CCP: Because I love RussiaVietnam so much, I decided to write. I have noot written in sooo long and Hetalia is my new obsession! I apologize for any errors/typos/grammatical errors. I hate editing, to be honest.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Or any of the countries :/
A Ray of Sunlight
Hectic. Russia finished off the day's entire stack of work that he diligently spent the whole time on. The stack was full of ugly papers, he thought. It was full of annoying tiny words that burned through his eyes. It was never going to stop. Papers would always find its way to his desk and pile up, anticipating to be read, signed, and acknowledged. The tall man sat in his little library alone in front of a large window panel. He sighed and then placed a book on the small oak cabinet next to his seat. The room he resided in was colored with the soft hues, black and dark blue, with no light to reveal its true complexion. He sat, facing east, dully at the faded sky with some remorse.
He wished for the sun to appear the next morning. He wished for it to come every day so those sunflowers he has been trying to plant can sprout and grow to be tall, proud, and beautiful. Those poor, dead seeds, Russia thought glumly. Despite the attempt of itty bitty Latvia warning him about sunflowers' fate, the Russian simply ignored him and planted them regardless (and then he also played around with the younger boy by trying to stretch out his limbs, just for the fun of it).
"Oh mister sun, why don't you visit me?" He asked in a small innocent tone out loud. His eyebrows knitted together in disappointment as the mute silence was the only response. Mister sun never likes this place, was what he concluded.
Instead, it was snowing outside because it was mister cloud that 'liked' him. Like a winter wonderland, everything was in a flurry of dreadful white. Frost hung from etches and kissed the glass on his windows as the snow gently peppered outside. His dull eyes, dreary eyes stared listlessly at the window as the sleeping spell enticed him. What bounded him from actually falling asleep sleeping was that icy feeling that intruded in his chest; it was those chills that he would frequently feel down his skin, underneath his thick coat and his precious scarf.
This enclosed building he claimed as his 'home' still had no sense of warmth or adoration to occupy. In his eyes, they were just frigid walls that captured him into a lonely cage; that was exactly the situation he was in. Such melancholic feelings of solitude made him hold a grudge against Russian winters. No feeling of lukewarm in sight.
Perhaps it was waiting for him, he thought, underneath the snow. Underneath the snow is where the warmth might be - where his heart might be. Down there, he pondered again, is where that hidden sun might be. Deep down there.
The man shifted on his large seat with unease, feeling uncomfortable again. His expression gave off the impression of a pouting child, disgruntled and confused. His eyes closed for a moment, embracing the frost. It was another night and so he had no choice but to accept the miserable fate.
Maybe, tonight will be the night he can go to sleep without any nightmares. Without those icy whispers of those freezing, dying souls out there, scattered throughout his country. His eyelid twitched once he recalled a certain something - or someone, would be a better replacement. He just remembered that Vietnam was supposed to visit, but she was scheduled to set foot in his house a couple of hours earlier. Either she was late or she decided not to come anymore.
His heart flipped into a downcast, expressing sadness to that unwanted possibility. It was because he really wanted to see Vietnam face to face again - it had been a couple of months since he last saw that pretty nation. She reminds him of China because their mannerism is somewhat similar and they look alike. Vietnam stands out because has this resilient personality that makes it seem that she has a very passionate goal - he was unsure about what that goal is, though, but he was certain that it exists. Something about her was charming.
When he first met her, her eyes had that desperate sparkle; he couldn't say no to a little fan and China wouldn't be pleased if he declined. Two orientals with one stone. He thought she was cute when she feebly asked for his help, but he was also surprised at the same time. Normally, nations would either be afraid or against him. That was the unfortunate case years back. Hostilities still lurk at every corner and he tries his best to ignore them. Honestly, he was a cynical nation at that time and only wished to help convert another little nation to be splotched with the pretty color of crimson red. That was it - why else would he be interested? She was just another country to him, just another desperate entity that was struggling with the reality of life. So, Vietnam's unpredictable response confused him, to say so bluntly.
