He grit his teeth in surprise as a sudden crash of thunder shook his house. The rain came quickly, pounding against the roof and slapping the window. But it was just rain. A simple passing rainstorm in the early hours of morning.
He sighed, scolding himself for allowing his body to tighten in fear at the natural act of nature. The TV picture shuddered slightly at every shake of the house, and an eerie static whine accompanied it. The time was 3:52 AM, and Russia found it beyond himself to slip into sleep. He'd come to this same problem many times before, he was a man of terrible nightmares and tremendous grief. It was perfectly understandable that he had insomnia problems.
He'd tried a various list of distractions, but he always just had to wait it out. This often meant he survived on a few fitful hours of sleep a night, always red-eyed with violent purple crescents that sometimes seemed to reach his cheeks. Not that he let this keep him down. No, he felt he had to be stronger than that.
A deep sigh rushed from his throat as he stretched to climb out of bed. He stumbled over to the window, laying his fingertips delicately against the cool, crying glass. The rain ignored him and kept moving, sliding in various shapes and sizes. He dragged his fingers down, creating pale, white streaks against the purple night he could see from the window. He longed to feel the drops against his skin, so he decided a walk would be delightful. No, nothing was "delightful" in his life anymore, refreshing was the word.
He moved in silence to turn off the humming television, but what did it matter? He was all alone, there was no one in his house for him to wake. Yet, he moved without a sound down the stairs and finally to his back door.
He hesitated over the doorknob, did he really want to walk around barefoot in the pouring rain? After a moment of deciding, he slipped his fingers around the cold metal.
The water did feel nice. It soaked his shoulders and hair immediately, dripping down his back. He hadn't bothered to grab his coat or scarf, he didn't want them. It would defeat the purpose of standing in the rain.
The sky was illuminated briefly by an angry lightning bolt. It reminded Russia of a fearsome animal, flashing its electric fangs and bizarre beauty. It reminded Russia of himself. His eyes stayed on the clouds after they were torn through by the display.
The rain met his face in cold bullets, but he simply closed his eyes and let it come. It felt marvelous, unlike anything he'd felt in a long time. The cool of the drops contrasted with the warmth of his face, which was overtaken with a twisted, childish smile. Mud was quickly forming beneath his feet, and he could feel it clinging to the edges of his sweatpants.
Before he realized what he was doing, a gasp ripped through his body. The breath was so sudden it hurt, he felt the pain radiate from his throat to the bottom of his ribcage. He was crying.
He dug his nails into the flesh of his arm, hoping the pain would persuade him to stop. When that didn't succeed, he bit as hard as he could into his knuckle, drawing blood. He could only imagine how bright and red it looked against his pale skin. The metallic taste glided over his tongue, earning a sharp gag. He'd drawn blood, not Lithuania or Latvia or anyone else's, he'd drawn his own blood.
He turned his head to stare at the empty house. He was all alone. Maybe if he wasn't, he'd have an easier time falling asleep. But everyone had left him behind, they hadn't stopped to even say goodbye.
"Damn it! You are Russia. You don't cry." He whispered half-heartedly, stroking his bleeding knuckle.
Against his own demands, he felt tears mingle with rain on his cheeks, and a strange chill crawled down his spine. He crouched to the ground, holding himself tightly, holding himself together.
He slowly moved onto his back, feeling the grass and mud envelope him. He didn't see how he'd have the strength or will to make it back to his room, so he made himself comfortable under the weeping clouds.
"Goodnight!" He shouted to nothing in particular. He was laughing now as well. Chuckling mixed in with sobbing. He took in light, quick breaths to accommodate such noise.
It was quite easy to fall asleep in the rain while crying and laughing, which he did at precisely 4:38 AM. By the time he'd drifted away, he'd reverted to only crying.
His sleeping eyes were edged with fought tears. He cried them because he was all alone.
He was all alone.
I got the idea for this a couple hours ago when I heard rain, so needless to say it's kind of an impulse piece. Please review =)
I don't know why I enjoy torturing my favorite Hetalia character, maybe he's my favorite because we share the same sadistic qualities O.O
Jk
-Alison