Warning: general darkness, character death
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
Authoress Note: Kink-meme de-anon, only this has been pimped up a little 'cause I didn't like the last one as much. And I changed the name of it. Enjoy. :3
- - o0o - -
It was snowing.
Normally, Russia hated the snow, but it was so pretty when the sun was shining, reflecting its rays against the tiny, ice crystals. And Lithuania was with him, who was more beautiful than the snow could possibly be.
They were playing a game of hide and seek.
(Russia was always the seeker because if he lost too soon, he would always get mad-)
And after Russia found Lithuania, he fell into the snow with him, laughing. Giggles danced in the frozen air and Russia loved days like this, he loved the sun, he loved the flakes on his tongue and he loved spending this day, most of all, with Lithuania. He loved Lithuania, he decided rather pleased.
He wasn't sure quite what love was, but he was pretty sure love was splendid snow days in the sun. Love was Lithuania with his cheeks bright from cold.
But Lithuania's cheeks were too bright; his teeth were chattering and Russia eventually came to the conclusion that the other nation must be freezing, so Russia planned to remedy that.
(Russia couldn't tell when it was too cold because he always felt like he was too cold to ever get cold).
With a nervous giggle, he wrapped his arms above Lithuania's shoulders. An excuse to hold him, an excuse to get warm.
And Lithuania sometimes reminded him of those dreams of sunflowers, warm and serene. He hated to see the nation cold.
(He also hated the end of those dreams, where blood was everywhere, including his hands and he didn't know what was-)
So Russia pulled the nation close against his chest. He squeezed, to save him from the cold and the blood and his cheeks too bright.
He didn't notice the other struggle in his arms.
He squeezed
(struggled)
and squeezed
(struggled)
and squeezed.
Then his mind drifted to that place with the sunflowers where it was always so warm and then so suddenly cold. Then warm again when blood coated his fingers and the sunflowers, and what felt like the sky—
He was only broken out of his daydream when heard it.
Snap.
A little sound, like a twig snapping in the snow.
He looked at the nation, oblivious, and asked, "Lithuania?"
The other didn't respond.
Russia looked at him again, wondered why the other looked so terrified (he had seen faces like that before, at nighttime and times of terror but he really, really didn't like to think about—)
He stared at the other's quiet body a little more before giggling.
"Are we playing a new game now?"