More Than Hurt Prussia x Russia

Sunflowers and Suicide

======GIL'S POV========

I had told West what I thought had happened, and we made our way to Moscow...And went to his old house he had told us about.

We had been driving for a few hours, looking for a giant house, hidden by trees as Ivan had once described it. It couldn't have been that bad...Right? Then...Well...

"West...You see it, right?"
I asked, finally laying eyes upon this...Giant house...That looked empty...From a horror film.

"Ja...I do..." He replied, his voice shaking. Maybe he had been closer to Ivan than I had once thought...But that didn't matter, for now, we needed to find Ivan.

West pulled into the driveway of the ancient looking building, seeing a car that Ivan had told us was his...And a more recent looking vehicle. We both got out, and walked up to the front porch, as West knocked on the door, causing it too fall off its hinges.

"...He lived here? All alone?...Gil...What do you know about him that I don't?" I felt myself looking away, trying to remember the conversations that I tuned out of.

"Nothing. I don't know anything you don't..." I told him sadly. He sighed and we both walked inside. The floor creaked, and there were pictures with shattered glass on them...As if someone had broken them from the frame.

"...It's incredible to think he could live like this...He seemed so happy with you..." West whispered to me, I was thinking the exact same thing.

"Ja..." I told him, just to break the uneasy silence, I noticed a few old pictures, and started at them for a while...They were of Ivan...And two girls...They looked attached to him...Another picture nearby showed the three of them again...Only they had moved away from him just enough to where you would notice...And Ivan looked...Horrible. Those were the only pictures I could find. I looked at West.
"Should we check the bedrooms? Maybe he's there..." I asked, West nodded and we headed upstairs to the bedrooms.

I walked into one with three beds...All decent sized...All...Made. perfectly, nice sheets too...The room looked like something West would have wet dreams about, being the neat freak that he was. I left the room though, there wasn't any sign it was Ivan's, or that he had been there.

I met up with West at the only bedroom we hadn't checked (West didn't have much luck either, he only found a girl's room, in the same condition as the room I had found), and went inside.

This, was Ivan's room. There was an old dirty matress on the floor as a bed, soaked in a red substance I assumed was blood. There were knives on the floor, each rusted with a hint of red on the blade. West checked the drawers, finding anti-psychotics, anti-depressants, and...Even heroin.

"...did you know he used?"
I shook my head no. He never told me, or if he did, I didn't care enough to listen.

I looked around for anything else to help, when I saw the missing bag from earlier. I quickly opened it, only to find it empty, except for a scribbled out note that said
"....Attempt 10.......Plan.......Attic."
I was never able to read his handwriting, but I showed West and we found the latter up to the attic.

"West...You go first...Please!" I begged him...I didn't want to see what was up there... Although...I had a fairly good idea.

"Nein. You caused this. I'm right behind you." He replied, as he gestured to the latter. I slowly climbed it, reaching the dark dusty attic, and for once I didn't want to be able to say, I was right.

West came up after me and was just as, if not more so shocked than I was.

Ivan had hung himself. His body was pale and lifeless, sunken in cheeks, eyes, still opened and glossed over, the life and light that once inhabited it, gone. He wasn't even decomposing yet...But you could tell he'd been dead for weeks, maybe...Had it been a month? I was scared to go near him...It didn't smell bad like most bodies would...But I was afraid he'd come back to kill me. West urged me to move closer...So I did...And saw something on the ground near his corpse.

There was a note...He made it legible...Like he knew no one would be able to read his handwriting who ever found him.
West stared crying, but I couldn't take it. I read the note.

"I'd say sorry...But no one ever cared much for me...So there's no one to say sorry to. If you find me, I hope I didn't leave a mess...All of my things are to be burnt and forgotten, just like me.

-Ivan Braginski"

I started crying.
"GODDAMIT I CARED!!!!!!"

West looked at me, infuriated.
"NEIN! YOU DIDN'T! IF YOU DID, THIS WOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED! HE WAS THE ONLY GUY YOU DATED WHO WASN'T A DRUNK, OR HIT YOU, OR ME, OR FELI!" He yelled....He was right.

"I'm sorry." I whispered...West was still pissed.

"Don't say it to me, you should've said it to him! But now look! You can't say anything to him now, can you?!" He spoke, venom laced his voice.

"...You're right." I said, standing up the chair he stood on to hang himself, trying to take his body down. West stopped me.

"Nein. He stays. You decided he wasn't your problem." He said. I almost started crying.

"L-Ludwig! Don't say that! Stop it!" I sobbed, he grabbed me, and took me out of the attic, then handed me something. A diary.
Ivan's diary.

"I found this in his room. You're reading all of it. You're going to remember him as the man you killed." He said, ushering me out of the house. We left, and for on a plane...Which gave me enough time to start reading.

I had no idea.

Ivan's sisters and himself were abandoned as children, forced into living in poverty. Ivan found a job selling drugs that got him enough cash to where his sister's wouldn't have to do...As he put it "gross stuff", at the expense of being some Drug Lord's toy.
He became more and more depressed being unable to make his own decisions. He became an alcoholic, and a drug addict, and killed his..."master" in a drunken rage. His sister's left him after that...Along with some roommates he had let stay in his house...He was so tired of being alone...He tried to end it all. 9 times...Well....10 now...And he only got better after meeting me online. He took care of himself...And stopped using...Got a better job...Was happier, so much happier.

He loved Sunflowers. They made him happy. He called me Sunflower. I had made him happy. The only thing he thought would ever love him was a goddamn flower.

That broke my heart.

A heart, that according to West, I no longer had.