IvanxAlfred
"So how old are you again, Alfred?"
Alfred glanced up from the meat stew he was drinking, tilting his head. Silence only greeted Ivan's question.
How usual, how many times had Ivan asked the same question? Did it matter? Did anything matter?
Ivan glanced above Alfred, focusing on a small dent in the gray cave wall that surrounded them. Anything to get away from this monotony.
How long had Ivan been in this cave?
A week?
A month?
A year?
A decade?
Ivan didn't know. Time here just seemed to blur together. What felt like a day was really a week. There was no mirror here, so Ivan couldn't tell if he aged. His body still felt young, but was that just a delusion?
Ivan dragged his hand through his short, platinum blond hair. Odd, with how long he was here, there should have been a little growth from his hair. But there was just nothing. Not even a sign of stubble on his chin.
Ivan clinked his spoon against the porcelain bowl holding his meal. The same meal he had the fist day he arrived.
"I'm going out....to get some firewood."
Alfred's blue eyes stared at him. After a couple seconds, Alfred shook his head.
A "No", how unsurprising. He got the same answer again and again and again. Would anything change?
Ivan kicked a rock by his boot clad foot. It jumped a little before going still. It sat among its pile of rock friends.
Like all the days before, Ivan decided to "study" Alfred. (Could this even be considered studying, he knew every nook and cranny of the blond?)
A pair of sapphire blue eyes. Hair that looked like molten gold. A body that looked like it might have held a tan a while ago. A lithe body that still held traces of some muscles.
Where had those muscles gone?
Alfred looked the same.
Boredom hovered over Ivan. Like it had the day before and the day before and the day before. What could Ivan do today?
Maybe he should do what he had done the day before. Try to remember what had happened.
Ivan summoned a well worn memory of his.
There was a pretty little girl among sunflowers. Ivan had long since forgotten her hair color, was it like his or was it like his mother's, whatever her hair color might have been? Her long, or was it short, dress (skirt?) fluttered in the wind. In the little girl's arm was bouquet of sunflowers, or were they roses?
The little girl (boy?) proffered her flowers to Ivan.
"Why thank you! I will treasure these forever Na-"
Oh how Ivan wished this could change! He wanted to remember that field girl's name.
Was it Natalie, Naomi, Nancy, Natasha, Nadia, Natalia, Nadya, Nastasia, Nadenka?
With no name to go by, Ivan just called her Nadia or hope in his mother tongue.
What was his mother language again?
YOU ARE READING
Love Through the Ages
FanfictionAlfred had always been a late bloomer. Through puberty to love, he was always last. None of it clicked. Love was disgusting and icky, why would anyone like it? All it did was cause heartbreak and sorrow. Maybe with some help he could learn the ins a...
