In the corner of a burger joint, surrounded by American soil, their leaders sat laughing over the simple joys of fast food. Time threw them not in suits but a pair of red skinny jeans, a band T-shirt and a long worn in bomber jacket complete to match black slacks and a shirt caught between business and casual. Time threw them not tilting their heads in arrogance but to strain to get a glimpse of their leaders over the paparazzi. Time threw them not tossing silent flashes of guns and weapons to the other but that awkward moment when you realized someone had been looking at you.
Alfred dropped his gaze back to his Freedom Fries in a hurry, wondering why Ivan was smiling not because of that paranoia that slowly ebbed from his trigger finger, but because after everything that was said, every screaming match, every cut they dragged deep (because they were once best friends, they knew every secret, they knew where every metaphorical jugular was), Alfred was sure there was no reason for him to be the reasoning behind one of Ivan’s small smiles.
Time threw them together and reversed their roles; Alfred fell silent for one and Ivan made soothing small talk, trying to spark a conversation. There had been no personal meeting between them since the middle of the Second World War, nothing since Alfred shoved his fast fading friend against the wall of a shelter and faltered at the realization of how easy it was before the shouting started. Darling Uncle Joe was doing something awful, this was worse than when Ivan had refused the food during his famines, and “Why? What the fuck is that bastard doing to you?” earned him a slugging.
“Show some respect.”
But now was neither a time of fear or senseless killings. Alfred stood on shaky legs to excuse him for some fresh air and a cigarette. Now was a time of a crushing, suffocating new fear. It started in another extended silence. “You’ve gotten taller,” Ivan murmured softly, staring down at his unsweetened iced tea. The American’s hands faltered, his mind tripped him back to days spent in Arizona and California when he would jump and stretch his arms up high because Ivan had snatched his hat. Ivan was taunting him as he held it effortless above his head – Alfred’s breath quickened – and it was Ivan who sat across from him. Ivan who spoke plain words with that same eloquence he had centuries ago, “Your shoulders are broader.”
Ivan had said that. Not Braginski.
Why didn’t I notice?
One dose of nicotine later and the threat of a panic attack had faded. Alfred slipped his way back into the crowded fast food joint, grateful for instant security clearance in his country. Ivan had stopped eating just stared at his hands, covered in black leather gloves even while he ate, while the silent question of what did I do wrong? hung brightly over his head. Alfred whistled to gain his attention and gestured to the glass doors with a tilt of his head. “H-hey. Lets ditch this popsicle stand.”
I am astounded at the depth you managed to convey in a short two-chaptered prologue. I'm so excited to be getting a fill, not to mention by such an awesome author anon! Your Alfred sounds more complex than most Alfreds out there without clear-cut angst and/or mental issues, just a person who lost a friend that meant a lot. You even managed to slip in England's importance to him, too! (which made me very happy, to make another matter shouldn't mean those who already do stop being important).
I'd also like to mention that I love your prose. It's very unique and complex, high-level when compared to most pieces here. I'm intrigued by the structure, the events you chose to chronicle in the prologue, and why. You'll see me around a lot ;)
But, in this case, your mom is this fic. At first glance I was all, "UHG LONG PARAGRAPH" (because I'm the type to type those one lines and then PAGEBREAK and that's a whole part of the story) but then I read it and was all "WOAH man. WOAH." I love how you made it so deep, and described them as friends, and the reversed roles, and the- fuckitbro- EVERYTHING. This is SO GREAT. Please update. I will be checking back. I wish this would like alert me, but live journal hates the world and doesn't do that. Kay bye.
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Asleep on Pins - Prologue part 2
(Anonymous) 2011-05-01 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)Alfred dropped his gaze back to his Freedom Fries in a hurry, wondering why Ivan was smiling not because of that paranoia that slowly ebbed from his trigger finger, but because after everything that was said, every screaming match, every cut they dragged deep (because they were once best friends, they knew every secret, they knew where every metaphorical jugular was), Alfred was sure there was no reason for him to be the reasoning behind one of Ivan’s small smiles.
Time threw them together and reversed their roles; Alfred fell silent for one and Ivan made soothing small talk, trying to spark a conversation. There had been no personal meeting between them since the middle of the Second World War, nothing since Alfred shoved his fast fading friend against the wall of a shelter and faltered at the realization of how easy it was before the shouting started. Darling Uncle Joe was doing something awful, this was worse than when Ivan had refused the food during his famines, and “Why? What the fuck is that bastard doing to you?” earned him a slugging.
“Show some respect.”
But now was neither a time of fear or senseless killings. Alfred stood on shaky legs to excuse him for some fresh air and a cigarette. Now was a time of a crushing, suffocating new fear. It started in another extended silence. “You’ve gotten taller,” Ivan murmured softly, staring down at his unsweetened iced tea. The American’s hands faltered, his mind tripped him back to days spent in Arizona and California when he would jump and stretch his arms up high because Ivan had snatched his hat. Ivan was taunting him as he held it effortless above his head – Alfred’s breath quickened – and it was Ivan who sat across from him. Ivan who spoke plain words with that same eloquence he had centuries ago, “Your shoulders are broader.”
Ivan had said that. Not Braginski.
Why didn’t I notice?
One dose of nicotine later and the threat of a panic attack had faded. Alfred slipped his way back into the crowded fast food joint, grateful for instant security clearance in his country. Ivan had stopped eating just stared at his hands, covered in black leather gloves even while he ate, while the silent question of what did I do wrong? hung brightly over his head. Alfred whistled to gain his attention and gestured to the glass doors with a tilt of his head. “H-hey. Lets ditch this popsicle stand.”
Re: Asleep on Pins - Prologue part 2
(Anonymous) 2011-05-02 02:34 am (UTC)(link)OP
(Anonymous) 2011-05-02 06:35 pm (UTC)(link)I'd also like to mention that I love your prose. It's very unique and complex, high-level when compared to most pieces here. I'm intrigued by the structure, the events you chose to chronicle in the prologue, and why. You'll see me around a lot ;)
Stalkin' your mom
(Anonymous) 2011-05-14 11:17 pm (UTC)(link)