Moi Podsolnechnik

Ivan/Anya

Prompts: Vodka, Rough, Winter

 Winter seemed like a never-ending consonant in Russia, always blanketing the hushed streets of Moscow with sheets of pristine white and the bitter cold. 

 Ivan took it as the malignant reminder of his solitude; the chilling coldness seeping into his heart, coiling a barrier of ice as an attempt to shun him from further pain. But the only saving grace in his world of contained (cautiously edging towards raving) madness was his sweet Anya, his other half in every sense, the anchor that stopped him from catapulting into his repressed aggressions and insanity that beckoned him seductively into their world of oblivion. 

 She was the sunflower that he clawed to keep blossoming in his rough terrain; an exotic beauty that, despite her misgivings, was a fighter to the core. 

Her smile was the sunshine that banished the darkness that ached painfully within. 

 Her lips a saint's Holy Grail, and Ivan would repent if only to feel her cool lips against his, the tangible taste of vodka lacing the coaxing sweetness that was her.

 Anya, lovely Anya, was the missing puzzle that helped soothe the throbbing loneliness that ached hollowly within him, the one who saw the broken man behind the intimidating nation, the one who could render him to the vulnerable child he had been, soothing and reprimanding at once. 

 Sometimes, Ivan swore that the foreign flutter in his long silenced heart was...love, and strangely, he was not so scared of the concept of loving Anya. After all, she was Russia in every essence of the name and it would be unfit for the two halves of Russia to be divided, no? 

 And so, he made it an oath that he would never let anything come between him and his Anya, or there would be hell to pay, with interest. 

~End~