When I Needed You | RusAme |

Seven

After dinner, Ivan and Amelia wrapped up what they had worked on. Amelia needed a ride home, and so Ivan decided he'd drop her off. He suspected the ride home to be smooth, but it was quite the opposite.

Amelia tilted her head, slinging her backpack on her shoulder. "Are you driving me home?"

Ivan nodded, and his dad tossed him the keys.

"Don't do anything reckless." Ilya warned. Ivan acknowledged this_ before walking out the door with Amelia. He got in the smaller car of the three parked there, Amelia following.

"Didn't know you actually drove." She said confusedly, tossing her bag in the back.

Ivan shrugged, "Just haven't saved up enough for a car yet." He sighed, starting the car. After driving out of the neighborhood, Amelia directed him to her house.

"I don't have a car either," Amelia yawned. "I'm not a good driver anyways, I don't think anyone would want me on the road." She laughed. Music to his ears.

Ivan couldn't help but laugh as well. "Moscow traffic is something else compared to driving here though, so it makes me nervous on American roads." He kept both hands in the wheel, gripping it until his knuckles were white. He had been driving like that for the entire duration of the car ride.

When they got to the house, Ivan couldn't help but gape at the size of it. "Nice place you got here.." He quoted Amelia, the both of them laughing afterwards. "I'll see you around, Jones."

She grinned, "Anytime, Braginsky. I'll make sure to stop by for dinner again sometime." She waved, and approached the door. Ivan waited until she was inside to start driving, but when he heard something akin to gunshots followed by a few dinging sounds and a loud pop, he jumped in fear. He clenched his chest with his hand, feeling a sharp pain where his heart was.

He felt stupid, having been startled so badly by the noises, but what scared him most was the fact that what ever that was probably hit the car. After catching his breath, he stepped out and looked at the side of the car and his front tire. There was a sharpened pellet lodged in the first layer of rubber, along with three tiny dents near the tire. He rubbed his temples, thinking of how he would tell his dad. Along with the dull pain in his chest, his head pounded as he tried to think of what to do. He'd have to just kß home like this. But before he would, he went into the trunk where there was a roll of tape and a jacket. He picked up the tape, and pretty much just covered the incision that the pellet made. He pocket the pellet, and carefully drove home.

When he parked in the driveway, he pretty much just panicked and wondered if he should even go inside or just run away. But he was too honest to save his life, so he went inside and sat across from his dad in the living room. He was usually good at hiding things, but he was too fatigued to be able to even speak. It took a few moments for Ilya to notice, and he instantly became concerned with the change in demeanor of his son. He suddenly looked older, and much more depressed than before.

"Iv.. What happened?" He asked slowly (in Russian).

All Ivan did was point towards the driveway, his hand still clutching his chest. He tried the compose himself.

"..The car." He uttered, eyes daring to look at Ilya. Ilya could see some sort of fear and anxiety in the young man's eyes, giving him a terrible feeling. He stood, took Ivan's hand and took him out with him to the car. Ivan trailed behind weakly.

"I expected worst." Ilya walked around until he noticed the tape on the tire and the small dents.

"What got you so upset over this? He peeled the tape off to see how deep the hole was. "This is nothing!"

Ivan shook his head, and reached in his pocket for the sharpened pellet. "..This wasn't just nothing." He said in a frightened tone.

Ilya took it out of his hand. He didn't say anything.

"Someone shot the car with an airsoft gun? And it seems they've sharpened the pellets..." He scratched his head. He looked at Ivan, who stared at the hole with a blank and slightly mortified expression.

"Dad, do you think someone did this on purpose...?" He wondered, still staring at the hole. "I'm already a bit of a target in a metaphorical sense while I'm in school. Could this have something to do with it?"

Ilya gaped at Ivan, his eyes widening. "You're not serious, are you?" He asked incredulously, his face paling. He was very concerned now.

"Well, it's complicated... I just need to apologize for doing this to your car, and your tire..." He looked away finally, but became startled when Ilya patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry About it... I highly doubt something like this will happen again. I have a spare and I can fix this tomorrow, I have a day off." He said, looking at Ivan with concern. The easygoing, quiet Ivan was no longer there. It made him feel bad.

"Just get some sleep," he stood up from the crouching position he was in to look at the damage, and giving Ivan a hand so he could get back up as well. "You look like you need it."

Ivan laughed shortly, gaining back a bit of his strength. He didn't know what happened back there. Who would have shot the car, why he was feeling so tired, and where the pain in his chest was coming from?

He would need to just lay low, and keep on the good side of all of the people who had him on their list of people to hate. How hard would that be?