Hello everyone, come to explore what EnglandxRussia has to offer? Yah, me too. This story was begging to be written and seeing as I am a nice person, I simply couldn't refuse it! Usually I am not a RussiaxEngland shipper, but I think Russia has potential, and so does England! England is wonderful anyways. Austria too. And Germany. The US, too, in a funny, weird way. Read on and enjoy!

Sometimes in the darkness

Eyes open of their own accord

As I stumble into unknown depths

Oh, how desperately I wish

For you to catch me when I fall

Sometimes in the darkness

Catch Me When I Fall

1917 (World War I)

Russia sighed and leaned back in his chair. A pounding headache made it hard to think. His population was revolting, rebelling, had reached their limit of endurance. Russia knew he had treated them badly, had not provided enough food for them and continued to support his allies against Germany.

Now, he could hardly get up, exhausted as he was. All the riots and strikes were wearing him down slowly and he knew that soon, the Tsar was going to fall.

He picked up the phone next to his desk and dialled a number he had never dialled before. Of course, he had met England at the summits held by the Allies, but they had never shared close bonds. Now that he thought about it, England even seemed to be scared of him. He put down the receiver.

The problem was, Russia felt alone. Russia felt small. Russia felt like crying.

The past few months, he had been neglecting the war, had been running all over his country, trying to appease the peasants, the proletariat, even the bourgeoisie, and still, he felt deep inside himself, that his country was breaking apart.

His army was being slaughtered by the Germans and all he wanted to do was give up and wave a silly little white flag just like Italy always did whenever any of the Allies got too close.

But he was Russia, for goodness' sake! He was supposed to be strong and unyielding! And yet, he felt like calling England. Not France, not America, not anyone. England.

Russia wasn't sure why he felt like calling the smaller country, but being in England's presence was... comforting. In comparison to himself, England was stable and stability was what Russia needed the most.

With new resolve, Russia picked up the receiver.

…

''Good afternoon, who is it?''

Russia hesitated. What was he supposed to say? Why was he calling England?

''...England. It's Russia'', he settled on saying, keeping his voice neutral.

A small gasp and a short silence were his answer. Then, ''Russia... What made you call?''

''I... Everything is so much right now... I just...'' Russia wanted to slap himself. Why did he sound so pathetic?

Hesitation on England's part. ''Do you... do you want to come over for a cup of tea?''

Russia hated tea. Oh, how he despised it. ''Yes, thank you.''

Silence.

''I'll... I'll be right there, then.''

''All right.''

Click. Silence.

-888-

England was scared. No, scratch that, England was freaking out!

He felt like slapping himself, like running around his house, yanking on his hair and hiding in a small cupboard where no one would ever find him, least of all Russia, who he had just invited to his house in a moment of sympathy.

How could he have been so horribly stupid? Russia! Russia who was so unstable that one had to fear every moment that he'd lash out or implode! England would definitely prefer the latter.

So what had made him invite Russia over for tea? He only ever did that with France, and that was only sometimes, when they were not fighting or angry at each other.

The bell rang.

England jumped and turned slowly toward the door. Surely this couldn't be Russia already...?

He hesitantly walked over to the door, opening it. It was Russia. But he didn't look as scary as usual. Instead, he looked younger than he usually did, as if he had somehow gotten lost somewhere and couldn't find his way home. England took a step forward.

''Russia. You look under the weather, why don't you come in?'' Never forgetting his manners, England started to lead the way.

In his agitation, he had completely forgotten to start the tea and quickly began filling a kettle with water, placing it on the stove. He was glad he had a way to occupy his hands, because he honestly did not know what to say to the bigger nation.

Russia was just standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking as though he did not know what to do with himself. England frowned to himself. Where was the creepy aura, the menacing look?

''Russia...?'', he ventured.

''England... I am sorry to come to you on such short notice'', Russia said awkwardly, looking anywhere except at England. ''My country is in such chaos, I couldn't take it any longer...''

England knew about the troubles, the conflicts within his allied nation's country, but he had never realised how much this must affect him.

Russia had always been ''that creepy, huge country'' to him. Despite the alliance, never a friend or confidant.

It scared England to see Russia so weak, so open. It wasn't right. ''Sit down, I'll have the tea ready in a minute.'' With that, he gestured to the living room.

Russia only nodded and went to sit down.

In the kitchen, England's mind was working fast. Russia was weak right now. But he had so much potential. If he helped him up now, gave him new confidence, maybe their nations would become even closer and Russia would owe him. Russia owing him a favour was not bad. Not bad at all.

England smiled slightly as the kettle began to whistle.

-888-

Russia was not regretting his decision. As soon as he had entered England's house, he had started to feel calmer than he had in a long time.

He wasn't quite sure how to deal with his host yet, but just being here, in his house, in his presence, quietened his racing thoughts and that horrible feeling of helplessness.

The living room was warm and cosy. A fire was crackling in the hearth and a sofa was sitting in front of it, beckoning to him, it seemed. Russia sat down, watching the dancing flames that looked both more colourful and alive than at home.

Russia sank into a trance and slowly slipped off into sleep and when England finally arrived with the tea, he was fast asleep, a small upward tilt to his lips the only evidence of his contentment.

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