, it was ridiculous. True, Braginsky rubbed his face with his hands, trying to hide his surprise and the laugh threatening to escape. Well, he had to keep a straight face.

Mostly, it was the shock that got to him more than the “joke” itself.

Poland swallowed hard, frowning as his face turned a furious shade of red:

«What the… hell»

Yeah, of course, everyone got exactly what situation was being referenced.

It seemed he could no longer maintain his usual pretended composure, caught in complete embarrassment and confusion.

Meanwhile, Lithuania’s face flushed even hotter than his beloved’s, fists clenched:

«Bastar-d…», - he groaned miserably, springing up as if he was about to punch one of the friends in the face.

But in that same second, Ivan instinctively pulled Alfred back, stepping aside. And Poland, surprisingly, grabbed Lithuania and whispered something to calm him down. And it worked.

«What the hell did you just do?» - Poland asked Alfred in a trembling voice, nervously straightening his wrinkled T‑shirt. He was far too flustered.

Jones shuffled his sneaker across the floor, teasingly drawling:

«Usually, people don’t, you know… give a blowjob under the university stairs», - then shrugged nonchalantly, giggling again.

«Alf, - Ivan nudged him in the elbow, glancing embarrassedly at their enemies’ slack-jawed faces, - so… let’s just call it and split, alright?»

His face went crimson as certain vivid moments of that “process” resurfaced in his mind. And honestly, he really didn’t want to remember that right now.

«Y-you, you guys…, - Lithuania stammered, trembling hands covering his face, - how…»

Never before had he seen such vulnerability in him, and it was oddly amusing.

Poland’s face burned furiously as he tried to catch his breath. Even a sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead, probably from the tension hanging in the air.

And most importantly - everyone knew perfectly well that their “conflict” would end on this note.

Amid his laughter, Alfred suddenly pulled Ivan’s phone from his pocket and opened the gallery.

«Alf, what are you-»

Ivan didn’t finish, as all eyes turned to the screen. Could he really be showing those photos?

Both enemies froze in horror, staring at the display. To think they hadn’t gone unnoticed during such an intimate moment…

«You sick idiot!» - Poland couldn’t take it, lunging to snatch the phone from the blond. But Alfred reacted quickly, returning it to Ivan under Lithuania’s shocked gaze.

«I hope there won’t be any more disagreements in the future, - Alfred said theatrically, loud and with a flourish, as if addressing an audience on stage, - and that you won’t bother us again»

He said it with such a wide, satisfied grin, as if he had been waiting his entire life for this moment. Like it gave him genuine pleasure. As if he had been preparing for this all along.

«Delete it, please! - Lithuania suddenly begged, turning to face the wall away from the three guys, - if anyone finds out…», - he muttered barely audibly to himself.

It was painfully obvious how much he was suffering, burning with embarrassment. Honestly, Ivan couldn’t blame him.

«Fine, but you’ve heard our terms, so-o», - Jones smirked nonchalantly, boyishly pressing his grin. He didn’t even finish the sentence.

Only after Poland muttered a reluctant “fine” did the whole spectacle end. Embarrassed, scared, and dissatisfied, the bullies exited this God-forsaken storeroom. Of course, they hadn’t gotten to “have fun” like they wanted. Anyone in their place would’ve been furious.

Alfred exhaled in relief, finally letting go of Ivan, ruffling his hair:

«Whew, dude, that was fun», - he snorted with laughter, grabbing the first aid kit and supplies that had been sitting beside them.

With an unreadable expression, Braginsky glanced at him, clearing his throat:

«You’re seriously a sick idiot»

Then he turned away, hiding a faint smile. He liked this Alfred.

And with the blond’s offended grumble and disbelief trailing behind, they left the dark room to find their friends. Yeah, it had been one hell of a day.

Chapter Text

«Seriously? I bet they would’ve totally fucked», - Gilbert burst out laughing after hearing his friends’ story about the sweet couple.

The whole group was gathered at Prussia’s apartment, having agreed in advance to watch a late-night movie together. Not that anyone minded.

Exams were just around the corner, so Ivan and Yao were busy preparing, sitting on the floor surrounded by piles of textbooks and notebooks. The only desk in the place was buried under junk and books, and nobody present had the slightest desire to clean it up.

To everyone’s surprise, Gilbert was also working on some project their professor had assigned. So right now, he was just as loaded with work, sharing a deadline with Yao. And honestly, they were handling it pretty well.

Leaving the two friends, still unsure of their feelings for each other, seemed to be doing them good, apparently.

The sun had long slipped past the horizon, leaving behind the silver shimmer of the crescent moon.

«As if anyone doubted it», - Ivan muttered under his breath, leaning over his notebook. His voice sounded carelessly indifferent, which made Prussia and China chuckle. The smell of smoked cigarettes had spread through the whole apartment.

Yao adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose without looking up from the paragraph he was reading:

«And what’s their problem now…»

Meanwhile, Alfred, who had reappeared in the doorway, laughed loudly. In his hand gleamed a tin can of beer - half of it already gone, no doubt.

«You should’ve seen their faces when we showed them the pictures», - he snickered, taking a sip of the bitter alcohol. He looked more than relaxed now, a faint blush on his cheeks.

The room filled again with the booming laughter of two friends, while Ivan paused his note-taking to glance at the blond standing in the doorway:

«You showed them»

Alfred rolled his eyes, bringing the beer can to his mouth, mumbling:

«This doesn’t change anything»

«Fuck this shit, - Gilbert suddenly snapped, dumping his textbooks onto the floor with a crash that echoed through the apartment. - Let’s just watch the movie, I’ve had enough studying for today»

Tired sighs could be heard, along with some mumbling, muffled by the rustle of pages and footsteps across the floor.

The whole group was worn out; some, like Jones and Gilbert, were a little tipsy. Overall, the apartment had a cozy, homey atmosphere that even made one drowsy.

*

«No! I’m not watching horror movies, that’s disgusting», - Yao protested to Prussia.

At that moment, he sprawled across the couch in the center of the room, wrapped in a blanket. Gilbert held the remote, choosing what they would watch that evening.

The room was completely dark, with only the wall-mounted TV screen providing a steady glow. Outside, it was fully night, the stars shining in the sky.

«Stop whining, Yao, - Gilbert clicked his tongue, frowning as he took a sip from his whiskey can and set it back on the floor. - Let’s see what the majority thinks»

With an impatient sigh, Yao sank into his seat, noticing Ivan already standing in the doorway.

«I don’t care, just… not another teen show about American kids», - he said wearily, casting a sly glance over his shoulder at the blond carrying snacks and drinks.

Alfred frowned, almost dropping the food from his hands:

«Hey!»

«We could watch a detective movie, - Prussia muttered thoughtfully, - or something romantic»

His tongue tripped over the words a bit, making Braginsky smirk slightly. He hadn’t had a drink yet, holding off for the movie. Yao wasn’t really used to this kind of thing at all.

While the friends debated what to watch, the Russian plopped down next to Yao by the couch armrest, listening to the group chatter.

In the end - they settled on some melodrama. No need to say how Ivan’s face looked when he heard that verdict?

But the next second, the opening credits appeared on the screen. Prussia grabbed his whiskey, stretching out in his spot.

«Yao, hey, scoot over»

Jones’ figure blocked Ivan’s view of the TV, and the next moment, with a quiet huff, Yao slid closer to Prussia, freeing up space. The blond landed beside Braginsky, pressing against his side.

«I can’t hear shit because of you two», - Gilbert grumbled, taking a loud swig from his can and turning up the volume with the remote.

For a moment, everyone was absorbed in the movie. Occasionally someone would comment - mostly Jones, of course.

Sometimes the clink of tin cans or the crunch of chips reached their ears. The rustle of clothes and bedding could be distracting, but nothing serious.

Still, someone else’s breath was dangerously close to Braginsky’s neck, making him shift slightly in his seat. Jones.

Beautiful shots flashed across the monitor, scenes changing one after another. The only thing was that the Russian couldn’t help but question the realism of certain moments, but who cared.

That was until a warm hand landed on his stomach, wrapping around his waist, and a blond head rested on his chest.

«Wow, her outfit, though», - Alfred muttered lazily, not taking his eyes off the TV. The screen showed the heroine wearing a short skirt and a tight blouse, clearly meant to draw attention.

Ivan swallowed, immediately feeling heat engulf him from head to toe. The friends lying nearby didn’t seem to pay them any mind, either absorbed in the movie or pretending not to care.

«Yeah», - Braginsky replied quietly, bending his knees.

Next to the couch was a crate of alcohol, and he decided to open one of the beers Alfred had been drinking earlier, taking a cautious sip. Not bad.

His attention was pulled away from the unfolding scenes on the screen by Jones shifting beside him and turning his head.

Following the movement, Ivan noticed Yao pressed against his back, waving off Prussia with barely hidden irritation.

«I’m not putting up with the smell of your smoke, - he hissed, nudging the laughing Alfred in reflex, trying to move further away from Prussia, - especially mixed with alcohol»

«I’ll kill you if you don’t stop», - Gilbert snapped, shoving him in the stomach.

By God, they were like cats and dogs, even during a simple movie night.

«Guys…»

«Ah, come on, Yao, - Alfred said, patting China on the waist, - Gil doesn’t want to let you go, cut him some slack»

And right then, he got a slap on the shoulder, which made him burst out laughing even more, while Braginsky, looking utterly exhausted, tried to focus on the screen.

The tanned arm was still wrapped around his waist, fingers occasionally pressing against the skin, sending shivers down his spine.

«Idiots», - Gilbert hiccupped drunkenly, shifting a bit on the bed to avoid pressing too hard against Yao.

Well, the movie night could go on.

Time dragged on. Because of the alcohol he’d had, Gilbert kept dozing off, barely paying attention to what was happening on the screen. The other three were fully absorbed in the movie, until Prussia stirred to shift his position.

Squirming, he half-consciously draped a leg over Yao, sprawling across the spot. Yao clicked his tongue but didn’t push him away, probably didn’t see the point.

Still lying on Ivan’s chest, Alfred smirked at the scene on the screen, once again making a casual comment:

«I don’t get why they had to take that route»

His chin kept brushing against Ivan’s solar plexus, though Ivan tried not to focus on the sensation.

«I don’t know either»

Ivan didn’t know what else to say. The alcohol had muddled his mind; although he’d never been drunk before, he felt far from sober. Thoughts were starting to blur together.

Ivan’s steady breathing was soothing in itself. Alfred, unconsciously, listened to his slightly quickened heartbeat.

«So why does she even say that? - he muttered again, clicking his tongue in annoyance. - Did they really need to make such a dumb main character?»

With that, the blond fidgeted, feeling Yao’s forearm pressing into his back. By the way, Yao occasionally exchanged a few words with Prussia, who, surprisingly, kept waking up and continuing to watch the movie.

Sighing patiently, Braginsky mumbled half-heartedly:

«Well, probably… I don’t know»

Honestly, he was starting to get irritated by Jones’s endless chatter. Seriously, why couldn’t he just be quiet?

«The actress is pretty»

Suddenly, a slightly sobered Gilbert croaked out, chuckling softly.

