Title: Wilting

Anime/Manga: Hetalia

Pairings: Seychelles/Russia

Author: Hoshira/Doitsu'sStoryteller

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: She leaves. He drinks himself stupid. She comes back and his heart is falling out again.

Lips pursed, and eyes wary, Seychelles stood at the front door of Russia's house, just staring at it for a moment. She raised her hand to knock several times before she got up the nerve to actually do it.

Said country answered the door with a drunken grin. "Seychelles." He stumbled backward so she could come in.

He didn't look the same, she thought to herself as she scanned him from head to toe with an almost pitying gaze. He was no longer the smiling country who wholeheartedly agreed to Prussia's demise, he was no longer the power-hungry country who wanted America out of the way.

No…he was just a drunk, fitful country who was mourning over his lost dream of a new world, mourning over his loneliness.

"How much have you had, Russia?" Seychelles followed him into the living room and almost gagged at the smell of vodka and the potted Sunflowers that were rotting near the window. Disgusted, she pushed a pile of dirty dishes out of the way so that she could sit on the sofa.

"Psht. Just a sip," he slurred, sitting or more like falling, across the chair facing her.

He was a sloppy drunk. She hadn't seen him like that the whole time she'd been together with him. He'd had a drink or two with his associates , but he hadn't gotten anything close to what he was like at the moment…but this was her first time seeing him like this so there was a chance that he'd been drunk many times before she came into his life.

It was almost comical to see the once smiling Russian become reduced to something akin of a drunk England.

Humming softly, he upended a rectangular bottle filled with vodka and Seychelles sighed, shaking her head. He looked at her frowning, violet eyes glinting dangerously at the disappointed look in her eyes. "Vhat is it my little gosling?" he asked sweetly, far too sweetly and bordering on dangerous.

"You've probably had enough…Ms. Ukraine was right when she told me that you were drinking yourself to a stupor."

Russia smirked before taking another large gulp from the bottle. "You don't know what's enough for me. You're not around enough to know. I developed a high tolerance over these years my little Seychelles."

Bristling at how he mockingly pronounced her title she went up to him and grabbed the bottle. He gave it to her without much resistance but he did call her a "nosy girl" under his breath. Ignoring the insult, she set it on the end of the table furthest away from him and walked back over.

She hesitantly allowed him to pull her onto his lap. Placing her head on his shoulder, she combed her dark fingers through his hair in a slow rhythm. He reeked of Vodka and cigarette smoke and she had to resist the urge to pull him upstairs to the bathroom to bathe him and cook him something proper to eat.

Besides, it was the least she could do for leaving him.

As if sensing her discomfort, he wrapped his arms around her a little tighter then necessary and pressed a soft, possessive kiss against her unwilling lips, ignoring her small moan of disapproval and running a hand up and down her back as he tried to think of something to say.

"…I'm losing my house," he whispered. "Well, my sister's house I guess."

Seychelles stopped squirming and looked up at him confused. "What happened?"

"My youngest sister Belarus burned her own house down. My eldest sister Ukraine wants me to let her move in my home. After everything Ukraine has done for us I'm in no position to deny her of anything…but I do not want Belarus to live her with me…Ukraine says that its temporary but it will no longer be temporary when Bela decides to force a marriage ring on my finger."

"Oh, Ivan." She wanted to know more about his sister being back, but the savage look on his face told her asking wouldn't have been a good idea.

"Don't 'oh Ivan' me. I could care less." He pushed at her and she stood. "I shouldn't anyway," he muttered. "This is my home…I'll have company over…even if that company is my deranged sister." He pulled himself to his feet, wincing a little.

"Is it your heart? Is it going to pop out again?" Seychelles asked, worried.

"What heart? I feel wonderful da? I got precious vodka, the water of Mother Russia." He grabbed the bottle she'd taken from him earlier. It fell through his drunk-slow fingers and hit the floor. "It's like I don't have a heart. I don't really. At least I got a brain to think with…a heart is too much trouble…"

"Russia, please tell me you haven't been drinking all day."

"What do you care?"

"Please."

He heaved a huge sigh. "No. I have not." He lumbered toward the stairs.

Seychelles went to the kitchen, retrieved an ice pack from the freezer and hunted down a clean dish towel after searching through several drawers and cabinets. She went up to his room and carefully lay next to him. Without saying a word, she wrapped the ice pack in the towel and gingerly placed it on the area where his heart should be, thinking that the weight of it would keep the organ from falling out. She then patted his shoulder before lying her head on it.

"You are staying da?"

She nodded, and her cheek rubbed against the fabric of his shirt. "Oui."

"What about your precious caretaker France? Does he need you?"

"He's no longer my colonizer Russia…"

"Hm…I am fine. I do not need you to do this. You can go home if you came here just to take care of me. And feel sorry for my," Russia said glaring down at her.

"I know," Seychelles said, rubbing her hand over his chest. "I know…"

He put his arms around her, hugging her to him and whispering something in Russian. A few minutes later, he was out. She lay wide awake in his arms, wondering what in the world she would or could do about him.