Chapter 1
Ivan
Ivan Braginski was alone.
It was a fact that he had accepted long ago. As a child, little Ivan had endlessly wondered and mourned over his apparent inability to make friends. As a grown man, however, he had accepted this as a simple truth and was no longer bothered by the prospect. For whatever reason, people didn't like him, and that was that.
When the tall, blonde haired Russian got out of bed that morning, he had met the day with the same peaceful resignation that he did all the others. He would go to college, go to work, and then return home, doing things of various importance for a small while before finally retiring to his bed until the crack of dawn awoke him once more. Surprisingly, it wasn't that bad. It was consistent, familiar, and even though he had no one to talk to as a friend, painless. After all, watching the interactions between others was sufficient enough. People were interesting, too- he had never entirely understood how the human social structure worked, having been outside if all his life. Observing people was like learning the way his world spun. He'd been watching from the outside in for so long now, in fact, that Ivan had gotten frighteningly accurate at reading people. He could see past their false pretenses and deep into their true motives, as if they were naught but a thin sheet of glass.
All he ever wanted was your money, he'd predict, or she is only using you so she can make her ex-boyfriend jealous. For a while, it was like a game; Ivan would figure out why one person would cozy up to another, then would wait and see if he was right.
It was sickening how many times he was correct.
That was most likely part of the reason Ivan was able to accept not having people he was close to, he often mused. The relationships he had observed between other people were always fake. Very few people truly cared about one another. Very few insects in this busy little ant hill would associate with another for anything less than their own personal gain.
Who would want a friend if they knew he or she was only using you as another rung in their ladder to success?
Not Ivan.
He had stopped participating in this game years ago.
The Russian had been alone from the very beginning, so it was only natural for him to be alone now.
And you know what?
He liked it that way.
The author's notes aren't going to be that long, don't worry!
So these first two chapters are rather short, I'm aware, but they'll get bigger later. Think of these as little intro-chapters.
Also, this is a fanfiction written back and forth between my little sister and I. Every chapter will change the point of view, unless it seems unnecessary or the like. I'm writing Ivan (Russia), and she's writing Yao (China).
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia. Wish I did, but such is life.