«Shut up already», - Yao said wearily, rubbing his face. His glasses had long been resting on the nightstand by the sofa, his eyes too tired to look at the screen through them.

With a quiet sigh, Ivan rolled his eyes, completely drained. The beer he’d drunk had warmed his body, and his face had flushed deeply - it was physically noticeable.

It seemed Jones was in the same state.

«Again. Why? She literally said she loves him, and now she’s acting like she doesn’t?» - Alfred grumbled discontentedly, pressing himself closer to the Russian.

Already unable to bear it, Ivan let out a pained little groan, hissing:

«Please… could you keep your mouth shut?»

He tried to say it as quietly as possible, so as not to draw attention. And, of course, as pleadingly as he could.

Clicking his tongue, Jones suddenly shifted position, lying back against the guy’s chest, his right hand casually resting between Ivan’s slightly parted legs. Classic.

«Because she annoys me. Tell me-, - He glanced at Ivan, frozen from his action, - how can someone say they love a person, and then go avoiding them?»

His tone was so demanding, so expecting an answer, that Braginsky tensed up. They were already in an awkwardly close position, and now this question on top of it. And such a stupid one. What does he even want from him?

Their friends were whispering to each other, so they had no idea what was happening between the two of them.

And here it was unclear: was it the alcohol talking, or just Ivan being worn out? Because the next second he looked straight into the piercing blue eyes of the blond, licking his lips.

…

«You’re handsome»

What did he mean by that? Why say it at all? Well, of course, the point was to shut his friend up. But… like that?

No, of course not. It was just Ivan’s half-drunk head, that’s all.

And for some reason, those words made Alfred vividly recall an episode from their teenage years. Maybe because guys tend to remember any compliment given to them for life, it’s hard to say for sure.

A long-ago scene immediately sprang to mind.

At that moment, an overwhelming sadness washed over him from what he’d just heard.

«You’re leaving?» - Alfred’s eyes were wide as he looked at Ivan, who nervously shifted from foot to foot.

It was the worst thing he could have heard on such a gloomy, rainy day. Too cold, as winter was just beginning.

«Y-yeah, um…, - Ivan bit his lip and scratched the back of his head, - Mom said we need to go back to Russia for a while»

The poor fourteen-year-old boy blinked his light lashes, unable to believe it. His very best friend was flying to another country for who knows how long. Maybe he wouldn’t even come back for 5–10 years, who could guarantee a quick return?

«But how? And for how long?», - the blond asked, peering into the younger boy’s eyes with unhidden sorrow. The thought that they wouldn’t be able to see each other crushed him.

He had always been unsettled and even frightened, by uncertainty.

Ivan sighed, fidgeting with the edge of his sweatshirt, staring at the floor:

«Dad said he’s going on a business trip, and we have to go with him…»

An awkward pause hung in the air. Alfred lowered his head with a look of sadness, ruffling his light hair. He was already imagining how much he would miss Ivan.

The Russian teenager was so overcome with anxiety that he hurriedly added, not giving his friend a chance to speak:

«B-but Mom said… maybe we’ll come back by my fourteenth birthday»

It was said with such a poignant hope that Jones felt even more upset. Ivan’s birthday was five months away, a long time to be apart.

And that’s exactly how they said their goodbyes. Alfred was crushed by the fact that he hadn’t even been able to see Ivan off properly, since he had school that day. Most likely, he would have just started crying right there. Like a girl, honestly.

Days and months passed as usual. In that time, the blond had grown a bit, even matured, so to speak. His voice had changed slightly too, becoming lower, but not drastically. At school, he still attracted attention from both teachers and classmates. Many complimented his appearance.

Yet he often sat at his desk, longing for his friend. There was no way to keep in touch, and it made him feel miserable. For a brief moment, he made “friends,” but those connections quickly fizzled out.

During this period, he also trained more, improving his physical shape. He wasn’t particularly interested in studying; he played video games, hung out with other classmates, and met girls. Apparently, around this time, he had his first sexual experience, which he later proudly recounted to Ivan.

It was a girl from a parallel class. But they quickly “drifted apart.”

That’s basically how his entire school year went. Summer was coming, the end of spring.

The American teenager was so excited about the approaching long-awaited date: Ivan’s birthday. Deep down, he still held hope that they would see each other soon.

Oh, but what a disappointment it was. The Russian boy didn’t arrive before his birthday, nor after. Jones was so upset that night he wandered through the alleyways they often walked together. That was the first time he tried alcohol. He didn’t get to cigarettes, probably for the best.

It had been about six months since Ivan left. Or maybe even eight - Alfred had lost count.

It was an unremarkable summer day. Sunlight streamed through the windows, tiny insects flew into the room. Outside, the streets weren’t busy, just occasional groups of teens and kids. Well, in such heat, nobody really wanted to go out.

Alfred was playing on his console, pressing the joystick buttons intently. The game sounds were loud, but he still caught some voices from the hallway.

Driven by curiosity, he set the console aside and went to see what was causing the noise.

At first, he saw his mother’s silhouette from behind, cheerfully talking to someone. But as he got closer, at the doorway, he saw a familiar, very familiar figure…

«Alfi, you finally came-»

She didn’t finish her sentence, noticing the expressions on both boys’ faces. Her words were cut off by a quiet, yet so full-of-wonder sigh from Ivan:

«W-wow…»

It came out painfully sincere and adorably childlike.

The pause really lasted barely two seconds. But it felt like an eternity, because Jones couldn’t believe his eyes.

…

«Vanya!»

With a deafening shout, Alfred lunged at his best friend’s neck, nearly knocking him off his feet. Braginsky stumbled, one hand gripping the blond’s shoulders tightly, the other holding onto the handle of his suitcase.

It was unclear when his mother had decided to step away and leave the two boys alone, but the next second, Jones sharply pulled away from the Russian teenager, shaking him by the shoulders:

«How could you leave me for so long!»

Ivan was just as happy to see him, but the lump in his throat kept him from saying anything at all. It hadn’t taken much time for Jones to become so handsome.

«I-I, uh-»

He felt so foolish, unable to find the right words in that moment. Thankfully, Alfred’s energy and drive didn’t wane.

Because he suddenly let his eyes roam over Ivan’s body with an assessing glance, frowning:

«You’re taller than me now»

Caught off guard by the jab and the sudden change in tone, the Russian teenager giggled awkwardly, shoving him in the chest:

«I told you I’d outgrow you»

And it was true. Before leaving, Alfred had been a couple of centimeters taller than Ivan, occasionally throwing teasing remarks about it. Back then, the Russian boy had promised he’d catch up, and at school the usual bullies had made a point of mocking his height.

«That’s not fair! - Alfred protested, crossing his arms over his chest. - Not only are you taller than me now, but your voice is lower too!»

It was almost comically infuriating for the blond. Before, Ivan had been self-conscious about his pimples, his “unmanly” build, and his childish voice, but now it was the exact opposite.

Ivan bit his lower lip, still standing at the doorway in his shoes with his suitcase. A wave of guilt washed over him, seeing clearly how these changes had affected his best friend. He had so much he wanted to say, yet hadn’t dared.

«Alf, don’t be upset…, - Braginsky said, touching his shoulder awkwardly. - You’ve… um, changed too»

Sighing, Alfred finally took note of his friend’s position and a logical question immediately came to mind:

«Did you come straight from the airport?»

Then he grabbed the Russian boy’s suitcase while Ivan kicked off his shoes.

«Um, yeah. I convinced my parents to let me come to you, -  he said, lowering his head under the intense gaze of those blue eyes. - Well… I just couldn’t wait to see you»

Ivan was so sweet, Alfred thought. He was genuinely touched by his best friend’s confession.

Relaxing a little, he looked him over again. Ivan’s hair had grown, partially covering his eyes. His developing silhouette seemed so beautiful to Alfred, those sharp shoulders making his waist look slim.

The blond smiled, grabbing his friend by the wrist:

«Perfect. Let’s head upstairs - I’ve got a little something ready for you»

Under the questioning look of those violet eyes, he led Ivan to his room. Braginsky could only hope that Alfred wasn’t upset and was genuinely happy to see him.

Throwing the door open, Alfred practically dragged them inside, heading straight for a small drawer by his bed.

Meanwhile, Ivan didn’t know where to put himself, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in his chest. He waited quietly, nervously adjusting his grown-out locks.

«Sit», - Alfred said almost like an order, nodding toward the floor at the foot of the bed.

Ivan bit his lower lip and obediently sat down on the floor.

Finally, Alfred straightened up, hiding his hands behind his back. His face flushed, a shy smile gracing his lips. His steps were hesitant, even timid.

Before he could say anything, Ivan felt two hands extend toward him, holding a small pouch with a note inside.

With questioning eyes, the Russian teenager slowly took the gift:

«This is-»

«Uh, just open it», - Alfred interrupted, ruffling his own hair, watching closely as Ivan’s slender fingers untied the knot on the pouch.

Alfred let out a relieved sigh when he saw the sparkle and delight in his friend’s eyes at the gift.

Turning the lightweight object over in his hands, Ivan looked up at Alfred with a shy smile:

«Oh, this is really sweet, Jones! I actually needed a pick»

Warmth spread through Alfred’s chest at those words, a pleasant, anticipatory feeling. Seeing Ivan so grateful simply melted him:

«Happy belated birthday, buddy»

Suddenly, Alfred leaned in and kissed him on the pink cheek. Ivan covered the lower part of his face with his wrist, his eyes crescent-shaped from the wide smile. It was utterly adorable.

«W-well, uh..., - Braginsky suddenly faltered, catching the wary look in those blue eyes, - did you find out what my parents got me?»

Grinning slyly, Alfred crouched down in front of him:

«Yep. An electric guitar, - he added, much to Ivan’s astonishment, - your parents told my mom. And we figured, you’d definitely need a pick»

Examining the gift in his hands once more, Ivan looked straight into Jones’ eyes, holding his gaze for far too long. Alfred even flinched slightly, caught off guard by the intensity of those violet eyes.

«Th-thank you, Alf, uh», - he finally murmured gratefully, quickly scanning Alfred’s face with his eyes.

The thought that Alfred had thought of him, prepared this gift just for him, stirred something deep inside. How carefully he’d planned it - all of it was so touching.

In a sudden impulse, Ivan couldn’t hold it in any longer:

«You’re… beautiful, by the way»

It was that very detail he had noticed the moment they reunited after so long.

The remark genuinely took Alfred by surprise. The Russian teenager had never complimented his appearance before. And though he’d heard such words countless times, hearing them from Ivan felt… so… so different.

As the silence stretched, Ivan felt awkward—Alfred was just staring at him, blinking.

«Uh, w-well, - Ivan stammered, trying to justify himself, - I mean… you’ve, uh, grown, y’know… started looking like a real guy»

Alfred listened silently, eyes wide with some kind of awe, almost forcing him to continue. Heat rose from Ivan’s neck to his cheeks.

Red as a tomato, Ivan finally blurted out:

«Uh… and your face… it’s really handsome too»

The blond still remembered how he had thrown himself at him with a hug, teasing him. After that, Ivan often blushed in his presence, sometimes unconsciously lingering his gaze on his face.

Of course, it was noticeable. Very noticeable, so Alfred understood why it happened. He fully understood that Ivan thought he was handsome.

