Ivan blinked slowly, violet eyes glimmering in the iridescent light. Had the situation not have been so grim, he would have considered it to be beautiful. The subtle sense of regret creeped on to his concious as the consequences of his arbitrary came into view, dancing across the myriad of blood sprawled across the shag carpeting before him. "Блин..." He breathed, his voice just above a whisper. He never meant for it to be like this. He had only wanted to get rid of Arthur; the one thing standing in his way of the happy, bubbly, dead ray of sunshine his heart yearned to claim as a lover. Silent tears rolled down his face, like dew drops of agony clinging to delicate snow white rose petals in the early morning lull. But even Mother Nature's soft hush hush could not hide the horrific bloodshed in front of him. "Alfred..." The words felt alien to the heartbroken Russian's lips, the name of his deceased heart throb plagued his mind. It hurt to utter his name, had he not have been so spontaneous with his actions, and perhaps a bit less...obsessive, the two may have been together. Years of their theoretical life had been lost because of his bloodlust induced arbitrary. "Я--" He choked out, the words cut off by tears as he cradled the bloodied body of Alfred in his grieving arms. His glasses had been mashed into his face, the frames cutting into his tanned flesh as blood trickled from the wounds. Even in death he managed to make his heart want to leap out of his chest. "Я люблю тебя..."
