AN: I don't own Hetalia, sadly, or else the show would be labeled as 'yaoi' and I would make GermanyxItaly an obvious couples (more obvious than it already is, anyway)

SOOOOOOOOOOOOO

This was created for a friend of mine, whose sister is in a coma. For privacy's sake I will not say her name, but this friend of mine is the sweetest creature to have ever walked the face of the earth. She folds paper cranes, one a day, for her sister, and when she visits, places them around the room. She once read a story somewhere that a girl died of cancer, and only got to 600 or something cranes. The dead girl's friends, however, completed the rest of the cranes and buried all of them with the girl at her grave. It goes to show, how the affection of a human can be so powerful and moving, and simply priceless. I wanted to write this story for her, and her sister.

Please feel free to review or leave constructive comments (IN FACT, I WANT REVIEWS PLEASE)

And I'll shut up now so you ca go ahead and enjoy the story. :)

Yours Truly,

-Sunny

Chapter One

Yao Wang gently placed the white paper crane on the tabletop. He then pulled the blue folding chair that had been leaning against the wall open, sitting down on it and turning his body to face the portable bed. The intravenous tubes stuck in a grisly manner into the pale flesh of a young man, whose thin eyelids were closed in a peaceful surrender. Soft, dark hair contrasted stark against the crisp pillowcase of the hospital. The faint noise from the machine monitoring the heartbeat beeped steadily.

"Kiku, I brought you a crane again," Yao said. He paused, as if to hear a response. "It's the fiftieth one I've left for you. And you know what's really funny, is that I think I'm getting better at folding them each day." There was no laughter in his voice.

Kiku remained unmoving and silent upon the bed. The barely rising and fall of his chest was the only indication that he still had a pulse. Yao crossed his legs and tucked his hands underneath his knees.

"It would be nice if you would wake up soon, aru." he said. "You would be surprised at the amount of work accumulating on your part as we speak. But that's not it-what I meant was," Yao frowned. "It's awfully lonely without you at home. And I miss those salted mackerels you make-and the rice balls. And the sake. And the sashimi."

Yao did not know how long he sat on the chair. He talked and talked, his conversation drifting from one topic to another and having no sense of direction whatsoever, simply because there was no one to keep his thoughts on track. He did not even know if a single word had gotten into his comatose brother.

A knock sounded at the door. Yao trailed off in the middle of a sentence about a cat he had seen in the front yard, glancing warily towards the exit. A nurse pushed the door open, nodding towards Yao and leaning against the doorframe. "Visiting hours are over, Mr. Wang. You will have to come back tomorrow."

"Has it really been that long?" Yao asked. He spared the clock on the wall a peek, confirming his query. "Time flies."

"Yes." The nurse nodded. Her gaze on Yao wavered over to the bedside table. A soft smile broke onto her lips at the neat little arrangement of crisp, paper cranes, lined up side by side, along the edge of the wood. "Those are quite beautiful."

"They have a purpose." Yao replied.

"What do they do?"

"Legend has it that if you make a thousand paper cranes for one who has fallen ill, that a miracle will strike and make them well again."

"That's a lot of cranes," the nurse breathed. "How many are you at so far?"

"fifty."

"Keep going, then."

"I never intended to stop in the first place." Yao cast a wary glance at the man on the bed. "I supposed I really do have to leave now. I've been a burden enough to you and the staff."

Nurse Elizaveta sighed, smoothing the crease on her pink uniform. "No, no. You've been nothing of that sort. Please, Mr. Wang, take it easy. Your brother's state of health has improved, and will continue to do so as long as you keep yourself happy and fit."

Yao nodded, before rising from the chair and sliding his into his green jacket. With a quiet goodnight to his brother and a farewell to the nurse, he headed down the polished hospital corridor and started for home.

.

"Welcome back, Yao,"

"Hey."

Yao shrugged off his coat, hanging it orderly onto the clothing rack by the door. Next came his shoes, which were placed with care into the cabinet. He picked up a pair of running shoes sprawled across the doormat and sat them next to his own.

"Is everything okay?" Alfred Jones asked, looking up from his videogame. A straw was jammed inbetween his lips.

"Yes, everything is fine." the Chinese replied. "You had dinner?"

"Yup. I left you some in the oven, but I figured you wouldn't be hungry because you would have eaten already, ya know-but still. It's there. Just in case you want it."

"Thanks." Yao walked past the living room and into the hallway. The sounds of the game console echoed in the air.

