Halo

Ivan constantly thanked god, the devil, the demi gods, the heros of legend, and anyone else who listened. He wasn't religious. Far from it. But for once, he thought that whoever was responsible for this obvious and horrendous mistake deserved to be thanked.

He thanked them for giving him Matthew. Matthew, who may as well have been an embodiment of all that was good and right in the world. And even if that wasn't much, Matthew just made it seem that much brighter. He had made it into something to be treasured. He himself was a precious thing that had to be hidden lest it was stolen away.

Where he had only had hate, where his gold was tarnished and warped, where his wings had been broken, Matthew had fixed it all. Matthew had taken his gold, and just his touch made it shine and sparkle. Matthew had taken his broken wings and painstakingly put them back together, one feather at a time. Matthew had taken his hate, shattered it, and gave him love.

Love.

Matthew loved him. Matthew was insane enough to love him. It wasn't possible. It didn't make sense. But Ivan had spent so long in a place with no logic, just chaos, that he didn't care for sense. He didn't ask why, didn't care to know the answer. He was just happy. Happy to be something good enough for Matthew.

Some day, the Canadian would realize he was still tarnished somewhere deep inside. Some day, Matthew would realize that he was better. That he deserved better. That he deserved the whole damn world at his feet. Some day, Matthew would leave him. Ivan couldn't pray for it not to come. It was coming, he knew that. But he could pray that this happiness, Matthew's love for him, would last for a long time.

Matthew had given him a whole new world. It was a world of light, of something he'd been missing for a long time, of warmth. And it didn't matter one bit if it was winter, the snow raging, trapping him inside. Matthew was warm. In Matthew's arms, he was warm and loved, and he didn't realize how addicted he was to the feeling.

He'd spent so long, crawling out of the darkness like a beast that he didn't remember light. He didn't remember the taste that came with happiness, with sunshine on his face, with sunflowers in his hand. He didn't remember the taste of anything but dirt and damp and cold.

And then Matthew had looked at him. His eyes had burned. They were too perfect, his gaze too sweet.

"Why are you looking at me?" And he hadn't said it politely because at the time he hadn't known Matthew was his savior. Hadn't known that from then on the snow wouldn't matter, the cold wouldn't matter, the emptiness wouldn't matter, the loneliness wouldn't matter. Matthew was about to save him in a few shyly spoken words.

"I-I just wanted t-to tell you, I r-really like you."

Before he could have replied, the smaller nation ran off. And he was left to puzzle over the small tastes he was given. The small tastes of happiness. The small tastes of 'finally. Finally, a real angel.' All his prayers that he didn't know he'd been sending had been answered.

It was all he ever could have asked for. Without even knowing it was what he wanted.

He'd spent so long, crawling through the dark on all fours. And then Matthew looked at him, and illuminated everything. His fingers, thin, bony pale white, had touched him. And he swore he knew heaven then. His lips, full pink and soft, had kissed him. Perfection inside one shy little boy.

Did the others know that happiness and kindness and love rested so easily inside this boy? This boy who just must have been an angel, because he couldn't be human. Something so perfect could not have been human. Something so sweet, so adoring, so precious, couldn't have been real.

Matthew was an angel. It was undeniable. Because wherever Matthew was, there was light, there was warmth. The light was brilliant, and absolutely intoxicating. He could fall asleep in it and never wake up, meld into it, become one with Matthew because he could never get close or warm enough.

He had to take what he could of Matthew's love, before he was left in the dark, the cold once more. What happened in the future didn't matter right now, and he knew that. It was inevitable, obvious and inescapable. Even if Matthew promised tearfully to love him forever.

He didn't doubt that Matthew would love him. Forever, carrying the scars of Ivan inside his heart. Next to the scars of everyone else. Of everyone he had ever met, ever cared for, ever given light to. He was a martyr, an angel, a savior.

Matthew would love him. But leave him in the end, regardless of what was done or said. Matthew would love him, he knew it.

All he wanted was the love and the light.

Owari