I don't know

by NotascrazyasI

Please don't ask. I really don't know. Please don't look at me like that. I never meant to hurt you. AmeRus. Dark. M for Suicide. Read if you want.

Warning: Darkness, Suicide and yeah... stuff I don't usually write. AmeRus. Don't ask me why, I don't even like the pairing.

I don't own Hetalia. Thank God, or else you guys would be completely screwed.

Please don't ask. I really don't know. Please don't look at me like that. I never meant to hurt you, I didn't. You have to understand that. Please, understand that. I just wanted to be strong, oh so strong, just like you. I wanted to be big, be a hero even. How ironic, huh? That when I yearned so to be a hero, I merely ended up being the villain. Is it all I'll ever be now? The one which you despise most, is that really to be me? Forever?

Don't ask me when it started. I don't know that either. Was it before the pressure started, the hatred? Was it after? Did it drive me crazy, or have I always been crazy? I don't know. Does a crazy person wonder if they're crazy? Am I crazy? What a silly question. Of course I'm crazy. After what I've done...

Don't ask me when I knew. It could have been centuries before. I may have always known, just unwilling to believe. But I believe now, oh how I believe. It's not something you can ignore easily, this love.

Don't ask me why it was you. I have wondered that myself. Why couldn't it have been my little sister? She would've accepted me without a second thought. She's pretty. Beautiful even. I could be happy with her. I know I could. But... love doesn't work that way, does it?

Don't ask me why I reacted the way I did. Just don't ask. The answer is always the same: I don't know.

I know I'll never send this, I know it. Because inside, deep, deep inside, I am a coward. There's only one way you could ever read this, and that wouldn't be by my hand. Why am I writing this? That's something I do know(Ha, a miracle). Because, on this empty white paper, I will pour out my thoughts. This black ink will help me know. If I just write this, like a letter to you, my hero, I know I'll be able to answer these questions running through my head. To do that, I must start at the beginning. Do you remember? Do you remember when we first met? It was snowing. It's always snowing here.

Remember?

The snow fell down heavily, almost like a frozen waterfall. I've never liked waterfalls. Too forceful, too loud.

The day before I had found the sunflower field. Do you remember that? In this violent snow, the stems were bending over by the force and snapping. This made me sad. I wanted to make it stop, but even nations don't have control over the weather. Being useless was not easy for me. I wasn't use to it. I wanted to save the beautiful flowers from the bite of the frozen rain.

Can you imagine that? After everything I've done? Can you believe I ever wanted to save something? It's true, though. In this snowstorm, I was warm. I don't get cold. I haven't been cold in so long. So, why should I be protected when these flowers were not.

You must have been shocked, seeing me there without a coat in the middle of a snowstorm. In fact, I'm sure I saw you shiver just watching me. Was that my imagination? Hopeful thinking, maybe?

With a concerned look on your face, you came up to me. Your boots crunched in the snow. It surprised me, for I always walk silently through the snow. Years of practice helped me with that, when you mostly only have snow during winter. That seemed odd to me at the time.

Do you remember what you said to me? I do, every word. You said, "Dude! You must be totally cold out here! Where's your jacket?" Your words were filled with concern for me. Me. I know now that I will never hear that tone again. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve anything but hate from you.

When I looked at you that day, I could barely see you through the snow in front of my eyes. If I think back, all I can remember is the bag with a giant M on it in your hand and my face reflecting off of your glasses. Even now, with my mind clouded with more questions than answers, I can fill in the blanks.

You are like an angel, my hero. Too perfect even for that. Your eyes are bluer than sapphires. Your hair, the color of straw, puts the grass to shame. Your face, rounded, perfect. I can't say perfect enough. Nothing, nothing is more perfect than you.

How strange, you must be thinking, that I am complemented you after saying nothing but insults. That's because, as I've said before, I'm a coward. Hiding my true feelings behind these insults. That is what I do. Even then, that day in the snow, I hid behind a cold tone.

"Why are you bothering me? I want you to leave." That's what I said. Do you remember any of this?

I lied. Even then, before this whole mess -before the hatred- I felt warmer just by your presence. I felt like I did after a few bottles of vodka. Warmth flowing through my body, starting at my head, then slowly seeping down to my toes. It was a wonderful feeling, but at the same time it terrified me. I wanted you gone, wanted you to leave me alone. But... didn't.

You were oblivious to such thoughts as you sat down next to me. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll eat my burgers here by you."