Yao sighed. He stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door gently behind him. He stood in front of the mirror for a while, simply staring at himself. He did not recognize the man in the mirror, the man who looked so placid and nonchalant, with cold brown eyes and dark, sleek hair. Yao had expected a hideous, disarrayed monster to stare back at him, and not someone who looked well put-together. If there was one thing he was certain, it was that his seams were frayed in the inside. He tore the hair band from his ponytail, watching his raven locks tumbling down around his shoulders. His fingers nimbly undid the buttons of his silk shirt, dropping the flimsy garment to the cold tiles beneath. His pants soon joined the pile as well.

The water was scorching, pelting his back violently and burning trails down his spine. Yao squeezed his eyes against the assaulting water, reaching out blindly for the shampoo bottle-only to find that it was empty.

Damn that Alfred.

Sighing, Yao turned the nozzle off, rubbing his eyes free of water. He grabbed the clean towel hanging on the bar, and quickly wrapped it around his midsection. The frigid air greeted his skin as he stepped out of the washroom, peering cautiously around for any unwanted spectators. When Yao was sure that Alfred was nowhere near-and after having his suspicions cleared by the annoying gunshot sounds in the background-the boy crept to his room, where he shut the door quietly and began to dress. He grabbed a red night robe and bound it tightly around his thin torso. Not bothering to dry his damp hair, Yao slid into his slippers which consisted of hello-kitty heads and made his way down the hall.

"Alfred, can you turn down the volume? It's pretty late."

"Late? It's barely ten' o'clock, my dear friend!"

"Yeah. I'm sure our neighbours would want to sleep, considering it's a Sunday night and many people have work early in the next morning."

Alfred ignored the last comment, his wide eyes glued to the screen and fingers twitching with alarming speed over the controller. Yao watched indifferently as imaginary ghouls and disturbing animals fell back with bullets to their heads. He sighed, before settling down into the couch next to his American friend.

"Wanna play?" Alfred asked, his movements becoming vigorous. "Oh..oh… BOOM! HEADSHOT!"

"I don't like to play videogames." Yao clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And why is that, my dear Yao Wang?"

"It's pointless, don't you think? You're wasting your time shooting at imaginary things-time which could be spent productively on improving your real life."

At this, the American set the controller down, the screen dimmed to a pause. Yawning, Alfred removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes before looking over to Yao. "You know, Yao, you have to learn to live a little, once in a while. You'll die young at the rate your moving at."

"Everyone dies one day," Yao huffed. "And before I do, I want to make sure I've spent my life doing something useful, rather than playing crass videogames."

The room was silent, the television screen blinking in wait to be resumed. Alfred's normally cheery eyes were cold and serious. Yao turned his head away from the penetrating gaze, his face growing hotter. "Yao, you know I don't ask for favours very often…"

Yao groaned. He quickly made a point to interject. "No, forget it. Whatever you're going to say now, just drop it. I'm not going to follow along with any of you pleas."

"I just want you to live a little, you know? It's not easy sleeping under the same roof as someone as, er…how should I say-uptight- as you."

"Thanks."

Yao continued to glare at the ultramarine curtains that shrouded the windows. The colour was enthusiastically unattractive, decked with brash golden stars; but then again, such was to be expected from someone as garish as Alfred. When Yao actually thought about it, he noted that most of the house was, in fact, furnished to Alfred's taste, and his alone.

"Seriously, Yao. Look at me." Alfred said, his voice lower than usual. Yao closed his eyes, knitting his eyebrows together before turning back to the blond. Alfred shifted closer to him on the couch, and he could do nothing but lean back against the armrest.

"I'm looking."

"I understand if you do not feel like playing videogames, or watching movies, or all that stuff," the American began. "So I was thinking, you know-if when you have a day off sometime this week, perhaps we should go out and do something exciting? Just one day, we can do something new that we've never done before and live a little! Please, Yao, you know I never ask for very many favours.."

"If I do, just this once, will you swear to never bug me again?"

"Of course!"

"Fine. But under one condition; not a word will ever leak out to anyone, and no skydiving, scuba diving, rock climbing, paintballing-"

Alfred laughed, flopping onto Yao's lap. The Chinese simply shifted uncomfortably under the extra weight. He didn't like being so close to Alfred, even in humorous situations. Yao was also aware of his friend's past and knew full out that the American had been with another man before-one by the name of Arthur Kirkland. Yao Wang prided himself to be straight, and did not intend to break the habit anytime soon.

"Yaoooo…."

"What?" he groaned.

"You look cute from down here."

Yao flinched before harshly pushing the man off his legs. "Don't even say something that vulgar. It's disgusting."