And that fact flattered him so much that he couldn’t resist teasing his friend sometimes.

Even now, he found it amusing that he had remembered that phrase for so many years.

Chapter Text

Without a doubt, that moment stirred such warm feelings. How both friends were immeasurably happy to see each other again after such a long time apart. How Jones talked nonstop about how he’d spent the school year, and then, of course, grilled Ivan with questions about how he’d been doing.

How flattering were those sidelong glances Ivan threw at him. As if he simply couldn’t get enough of Alfred’s appearance. And of course, Alfred loved it. Even though a lot of time had passed, and they had grown up, he could still tease Ivan occasionally when he caught him staring. Yes, it was noticeable.

The blond blinked his long lashes, staring at Ivan with some confusion. And to everyone’s surprise, Ivan didn’t even look away - he just shrugged.

On the screen, the same scenes played, the same movie, the same voices of the actors. But Alfred hadn’t cared about what was happening around him for a while, because that one line had boosted his ego so much. Naturally, how could it be any other way?

Even more surprising was that the Russian calmly took another sip of his beer, casually muttering:

«Don't mention it»

For heaven’s sake, no need to make a drama out of it.

«Oh, um-»

That was all Alfred managed to get out at that moment, noticing that something had caught Ivan’s attention.

It would have been fine if not for Yao’s piercing gaze, clearly long since disengaged from the movie’s plot. Gilbert, on the other hand, lazily sipped his sweet soda. Well, everyone enjoys themselves in their own way, I guess.

«Did I hear that right?» - he asked, raising an eyebrow, shifting his gaze between Jones and Ivan.

Had Braginsky really said it that loudly? Though, given the alcohol, it wasn’t too surprising - he was bolder now.

Let’s start with the fact that sober, he probably wouldn’t have said it at all. And if he had, he’d likely have turned away from his friends, mumbling embarrassed excuses under his breath. This just slipped out somehow, automatically… And really, what’s wrong with giving a friend a compliment?

After all, Jones often praises him, so why not return the favor? Maybe in a slightly different way than getting drunk and tossing it out there like it’s obvious. But honestly, who’s kidding who - it really was obvious.

«Don’t be jealous, Yao», - Alfred teased, flicking his eyebrows playfully and giving him a light shove on the shoulder. He got a grumble in response.

Nearby came a heavy, familiar sigh. Ivan kept calmly drinking his beer, now not even looking at the blond. And it seemed the blush on his cheeks, highlighted by the flickering light of the TV, was now a deep crimson.

Alfred smiled contentedly, placing his hand on the Russian’s thigh:

«Thanks, man», - and suddenly his hand slid to the inner side of Ivan’s thigh, lightly pressing the skin through his clothes.

This time, Braginsky nearly choked on the bitter liquid, covering his mouth with his hand to avoid coughing.

Catching the blond’s irritatingly sly expression, he nervously gripped the tin can, nodding in response. Foreign fingers pressed noticeably against the seam of his loose jeans. Too noticeably.

«What are you two even doing?» - Yao’s exasperated voice cut through, his frown sweeping over them both. Oh, it seemed he’d gotten absorbed in the movie - he’d been watching it intently for the rest of the time.

Still, his gaze caught on Jones’s hand, resting somewhere it shouldn’t. But then again, friends often touch each other like that, so there was nothing to fuss about.

Probably.

«Yao, chill already, for God’s sake», - Gilbert muttered, slurring slightly as he tugged on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Luckily, that prompted the boy, with his skeptical and awkward expression, to return to the movie.

And it was good he decided to stay quiet, because Ivan was already red as a tomato. Alfred, too, by the way. One from alcohol, the other from embarrassment.

«Unusual to hear words like that from you, buddy», - the blond said innocently, smiling at his Russian friend’s focused face. And mind you, Ivan was putting in huge effort to give exactly that impression.

Honestly, he was provoking him. Alfred was drunk enough to act way too bold. Yeah, when sober, there were still certain boundaries he wouldn’t cross. Strange and contradictory as it sounded.

«I’m in shock», - Ivan muttered in an intentionally flat voice, lowering his tone, pretending to be absorbed in what was happening on the screen. Though the heat on his thigh from the other hand hadn’t faded for a single second.

Especially when his hand slid higher, up toward the knee, Alfred casually examined his legs. My god, what embarrassment. Brachinsky couldn’t understand what was wrong with him at that very moment.

Why him? With Yao sitting right there, for crying out loud. Another sip of alcohol was taken, the can nearly empty.

«Well, you know… that’s like the second time in our entire friendship you’ve complimented my appearance», - Alfred said lazily, continuing to pat him on the thigh.

Ivan flinched, nervously fidgeting, sneaking glances at the tanned hand. Long fingers kept tugging at a stray thread on his jeans, pulling in short jerks.

«I think that’s enough for you», - he said sarcastically, trying to keep a nonchalant tone. No, he absolutely couldn’t react to this American’s games. No, no.

At that jab, Alfred turned to him with a frown, careful not to draw any extra attention to them. The absorbed attention of their mutual friend, the Chinese guy, brought a sense of calm. As for Gilbert, there was nothing to say - he was just occasionally snorting.

And Ivan had the impression that Alfred wanted to tease him back. But for some reason, he deliberately lowered his gaze to Ivan’s legs, already gripping his left thigh with force.

Startled, Ivan grabbed his wrist almost instinctively:

«What the hell is your problem?» - he hissed, trying to pull his leg away, but it was held firmly.

«You’re so firm, - the blond blurted, feeling the thigh. - Looks like you’ve been working out, dude. Impressive»

Now it was Ivan’s turn to stare at him in complete confusion. They were like “dumb and dumber.” Masters at saying the most absurd and totally inappropriate things for the situation. Just perfect.

«What?»

The blond pressed his fingers deliberately against Ivan’s quadriceps, raising his eyebrows as he nodded:

«This is awesome, dude. I can feel your muscles»

Ivan had no reply at that moment because, well, it was ridiculous to think he was actively working out. How could his best friend even bring this up? Ridiculous.

«Um-»

«Here, feel mine, - Alfred continued, pulling his own thigh closer, - yours is like mine»

It felt like two clueless teens comparing whose muscles were bigger. Was it the alcohol talking, or what else could explain it?

Seeing Ivan hesitate, Alfred squeezed his thigh again, insisting:

«C’mon, go ahead»

Still doubtful, the Russian hesitantly touched the area just below the knee, lightly feeling it:

«Y-yeah-»

«Come on, squeeze properly, like I do»

The blond was genuinely trying to drive him crazy, guiding his hand further up to his thigh so Ivan would grip the skin harder. Ivan barely registered reality, thinking this must be a dream or a hallucination. They really shouldn’t have been drinking.

«O-okay», - Ivan said in a trembling voice, trying to pull his hand back. And thankfully, Alfred let him.

«I mean, - Alfred smiled, patting his thigh again, - it feels firm, huh?»

It sounded so childish. Seriously. So immature and totally adolescent.

«Just normal, - Ivan couldn’t hold back, shifting into a more comfortable position. - It’s just your mind getting all foggy from that beer»

It really was said just like that. He had no intention of prompting Alfred into any action.

Clicking his tongue loudly, the blond rolled his eyes and turned toward Yao, who was immersed in the lore of the movie.

God, Ivan almost laughed at the sheer recklessness and brazenness of the guy. How could someone be like this?… Although, undeniably, that was part of his charm.

To the astonishment of their mutual friends, Alfred brazenly grabbed Van Yao’s thigh, thoughtfully considering the difference in sensations.

«A-Alfred?» - the brunette squeaked in surprise, pulling his knees to his chest. He looked like a cornered kitten, utterly helpless under the pressure of those strong hands.

«I’m just checking something, buddy», - Alfred said with a mischievous smile, feeling along his legs. It looked so wrong that even Gilbert seemed fully sober now.

With a confused look, Gilbert scooted up toward the head of the bed, just opening his mouth:

«What are you-»

But he didn’t get a chance to finish, as the blond had already reached him, leaning over Yao.

Ivan watched the endlessly ridiculous and pointless situation with wide eyes, bursting into laughter.

While Yao threw him puzzled glances, silently pleading for help, Gilbert had already started pushing the blond away. It was chaos. Just think about how it all started.

Only Alfred could create such a mess and confusion.

«Ow! Get off me, you gay-ass! - Gilbert groaned, pulling his legs back, - that actually hurts!»

It seemed to hit the blond in some way, because he squeezed Gilbert’s knees, giving a playful smack on his leg:

«Taking notes from you»

After endless shouting from their friends, Jones finally stopped his antics, landing back flush against Braginsky.

Everything that was happening was utterly stupid and ridiculous, but the others were largely used to this kind of chaos.

«You can see for yourself that theirs aren’t as firm as ours  ow!-»

Alfred yelped in pain as Gilbert delivered a hard smack to his leg from the other side.

«One more time and you’re gonna get it», - he slurred, leaning back against the headboard as a warning.

You could only pity Yao, through whom all these skirmishes were taking place. Poor kid.

«You’re terrible», - Ivan said dryly, grimacing at the burn in his throat as he took another swig of booze. His brain was starting to melt, and the familiar drowsiness crept in.

The blond rubbed his bandaged knee, hit earlier by Bailschmidt, and gave the boy a soft smile:

«But it still feels nice that you called me handsome»

His tone was so unusually tender and warm that Ivan felt a brief flutter of embarrassment, trying not to look at him:

«You’re going to remind me of this for the rest of my life?»

Alfred genuinely had a knack for remembering seemingly trivial things and here was one of those moments.

«No, seriously, - he continued, leaning against the headboard, - you remember how they used to make fun of me at school because of how I looked!»

Not exactly pleasant memories, of course, ones Ivan didn’t want to dwell on. And if we’re being honest, it was still unclear to him why it happened. Probably just jealousy? Or some other reason?

«Yeah…», - Ivan muttered quietly to himself, lowering his gaze to his bent knees. You’d just forget this, wouldn’t you.

With a crooked grin, Alfred leaned over him to grab the glass whiskey bottle from the floor:

«I’ll bet if those idiots saw me now, their brains would explode»

After their friends’ endless shouting, Jones finally stopped his antics, plopping back down right next to Braginsky.

His body blocked the entire TV screen, forcing Ivan to patiently wait until he shifted back. Just drunken ramblings, after all.

As he reached for his drink, Jones pressed against the lower part of Ivan’s torso, finally leaning back with a satisfied look. Seems like he’d had enough alcohol for today.

«Cowardly little pups», - he muttered before taking a sip.

Immediately, a mental image flashed in Ivan’s head, still stuck there:

«When they dunked your head in the toilet, you never said anything», - Ivan snorted, not fully realizing why he said it. Maybe the topic was still sensitive for his friend. And, to be honest, it wasn’t meant meanly.

It was just… seeing it back then had been hard for him to process, even after all these years. Though considering Alfred’s personality, he had fought back. So, ultimately, it hadn’t been that traumatic for him. Luckily.

And thankfully, from Jones came only an indifferent grunt, nothing worse.

«That was just the last straw», - he said surprisingly calmly, shrugging.

And really, if you think about those old times… who ever had it easy? Back then, people were increasingly suffering from depressive episodes and all sorts of problems.

