Leaning into the marble in his bathroom, Ivan stared into the large, stainless mirror. The only light allowing him to see came from a cracked door adjacent to the one he stood in- his bedroom. He had awoke many times before to the same bodyless, desperate whispering as he had tonight, but never before had it been so clear- so...convincing. Understanding. Truthful.

His vision never left the mirror, locked into his own eyes in his own world.

Yet- it wasn't his world, was it?

His reflection- he knew it well. Better than anyone else, at least. However, no one said he had to like it.

His view became suddenly misty; distortion creating a film over his eyes. "I hate you..." he rasped. The man in the mirror only smiled back.

With a tilt of the head, Ivan began to wonder. Is this what everyone sees in me? Is this why I see fear in their eyes when I look at them? Must I remain an outcast? A fairytale demon that they tell their children at night? Do they believe the stories? Do they remember myself like I do?

...Do I really know right from wrong?

...Is there something wrong with me?

...Will I ever be okay...?

...No.

Glass flitted past pale skin onto the tiles of the bathroom floor. Great cracks, streaking through the glass like endless rivers from the lake of blood created by the Russian's fist were created in the aftermath of the man's sudden fit of rage. Removing his torn knuckles from the mirror, he stared at what remained of himself. I...I've lost...

Transfering his focus to the tiles where blood was creating another strange lake, he held his hand and let out a shuddering sigh. He slowly backed out of the glass which had found its way to the floor with meager cuts to his feet.

I'll never be okay- I'll never know what's good- I'll never know what's wrong-

"WHY WON'T SOMEONE HELP ME?" He wailed, doubling over in his blind rage, clenching his bloody fists. "HELP ME UNDERSTAND-!"

Ivan awoke in a state of panic, sitting up quickly in his large, empty bed. Panting, he gripped his chest out of desperation to feel something- something warm. He wished to feel another's hand in his- arms around his broad shoulders- a calm, real voice, whispering that everything was going to be fine- and that he had just had one of those bad dreams again.

Letting out a solemn breath, he looked down at his bandaged knuckles. Hopefully...Nobody will notice this. He thought as he climbed out of bed, crossing the room in a few steps to his closet. Luckily, he remembered this time that there was a world meeting tomorrow morning. Ivan shuffled through his clothes and picked out some items that matched, and slid them on, ending with his gloves and scarf. Upon opening his bedroom door, his mind racing aimlessly, he concluded that he was in no mood to eat breakfast. Blinking, he glanced to his left down the hallway, fixing his glove. With a ginger smile, he remembered when the hall used to bustle with the sound of his sisters and the Baltics waking to the mixed scents of delicious cuisine Katyusha would cook every morning. Ukraine had always taken care of everyone- she was the big sister after all. With a close of his eyes, he was almost certain he could recall the sights and sounds of the household awakening as the sun peaked over the forest surrounding the enormous home. His lilac eyes were flushed pink around the edges, and Ivan found it hard to swallow for a moment. He would have given anything to have that life back...

Suddenly, he was brought back to reality with the beeping of his watch- the initial alarm he had set to wake up to. Russia fixed his scarf, grabbed his bags and set out the door- not bothering to lock it. Who would go in his house- let alone know where he lived anyway?

-8:00p.m.; Paris, France-

Finally settled into his grand hotel room overlooking the Seine river, Ivan walked out onto his balcony, taking in the sight of the nearly lit Eiffel Tower (which was suprisingly close in his opinion) set against the pink sky of dusk. It was mid-spring, and it felt pleasant to be warmer for once in his life. He closed his eyes and let the wind ruffle his platinum locks while he took in the scent of the river below. His purple irises then turned to see other balconies beside his, some occupied by a single person as well- excluding France's, of course. He always had some new girlfriend to show the glory of his capital city. Typical France.

Ivan on the other hand couldn't help watching for a moment- one of his simply unbreakable habits: staring. He simply enjoyed learning about the others from what they would consider a "safe distance." And in some cases, that was true.