"Whoa, whoa, hold your horses," Alfred said, all former humour gone from his voice. "I was being frank, is all. I wasn't-"

"You know how uncomfortable I get when things like that happen."

"Yeah, I know."

Yao burst angrily. "Then why do you still do it?"

Alfred opened his mouth, and shut it again. He shook his head, a sudden look of aggravation flashing over his face. He moved back to his original spot, and picked up the controller from the carpet. The screen blinked back on. "Sorry."

Yao did not respond. He rose curtly from the couch and started towards his bedroom. His own tasteful, clean bedroom. A bedroom devoid of Alfred F Jones.

" 'Night Yao."

"Goodnight."

"Why can't you just understand?" Alfred asked, his voice trembling the slightest. He stared at the man before him, who countered back with sharp, green eyes.

"Well, I do! I know you're not bloody interested in me anymore, which is certainly why you want to take a little 'break' from it all. I should have known from the very beginning not to have wasted my breath on you!"

"It's just not working out right now, Arthur! You know it, too. We can't keep pretending nothing's happening. That's why we need time apart; we need to sort through our priorities."

"I don't give a rat's ass." Arthur hollered haughtily. "You do whatever the fuck you want."

The room fell silent. Alfred inhaled deeply, willing for his shaking body to stop. He closed his eyes to suppress the stinging tears gathering inside.

"You want to break up, then it's fine. I'm okay. I don't mind-in fact, I figured it would be like this the whole time. I've been prepared, you see." Arthur's voice broke the silence. It hurt like a thousand needles burying themselves into Alfred's chest.

Alfred could not, and did not, understand. Why were words so blatantly false rolling off the British's tongue? Alfred knew Arthur didn't mean a thing he said. Arthur had always been the type that would completely ignore something he deemed unimportant, and blow a fuse at the things he was impassioned about. For such lies to come spewing out like this, especially when he felt so forlorn-it was almost unbearable.

"Bloody American. That's what I get, I suppose. I really should have known better. I am older.."

Alfred raised his head, forcing his eyes open. He imagined they must have been bloodshot because Arthur seemed to flinch. Then, he opened his mouth, and offered words he wished he could have taken back. "You know, you're right. I'm a bloody wanker. You should have known better than to be with someone like me-and you were right about being prepared. I mean, that French guy, what was his name-Francis? You can always go crawling back to hi-"

When Alfred next blinked, he was lying on the floor after hearing a sickening crack. It was only after the pain pulsed through his temple, that he realized his head had collided against the wall. Arthur stood, panting and red in front of him. First there was the sheer fury in his green eyes, then shock, then realization. The british man whipped around and bolted straight through the front door. Alfred remained, curled on the carpet, his vision a blur.

"Don't-don't leave! Come back!" he rasped. "Please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

…

"Oi, wake up."

"I'm sorry.."

"Alfred, wake up!"

"Please, don't leave me… please…"

"Alfred Jones!"

Alfred's eyelids slowly cracked open. He squinted against the dim light of the room. His room. He blinked again, and a hazy figure above him gradually took a shape of a young man. A young man with sleek, long raven hair and warm brown eyes.

It was Yao.

He wasn't Arthur-but for now, he would do.

"Alfre-ahh!" Yao yelped as strong arms snaked around his torso and crushed him into a bear hug. No words were exchanged. It was just the silent room and the two men, locked in an embrace upon the bed. Yao wanted to yell, but instead, found his shaking hands settling into the sandy locks of the other's hair. It was as they said-silence was golden.

Kiku still had not awoken. Yao felt his eyelids dropping lower and lower, shooting open occasionally when they were too close to closing.

Things had become increasingly difficult. Yao worked full time at his law firm, challenged by complex court cases and unhappy newly-weds. He was finding it hard to juggle the long, gruelling hours of work, dealing with Alfred, and spending time each day to visit Kiku at the hospital. Especially when Kiku was not even aware of his presence at all.

"Kiku, look, the crane is yellow today." Yao said, holding his carefully constructed artwork out for his slumbering brother to see. "It's pretty, aru?" He placed it down by the rest of the cranes, where quite an array of colours had gathered. Yao smiled gently.

"I'm sorry Kiku, I've just been so exhausted lately." Yao leaned his head forward onto the stiff mattress. "You really should wake up soon and help me, aru. It's not very nice to leave things for me to do alone."

Somewhere outside, a siren wailed.

"I will continue to visit you everyday, just as I promised. You know I never break my promises, aru." Yao told Kiku. "Even if my visits last for a shorter time, I'll be sure to visit you. You have my word for that, my brother."

