The Extent of Love

10

There's a song with this one.

Song itself is an American love story between two Russian soldiers. (One of them's a general I believe.)

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Opening his eyes, he sat up, trying to ignore the headache that dulled his senses.

God... what happened...

Yawning, he was pleased to find the shades of the windows closed. Drunk him served Hungover him well. Not well enough to leave any sort of medicine though... chamomile tea...?

"Mornin'," Alfred yawned beside him, drinking his own cup. He noticed he was in Alfred's room, and that's why the shades were closed. Any sort of sunlight near the American made him (or so he's said) try to set fire to whatever piece of paper he was currently working on.

"Uh... morning," Ivan looked around the room. It was sort of messy, stuff kicked half-heartedly under the bed. His clothes on the floor and his scarf draped over the end of the bed-

What.

"Would you please kindly explain why the fuck I'm in your bed," And naked. Ivan shook his head, grabbing the cup of tea and downing the whole thing in a few gulps like that would cure the hangover faster.

"Depends, will you be mad?" Alfred said, pushing himself off the bed. He was wearing a pair of sweats. Why did he get clothes.

"Depends, will you tell me right now?" Ivan replied, getting increasingly uncomfortable. He didn't like being without his scarf. And pants. Especially around Alfred.

"Well... you decided for some reason that I understood Russian and then we fucked," Alfred shrugged.

Was fucked another word for... no...

Oh god he raped Alfred.

He could see it now as his gaze decided to work, the bruises littering his neck and chest. He didn't seem to be in any pain, then again America was pretty good at hiding his pain.

"Are you okay?" Alfred asked him, about to reach over and touch him, deciding against it, and placing his hand firmly to his side.

"Give me a chance to get dressed." Ivan said firmly as Alfred took a few steps back, leaving the room with a taut expression. He stood up and slipped his clothes on, wrapping his scarf firmly around his neck in the small hope it would choke him.

Before he left to his own room, Alfred reaching out for him, but the door closed on him.

He was so disappointed in himself.

(You can start playing the song now)

He sat in self pity for a few minutes before a phone flew under the door, a melody playing. It was upbeat, yet had a vibe to it that seemed... homoerotic yet dangerous.

"I'm standing, observing, cruising..." the song started, peeking his curiosity.

"Star-bright crystals are forming. We both know what we gotta do- head back to where the magic grew, come on let's go, back to Moscow."

That really picked his interest. What was America playing?

Oh wow, a lyric video. Song was called Moscow, so that was something. He didn't have the heart to stop it, and he could see the shadows shifting as Alfr- America paced outside.

"Irresolution doesn't suit you, it's not hard; with you I have an alibi. You don't care the reason why I misapply, all I need is a fraction of your happy heart. All I need is you."