Francis was currently crooning over some new model, Ivan had learned from England's series of complaints one day. Ivan assumed the girl he was with on the balcony was the said girl. He couldn't really blame the frenchman- models were very stunning... but Russia couldn't really complain either. He had never been on a date with a pretty girl in his entire existance...and the closest thing he had to a first kiss was Bela- but that's a different story-

With his chin in his hand, leaning on the balcony rail, Ivan examined further the other countries occupying the nearby rooms. The ever-silent Japan was a few doors closer than Francis, and apparently didn't enjoy the make-out session that was obscuring his view of Paris, so he had escaped to the safety of his hotel room. Italy, however, seemed to be enjoying the view.

Ivan didn't have to even turn his head to tell who had been booked too close for their comfort on the other side of him.

"Duuuuuude! Check out the Eiffel Tower!"

Then there was a snort, "Not as amazing as Big Ben, if you ask me."

"Not as small as Big Ben, if you ask me!" was the retort, followed by heroic laughter, and bloody screeching about monarchy and respecting the one-of-a-kind architecture that was Big Ben.

Ivan couldn't help but turn his head, but found his own view obscured by something.

He found that Germany had been booked right next door to him, who was also checking out the sights of Paris from the balcony, as well as the bickering brothers nearby. Ivan caught himself staring again, his mind racing. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so close to Ludwig...other than during World War II...

The tall nation swallowed, and looked away, trying to clear the fog of vivid memories which had begun to cloud his vision. At least it wasn't Gilbert next door...Then we would have a problem.

...But then Ivan caught himself staring again, his sudden train of thought becoming nothing but a distant haze as he narrowed his eyes a bit.

Ludwig...

Ivan wondered if the German still hated him- they had never been on good terms since their secret pact, and the invasions of Stalingrad and Berlin...

I'm sure he does...

What if I apologized-?

Ivan gripped the rail abruptly, focusing his vision on the river slipping slowly by below them.

Apologize? Are you stupid? Who would ever accept your apology...

Ivan couldn't help but give a saddened smile, still focused on the water and small boats meandering by, creating waves in the Seine.

"It's beautiful here, don't you think?"

Ivan looked over, eyes a bit wide as his smile evaporated. Ludwig had just spoken to him?

"I've never watched the sunset before here..." Ludwig said, a slight smile formed on his normally straight, serious features. He glanced at Russia, and blinked when he saw his expression.

Ivan finally realized he had been staring when they made eye-contact, and he snapped his face back into a cheery smile. "O-Oh. Da..- Very beautiful. I've never really...watched the sunset here." the older nation replied with a hint of nervousness. "V-Very...Beautiful..." He swallowed, returning Germany's aquatic gaze.

Germany smiled a bit once more, looking across the countless rooftops to the immaculent tower of light, set against a new backdrop of stars and darkness which was steadily replacing the blush-pink hues. "Ja...I-"

"Doiitsuuu!" Italy came out of nowhere, tugging at the German's sleeve, who jumped at the sound of his voice, then relaxed with a stressful sigh.

"How did you get in-?" He sighed again, turning to look at the short brunette. "Nevermind that. What do you want?"

"It's getting dark and- and- I don't want to sleep by myself..." The worried Italian boy frowned, his hazel eyes sparkling and brimming with childish tears.

Ludwig finally pinched the bridge of his nose after a moment of tense silence, and said "...Fine. You can sleep with me."

Feliciano began to celebrate and gave his friend a tight hug, and recieved a pat on the head in return for his "generosity." Ludwig looked to the balcony beside them. "Iv-..." He held his tounge, realizing Russia had left the scene.

After shutting and locking his tall, glass balcony doors, and pulling the curtains to, Ivan took a seat on the bed. The pang in his chest was strange, as if his heart was being held captive; like a bird being squeezed in a relentless vice. Tears once again burned against his lower lids as he held his cheeks in his hands, leaning on his knees. He felt uneasy- nervous- and...hurt. Why? Standing, he began to pace, like a tiger watching from a steel cage. He picked up his phone from the desk, clenching it tightly in his hands, prepared to fling it and watch it burst into little pieces on the hotel floor. After a minute, a few tears rolled down his usually pale cheeks. Flushed and dizzy, Russia dropped the phone, and let himself collapse, sitting on the carpet. He held his knees, burying his face in the only warmth he could find.

What was wrong with him...?