When the teacher told Ivan about the school festival preparations - though timely - began. Groups of teens and children gathered in the halls, the yard, and corridors to rehearse their "ensembles"

Back then, Ivan didn’t really think about why some groups rehearsed fully while others separately. But overall, it didn’t bother him.

At home, he was perfecting his bridge and riff, trying not to mess up on stage. As he had been told, the “other” boy from the parallel class who wrote the lyrics had a schedule that didn’t match theirs for rehearsals. So, he had to practice everything on his own. Only occasionally, during breaks, did Ivan get to see another talented student who was supposed to play saxophone with them. For obvious reasons.

At that time, all of his thoughts were consumed by the upcoming event, since, as it later turned out, there was very little time. The teachers, much to his disappointment and frustration, hadn’t supervised the process, and in the end, the deadlines were pressing.

As far as he remembered, the day before the festival, they had spent the entire day rehearsing with the other children’s groups. Out of the corner of his eye, the Russian boy noticed a familiar blond head.

Ah, that extroverted kid who had made the “compliment” about his shoes. By the way, Ivan was still wearing them. Not much time had passed since their last meeting, actually.

That day, this boy, who looked slightly older than Ivan, seemed to fill the entire space around him. Most of the adults present were looking at him - some approvingly, some critically. The boy seemed to know how to “entertain” the crowd, to be the center of attention. And undoubtedly, he liked it.

Yet for some reason, deep down, Ivan was annoyed that this blond paid no attention to him at all. Why, he still didn’t know.

And then the long-awaited day arrived - the school festival. Parents, teachers from different classes, and visitors came to watch the performances, filling the empty seats. Outside, the weather was perfect: moderately cool, with occasional bright rays of sunlight piercing through the clouds and dazzling with their light.

Children and teenagers were bustling backstage, running around the changing rooms. Some were fussing in front of mirrors, adjusting their clothes and hairstyles. Others, fueled by adrenaline, were chatting with each other, sharing their feelings and excitement.

Amid all this chaos, Ivan sat in the corner of one of the changing rooms, hoping that no one would notice him. The guitar in his hands was tuned, its strings already familiar to his fingers; he decided to practice his playing while he still had the time.

His heart started racing at the thought that a hundred eyes in the audience would soon be on him. Well, not just him, of course. He was also nervous about how the song he and his “co-players” had prepared would actually sound. They had only ever rehearsed as a full group once.

His thoughts were so restless and gnawing that he didn’t immediately notice someone entering the room. The soft sound of the strings apparently caught the newcomer’s attention, and the next second, in front of Ivan appeared… just the student who was supposed to play the saxophone.

His name was… François, if Ivan remembered correctly.

«Oh, there you are, - he said tiredly, rocking on his toes, - the first band is on stage now, and I think we’re second»

Braginsky felt his stomach twist from nerves and bit his lower lip. Under the strangely intense blue gaze, he felt out of place, especially considering François was a year or two older, if he remembered correctly.

«Well, um…, - Ivan faltered, noticeably flustered under the attentive look, - and our third teammate…?»

«Ah, I saw him in the hallway», - Bonfua cut him off.

Both of them were distracted by the click of a door, and then the handle turned, letting in the person they had just been talking about. He looked energized and full of life.

«They told us we go on in five minutes»

With a sheet in his hand, apparently with the song lyrics, Alfred peered intently at the writing, adding:

«Have you guys already practiced?»

Finally, he lifted his head and locked eyes on Ivan, who had shrunk into a corner like a little ball. Why? He would have to ask Alfred himself later.

«Yes, I am», - François replied indifferently, moving toward the saxophone by the small couch. He had probably been rehearsing a while ago as well.

Under the piercing gaze of the blond, Ivan nodded, rubbing his sweaty palms on the fabric of his black pants. To his annoyance, it didn’t help - the lump in his throat remained. He desperately needed his parents’ support.

«Great. I bet we’ll perform amazingly»

These were the last words before the blond left the dressing room. Bonfua followed, and a minute later, Ivan joined them.

And then - their turn. Braginsky had heard good performances and fairly mediocre ones from other students. His heart was pounding, a chill ran down his spine. But all of that vanished when he heard the teacher announce their entrance.

After that, the boy remembered almost nothing. His mind felt empty. His fingers moved mechanically, plucking the strings on autopilot. The sounds of voices and music were distant, as if far away. Ivan had completely shut off from reality.

In the audience, he spotted his mother, smiling gently. That growing confidence surged through him. His movements and grip on the instrument became firmer, the melody and accompanying voice blending perfectly. In that moment, he didn’t even notice the blond hopping humorously across the stage.

Their performance ended. Amidst loud applause from parents and teachers, the boys rushed backstage. A boundless joy filled Ivan’s heart at how well they had done.

However, one detail caught the Russian boy’s attention. While François shared satisfied comments about their performance, Ivan suddenly realized their blond was nowhere to be seen.

Silly as it was, Alfred was gone, even though they had just finished. But at that moment, his mother called him from behind, and he forgot about it immediately.

Only while listening shyly to her praise did he feel he absolutely needed at least a sip of water. Even a drop. And he hadn’t even sung. What was Alfred feeling then? Probably he had just stepped away for a drink.

After letting his mother know, the boy hurried to find the restroom, tugging on the handle. At first, he didn’t hear the distant voices. But as soon as he entered the stall area, a sudden torrent of swearing hit his little head.

«You little queer, are you still gonna argue?»

The first thing the Russian boy heard. Then a bang, as if someone was shoved against the wall. Judging by the sounds, there were three, maybe four.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest, a chill ran down his spine. In panic, his young brain didn’t know what to do. It was the first time he had faced anything like this. How was he supposed to react?

«Smash that right across his ugly face, come on!»

The nasty voice cut into the boy’s head so sharply that he felt momentarily nauseated.

To avoid attention, Ivan scurried like a mouse into a far stall, listening. Were they really going to kill someone?

«Our boy showed off in front of the crowd of parents again?»

The loud bang made Braginsky almost jump. His hands and legs shook uncontrollably; he flinched at every sound, praying not to be noticed.

«Tch, fuck! Back the hell off, you morons!»

A familiar voice suddenly made Ivan freeze. He couldn’t believe what he heard, maybe he had misheard?

«Oh, so you’re gonna keep mouthing off too?»

Even without seeing it, the voice conveyed clear anger. In the next second, the splash of water made the Russian boy shiver, trying not to imagine what was happening.

He didn’t know what to do. On one hand, the painful moans and swearing were unbearable; on the other, he couldn’t help. It was simply impossible.

It felt like an eternity, though in reality it was probably only a couple of minutes.

After a few insults, Ivan could tell from the sounds that two boys had left the stall. Their voices sounded older, maybe fourteen years old - uncertain.

He hadn’t seen, but heard the door close and silence followed. With it came a sense of relief, though the tremor remained.

In his stress, the boy hadn’t noticed he’d been clenching the fabric of his pants so tightly, his jaw locked. A dull ache followed from the prolonged tension.

Hesitant, Braginsky stepped out on shaky legs, approaching a toilet with its lid open.

Instant pity hit him alongside astonishment: yes, it was Alfred, that same blond. He was sitting on the floor, back against the toilet rim. Drops of water ran from his golden curls; his appearance was disheveled. His white shirt was half-soaked, and “666” with a smiley face was scrawled on his forehead.

His gaze fell on a red cheek and a slightly bruised eye, probably a black eye forming. He looked pitiful. He was still a child, after all. How could anyone treat him like this?

Seeing the figure in the doorway, Alfred managed a chuckle, coughing out:

«Oh, that’s you: the one with those shitty shoes?»

Ivan was speechless. In this state, he managed to say that? Though he clearly tried to hide his discomfort and look “cool.” Honestly, that was commendable.

But the pity from what he was seeing weighed down on the boy so much that, without thinking, he blurted out:

«Uh… did they beat you up?»

The blond grimaced in back pain, unable to stand. His lip and nose were also broken and bleeding, so he wiped away a trickle of blood.

«Can’t you tell? - he rasped, pulling his knees up to his chest. - Bastards»

His voice was quieter than usual, with a rasp.

Still not knowing how to act, Ivan carefully took him by the forearm:

«Let me… help you»

Fortunately, he didn’t resist, and with Ivan’s support, he stood up. The scene was far from comforting. His hands still shook, partly from awkwardness.

«I need to wash up», - the blond said, leaning on the boy’s shoulder as he trudged across the tiled floor. The damp fabric of his shirt had soaked into his own, sticking unpleasantly to his skin.

For a moment, fear crossed his mind that the bullies might come back and beat Ivan or that any other student might find them like this.

«How did you end up here? - Alfred decided to ask, grabbing the edge of the sink for support. - We’ve already finished playing our song»

After saying this, he leaned over the tap with effort, splashing cold water on his battered face. The bloodstains on his nose and lips washed away, leaving only scratches behind.

Ivan watched thoughtfully as droplets ran down his chin, slipping under his shirt toward his collarbones.

«I… just wanted some water»

Alfred let out a chuckle, and Ivan seemed to snap back to reality, remembering that, after all, this boy was his age. But he carried himself much older, even… kind of pompously? In any other situation, it might have looked grown-up, but not when he was in such a pitiful state.

«You were probably scared, huh? - the blond said, turning to the boy and scanning him from head to toe, noticing the tremble running through his entire body. - Stop shaking like that, God»

At that moment, the Russian teen couldn’t hold back anymore, flaring up from the tension:

«How can you say that when you’re shaking too! - he groaned through gritted teeth, nervously biting his lip. - You don’t hear every day someone getting beaten up…»

Alfred coughed, apparently still recovering from the forceful kicks to his chest. Though he tried to hide it, as Ivan had already noticed, he was trembling just as much. On top of that, it seemed he was holding himself together with all his might to avoid… breaking down?

At least moisture kept forming in the corners of his eyes, which he hurriedly wiped away with water.

«Okay, sorry», - Alfred said suddenly, shyly, leaning his hands on the sink and looking at himself in the mirror. His split lip quivered, his breath uneven. His thin shoulders shivered, so he hunched over and went quiet.

It seemed he wasn’t very pleased with himself either.

Something tightened in Ivan’s chest at the sight, and he awkwardly ruffled his hair, nodding.

Yet one question remained unanswered: how had it all escalated to this?

«Ah, um…, - Ivan started hesitantly, watching as the blond rinsed his forehead, - why did they do… that?»

Alfred scrubbed at his skin with water, trying to wipe the black marker off his face:

«Cause those fuckers are assholes»

Then he leaned his head back wearily, exhaling. It was as if everything around him was irritating, and Ivan felt a pang of guilt. Was he causing nothing but trouble for the boy?

Rubbing his forehead again, the blond clicked his tongue, huffing in frustration:

«Why the hell won’t this come off?»

While his efforts still hadn’t succeeded, Braginsky quickly started rummaging through his pockets, seemingly remembering something. A few seconds later, he pulled out a small cloth, looking like a handkerchief.

«Here!»

The blond looked at the Russian teen with a questioning frown:

«What’s this for?»

Then he turned back to the sink, seemingly catching his breath. He didn’t even wait for an answer. Now he looked utterly exhausted.