.

.

The night was cold and dark. Yao tugged his scarf tighter around his neck, watching as his breath rose in a mist towards the black sky. He lingered for a moment, at the front entrance of the hospital. He felt so extremely exhausted, and simply thinking of the long walk home made him even more tired. Yao leaned against the glass doors, tucking his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat.

He wanted to be back home. Back in the familiar, wooden house with the smell of dumplings and tempura wafting through the kitchen door. Back in the thoroughly air-conditioned bedroom, sitting with crossed legs upon the comfy futon bed with Kiku lying across from him.

He wanted-

"Excuse me?"

Startled, Yao jerked his head up, realizing that his eyes had been closed. He found himself staring directly into someone's broad chest, draped by a tan trench coat with the ends of a long, white scarf dangling down from a neck. Looking up, Yao gazed directly into a large face and violet-violet?-eyes.

"Ah-aru! I'm sorry." Yao stuttered, straightening his back. He barely reached the stranger's shoulder.

"Why are you apologizing?" the strange man cocked his head to the side, silver-blond wisps of hair falling into his face. "You didn't do anything wrong, da. If anything, it is my fault. I was just worried that you'd fall asleep outside here."

"Oh, well, thank you very much for waking me up." Yao replied. "I'm not even supposed to be here, you see."

"I'm glad you are not angry with me." The man replied. His words were laced with a thick accent, one foreign to the Yao. "But if you do not mind me asking-why are you out here so late?"

"Oh, I was just visiting someone at the hospital." Yao answered. The way he was gazed at so intently was slightly unnerving.

"Well, it's a good thing you aren't the one that's sick!" The man spoke, almost a bit too chipperly. Through his utter exhaustion, Yao felt a fresh wave of pent anger surge in his veins.

"No, it's NOT a good thing." Yao snapped vehemently. The tall man eyes grew wide, taken aback. "In fact, I would rather be the one sick, the one unconscious, the one on that damned hospital bed. Don't go around saying things like that when you have absolutely no damn clue!"

The stranger, who had a moment ago looked confused, suddenly darkened. With the last of his energy reserves spent, Yao took in a shaky breath and saw a cold, hard glimmer in the man's eyes. He felt a shiver of fear run up his spine.

"Please forgive me for my impudence." The man's voice was low and hoarse. "I've really upset you, haven't I?"

"No, I'm sorry. I snapped, I shouldn't have."

"No. It's my fault." The man inched closer, towering over Yao. "How can I make my amends to this?"

"No, don't worry, it's fin-"

"Tell me, da? I would really like to know. A firm answer would be great." The cold glimmer was there again, in those haunting violet eyes. Yao shivered again, this time visibly.

"It's okay! Please, don't, don't come so close, I-"

The stranger continued to advance on the younger man. Yao's back was pressed against the glass door, and he was certain that the thrumming of his heart could be heard aloud. Something was terribly off with this man, and Yao wanted-needed-to get away from him as soon as humanly possible.

"Yao!"

Both men's heads snapped to the direction of the voice. There, a couple of yards away, was Alfred. He was adorned in his usual bomber jacket, making his way towards the two. The American waved his hand at Yao. "I've been looking everywhere for you, where have you been! You're cellphone was off as well."

Yao had never been so relieved to see the American all his life. He quietly thanked whatever god that resided in the sky, as he edged his way towards his friend. "Hey, Alfred."

The blond seemed to sense the mood, speeding up and extending his arms out towards the Asian man. "Hey, it's okay, don't tire yourself, you look exhausted."

Yao did not hesitate to place himself as close to Alfred as possible. The American swept him into a secure embrace before letting go and looking at Yao. "Who was that man?"

Yao turned around, fearful. The stranger was no longer there. Shaking his head, he turned back to Alfred. "No one. Let's just go home."

Yao Wang would not admit it, but the disappearance of the man only left a wilder fear in his wake.

Whoot! I'm having so much fun writing this right now. Anyways, I do not plan on shipping ChinaxAmerica, so for all you readers against this pairing, hath no fear. Soon, the story will fall into it's rightful pairings of AmericaxEngland, RussiaxChina, and even a bit of GermanyxItaly (because who can resist?)

Hope you've enjoyed what little I have to give. I do not use spellcheck whatsoever, so forgvie me!

REVIEWS ARGHHH I LOVE THEM, they are like cookies to me. If you do not want to deprive me of cookies, then please review! Tell me anything-what you like, what you don't like, what you want to happen in the story. I always take reviews very seriously, so you never know~

I hope you enjoyed reading this! Stay tuned for more!