This is possibly the most angstiest song ever, but love it. Lana Del Rey, Dark Paradise.
If you thought this was an update, I'm sorry. I've been warned that unfortunatley, song lyrics are not allowed in Fics! Ah well...you will just have to 'keep the song in mind', as the 'warner', so to speak, said.
Russia lay in the snow, voices around him.
A face, one face, above him, taunting.
No other could compare…
The smile, the unbelievable smile…
Brilliant blue eyes, stupid sticking up hair.
Ivan wouldn't have thrown any of it away.
One face that would not leave him.
One voice that did.
Frozen tears glistened on his cheeks.
When he saw it, when Ivan watched, helpless.
He wanted to die.
Ivan could no longer feel the cold.
Memory played with him, showing one image, over and over…
A face, a laugh, a car.
Unbearable silence.
A few seconds of silence that screamed louder than ever.
Then real screaming.
Ivan remembered falling to his knees, refusing to believe.
Seeing blood, and a scream.
Realising it was himself who shouted so loud...
Later, he knew nothing.
Worried faces, no reactions.
Just tears…
His own faucet, unstoppable.
And now he lies on the snow, voices in the distance.
Such snow, its real colour now.
Ivan opened his mouth to speak, but no words were enough…
Sleep gave him almost paradise, almost the real thing.
Not enough…
Footsteps came closer, crunching.
Ivan smiled, they were too late now.
Other voices.
But Russia no longer cared.
"Too late…"
He whispered, and chuckled silently.
He feels exhaustion, taunting.
For a second he is back, it is sunny.
He is running through fields and fields of sunflowers, and Alfred waits in the distance.
But he cannot run fast enough…
Awaking as voices increase in volume.
Fresh tears melt the old.
A face now, a real face.
Green eyes. Ivan is oblivious.
More voices, more footsteps.
Hands grip his arms, carrying.
Head lolling, silent protests.
A last glance of real snow…
Snow.
As he closes his eyes for the last time, he sees sunflowers, and he knows that he does not have to run now.
He waits beside him.
Before the Russian, paradise.
Beautiful, gentle, happy.
Behind, snow.
Beautiful, deadly,
Red.
Well, review?
Flames will be used to stoke your funeral pyre...