Ivan lowered his head in embarrassment, scolding himself for such clumsy behavior. Examining the fragile blond figure, he chewed his lower lip and looked away:

«I-I, um, we could wipe your forehead with this»

Good God, did he really stutter that much back then? Or only around this confident, silly American?

Turning, Jones glanced at the cloth in the boy’s hands as if considering his words.

«Alright, uh…, - he muttered after a brief pause, “if it’s not too much trouble for you»

Maybe they could get along after all? At first, the blond didn’t look very willing to cooperate.

«Yeah, of course…»

With that, Ivan stepped closer to the teen, feeling how he pressed against the sink. Given their positions, where he ended up holding the blond, Ivan felt uncomfortable, but decided to endure it.

Under the curious gaze, the Russian boy tried, as carefully as he could, to erase the markings. It didn’t always work, but the progress surprised them both.

…

«Your name’s Ivan, right?» - Alfred suddenly asked after a brief silence. He still looked tired, but his mood seemed a little lifted, a bit more lively.

Ivan nodded, focused on scrubbing the black marker from the tanned skin. It was interesting that he remembered him. Though Ivan remembered him too, so it wasn’t surprising.

«You…, - the blond began shyly, averting his gaze, - you played the guitar really well, um… I saw that the teachers and parents liked it»

Startled by the praise, Ivan froze, shifting his embarrassed gaze to the already flushed Jones. There was something about this boy.

Sure, he had a bit of youthful puffiness, slightly uneven teeth, and perhaps not the perfect hairstyle. But there was something conventionally attractive in his features. Something that made you linger your gaze longer than necessary.

Who could deny that a combination of golden hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin is appealing? Though at that age, kids didn’t think in such terms. They’d more likely categorize simply as “cute/uncute” by general standards.

«T-thanks, um, - Ivan squeaked awkwardly, blushing deeply, - you weren’t bad either»

At his compliment, the blond giggled, mumbling something in response. He pressed his lower back against the cold surface, slightly sitting to shift his weight. He was tired of the position.

«They…, - Braginsky began rubbing at the smiley face that wouldn’t come off, - do this to you often?»

Alfred winced at the friction but bore it, shutting his eyes.

«Third time already»

Ivan froze in surprise, but the blond quickly added:

«Well, the second time I just fought back», - he said, letting out a chuckle in an attempt to ease the awkwardness.

Nodding, the Russian boy rubbed away the remaining marks before stepping back. Funny how a simple guitar cloth could come in handy at a moment like this.

His heartbeat settled, the trembling through his body began to fade. A certain clarity washed over the situation, the fear retreating far away.

«Do you have any friends here?» - Ivan asked sincerely, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

«No, just a bunch of psychos around here», - the blond mumbled, inspecting his face. Faint dark stains lingered on his skin, sure to wash away soon enough.

While Alfred fixed himself up, Braginsky silently kept watching him the whole time. Simply out of genuine curiosity.

Suddenly Alfred smoothed down his messy hair, turning to the boy with a question in his eyes.

«Oh! S-sorry, I-»

Awkwardly turning away, the Russian boy grabbed his backpack, which had been lying by the sink all this time, ready to leave the bathroom. The wave of awkwardness crashing over him left him clueless how to act.

And he couldn’t quite make sense of this pompous teenager either, who was clearly holding something back. Or maybe demanding something of him. It was unbearable.

But the firm grip on his backpack strap stopped Ivan in place. His heart began to pound wildly at the touch. What if… what if he was going to hit him?

«Wait, um, - the blond said softly, stepping closer, - thank you»

He scratched his head in that charming way, averting his eyes under Ivan’s slightly frightened violet gaze:

 «Wanna come over and play console at my place today?»

Ivan turned toward him fully, hardly believing his ears. It seemed like it was the first time anyone had ever invited him over to play. More than that - someone was actually interested in him.

Blinking a couple of times, Ivan whispered quietly:

«I don’t mind»

Alfred visibly relaxed, smiling as he fixed his curious gaze on him:

«Great! Then let’s meet by the football field after lunch»

Turning over his words in his head, the Russian teen nodded energetically, a grin tugging at his lips. It felt so nice to hear that. He had nearly forgotten his mother was still waiting backstage.

«Then I should go?» - Ivan asked timidly, sensing that someone was already waiting for him. He didn’t want to get scolded right now.

The blond swallowed, ruffling his hair:

«Of course, uh-, - he licked his swollen lower lip, - just… you won’t tell anyone, right?»

Chapter Text

In the end, both teenagers agreed that Ivan wouldn’t tell the adults anything about what had happened, at least for now. In a somewhat lifted mood, he quickly made his way to the main hall, where his mother was already waiting.

When she asked where he had been for so long, the boy came up with an excuse along the lines of “my stomach hurt,” and together they left the schoolyard, heading home.

From the impatience and excitement of the upcoming meeting, his fingers trembled, and his head spun a little. Could it be that he was about to gain a new friend? And the blond himself seemed so cool that Ivan couldn’t understand how he didn’t already have friends.

At home, he had lunch with his mother and then rushed to his room to change. It wasn’t surprising that his father hadn’t shown up at the festival - he always worked late.

Overjoyed, Ivan put on a polo shirt and dark jeans. He wanted badly to look older, worthy of standing next to the blond.

He didn’t tell his mother that he was going to meet someone. Supposedly, he was just stepping out “to get some air.”

In the mirror, a pale face stared back at him, with his short stature and thin frame. A few scattered pimples on his skin always made him feel insecure, while his unusually colored eyes drew attention from others. He hated that.

Maybe that was why, since childhood, he had been shy about looking people in the eyes.

Pulling on his worn-out shoes, the teen slung his cloth backpack over one shoulder and called out:

«I’m off, Mom!»

Then he rushed toward the football field near the school gates. That was where they had agreed to meet.

What would they talk about? Would the blond even find it interesting to spend time with him? After all, Ivan had never fought with anyone before. And if he had, he surely would’ve burst into tears on the spot from fear and pain.

He could never have endured it as stoically as Alfred did.

Leaning against the metal fence, Ivan patiently waited for his new companion, idly poking at insects with a dirty stick. The weather was beautiful; the sun was breaking through the clouds.

As Braginsky dragged the pod absentmindedly across the ground, he heard a rustle and a second later, familiar stylish sneakers appeared in front of him.

The boy lifted his head, meeting a pair of blue eyes that gleamed mischievously in the light:

«Hey, you been sitting here long?»

He was dressed in plain shorts and a green track jacket over a T-shirt. Straight up like a bad boy. Either he was trying to impress his new acquaintance, or he was just used to looking that way.

«Uh, I’ve been here for five minutes already»

Ivan couldn’t shake off the awkwardness. All of this was new to him. Especially in contrast to the blond, who clearly felt right at home.

On his nose was a band-aid, his hair dry now and full, matching well with the rest of his look. The only flaw was the faint greenish tinge on his face - the aftermath of the fight. But that would surely fade soon.

Otherwise, he looked pretty good.

«Sorry, I couldn’t find my sneakers», - Alfred chuckled, nodding toward the path that led to the apartment blocks.

And so they walked along the road, exchanging short phrases. From the teen’s stories, Ivan learned that the blond didn’t like his class and wanted to transfer to another. That those bullies targeted him because of his school achievements and his decent family wealth.

«So, that means I’m four months older than you?» - Jones grinned, hopping over bumps in the road.

«But that’s not much, - Ivan snorted, kicking a small pebble along the asphalt. - We’re practically the same age»

Alfred gave his figure a slow, appraising once-over, as if noting something. The Russian boy shivered at that, shoving his hands into his pockets.

«Well, maybe, - the blond replied after a moment’s thought. - Cool jeans, by the way. Do you have any friends?»

At those words, Ivan’s cheeks flushed red, and he kicked the pebble so hard it flew off to the side.

«Thanks… um, I don’t have friends either»

That seemed to hit the older boy with surprising force. Walking ahead along the asphalt road, he jumped up to grab a hanging branch and tore off a green leaf.

«No way, seriously? - Alfred said in disbelief, tossing the leaf to the ground. - I bet a ton of kids envy your playing»

Braginsky forced out an embarrassed chuckle, keeping his eyes on his feet:

«I don’t think so. There are a lot of talented kids here»

The blond nudged him playfully in the ribs with his elbow, grinning.

«But do they all have good taste in music?»

The tone was deliberately lazy, and Ivan nearly stumbled from the shove, it was way too pushy and strong.

«Well, uh-»

«Do you like rock?» - Alfred cut him off, peering straight into his eyes.

Their shoulders were already pressed together, and the Russian boy couldn’t help but wonder, was this how people usually acted on a first hangout?

«Well yeah… I’ve got a lot of favorite bands», - Ivan muttered quietly, still keeping his head down.

That led into a heated debate between them. Each passionately argued over which rock band was better.

«Come on, The Beatles don’t sound heavy at all!»

Ivan was so indignant at that statement that he frowned, turning sharply toward the boy.

«They were the frontmen of their time. Their songs are brilliant»

By then, they had wandered into a lively courtyard full of playing children. Parents sat on benches, watching their little ones - some with strollers, others with dogs. The squeak of swings echoed through the street.

Deciding not to drag the argument on, Alfred clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

«Fine. But there are better bands out there»

Ivan just sighed patiently, glancing around the area. Suddenly, his sleeve was tugged, steering him toward one of the building entrances.

«This way, - the blond said, heading to the intercom and punching in a code. - Mom will open it in a sec»

Sure enough, after just a few moments, Alfred yanked the heavy door open, letting them into the dark entryway. Inside, it smelled of dampness and metal; the cool air chilled their sun-warmed clothes and skin.

It took some time to climb to the right floor and wait for Alfred’s mother to let them in. Skipping the offer of a snack, the blond immediately dragged him off to his room.

And if Ivan compared his own home to Alfred’s, there really wasn’t much difference: instead of posters of musicians, the older boy’s walls were covered with famous football players. Candy wrappers and sheets of paper lay scattered on the floor here and there.

His desk was piled high with textbooks and soda cans. The bed was about the same as Ivan’s. And on the floor by the nightstand lay the console they had originally planned to play together.

The blond plugged the wired controllers into the socket, nodding toward the bed:

«Sit down, I’ll turn the TV on in a sec»

Still feeling restrained, Ivan carefully climbed onto the bed, his whole posture stiff. Even though Alfred created this easy “second home” kind of atmosphere and acted casually, like nothing could be awkward between them, Ivan couldn’t quite relax.

«Are we going to play together?» - Braginsky asked shyly, folding his hands on his knees. He tried to take up as little space as possible.

Messing around with the cables, Alfred snorted, mimicking him:

«Nope, I’ll be the only one playing, and you - just watching»

He turned back to the boy, throwing him a teasing look that made the Russian frown and turn away. A loud, taunting laugh followed.

«Very funny», - Ivan muttered irritably under his breath. Quiet enough not to be heard, of course.

The blond quickly turned to the boy, asking again:

«What?»

Braginsky hurried to wave it off, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture:

«Nothing, nothing»

Eyeing Ivan with suspicion, Jones shrugged carelessly, showing no further interest.

