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Bored!
So you must suffer!
Alexei...yes, again! Another part. A slightly more oh, I guess maybe PG for hinting at inappropriate behaviour. Squicky inapproriate behaviour.
part one
part two
Alexei
The man comes and the man goes. Many men come and many men go. The mother sleeps more and more and Alexei must do more and more himself to keep them from freezing, to keep them from starving. The sweet smoke that rules their life fills the air—less food now, Alexei learns to go along the street, sometimes the neighbors are moved by a too thin face lit with burning blue eyes. Sometimes they shake fists at him and shout harsh words.
Spring comes slowly--Winter is reluctant to slip it’s claws from the flesh of the earth, but it comes-- mornings become less an awaking into a hell of ice and frost and Alexei thinks they may survive.
He puts the kettle on the stove and it’s not as much a struggle to lift his arms to the top, it still shuttles from side to side and his arms still tremble but the journey is not as far. He smiles. He’s a big boy. The men say it, and he thinks yes, he’s not a baby; he’s a big boy.
One day, the man comes with honey and tea and bread and Alexei’s eyes go round-- honey!—it smells mysterious, dark and sweet and fills his head like a delicious dream. The man smiles and takes it away into the place where the mother’s bed is. They make the noise, and he slides away and then the smoke brings him back, makes his nose wrinkle.
The man is standing there in front of him, and he has the honey in his hands.
“Do you want honey, boy?” he asks.
Alexei nods, carefully, his eyes never leaving the man’s face—that’s where the signs are—hurt—hug--it’s in the eyes not the hand.
The man asks, “Do you want me to leave the honey with you?” and Alexei’s mouth floods with water and he nods, quicker this time, but still careful.
“If you speak, I’ll give you honey,” the man says. Alexei is surprised. That’s all? He wanted words? Alexei would smile if he weren’t busy watching the man’s eyes. He says. “Yes.” And the man grins.
“Say thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“Say, I want some honey.”
The man watches Alexei’s face and smiles, watching and smiling, waiting for the words he wants.
“I want some honey.”
The man sinks a finger into the thick golden liquid and holds it up and Alexei watches long gleaming strands fall slowly off the man’s finger, drop back into the pot and slowly sink… “Open your mouth, boy and have your honey.”
Alexei sits back and frowns. He feels—hungry, and honey smells good and he wants honey…
He leans forward and opens his mouth and the man lays his finger on his tongue. The honey is so—good, so rich, so sweet, it makes his mouth hurt and makes him mewl—his lips close around the finger and he searches out every bit of honey on it until it’s all gone and he tastes a little salt and nothing else.
He opens his mouth and the man is staring at him and his eyes are hot and frightening. Alexei pulls back at once but the man captures his slim neck in his hand. “Ask me for more.” It’s a demand—Alexei knows the shift has come and he missed it—it’s in the man’s eyes and he’s trapped.
He stutters, “No.”
He’s shaken like a bitch shakes a puppy—“Ask me for more,” the man growls.
Alexei asks and once again, his mouth fills with honey and the finger—the man moves it in and out of his mouth and groans quietly and Alexei knows that a mistake has been made and it’s not good. Not good at all and he has nowhere to go.
The mother watches him all the time now, thinking thoughts he can’t follow and Alexei tries to avoid her eyes, but the pictures don’t come as easy now and the songs don’t fill his head as they used to—his mouth fills with words all the time now, words like why and how and help and I hate you buzz in his mouth, all the time, all the time.
He hates her most of all when the man comes, “Call me Uncle,” he says to Alexei and he laughs. Alexei smiles too and thinks of him with Father’s bloody face.
He makes Alexei sit in his lap when the mother sleeps and feeds him, and touches him and Alexei breathes and waits for it to stop.
“Thank you Uncle,” he says when he brings food.
“Was your day good, Uncle,” he says the way Uncle teaches him to. “May I make tea for you, Uncle,” he learns to say.
He learns to sit on Uncle’s lap to eat the food he brings. Words come easy now and the pictures disappear and he spends less time in his mind. Mother gets sicker and sicker and Uncle comes all the time. But there is coal, and food and if Uncle touches him and shakes and makes noise when he wets on him—after, there’s food, food, and sometimes candy.
Alexei...yes, again! Another part. A slightly more oh, I guess maybe PG for hinting at inappropriate behaviour. Squicky inapproriate behaviour.
part one
part two
Alexei
The man comes and the man goes. Many men come and many men go. The mother sleeps more and more and Alexei must do more and more himself to keep them from freezing, to keep them from starving. The sweet smoke that rules their life fills the air—less food now, Alexei learns to go along the street, sometimes the neighbors are moved by a too thin face lit with burning blue eyes. Sometimes they shake fists at him and shout harsh words.
