soft like a snowflake

The Truck

Matthew finally settled down, and said a teary thank you that was barely audible. Ivan nodded. He offered to drive Matthew home, since his current state was unfit for driving. Matthew accepted, texting Francis that Ivan was taking him home. Unlike most of the others, who drove flashy sports cars, Ivan drove an old pickup, the kind that rumbled to life, and had old cloth seats that smelled like Ivan- cigarettes and a snowy forest. Matthew snuggled into the worn passenger seat. Ivan drove with one arm over the wheel, his wrist the part that steered, and the other across the back of Matthew's seat. He rolled the windows down to let some of the breeze cool Matthew's tear stained face. Matthew smiled and closed his eyes. Ivan popped a cassette- yes, a cassette- into the radio and to Matthew's surprise it was old American country music.
He raised an eyebrow in question and in jest.
"What?"
"Are you an old man?"
"I am hundreds of years old, Mattvey. You are as well."
"No, what I meant was this is like nostalgia for me. Reminds me of when Alfred used to drive us nowhere just so we could listen to the radio and talk. Alfred doesn't even listen to this anymore, I haven't heard Johnny Cash in years!"
"I have a soft spot for things from the past. Katyusha always called it a 'nostalgic heart'. I am an old soul, you know."
Matthew snorted.
Matthew missed the old days with Alfred, when they'd turned 16 and Alfred got his red corvette. He'd had more speeding tickets than his glovebox could hold. Now he was too busy pretending to be mature to spend time with his little brother. He felt a twinge of sadness sink in momentarily, but he shook it off. He had Ivan to spend time with now.
Matthew smiled at Ivan. He was handsome, Matthew noticed now. Away from the group he looked different. His eyes were clear, bright violet, the color of lightning in the summer sky. They told of hardships and heartache and pain, yet they held a glint of hopefulness. He didn't seem so restrained, as if the false politeness he held with the group was physically exhausting. And for what? They still saw him as some terror. If only they could see him now, without his coat, just a black T-shirt and the scarf, his muscular frame filling up the better part of the little two-seater pickup. Matthew could see he was content. It was a strange to see a calm, peaceful Ivan.
Ivan felt eyes on him, and he looked over at Matthew. He smiled back at him. Matthew was safe, he was trustworthy and honest. Ivan placed a firm hand on Matthew's shoulder, his eyes moving between him and the road.
"Thank you, Mattvey."
"Huh? What for?"
"For seeing beyond what everyone else does."
"Oh. Of course, Ivan. I always notice." He said so with such confidence, as if Ivan should have expected no less.
They rode in silence for awhile, and Ivan pulled over and parked in an empty lot.
"Why'd we stop?" Matthew looked a little panicked, but he trusted Ivan. "Is the truck okay?"
"Da. The truck is fine."
Ivan leaned over, his hand cupping Matthew's cheek.
Matthew's eyes grew wide, an electrical storm of emotions going through them. Ivan was so close, but Matthew didn't flinch. He didn't pull away.
"Matthew... can I... can I kiss you?"
Matthew only nodded, feeling Ivan's lips meet his a second later. Matthew leaned into it, kissing him back. Matthew's lips felt like home to Ivan.
Ivan pulled back though. Matthew was his friend. He shouldn't have kissed him. He was rushing himself-

Matthew grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him back into another kiss, as if to ask why he stopped. Ivan was surprised, but he was grateful he hadn't scared Matthew away.
Matthew pulled back this time, smiling.
"I promise you won't be lonely anymore Ivan."

They were back on the road now, Matthew holding Ivan's free hand. Matthew has waited for that moment since they left the conference room the first time. Waiting only made the moment sweeter to him though, Ivan showing him he was patient and cared about him. Matthew knew he was trying to be kind to him. Matthew knew when he saw that Ivan's usual smile wasn't the genuine one.
"I always liked you, you know."
"I did too, Mattvey."
Matthew hadn't stopped smiling yet. He was still grinning when they pulled up to the house he shared with Francis and Arthur. Alfred had moved out, something about independence.
Ivan walked Matthew to his door as slowly as he could. He kissed him softly on the lips.
"Goodbye, little maple-leaf."
"Goodbye Ivan."
Matthew was about to kiss him again when the door was flung open, and he was dragged inside by Francis, Arthur scowling from the threshold.

"Mon dieu, Matthieu! What are you thinking?! Russia of all people?!" Screeched Francis, who was in full panic mode that his son had been in close proximity with Braginsky. He flailed his arms wildly and resumed pacing about and muttering in French.
"He's no good for you, Mattie. He's dangerous. And where's your car?" Asked a worried Arthur, arms crossed in his usual stern way.
"He's not dangerous! He's sweet, and he drove me home because I cried and he said it wasn't safe for me to drive myself! Which you would know if you checked your phone, because I texted to let you know!"
"Probably a scheme to absorb you as his territory!" Francis said with a shudder. The thought of poor Matthew in the hands of Ivan-
"You don't understand, Francis. He was nice to me. Genuinely. He could've killed me or kidnapped me if he wanted to but he didn't- and I trust him."
The way Matthew said the last part melted Francis. He certainly couldn't deny Matthew a chance at romance, he was the country of love and he raised him! As well as the fact Matthew was much more level-headed than Alfred, Francis needed no other convincing. Arthur however was more stubborn, but Francis decided to help Matthew out this time.
"Arthur... I trust his judgment."
Arthur and Francis exchanged a glance, as if they were having a conversation with their eyes. Arthur tried to be firm, but Francis gave him the big sad eyes and he relented with a sigh.
"Alright Mattie- but if he hurts you, I will have him strung up and quartered."
"Thank you Arthur, I appreciate that."
Matthew practically floated up to his bedroom, the one he used to share with Alfred. It suddenly didn't feel empty anymore.
Ivan sank back into his truck seat, ignoring the squeak and groan of the old seat, the bliss of Matthew's kiss leaving him damn near high. The car ride home would feel like forever, an empty passenger seat reminding him he had until Monday morning. He turned the music off, driving in silence, his head clouded with thoughts of the violet eyed angel who had sat beside him just moments ago, fingers tangled clumsily together. They had kissed, and the boy tasted as sweet as he looked, something Ivan hoped he'd never forget. He worried briefly he was rushing this, pushing Matthew into it, before he remembered it was Matthew that had started the whole thing. Not that he was complaining, of course. He was certain it was fate, and for moment he thought he had surely died and this was heaven, as nothing this good ever happened to him. He thought of turning back to kiss those soft, plump lips, the ones that gave the warmest smiles and spoke the sweetest words. He decided not to, as much as he wanted to, hoping Matthew wasn't in trouble with Francis and Arthur because of him. He hated the feeling he got from the looks of disgust they gave him, as if to say "really, him?" He also hoped they wouldn't convince Matthew not to see him anymore.