Inside the Head -and life- of Ivan Braginski

Wowza. First... story chapter thing. - Ci

Ivan was a hoarder, this much he knew. Although the tall Russian knew he was not an average hoarder by any means. Ask him about his so-called obsession and Mr. Ivan would deny it with an unimaginable fluster. This ‘not-an-obsession’ was pure delicate beauty, and the large child of a man would go to great lengths to see it. Some might even say it would drive him insane, to which he would also slyly threaten to crush the speaker’s skull in. His target, prize and most wanted possession would have to be little Raivis; poor Raivis was his little porcelain doll and would stay as small and blemish free as such. Ivan did not remember when the darker blond-haired shortstop came to live with him.  All the wide-eyed man could remember from those days was drinking and anger.

To keep his pretty doll pure, Ivan made sure the soft and silky body was cleansed once a day and his face twice.  Fed healthily and never let out on too sunny of days, the teen –barley more than a child– would stay a perfect picture of innocence. At least that was planned this way in the mind of Braginski, Ivan. Raivis, who is at the age of fifteen, naturally has a wondering mind; Ivan would not tolerate this, he wanted only the best from his perfect doll. This had been the downfall of many others, not keeping their mind on making Braginski happy and satisfied. Many of Ivan’s pretty dolls have fallen to their knees in front of the Russian’s big burgundy chair, begging to come back. They were tainted then, so it was obvious he would not – could not – take them back.

Of course, few had been through the trials and came through the fire. Two more than poor little Raivis –who had not had to do any of that–; he had gathered a collection, a collection of pure moppets, one from each Baltic state. The Baltic States served under his Mother Russia for quite some time, so why could they not? To have his precious beings serve and wait on him made him quite happy inside, quite happy indeed. For a time, all was good. No one had to see his dirty little secrets, and he did not have to show them how he could be. They all were somewhat happy, in a place of leisure. Then! Oh then, the Pol came. That Pol came and ruined any chance he had of keeping his perfects from cracking and tarnishing.

It was the middle of the night when it happened, but Ivan did not truly realize they had fled until the next afternoon when they had not returned from the ‘shopping trip’ they were supposed to be executing. Little Raivis was the only one that had been left. Peacefully sleeping with Ivan during the night, blissfully unaware of his ‘brothers’ plans to leave Ivan’s lovely abode. If you assume the Russian giant took out his anger on the delicate frame of Raivis, you would be so correct it hurts. It hurt for the Latvian, that is.  Ever since that day, the two had been living alone in the large house fit for many.

The daily routine and procedure is the same day by day. Ivan awakes precisely at four, prepares himself for the upcoming day and then awakens the Latvian – who usually is caught already awake. Just as Ivan would walk into the room, Raivis would throw whatever he was doing under his bed and lay down limp. Sometimes, Ivan would smile and push the younger’s head into the pillow to make him flail around like a monkey at zoos in America. Around the time, Raivis’ vision would go blurry, Mr. Braginski would let up and let him breath sweet air once more.  

“Come make breakfast, Little Raivis,” Ivan would say sweetly, almost as if he was talking to an animal -or perhaps a small child? If Raivis did not get out of bed fast enough, the Russian would pull him out in his pajamas and drag him down into the kitchen. Not fully awake, the Latvian usually let out an exclamation of surprise as he began to become dragged down the stairs by his silky locks.  

Some might say Ivan is too harsh on the little one. However, if the smaller blond was truthful to himself, Raivis would say he needs Ivan as much as the Russian needs him - and his beauty.