**Title -- "Things that stop you dreaming", by Passenger. Late Christmas fic ☺️🎁🚀 Alfred is around seven and Ivan is three years older so ten.**

Alfred rushes out of his front door and into the snow, Papa calling out after him to 'wear a coat so you don't freeze to death, mon dieu you little rascal! And ask Matthieu if he would like to play too!'. He ignores him, giggling happily, and throws snow up in the air. It's Christmas day, after all.

He's decided a long time ago that he's glad his daddy married Papa. Daddy isn't so serious anymore, so grumpy; and plus, he has a brother too! So what could be better?

Alfred sees someone sitting on his curb. Well, it isn't exactly his curb--but the Bonnefoy-Kirkland household is on the corner of their street, so he thinks of the curb as his. It's a boy with big shoulders and colorless hair. He's very pale. And unlike Al, he's actually dressed for the weather, albeit not very well: a pair of mittens, too-small for his hands, and a well-worn homemade-looking scarf.

"Hey, dude!" Alfred skips over to the boy, who looks up, frowning. "What're you doing on my curb?"

"This is your curb?" The boy has a heavy accent of...something, Alfred doesn't know. "I did not know."

"...well, Daddy says it's not really our curb. But I say it is, cuz-cuz, that's our house, and that's our lawn! And this is our sidewalk! And this is our curb. See?" He grins at his 'perfect' logic. The boy looks at him blankly.

"That is your house?" he points with one of his mitten-fingers.

"Yeah!" Alfred says enthusiastically. "Me an' Daddy and Mattie and Papa live there! It used to be Papa's and Mattie's, and Mattie's Mama, but she died and Papa doesn't talk about her much cuz it makes him really sad... But now it's ours, and it's so awesome!"

"It is very big."

"Ehhhh," Alfred shrugs and sticks his hands in his pockets. "It's not too big. Me an' Daddy used to live in a little apartment though, it's like, a ton bigger than that!" He laughs warmly. "I'm Alfred! You can call me Al, though, lots do. Who're you?"

"Ivan."

"Cool, dude!" Alfred says brightly. Ivan doesn't answer; he decides he must just be shy. Daddy and Papa tell him that some people--like Mattie, for example--are just naturally not really outgoing, and he's gotta respect that. He's been trying. Suddenly he notices what Ivan's holding.

Oh my gosh, it's so cool. It's a toy rocket ship, but it's so detailed! It has the little cannon things on the bottom, the windows--even has the little steering wheel. Alfred stares at it in awe--he wishes his parents got him one for Christmas--he doesn't even notice he's reaching out to touch it until--

"Nyet!" Ivan says, a funny word that he doesn't understand, and he holds the toy protectively to his chest. "It is mine. Do not touch."

"H-hey, I just wanted to look at it--" Alfred says, and he pouts. He's not used to being denied things. "I'd give it back, promise--"

"Nyet."

"What does that even mean?"

Ivan doesn't answer. Alfred huffs.

"Please?"

"Nyet." He says even more firmly, eyes steely. "Go away." Alfred watches Ivan stand up abruptly and walk away down the street. He feels hurt that he didn't make a new friend. Because...that's what Christmas was for, right?