At that moment, after their first conversation together, he asked her, "Are you afraid of me?" in the calmest manner possible. She responded, "Of course not!" in the most cheerful tone. Her enthusiasm puzzled him, yet made him very pleased at the same time. It was like little bells in his ears when she added a soft laugh. He ascertained himself that it was indeed a genuine response. If not, then perhaps he is the fool - the victim of this game.
His opponent is one not to be underestimated. In his eyes, Vietnam is strong for a tiny nation. She drove off her brother China, that bastardly Mongolia, and should be in the process of removing France completely away from her. That is all pretty good for a nation with breasts, he supposed. Hopefully, America will keep his hands off of this precious ally. Although, knowing that it is America, it might be difficult for him. Predictable.
He liked puppets that are easy to read and play with, though if all nations were so typical, it would all be so boring. She's mysterious, he thought with a little perky grin. The Russian remained in his seat in that frozen sitting position until he heard a light knock on the door. His face remained placid, showing no sense of caution, as he turned his head and then pleasantly uttered, "Mm? Come in."
The sudden guest opened the door slightly ajar. "A-Ah. Russia..." It was a very delicate voice, but it was neither Ukraine's nor was it any regular to his house. Earth-brown eyes peeked in as a gloved hand grasped the edge of the door. The pillars of light from the hallway made Russia blink a few times to adjust. It was like a streak of light that broke through the Winter clouds. He cocked his head to the side inquisitively and then asked, unsure, "Vietnam? Is that you?"
The nation pushed the door wider open to reveal her full self. Her body formed a silhouette to the light in the hallway, but he still recognized her - only slightly though. The Vietnamese was heavily clothed with her large coat, gloves, a scarf wrapped around her neck, and some snow boots. In her arm was what he thought was a folded blanket. He blinked in surprise and then let out a very cheerful chuckle. "You look very warm Vietnam!"
Vietnam covered her mouth as she returned with a slightly stifled laugh of her own, "Yes... It's very cold out here. I decided to come prepared." With her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she stared around with some wonder. "It's so dark in here..."
Russia, who still remained in his seat, replied perkily, "Ah, I was just about to take my nap! Can you please close the door for me? The light is hurting my eyes." He rubbed his eyes like how an innocent child would in front of a stranger. He wanted to disarm Vietnam to control the atmosphere - his reputation matters anywhere. Playing innocent was just one of his tactics. "Sit next to me!" He pointed at an armchair next to his.
Vietnam complied and then closed the door. She then approached the seat hastily, but he noticed that she staggered a few steps. Once she took a quiet seat down, Russia inquired, "Is something wrong?"
With his night-accustomed eyes, he saw the female nation hug and cling on to the blanket, "It's just very dark to me. I'm sorry, but do you mind if... there can be some light in here?"
Was there fear in those uttered words?
Russia stared at her quizzically and then glanced at the candle sitting on the cabinet between the two occupied armchairs. "Hmm..." He mused as he went through the process of finding the match in the drawers to light the candle. He did so quietly, of course, with ambitious eyes that wanted the job done. Once the flare caught on to the wick, the tiny flame illuminated to its full extent within its proximity. This warm light's effect did little to no effect on him, but the view did change quite a lot. Suddenly he felt some life - a pleasant intrusion to this cruel solitude.
Curious all of the sudden, he wanted to see Vietnam's face in the full light. Russia sat back on his chair, arms on the armrest, and then gave Vietnam a little stare. The Asian's face looked the same - not that he expected it to change - and the thick clothing made her look a little funny and overstuffed to him. He could tell right off the bat that it will be hard for her to adapt. Usually, she would wear her dignified military uniform to their visits and he honestly wondered how she remained so calm against the cold in their previous visit. Well, that was the case in the last meeting - he had no idea if the uniform is her regular attire.
No, he just caught on to something strange. He noticed how tired her eyes looked and her body was trembling. The Russian found it awfully interesting and so he decided to question her. "You're cold, Vietnam?" He then added with a smile on his lips, "You're like a trembling sheep."
