starlit-enchanter asked Phobia with RusAme maybe? Whenever you have time, of course!

cherryliqor-deactivated20180108:

a/n: ahh @december-dragon i haven’t written these two in a looong time so i hope this will be okay!!! lmao ignore the title im in an alt-j mood

Title: Breezeblocks

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Everyone had phobias. Whether they were considered silly or trivial or complex or serious didn’t matter - phobias were all subjective in the end. So who could blame Alfred’s?

Everyone reacted differently to those phobias. Whether they had a panic attack or laughed it off or raged or got really quiet didn’t matter - reactions were subjective, too. So who could blame Alfred’s?

Ivan could.

But Ivan wasn’t here right now.

---

“How was your day today, babe?”

“Alright for the most part. Francis stopped by the office today.”

“Again?”

“Of course. He is one of my dearest friends.”

---

Alfred gets up from the floor, dropping Ivan’s scarf. He’s feels oddly calm, as if on autopilot, despite his shaking hands.

---

“You aren’t cheating on me, are you?”

“What? Sunflower, why would I?”

---

He walks to the refrigerator and pulls out a coke. Then on an impulse he shakes the can before opening it. The fizz erupts and he watches as the bubbles overflow onto his hands and sleeves. It should feel cold but it doesn’t. In fact it doesn’t feel like much of anything.

---

“He comes in every day, though. That’s a little much.”

“Nothing is happening - I swear it.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t leave me.”

“And you know I never go ba -”

---

How to cover this up…how to cover this up? He had always had this fear of being left alone or abandoned. Maybe he could blame it on that? No. No that doesn’t seem convincing enough.

---

“You said that about your alcohol problem two years ago while sober and look where you are now! In and out of rehab and AA. Again.”

“That is different.”

---

Ivan’s alcoholism. That was his ticket out of this. Say Ivan got violently drunk and that this was an act of self-defense. Shit, he was golden if he played his cards right.

---

“The fuck is it different?!”

“Alcoholism is -”

“A disease. Yeah, I know so spare me the spiel. In fact I - hold on…Since when do you wear this type of cologne?”

“I bought it yesterday, mudak.”

---

Alfred wakes from his thoughts when he hears the can fall to the floor. It startles him, makes him jump out of his skin. “Fuck,” he whispers as soon as he notices the mess he made. “Fuck fuck fuck fuuuck.”

---

“I don’t remember that.”

“Perhaps you were too busy being paranoid.”

---

The paper towels soak through within seconds after contact. All Alfred can think is that he’s thankful there’s no blood.

---

“You’re wearing his cologne.”

“Nyet! Ne ya!”

“YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T LEAVE ME.”

“Get your hands off me!”

---

When he’s finished cleaning the coke up, he ambles back to where Ivan lies. He doesn’t touch him, doesn’t cry. He doesn’t do anything really. Except look at Ivan’s unseeing eyes.

---

“Please don’t go I love you so, Ivan, please don’t go. DON’T GO. DON’T LEAVE ME FOR HIM. DON’T. LEAVE.”

“Al- Alf - br - bre…Alf…”

---

No one could blame him for this surely? It was a murder, true, but it wasn’t a crime. This was just him reacting to his phobia. This wasn’t a crime.

Yet when Alfred dials 911 he isn’t entirely sure.