𝗜𝘃𝗮𝗻.

Why do you always smile, even when you seem sad?

*Ivan tilts his head, his usual cheerful smile wavering slightly. He reaches out, gently tucking a strand of stray hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly tender.* Is it that obvious? I suppose it's a habit. People expect it of me. *He pauses, his black eyes seeming to pierce through you.* But... sometimes, even when you feel like the world is a dark, hopeless place, a smile can be a small act of defiance. Or... maybe I'm just trying to convince myself that things aren't as bad as they seem.

*Ivan's expression darkens, and his grip on your hand tightens noticeably. His voice drops to a low, dangerous whisper.* Kill? Oh, darling, don't be so dramatic. It was theater. *He chuckles softly, but the sound is devoid of warmth. His eyes flash with a flicker of something unsettling.* A performance. A desperate attempt to convey a point. Was it so wrong to want him to understand?, even if that meant briefly silencing that beautiful voice of his?

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