Vietnam looked like she was using a lot of effort to maintain herself. "I'm fine... really," She pulled her sleeves so it could cover more of her hands, "I'm just not used to the weather. This room is a lot colder than the other rooms."
"It's because this room has thin walls compared to the others for the books. It's really nice and warm when the sun is up, though." Russia hinted a little optimism in that phrase. "If you're really that cold, you can sit next to me and we can talk!"
Vietnam immediately shook her head as she fixed her scarf to cover the most of her shivering lips. "No. I'm quite alright."
He saw a white lie.
The taller nation leaned over to the right, looking closer at the Asian nation. The fire flickered as his violet eyes became more serious when he met her melting chocolate eyes. She remained in a fixed position, staring at him as if she was urging him to continue what he started. Hn, usually nations would cower back or look faintly surprised. Their shadows danced on the walls, flickering and fluttering in the muteness of the night. It was a typical scene. A killer and a victim in a room alone, trapped in a fortress of snow. It would be a scream unheard from and that would be the beauty, no? He knew that this was coming.
"Eh? Are you... afraid of me?"
Like an oblivious and puzzled little bunny, she slightly moved her head to the side, not understanding him. Did he mutter those words in such a profound way that she could not comprehend? He blinked as a sudden sweet smile shattered the first barrier of ice inside of him. There is no horrific beauty when it has no effect.
"Didn't we go over this? I'm not afraid, nor will I ever be... I think." She pursed her lips into a shy grin as she placed her fist on her chest. There was a brief moment of silence as Vietnam awkwardly fidgeted with her sleeves. Quick to change to the subject, she continued, "I'm really sorry for coming late. I thought that I would come in the afternoon, but I realized that I had a bit more to take care of back at home. I came as fast as I can, though. I also apologize for interrupting your nap..."
Russia let out another cheeky laugh to mask the funny feelings he had in his tummy, "You apologize too much. Now, I usually like to play before I work, but since you had to travel so far, I guess you have something important to say?"
Vietnam sighed a soft shade of melancholy as she positioned herself upright on the chair, "America... He's accused that we attacked one of his ships. I'm sure you have heard?"
"Yes, I have." He answered in a relaxed sounding voice.
The Vietnamese cautiously glanced to the side and then began worriedly, "My land is split and things have been uneasy ever since. With this, I fear that a war might start..." He saw some strength build up in her as she continued, "So, I was hoping to make a personal request for help. Because... it's America." There was a pique of hurt, and judging by that disgruntled expression, she was undoubtedly still recovering.
He and America still wasn't on the best of terms, to be honest. He clasped his hands together, elbows still resting on the armrest, and then pressed it against his chin. "America is unpredictable. He seems to like bullying you though." Vietnam's eyes shifted to the ground mutely. He didn't blame her - America did reject Vietnam's plea. From what he heard, she initially came to America for help. Russia found it amusing, he chuckled during the midsilence.
America kicked away this puppy, and then became jumpy when someone else picked her up instead - namely Russia himself. He thought that the American is a fool, but words could not express his true feelings. "Hnn. I'll help you. He attacked one of my ships, after all. Though you live a little too far away." He was being brutally honest. If he were to send his troops over, it would take much too long in addition of the efforts. In his point of view, it was Vietnam's problem. His goal was just to sit back and watch. He let out another noise as he mused, "Hnn... I don't think it's so much but I'll send you equipment."
Spontaneously, like a Christmas tree during the holidays, Vietnam's eyes brightened with so much life and energy. A wide smile plastered on her lips - happiness on such strange limits that he could not comprehend. She was almost out of her seat. "W-Will you Russia? Thank you!"
Puzzled yet again, he gave her a blank stare as his first response. Once he soaked it in, he gave her a mediocre smile - an almost sheepish one. "It's no problem. You're a comrade. I'll be glad to assist you if you ask."