Having sorted out all the equipment, he plopped down next to Ivan, handing him a controller. As the boy turned on the game, Ivan muttered uncertainly:

«Uh… this…, - he fumbled with the heavy thing in his hands, poking at the buttons, - how do you even play this?»

Apparently, Alfred wasn’t prepared for that question. In his worldview, every kid at school already knew how these things worked.

Staring at the boy in surprise, he raised his brows:

«You mean you’ve never played on a console before? Never even held a controller?»

Ivan flushed hard at the question, biting his lips. His face turned crimson, and he dropped his gaze, furrowing his brows to hide his shame:

«It’s just… my dad can’t afford to buy us one yet»

Alfred immediately backed down, guilt hitting him for what he’d just said. He hadn’t meant to make him feel bad.

«Sorry, um…, - he muttered, scooting closer to Ivan so he could show him directly with his own controller. - Look: this left button’s for jumping, and the right one’s for hitting»

It only took a couple minutes to explain, and once Ivan got the hang of the console mechanics, Alfred started the actual game.

Outside, the children’s screams and laughter gradually died down, the sun sinking toward the horizon. Evening crept in unnoticed, but there was still some time left.

«C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, hit him!» - Alfred shouted, furiously mashing the tiny sticks.

At first, Ivan kept losing, his fingers tripping over the buttons, but with practice he grew bolder, his moves sharper, and soon enough he was actually winning. That’s when Alfred suggested they team up and now - they were in full swing.

«Ah! He’s gonna kill me!» - Ivan hissed, scooting closer to the screen, eyes glued to the fight. Behind him, Alfred’s annoyed groans and angry curses filled the room.

«Damn it! Why is my controller glitching?»

«Oh, thirty seconds left!» - Braginsky exclaimed, biting down on his lower lip in concentration.

It was funny - both of them talking over each other, almost as if they weren’t even playing the same game. Ivan, who had been so tense before, was now completely relaxed next to his new friend. If at the beginning Alfred had maybe gone easy on him, now even with Ivan on his team, the blond could still end up losing.

«There, I’ll hit him right now-»

But Alfred’s words were cut short by the sudden freeze on the TV screen. Both boys groaned in frustration.

«Does it always freeze like that?» - Ivan asked quietly, frowning at the error message.

He turned his head toward Alfred, meaning to ask again, but froze for a moment. Something about the older boy’s posture threw him off, even though there was nothing particularly strange about it.

Alfred had simply sprawled across the bed, taking up most of the space. Legs spread, gaze sharp and mischievous. Almost daring.

The question still nagged at Ivan. Alfred acted so cocky, so sure of himself, like nothing could faze him. Yet in flashes, those human cracks slipped through - his embarrassment, his sulks. They were just kids, after all.

«Shh, I’ll figure it out», - Alfred sighed wearily, sliding down onto the floor.

He popped out the disc, blew the dust away, then fiddled with the cartridge. Ivan watched him intently the whole time, curious. Only now did it hit him - it was getting dark outside, and here he was, in some boy’s apartment. A boy he’d only just helped after a fight earlier today.

And his mom might already be looking for him. He hadn’t told her exactly where he was going.

«Do you usually play alone?» - Ivan broke the silence, hugging his knees closer to his chest.

«Mostly, yeah, - Alfred muttered distractedly, inspecting the setup. - Sometimes with kids from school. Or with my brother»

The click of the game loading again drew Ivan’s eyes back to the screen.

«All set, it should work now», - the blond said, clapping his hands as he climbed back onto the bed.

«Great»

With a spark of excitement, Braginsky grabbed the controller, a wave of adrenaline tingling in his chest.

«Watch me crush you now!» - Alfred laughed menacingly, nearly dropping the controller.

«Yeah, right, just wait!»

The match drew to its end. 3… 2… 1…

The screen lit up with Ivan’s character victorious, points flooding into his tally.

«What! How did you beat me? Again!» - the blond groaned in agony, throwing himself back onto the pillows. He covered his twisted face with his palms, arching his neck.

«O-oh, I didn’t know…, - Ivan replied timidly, biting his lip, - sorry»

He felt terribly awkward for managing to beat Alfred several times in a row, even though the other boy was clearly more experienced at this sort of thing.

Clicking his tongue impatiently, the blond looked at him, forcing a condescending smile:

«Alright, fine, I’ll allow it», - he said, as if doing a favor. On purpose.

After that, he kept his eyes on the younger boy’s face, studying him openly, as though he’d discovered something and wasn’t planning to look away.

Because of it, Ivan felt uncomfortable, insecure. He wanted to hide his pimples and turn his head, to look elsewhere.

...

«You’ve got unusual eyes»

And with those very eyes Ivan stared back at the older boy in astonishment, his mouth slightly open. The room was dark, only the TV screen casting light, illuminating their faces and figures. Of all the things, this was the last compliment Braginsky had expected.

«O-oh, um, - the Russian boy laughed nervously, chewing on the tip of his nail, - thanks, um. François told me that too yesterday»

Alfred’s reaction to those words seemed incomprehensible. Because his expression immediately shifted, and his mood turned on a dime.

«I think that guy should stop acting like he’s all that, - he snorted, folding his arms across his chest irritably, - he acts way too arrogant»

Ivan didn’t know Bonfoy well, but he couldn’t help wondering why Alfred had drawn such conclusions. And really, getting upset about it seemed… not worth the nerves.

«What do you mean?» - Braginsky asked sincerely, looking him straight in the eyes.

«Well, like, - Alfred began thoughtfully, staring up at the ceiling, - like, could he take it if those jerks beat him up the way they did me?»

It was painfully obvious that this situation was still raw for Jones. God, no one knew what he had to go through with those older kids. Poor boy, he just needed someone to understand.

Ivan had just opened his mouth to answer when Alfred went on:

«Bet you anything he would’ve started bawling right there like a little girl and run off to tattle to the teachers»

When he finished, the blond ruffled his hair, licking his lips. Now he looked utterly deflated. And honestly, Ivan hated the thought of this boy, whom he’d only known for a single day, being mocked like that.

«He… he wouldn’t have managed, - Ivan said softly, catching the intense sky-blue gaze. - You did good, really»

It seemed to knock Alfred completely off balance. His eyes went glassy, like he might start crying any second. And yet, not a single tear fell.

«Really?» - the blond’s eyes widened, full of hope as he looked at Ivan. His ears had turned red in the dark, his fingers fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

«Yeah, you’re, um, actually really brave», - Ivan managed in a trembling voice, turning his head away. For some reason, saying things like that out loud was very hard.

After a pause, Alfred chuckled:

«Hey, thanks»

It struck Ivan as incredibly sweet. Still, the heavy thought that it was late already and he should go home pressed on him. Through the cracked-open window came the sound of crickets. The streetlights outside had flickered on, the sun long gone, leaving only a dim afterglow behind.

Following the Russian boy’s gaze, Alfred seemed to realize what he was thinking. He was about to ask something, but Ivan spoke first:

«My mom will be worried, I need to go home...»

Alfred’s emotions were written plainly across his face. It felt like he had completely lost track of time.

«It’s a shame, really. Fine»

With that, he got up from the bed, turning off the console and unplugging the cords.

«Can you walk me to the front door?» - Ivan asked cautiously, shrinking under the blonde’s puzzled gaze.

Alfred turned to him, furrowing his brow:

«You’re going alone?»

Braginsky didn’t immediately grasp what he meant. Well, of course… that’s natural, isn’t it?

Hesitating under the testing stare, he tentatively said:

«Well… yeah? Uh-»

With a loud sigh, Alfred set the controllers under the TV, cutting him off:

«Don’t be ridiculous, - he said, rising under the boy’s confused gaze, - just wait a sec»

And then he left the room, vanishing from sight. Ivan could only guess what he was doing. So he waited, patiently.

A couple of minutes passed. Still no sign of Alfred, and Ivan’s nerves wouldn’t let him sit still. He hadn’t told his mother where he’d gone, what if she was already worried, looking for him?

Just as he was about to go search for Alfred himself, the door opened unexpectedly. The two boys nearly bumped foreheads.

«Oh-»

«Your mom will be here to pick you up soon», - the blond said calmly, leading the younger into the hallway.

They walked together to the front door. While Ivan awkwardly tied his shoes, Alfred stood silently, watching him the whole time. It was nerve-wracking.

The worst thing is when someone stares at you while you’re doing something.

Straightening his clothes, Ivan finally stood up, turning to face Jones, who was waiting behind him. The blond looked a little dull, disappointed even, though he was clearly trying hard to hide it. Or at least - trying.

«You didn’t forget anything?» - his eyes traveled over Ivan again, as if to confirm the question.

«I don’t think so»

They froze there, unsure of what to do next. One thing was clear: they’d had a great time together. And it seemed both of them wanted to keep it going.

...

«So, uh, see you at school?» - Alfred asked awkwardly, stretching out his open palm for a handshake.

«Y-yeah», - Ivan giggled nervously, shaking his hand. A strange, exhilarating feeling of lightness and joy flooded him.

Saying goodbye, the blond added that Ivan’s mom was waiting for him in the yard, then locked the door behind him, seeing him off to the stairs.

And from this moment on began something that, in time, would be hard to explain.

Next to him, Ivan could hear the steady rhythm of breathing; the movie on the screen was nearing its end. At least, judging by how the events were unfolding. The foreshadowing of credits.

At last, everything went quiet, and it seemed Gilbert and Yao had long since dozed off, slumped against the pillows. Alfred, surprisingly, kept silently watching the shifting frames. His face betrayed no vivid emotions, probably because he was drained. The alcohol was lulling him to sleep, naturally.

Braginsky felt himself about to lose his grip on the outside world. His eyelids kept threatening to close, dragging him into Morpheus’s realm.

And indeed, it seemed only a short time had passed before he and Jones followed their friends’ example.

They really shouldn’t be holding these movie nights so often.

Chapter Text

And although their relationship developed quickly, the first days of their “close” acquaintance were fairly ordinary - except, of course, for Alfred’s clinginess and silliness even back then.

Who would have thought that two twelve-year-old boys, so different from each other, would become close? Probably, at that time, it was their mutual lack of friends—and the general absence of a social circle, that brought them together. Or maybe, as many like to say, they were “soulmates.”

Ivan had always thought that expression was the nonsense of flighty people, yet one day he caught himself seriously pondering it.

After all, the way he and Alfred grew closer was… tender and touching. Keep in mind, they were still just kids, and a young mind could interpret the arrival of a best friend as something incredible. Yet, here they were.

Two days passed after their meeting - it was the weekend. Ivan’s mother, of course, had been flustered by her son’s disappearance until late in the evening, but she still expressed happiness that Braginsky had socialized with someone.

His father, on the other hand, responded with some skepticism, expressing distrust toward the American boy, saying things like “American teens are fickle; you have to be prepared”, and all that sort of thing. Meanwhile, he tried to come to terms with the fact, advising his son to be ready for the possible end of this budding friendship.

By the way, Ivan hadn’t told his parents anything about the bullying Alfred endured. He was afraid that after hearing it, his father might forbid them from seeing each other at all.

A new school week had begun. In the classrooms, kids whispered about the festival that had just ended, discussing the performers. There were teasing remarks, jokes, and awed comments about the songs. And, of course, as always - observations about people’s appearances.

