cigarettes and feelings | asvini

[Ivan]

[align=center]

[table]
[tr]
[td][/td]
[td]

IVAN
slav. "god is gracious"
---
a son
a brother

[/td]
[td][/td][/tr]
[/table]

ALYOSHA, MY DEAR, MY ONLY SON, I'M AFRAID OF IVAN —

He had to tip his head up a bit to see her. A dull spark of pain pierced his heart, truly realizing that she was all alone in the home. Maybe some destitute part of him imagined he would be greeted by Aurum instead. Maybe the golden lion had returned, and that it had all been a dream, a horrible dream. Ivan had such dreams sometimes ... those sorts of dreams that were so terrible they felt real. He had never had a dream that was so good it felt real. It was always the bad ones.

Migraines had came and gone so much for him that it almost felt like a regular occurrence, but no doubt it was painful still. He rebuked himself under his breath for not thinking to take some herbal remedies with him. Ivan twitched with her next statements.

"I'm in my right mind. I'm alright." He whispered. But maybe it wasn't because "it's not like me to go find people." That would have been the honest thing to say, but sometimes honesty only made everything worse. He could lie to himself. This was for something good. "But it's not about me. You must have stayed in here for a long time. Do you ... want to walk? With me." He always thought better as he walked. He needed a constant movement to feel alive. To lay down there forever was tempting, but he didn't want to see Asvini like that. And if asked why, he just wouldn't be able to answer. There was often no reason for exceedingly strong convictions, passions even. He did not understand himself, not back when he was a child, and especially not now as he was an growing adolescent.

— I'M MORE AFRAID OF IVAN THAN THE OTHER ONE.