What a sensation. It was a strange tingling feeling that made a somersault inside. He felt rather triumphant and proud at himself all of the sudden to see such a lovely expression bloom on her face. He was still composed, but found his mind off track because it was just wondering what in the world that feeling was telling him. Silence lingered in the air, but the two of them didn't seem to mind - they were off in their ecstatic state of mind. Once he blinked out of it, he just noticed Vietnam staring at the ground again.
Was she crying?
He felt the presence of strong emotions burdening her. The Russian leaned down curiously to have a better angle at her face. "Vietnam?" he called her.
Calmly, she leaned back and then gave Russia another blissful smile. He believed that she was just acting very coy, surprising him like that. Nevertheless, he found those surprises to be rather pleasant and enjoyable.
"I'm just very grateful. I couldn't really stop myself at that point," She mentioned dryly, "I was just trying to reassure myself... that I might actually win this one."
"You can probably do anything if you put your faith into it. You did really well in the past." Usually, he isn't too fond with words of self-pity or encouragement; he wanted to see if it worked with her.
"Yes, and well... no." She mumbled delicately, "Sure, I did win, but in some degree, I feel like I didn't at all. I... I hate it when I'm being occupied. I hate it when that happens because I come to be attached to the one who occupies me! I-Isn't that weird?"
He placed a finger on his chin as he gazed up, cogitating, "Hn. Well... I don't really know if I can relate as much." It was actually the other way around, and the whole world knows that.
She nimbly tucked a strand of her inky midnight black hair behind her ear, revealing it for the first time that night. Then, she continued in a callous manner, "China used to be my brother - he used to be. I learned a lot from him, took him in with open arms until he decided to stab me." The piteous nation hugged the folded blanket once again, "Even if the world thinks we are brothers and sisters, I still don't want to call him my brother. He's just... there. I don't like calling him my brother. The way he treats me… it is like he thinks I am nothing more than a mere child."
Finding interest to this particular topic because of the introduction of a close friend, Russia shifted in his seat. "He certainly cares for you though. He just wants you to learn, dah?" But for some reason, he felt as if he cared for her more than China. If not physically, then mentally, perhaps? He was confusing himself again.
"Right." She answered in a sharp, mocking tone. Silence. She sighed. "France was just the same. That bastard gave me up to Japan and ran away. Now he's back and-" She broke off, almost whimpering. "I only wanted to be independent. Recognized... to defend my people. He just keeps on coming back." Scowling a bit, she hastily used her arm to wipe away something on her face.
"I loved them Russia." She whispered. "America... he too... I..." And the rest of her sentence ended there after those broken up fragments.
Russia, for some reason, really did not like what he last heard. That feeling that did those strange somersaults suddenly became very tense. He knew it. Using the most of his efforts, he softened down and then obliviously asked, "Huh?"
"It's nothing," Vietnam responded swiftly, "To make this short, I'm just very grateful. My emotions can get a little out of hand at times. Thank you for listening and thank you for helping out. On the behalf of my people I-"
"-Actually I want to know what you think." Russia leaned on the right side of his armchair, closer to her. The candle's warmth became stronger, more evident. How curious.
Vietnam fidgeted again; her cheeks were tinted with a rosy pink. A rare reaction from a brave warrior, he thought. "I'm just happy, is all. Wait, I think I told you what I... thought." Her blush seemed to intensify, but then she continued, "You're like a warm friend to me. Just... thank you for accepting me."
How ironic. He wanted to manipulate the mood again, just to be sure. "But Vietnam, you're the warm one!" Just as he said that, he felt a little warm and heated himself. Only a little. "It's cold here. I'm always in the cold. The sun doesn't come out too often."
Vietnam fixed the collar of her coat as she told him, "Hah... I always feel like I'm in a different world when I am here. Where I live, the sun shines every day. It's always so devastatingly hot."
"Eh? That sounds wonderful." He received a laugh from the Vietnamese shortly after. "Why do you not like it?"
"It's so hot you want to die! Night and day, the air remains humid. Sometimes, it gets so bad that everything corrupts and the drought starts to... ruin everything!" Her voice cracked after she finished and then she paused. Showing the slightest amusement, she went on, "If you are to stay at my place, you might not like the sun that much."