At that moment, Ivan was completely focused on the classwork that the teacher was calmly writing on the board.

Every now and then, he remembered the gaming evening he’d spent with his new acquaintance. His stomach would tighten at the thought that he might run into the blond somewhere: in the hallway, the main hall, or… the bathroom.

He didn’t really want to witness a fight like that again. Yet, a kind of natural protectiveness toward the boy stirred within him. He didn’t want Alfred to get hurt. It was as if he just wanted to shield him… somehow.

The sudden bell made Ivan jump. His classmates leapt from their seats, grabbing notebooks and backpacks, saying their goodbyes to the teacher before heading to the next lesson. Yes, everyone was happy: the math class was over, and next came history. Many kids liked it, and so did Ivan.

The boy gathered his things, joining the crowd of students pouring into the crowded hallway. God, Braginsky couldn’t stand this kind of crush. Seriously, kids were pushing and shoving each other; there was no room to breathe.

Clinging to the strap of his backpack, Ivan tried to squeeze between two upperclassmen. Somehow, though, his eyes caught sight of a familiar blond head and a dark hoodie.

His stomach fluttered with excitement, his palms already sweaty. Braginsky didn’t have much time to think about how to act. His shyness kept him from calling out, but…

He just desperately needed someone familiar nearby at that very moment. The air in the hallway was stifling, other students pressed against him, making it unbearably hot. Laughter, chatter, and even screams echoed around him.

With a determined lunge forward, Ivan caught up to the blond, grabbing the handle on top of his backpack to get his attention.

«Alfred!-»

He called, stopping abruptly as the boy turned sharply. The pushing crowd almost knocked them both over, but Jones steadied himself by grabbing Ivan’s elbow, though he clearly looked surprised to see him.

«Oh, it’s you! - the blond exclaimed, tugging Ivan by the sleeve of his hoodie. - I didn’t expect to see you here. Honestly, I thought I was about to die»

Alfred’s enthusiastic expression thrilled Ivan. It was amusing how quickly he jumped into the conversation, showing genuine interest in their newly begun exchange.

Alfred’s excited expression delighted Ivan. It was amusing how quickly he had jumped into the conversation, showing genuine interest in their budding interaction.

«Don’t say that, I’m going to suffocate», - the Russian boy grimaced, unconsciously hooking his arm around the blond.

Trying to squeeze through the narrow gap that had opened between the students, Ivan pressed himself against the wall. Meanwhile, Alfred seemed amused by the situation, pressing against Ivan as he laughed.

«Damn, someone’s pushing me from behind», - Ivan panted, guiding them both along with the flow of students.

«I’m going to trip, wait! - Alfred laughed, pressing him harder against the wall. - I think someone just piled on me from behind»

In both boys’ minds, there was only one sincere wish - to avoid being crushed by the crowd and make it out.

And miracle of miracles, it happened. Once they reached the main hall, the crowd thinned naturally, and the students dispersed to their classrooms.

«This… this is really awful», - Ivan groaned, noticing he’d been holding the older boy’s arm tightly the whole time.

Under Alfred’s relieved laughter, he awkwardly let go, stepping back to respect his personal space.

Jones didn’t even seem to notice the gesture, ruffling his messy hair.

«Agreed, but it’s good we ran into each other, - he said shyly, - what class do you have now?»

«History», - the Russian boy shuffled his feet across the marble floor, glancing around. A faint blush spread across his cheeks, but the panic that had gripped him in the crowd had already subsided.

Alfred’s presence had really helped him cope.

«Uh, um, I’ve got geography»

After that, he went quiet, as if he didn’t know how to continue the conversation. There’s a difference, after all, between being at home and being at school. Ivan was momentarily surprised by the sudden awkwardness between them. Two days ago, Alfred had behaved completely differently.

«Cool, uh, by the way, I wanted to ask, - Ivan began hesitantly, trying not to look at him, - maybe… we could hang out after school today?»

He was so afraid of a negative reaction from Alfred that he bit his lips hard and fiddled with the cuff of his hoodie. And what if Alfred was just being polite? Besides, the suggestion had come out completely on impulse.

It seemed Jones brightened at his words. His eyes sparkled, his eyebrows lifted, and his ears turned red.

«Great idea, Ivan, - he said, licking his lips and patting the boy on the shoulder. - How many classes do you have left?»

Momentarily lost in the joy of his reply, Ivan flinched, forgetting for a moment.

«Uh, I think… two?»

«Perfect, then shall we meet at the playground? - The blond didn’t wait for an answer, turning toward the stairwell as he left. - See you!»

Ivan didn’t immediately realize what had just happened, hurriedly shouting after him:

«Yeah!»

But there was no denying the flood of feelings coursing through him at that moment. The aftertaste was exquisite.

For the first time, Ivan found himself wanting the lessons to end quickly so he could see the blond. His heart raced with anticipation for their upcoming walk. Without even realizing why, his leg twitched under the desk with impatience. It felt unusual.

And oh, finally - the bell. Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, he dashed out of the classroom and down the stairs. A wide, expectant smile spread across his face, only to be interrupted by a familiar, annoying voice.

Just as Braginsky was about to step into the foyer, he was called out:

«Hey, nerd!»

He would have recognized that voice anywhere. In a bad way, of course.

Felix. After his words, Toris laughed loudly, pulling faces at him.

Ivan’s stomach twisted with fear and irritation. There they were again. And what on earth did these idiots want to do this time?

«Ha, who wears that horror? - Felix drawled disdainfully, folding his arms across his chest, - that hoodie looks awful, Braginsky»

He emphasized Ivan’s last name, while Toris snickered exaggeratedly, deliberately sizing up the Russian teenager.

It was hurtful. Of course, they were deliberately pressing on what hurt. Did he get to choose the financial situation he was born into? Why were kids so cruel to others?

Ivan clenched the edge of his hoodie with trembling fingers, swallowing hard. The words stuck in his throat. It was hard for him to assert his boundaries, especially since these taunts had started only recently, ever since Toris had transferred to their school.

«I…-»

«Look at him! - Lithuania pointed at Braginsky rudely, - can he even talk?»

Poland laughed at the jab, grinning unpleasantly at the Russian boy. Fortunately, their mockery hadn’t gone beyond verbal insults. Not yet.

As Ivan remembered, his mother had simply told him to ignore the words of bullies. Deciding to follow her advice, he gripped his backpack strap tightly and headed toward the school exit.

«Hey!» - Felix shouted in protest, as if urging him to stop.

Braginsky quickened his pace, muttering quietly under his breath:

«Enough»

And with the disapproving shouts fading behind him, he slipped out of the building, making his way to the meeting spot with Alfred. His temples throbbed with the rapid pulse of his heartbeat, echoing in his head. It was unpleasant.

The boy crouched down, leaning his back against a painted metal pipe, tossing his backpack onto the ground. He didn’t care at all that the fabric might get dirty. His mood immediately soured, and Ivan glanced at the sleeves of his hoodie, holding back tears.

But no, he couldn’t cry now. Alfred was supposed to arrive any minute - what would he see? It would look pitiful; he wasn’t a little girl. Luckily, the playground was empty.

Sniffling, Ivan bit his tongue hard to hold back the moisture pooling at the corners of his eyes. He felt so awful in his clothes. He felt ashamed of how he looked.

However, the stream of his thoughts broke the moment a warm boyish voice called out:

«Ivan!»

Lifting his head, the teenager weakly waved his right hand and muttered:

«Hi»

The blond ran up to him, crouching down opposite him to look into his eyes. As if noticing something, he studied him more closely; his energy immediately softened, and his expression shifted from cheerful to awkward.

While the Russian boy tried in every way to erase the remnants of his disappointment from his face, Alfred finally asked, noticing his downcast state:

«Hey, are you okay?»

A haze in his eyes made the scene before him blurry, and the hurt weighed on his chest. But Braginsky blinked back his tears, biting his lip:

«No, it’s nothing, - he turned away to grab his backpack, - let’s just go?»

No matter how hard Ivan tried, his voice still gave him away - broken and trembling, just like his lips. He was about to stand up when someone grabbed his shoulder, holding him in place.

«Are you sure? You can tell me, - the blond insisted, catching Ivan’s darting violet gaze. - Come on, go on»

Ivan hesitated: should he talk, or just cry? It felt stupid, un-boyish. At that moment, a wave of self-disgust washed over him. God, even when Alfred got teased, he hadn’t cried.

And here? Braginsky was being singled out just because he looked “off” and now he was about to break down right here? Definitely a little girl.

Seeing the boy’s hesitation, Jones cautiously suggested:

«Hey, did someone hurt you? - he leaned closer to Ivan’s face to finally catch his timid eyes, - don’t be afraid»

In the tense silence, the blond’s gaze flicked between Ivan’s eyes as he licked his lips. Could he really care? Shouldn’t he be indifferent? Caring only because Braginsky helped him… that wouldn’t be genuine. He shouldn’t pretend.

Swallowing hard and keeping his face visible, Ivan slowly nodded, lowering his eyes to the ground. His cheeks burned, and a tear slid down his cheek. On their second walk together, the sweet boy saw Ivan cry.

Alfred seemed taken aback. On one hand, he felt an unbearable urge to support, to comfort. On the other - how? They barely knew each other; what was he supposed to say?

«Uh, uh…, - the blond let out a shaky sigh, mumbling in surprise. - Oh, don’t cry»

Both hands wrapped around the Russian boy’s narrow shoulders, holding him in silent support. Alfred’s uncertainty was visible, and in another situation, Ivan probably would have laughed.

«No-no, - Braginsky waved him off, hastily wiping the tears that had suddenly poured. - It’s stupid. I’m not a little girl»

His wounded tone drew an understanding, slightly embarrassed smile from Jones. An involuntary chuckle escaped his lips, seemingly unintentional, just from the surprise of the situation.

«Alright, alright, no need, - the blond tried to soothe him, moving his hands from Ivan’s face to look into his eyes. - Who hurt you? The older kids?»

Seeing someone in need of support felt… actually pleasant for the boy. And it mattered that it was a boy. That was the key here.

His nose and face were red, tiny drops of tears gathered on his lashes. He was on the verge of sniffling, and Ivan didn’t want to make himself look that pitiful. What would they think of him?

Here he was being comforted like a little kid - he couldn’t ask for more. Though, honestly, given some observations, Ivan had expected Jones to laugh at him. Or call him a crybaby.

«N-no, it’s…, - Braginsky cleared his throat to answer more steadily, - …just from the parallel class…»

He didn’t finish, hesitating over whether he should say anything at all. Saying it would make him a snitch. And besides, what would Jones even do? He had enough of his own problems, and now Ivan would be imposing.

«And what did they say to you? They didn’t, I hope they didn’t…, - Alfred stopped for a second, searching for the right word, - …hit you?»

Ivan’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly:

«No, of course not, um, - he sniffled and wiped his nose, slowly beginning to calm down, his breathing settling. - Just… they started laughing again… at me…»

Puzzled, the blond tilted his head, watching the boy’s furrowed brows. Oh, he fully understood how Ivan felt and really wanted him not to be upset.

«Laughing? At what? - Alfred pressed gently, determined to figure out what the problem was. - What did they say to you?»

