I don't want to go

Summary: In which Gilbert is forced to leave Ivan.

Warning(s): Lots of dramatic feelings, star crossed lovers, heart ache/break, painful emotioney type stuff. 'Cause I seem to be on a binge. Also there is absolutely no ties to any sort of history that I used for this story, so if there are any, they are purely coincidental.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/N: This is my first story with Prussia haha.

Red eyes stared up at the ceiling as the first few rays of sunlight began to drift in through the large windows, coloring the mountains and valleys, field and hills. It was a dawn that had wished would never come, if only so that he could stay right here in the large, lavish bed, held close by strong arms. The night before was to be his last in this bed and in this beautiful house, though he suspected that there would be necessary trips to this country in the future, but only for business. He shivered as he felt warm breath ghost over his neck, making his skin prickle as he slowly turned his head to press a kiss to the top of his lover's head, frowning lightly as he shifted. He didn't want him to wake up, not yet… If he woke up then he would try and console him, try and promise him that this wouldn't be forever and that they would see each other again some day, but Gilbert didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to be hoping and praying and desperately waiting for a some day that would never come.

Of course, he didn't want him to not offer any comforting half promises either.

He sighed heavily as his lover continued to shift and stir, despite his attempts at mentally willing him to stay still, but offered a half hearted smile as gentle, violet eyes opened to stare at him groggily. Ivan was too sleepy still to offer any proper form of greeting, grunting softly as he leaned down to press his lips against Gilbert's neck gently, letting them linger for a moment. His arms still wrapped loosely around him moved to pull him close, holding the Prussian flush against his body as he rolled onto his back, humming tiredly as he shut his eyes again. It was far too early.

On any other day, Gilbert would have laughed as they rolled over, and badgered the large Russian until he tired of his shenanigans and woke up. They would have rolled about more and laughed and talked quietly, just enjoying their slow, easy morning as always. Today, though, no laughter greeted the motion, and after a moment Ivan's eyes opened again slowly to find Gilbert staring down at him, his expression a mixture of heartache and desperation, as if he would never be able to… Oh.

"Ivan." Gilbert mumbled, shaking his head. "Ivan, I don't want to go." he said miserably, his voice barely above a whisper. The Russian did not immediately answer him, which he was somewhat accustomed to by now when it came to this particular situation, but he still didn't like the lingering silence. "Say something…" he murmured, shaking his head again as he buried his face in his chest, hands curling into fists again his warm, bare skin. Ivan hummed lowly as he brought up a hand to stroke Gilbert's hair slowly, holding him tightly as he shook against him with a deep frown marring his features. It was that day.

"I'm sorry, krolik."

Gilbert had been fuming the entire morning, snapping at anyone and everyone who came to check on him, and reserved himself to sitting in a stoney silence as he finally departed. Months and months of stress and heartbreak and being absolutely miserable, and all he could do was say sorry?! Not that he loved him, not that he would miss him, just… The albino glared out the window as he watched the house smaller and smaller in the distance as he was taken away, swallowing thickly as his throat got choked up and he felt tears threaten to well up in his eyes. How could he possibly cry over this? He wasn't even important enough to merit a good bye! Clearly, he'd hardly be missed.

He turned sharply from the window and shut his eyes, inwardly berating himself as he tried to steel his nerves, tried to convince himself that he wouldn't miss the Russian. The more he tried to tell himself this, however, the more he wanted the just turn back, to just stop everything and run all the way back to the house, back to Ivan. This was not about what he wanted, though, his feelings did not factor into the arrangements that had had to be made. It was simply what was best for the countries involved, and he had to just accept it. Everyone else clearly had...

A/N: Aaaaand that's all for now! FInd out what's going down in the next chapter or somethin', yeah? Leave me a review and lemmie know what you thought, take a guess at what you think is gonna go down, ect. Thanks for reading!