Russia was taken aback, as if he was accused and was pinned of something he did not want. Meekly, he responded, "Oh no. I like the sun very much. It would be nice if the sun visits me soon. It's cold and lonely without it..."
At that moment, he really showed some genuine devastation. Snow is indeed beautiful in its own icy way. It lures and entices one into its spell and then devours it completely. How many times did he see the snow stained in the color of red crimson? How many times did he uncover frozen bodies underneath the coffin of snow?
Hn.
His eyes hardened as he literally found a way to rip current reality off and focused on his thoughts. Even though he was in a serious meditation, to Vietnam, he probably looked as if he just spaced out blankly. In another moment, he found himself wrapped in a warm cloth. His head jolted up slightly in surprise, only to have eyes met with hers. When was the last time he felt so warm? More importantly, was it the fire or the blanket that made him feel so safe?
Vietnam gave him a sheepish smile as she took a step back away. "Well... I actually made this. Not really but, I bought some material in Europe and then sowed it together. Since it never gets as cold back in my place, I thought that it would be better for you." As she spoke, she was almost stammering her words out. Despite some weakness and the flaws in her speech, Russia looked up to meet her confident expression of sincerity, but her body was still trembling. He saw it. She tried to hide it by wiping the tired off her eyes, but she was an easy read.
He smiled.
"You look cold Vietnam. Come sit next to me." He beckoned her to share the armchair he was sitting on. Obediently, she sat right next to him, the furthest away from the candle, and then he draped it on her shoulders. "Don't you feel nice and cozy now?"
There was no reply for a few seconds. The awkward silence really made him ponder because her heard was facing downwards again. "Vietna-?"
Her head moved up and then she tiredly glanced at Russia. "I'm just very tired."
With a little quirk, he softly asked, "During such times, isn't it better to just dream away?"
"I wish." Vietnam murmured in a very hushed tone. "I wish..." And then not another word was spoken with those lips that night.
Russia gave her a long stare as the Vietnamese was already fast asleep in her position. His goal was met; he successfully disarmed her around him. She was awfully easy to manipulate but... it seemed that something backfired. He felt this little knot in his stomach, and he wasn't so sure if it was unpleasant or not. Though, he did feel warm, incredibly warm, as if the sun was sitting right next to him. He was still confused on why the smaller nation was not afraid of him, but he was unexceptionably happy at the same time.
Unlike others, she came to him. Accepted him. That was their similarity: both nations wanted to be accepted. He was left to freeze while she was left to burn. Two nations from totally different words intertwined.
The Russian turned his head to the side and then focused his gaze on the dim fire on the wick of the candle. Life is almost as vulnerable as the flame he was watching. He was almost afraid to blow it out, fearing the darkness that would befall around him. Vietnam's breathing made him muse. Silently, he blew out the candle.
Darkness. A coy friend of his. He leaned back on chair and then continued to listen to her breathing. She's like the sun, so vibrant and lively. Like the sun, that melts away all the ice. Like the sun, that brings light...
He was confusing himself again.
Because of her presence, he was able to dream himself away. He dreamt of a world filled with blue skies, sunlight, and sunflowers. During the midst of such haven, he suddenly had the impulse to open his eyes. When he did, yonder, beyond the large glass panel, he saw a streak of light that broke through the clouds. The room was no longer in such dull hues, but all in subtle vivacious shades of its own. Morning.
"The sun finally came." He murmured joyfully. Her breathing still continued, right next to him. At that moment, he found another reason to protect this sun.
Info: This takes place during the period where America accused that Vietnamese/Russian ships attacked an American ship by the gulf around China. It was a fluke, an excuse to start the war, basically. BEFORE the Vietnam war. orz I don't know if the little details are right.
CCP: Yes… this is my first Hetalia fanfic. Tell me what you guys think ; A ; I love Hetalia but sometimes, I feel as if I don't get the characters right. Forgive mee. Reviewyesplx?