He hadn’t even imagined that someone would be picking on Ivan. To him, this quiet, reserved boy seemed like he had no enemies. The simplest reason for thinking so was his taciturn nature. And, of course, his talent with the guitar.

Noticing Alfred’s genuine concern, Ivan felt a little relief inside and decided not to spiral into unnecessary thoughts. His mood was already spoiled, so why make it worse?

«Well…, - the boy swallowed, chewing on his lower lip, - about the way I look»

Raising his head, Braginsky met the puzzled sky-blue gaze of Alfred. He hurried to clarify:

«I mean, uh… I don’t look good, - Ivan mumbled, curling in on himself as if to make himself smaller. - Mom can’t afford to buy us fashionable, expensive stuff»

The weight of guilt for his behavior immediately settled on Alfred’s shoulders. Just thinking back to their very first meeting - those sneakers. Of course, his brash and shameless nature had burst out like that. And then… well, here they were.

At the same time, indignation flared hotly in his face. God, so many kids got bullied literally for nothing—how could anyone do that?

«Seriously? - Alfred frowned, ruffling his neatly combed hair. - Those jerks just said you look like crap? What business is it of theirs?»

Ivan nervously gnawed at the tip of his nail, shrugging.

«I don’t know… they’ve been doing it a lot lately…»

After thinking for a moment, the blond asked:

«They’re just idiots, don’t listen to them at all. But, what are their names?»

Doubt flickered in Ivan’s eyes as he glanced at the boy, unsure if this was even worth bringing up. I mean, what could they do? Even if they told the teachers, the bullies wouldn’t get written up, if anything, it would just make them angrier.

«Well, uh, maybe it’s better not to pay attention to them…»

«Ivan, - Alfred cut him off irritably, leaning his elbows on his knees. - Don’t be afraid. Maybe I even know them»

After another moment of hesitation, Braginsky finally muttered:

«Feliks and Toris. They’re in 6C»

The blond seemed to think over his words, almost as if they reminded him of something. Did he actually know them?

After a short pause, he huffed and smiled encouragingly, rising from his crouch.

«Alright, got it. So, wanna go hang out now?»

The sudden shift made Ivan suspicious, and his voice tightened:

«That won’t… cause us trouble?»

Alfred’s light brows shot up, and he laughed, holding out an open hand:

«No, of course not. You’re not upset anymore, right?»

Ivan looked at the boy, whose golden hair all but glowed in the sunlight. Blue eyes sparkled in the sun’s reflections, and the Russian boy felt an odd calm settle over him at his words. As if Alfred was promising him unquestionable protection.

Maybe he shouldn’t be drawing such quick conclusions. After all, they still barely knew each other. And yet… the way Alfred had listened, had actually understood…

A small smile tugged at Ivan’s lips, and he mumbled shyly:

«Nope», - then, with Alfred’s help, he straightened up, and the two boys headed toward the big park in their city.

Despite the harsh emotions of the day, this moment carried a soft sense of safety and support.

The room was unbearably stuffy. Even through his sleep, the sunlight managed to wake him with its blinding glare.

Braginsky stirred, feeling a slight dizziness and a dry throat, grimacing. There was a faintly unpleasant taste in his mouth, so he stretched his stiff muscles, thinking about a cold shower.

Figuring out the time was tricky. It felt like the middle of the day and that wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

Next to him, Ivan heard a rustle and finally realized that only Yao was lying beside him, still asleep. How they hadn’t woken up - he couldn’t say.

The echoes of last night were still lingering, and with some effort, Braginsky climbed out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom. Luckily, he hadn’t drunk much, so the aftereffects of alcohol were minimal. How were Gilbert and Alfred feeling…?

Focused only on getting to the shower, he caught sounds out of the corner of his ear - muted voices coming from the kitchen.

«…yeah, dude, I do it all the time. Lots of times…»

Something in that sentence caught Ivan’s attention, and he paused, listening. They were just across a short corridor, so he didn’t have to worry about being noticed. Though this was definitely not something he was supposed to overhear.

After all, they were sitting in the kitchen of an apartment where at least two other people were present. Who in their right mind would talk about something so private where others could hear?

Giggling and some rustling could be heard, then Gilbert asked, clearly teasing:

«So… you like that?»

Until that moment, the context and meaning of their conversation had been unclear. For now.

Without hesitation, Alfred replied casually:

«Yeah, why not, - he said, taking a sip from his glass. - Girls aren’t always easy, but guys are definitely more fun, so…»

He deliberately stretched out the last words, leaning back in his chair. Silence fell, broken by Gilbert’s snicker.

Seriously… strange topics. After all these years of friendship, hadn’t people gotten used to Jones’ unusual tendencies?

«You’re just disgusting, is it just fun for you? - came Gilbert’s confused question, quickly followed by, trying to make sense of this “dilemma,” - doesn’t that mean you like guys?»

Ivan hadn’t been prepared for that. Stunned, he shifted his weight quietly, trying not to give away his presence. The genuine curiosity in Alfred’s tone pinned him to the floor.

He couldn’t see the blond’s face, not even if he tried, since Alfred sat with his back to the doorway. Still, the nervous tapping of his foot betrayed his tension, despite his usual composure.

«I-I, uh, - his voice wavered with hesitation, but after another sip, he added more confidently, - I don’t jerk off to guys»

If Ivan had had any drink in his hand, he probably would have choked on it just like Gilbert was doing at that moment.

«Ugh, that’s really disgusting», - Prussia drawled mockingly, still sipping from his glass.

But Alfred, in fact, just kept going:

«If you think about guys when you’re alone and…, - he seemed to pause for a moment, - …want to jerk off, then that means you’re interested in guys and that’s homosexual, you know?»

God, it sounded so bluntly that Ivan’s face immediately flushed. His throat even tickled a little, making him desperately suppress a cough that wanted to escape.

«I’m not-»

«But I don’t mind kisses with guys at all, - Alfred didn’t even let his friend get a word in, speaking calmly, - I think when guys kiss all boyishly, it should look dramatic, don’t you think?»

So, that’s how he saw all their kisses? Even with tongues? Something sank inside Braginsky at that fact.

Silence fell again, only broken by the creak of someone’s chair. Then the sound of the ambulance siren was drowned out once more by the blonde’s voice.

He just needed to shut up and say nothing.

«Like in a marching performance, with an orchestra and waving flags. Like, one tender male kiss, - with that analogy, Jones chuckled shortly, seemingly pleased if you judged by the tone, explaining his position, - but I’m not sure I could actually shove it into some guy-»

«Oh, just stop! - Gilbert groaned, covering his face with his hands at the teasing laughter of the blonde, - I didn’t want to know these details, you’re so gross»

In a bass tone uncharacteristic for Jones, he laughed again, apparently leaning his head back.

For himself, Ivan decided that he probably just shouldn’t have been listening to their conversation. Not even from a moral perspective, but simply because Alfred’s words would now sit in his smart little head in a horribly lasting way.

It was stupid. Stupid to hope for a different answer from Jones, aside from the extra details. Really, why had he even hoped? Was this, in a way, some kind of mental coming-out?

It was all the fault of tomorrow’s session, that was all.

Chapter Text

That day, the future inseparable friends went to the nearest park for ice cream, strolling along streets lined with blooming plants. The weather was just perfect, and thanks to Alfred’s support, Ivan completely forgot about his tormentors.

Whenever the blond noticed that Braginsky was sinking back into his thoughts, looking downcast again, he immediately tried to grab all of his attention. Somehow, by any means, he’d distract him, make him laugh, or tell another silly joke.

That’s how the boys spent the entire day at that pace. That evening, Alfred insisted on walking Ivan home, under the pretense of “I should at least know where you live.” After saying goodbye until tomorrow, they parted ways to their own homes.

Exhausted and hungry, the Russian teenager nevertheless returned to his apartment content. On the very first day, the blond had become an authority figure to him, and after spending the day together, he seemed utterly untouchable in Ivan’s eyes.

Those stylish sneakers, the tousled hair, and the sharp tongue were so captivating that Ivan couldn’t wait to meet him again. But that would have to wait until tomorrow.

Nothing interesting happened at school. Crowds of kids continued to gather in the hallways, boring lessons failed to capture any attention, and Ivan didn’t see Alfred during the break. That didn’t upset him…

…well, maybe just a little.

The groups of students had scattered to different corners of the school as the long break began. Ivan walked down the corridor, peeking into empty classrooms in quiet hope of spotting the blond.

But all his attempts were in vain, much to the boy’s disappointment. And it felt strange, could Alfred really be avoiding him? Yesterday had been so amazing together, and today he didn’t want to hang out?

As the boy glanced at another empty classroom, two girls, seemingly his age, walked past him.

He immediately tensed when he caught the surprised whisper of one of the girls:

«I saw him. Seems like they got into a fight again, because, well, - she giggled softly, leaning closer to her friend, covering her mouth with her hand, - did you see his face?»

The other girl adjusted her backpack, smoothing the folds of her long skirt:

«Of course I saw! Honestly, his yellow hair looks dirty, - then, passing by the boy, she added in a conspiratorial whisper, - but, I think he’s still handsome»

At the moment when the color of the victim’s hair was mentioned, a chilling shiver ran down his spine.

«Probably, if he takes a shower, it really will look like that, - her friend said skeptically, linking arms with her, - so, who did he fight in the end?»

«I heard it was some upperclassmen…»

Braginsky didn’t hear anything else, as the pair of girls had already disappeared around the corner. His sixth sense told him that the “yellow,” as the girl had put it, hair - he knew exactly whose it was. The realization made his stomach turn.

And damn, he didn’t even know where the fight had happened. Actually, what even happened this time? He definitely wouldn’t survive seeing Alfred like that again. Just one glance at that pale, exhausted face, marked with marker stains, bruises mixed with blood…

Descending to the first floor, Ivan finally mustered the courage to ask two older kids what and where had happened. Strangely, they said it was in the corridor. Could it really have happened in full view of everyone?

His hands began to shake again, his temples pulsing. Ivan panicked, bracing himself to witness that horrible scene once more. At this point, he had no doubt who had been involved. Funny, really…

Frantically scanning every corner with his eyes, Braginsky suddenly caught annoyed phrases and hissing. And, of course, it was clearly the blond’s voice.

A quiet echo carried down the corridor, but it seemed there were no crowds of students. That, too, felt strange.

«Oo, can you just not touch me?» - Alfred groaned, snorting.

Ivan turned the corner, cutting off, as it turned out, the second “conversational partner.” And… just who the hell was… Felix?

«Oh…»

The first thing that immediately struck him was Jones sitting on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. The Russian boy braced for the worst, but fortunately, it was much, much better. Compared to the last time, of course.

Yes, the lip was split, but this time, even though the blond looked roughed up, there was energy in him. Hair messy, but the clothes relatively clean. On top of that, no bruises or marker stains.

Across from him, looking genuinely worried, stood none other than Felix. Surprisingly, without Toris around, they’d basically become inseparable.

«What the…-»

«Ivan?» - Alfred blurted out, while Felix stared at the Russian boy with his crystal blue eyes.

«What the hell is going on here?» - Braginski frowned, taking in Jones, who was glaring back at the nervous Felix.