I did mind. The smell coming from that bag made me want to gag, besides, I didn't want you to sit next to me. That odd warmth still flowed through me. I didn't like how I suddenly wanted to lean towards you, to have my shoulder touching yours. Would the warmth increase if I did? I stayed still, too terrified to try.

When it seemed as if you would be silent, you spoke up. Words I didn't expect flowed from your perfect lips. "You must be very kind to give up your coat for those flowers."

People say you can't read atmosphere at all, but that's not true. You are very observant, my hero. If you looked for it, you could have found out my feelings, even before I. But, why would you? That would be silly, to look for love in these violet eyes that you must think hold only hate and evil.

I replied to you. Two simple words. "Am I." It didn't sound like a question, not with how cold my voice sounded. I half expected you to freeze over at any moment. That would be sad, if you were to be frozen. Just like me...

"Yeah, dude." You said, biting into that vile pound of meat on a bun. I won't lie to you, for I already promised myself that I would stay honest, but even to this day, I still feel like vomiting when I see you eating a burger.

"What else could I have done." Again, it didn't sound like a question, but you answered it as one.

"Nothing, just like everyone else that walked by. Just like me." You looked at my face then, and I was able to see the color of your eyes. They were blue, just like my sisters. Unlike Ukraine's and Belarus's though, I felt the need to stare into those eyes. When I did, I saw a little bit of gray just around your pupil. Have you ever noticed that little band of gray?

As you watched my face, I kept it devoid of emotions, as cold as my voice. "I am different from you."

"No kidding." You said, before standing up and walking away. I don't know if you did it on purpose, but a key chain dropped from your pocket. I waited until I was sure you were out of sight before I picked it up. It was just a simple American flag, but that's how I knew who you were. You were the United States of America. The Yankee.

See, that's how we first met. After that there were the meetings after meetings. But, by then, things were already taking affect.

I saw it the second time we met each other. Well, technically, you didn't see me, so I can't say we actually met. I was watching you, is that creepy? I guess it is.

You were a hero in that moment. You saved someones life. Do you remember that little girl name Jill? The one that was caught in a burning building? You saved her, and I knew you were a hero.

I wanted to be a hero, like you. I know I said this before, but I have to say it again. I wanted to become bigger, to be like you. I wanted my people to love me like yours did for you. They even celebrated your birthday with fireworks and many other celebratory actions. Did my people do that? I had never cared enough to find out.

I know it now. Why I went crazy. The want for more land -to get bigger, to grow stronger- became a need. I would do anything for it, even shed the blood of thousands. Of course, everyone had the choice to just join me. The easy way, or the hard way, those were their options. My vision turned scarlet after the first drop of blood. My need for land morphed to bloodlust. That's what drove me crazy, my hero. That's what made me into a monster. I know what I am.

I know you hate me now. I really can't blame you. Even if I try, it's always halfhearted. I just can't do it. I know why that is, too. I may as well write it down, even though you may never read this.

My hero, I love you. I know it now. I love you so much it hurts. I love you with all my heart, and if I had my way, I would love you with my whole body too. But, I know even the idea would repulse you. Like your precious burgers do to me. I know this in my mind, but even now, as I write my true confessions, my heart refuses to understand. It urges me towards you and when I'm with you, it urges me to touch you, to kiss you, to love you. Romeo had it easy, my hero. At least Juliet loved him back.

So, I conclude this letter with a few simple words. I know my actions have made me a monster, but if you ever do get this letter, it will mean that there is one last monster in the world. I hope that is enough.

I send you my heart,

Ivan.

With the tear stained letter finished, Ivan set it down on the desk, next to the empty bottle of vodka. It wouldn't get to Alfred by his own hand, but deep in his heart, he wished that Alfred would still get it somehow. That would be his dying wish.

In a way, he guessed that this note was his suicide note. Ivan let out a humorless laugh at this thought. No one had been able to bring down the mighty Russia, but when he really did fall, it would be by his own hands. Oh, how ironic his life -soon to be over- was lately.

So, with this last laugh, this last sound to pass his lips, Ivan brought the gun to his head. Squeezing the trigger, Ivan closed his tear filled eyes for the last time. He heard the gunshot and felt something like a bee sting on the side of his head. Then, nothing at all.

Goodbye, my hero.

Ugh... Wow. Did not expect that. Man... Maybe later, if I'm not too lazy, I'll write America's reaction to Russia's death, but don't hold your breath. Ugh... I hope you liked it yada yada, just click the damn button.

Kiwi.