Spring comes slowly--Winter is reluctant to slip it’s claws from the flesh of the earth, but it comes-- mornings become less an awaking into a hell of ice and frost and Alexei thinks they may survive.
He puts the kettle on the stove and it’s not as much a struggle to lift his arms to the top, it still shuttles from side to side and his arms still tremble but the journey is not as far. He smiles. He’s a big boy. The men say it, and he thinks yes, he’s not a baby; he’s a big boy.
One day, the man comes with honey and tea and bread and Alexei’s eyes go round-- honey!—it smells mysterious, dark and sweet and fills his head like a delicious dream. The man smiles and takes it away into the place where the mother’s bed is. They make the noise, and he slides away and then the smoke brings him back, makes his nose wrinkle.
The man is standing there in front of him, and he has the honey in his hands.
“Do you want honey, boy?” he asks.
Alexei nods, carefully, his eyes never leaving the man’s face—that’s where the signs are—hurt—hug--it’s in the eyes not the hand.
The man asks, “Do you want me to leave the honey with you?” and Alexei’s mouth floods with water and he nods, quicker this time, but still careful.
“If you speak, I’ll give you honey,” the man says. Alexei is surprised. That’s all? He wanted words? Alexei would smile if he weren’t busy watching the man’s eyes. He says. “Yes.” And the man grins.
“Say thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“Say, I want some honey.”
The man watches Alexei’s face and smiles, watching and smiling, waiting for the words he wants.
“I want some honey.”
The man sinks a finger into the thick golden liquid and holds it up and Alexei watches long gleaming strands fall slowly off the man’s finger, drop back into the pot and slowly sink… “Open your mouth, boy and have your honey.”
Alexei sits back and frowns. He feels—hungry, and honey smells good and he wants honey…
He leans forward and opens his mouth and the man lays his finger on his tongue. The honey is so—good, so rich, so sweet, it makes his mouth hurt and makes him mewl—his lips close around the finger and he searches out every bit of honey on it until it’s all gone and he tastes a little salt and nothing else.
He opens his mouth and the man is staring at him and his eyes are hot and frightening. Alexei pulls back at once but the man captures his slim neck in his hand. “Ask me for more.” It’s a demand—Alexei knows the shift has come and he missed it—it’s in the man’s eyes and he’s trapped.
He stutters, “No.”
He’s shaken like a bitch shakes a puppy—“Ask me for more,” the man growls.
Alexei asks and once again, his mouth fills with honey and the finger—the man moves it in and out of his mouth and groans quietly and Alexei knows that a mistake has been made and it’s not good. Not good at all and he has nowhere to go.
The mother watches him all the time now, thinking thoughts he can’t follow and Alexei tries to avoid her eyes, but the pictures don’t come as easy now and the songs don’t fill his head as they used to—his mouth fills with words all the time now, words like why and how and help and I hate you buzz in his mouth, all the time, all the time.
He hates her most of all when the man comes, “Call me Uncle,” he says to Alexei and he laughs. Alexei smiles too and thinks of him with Father’s bloody face.
He makes Alexei sit in his lap when the mother sleeps and feeds him, and touches him and Alexei breathes and waits for it to stop.
“Thank you Uncle,” he says when he brings food.
“Was your day good, Uncle,” he says the way Uncle teaches him to. “May I make tea for you, Uncle,” he learns to say.
He learns to sit on Uncle’s lap to eat the food he brings. Words come easy now and the pictures disappear and he spends less time in his mind. Mother gets sicker and sicker and Uncle comes all the time. But there is coal, and food and if Uncle touches him and shakes and makes noise when he wets on him—after, there’s food, food, and sometimes candy.
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I'm so glad to have Alexei back! After this story you should write the Adventures of Alexei and Kirill in NYC:)
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Alexei really had it rough when he was young too.
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I also really liked how savvy he was about the change in his relationship with the man when he started talking. I'm not sure what to make of the fact that he retreats into a kind of cottony waiting in this final part. I guess I'll just have to wait and find out. *EG*
I gotta say - This is Alexei! I really hate seeing him so helpless!
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Losing his inner world - good or bad?
*pets him*
Probably bad.
Whaaa, love it!
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I saved the two parts for today.
It is soo good! Amazing, I love slowly developing threat. The idea with honey and finger licking and boy's observations was... yummy.
Great, I'm looking forward to more of this.
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*cries for Alexei*