A/N: When I'm bored. I write lots. :3 Another tribute for RussPru, my newfound love. It is entirely FICTION however, though I know there are several people who wanted to revive the Prussian nation. I wish it is true, or will come true someday, for the sake of RussPru T-T

Summary: Years after the Berlin Wall fell, Russia met the supposedly dead nation, in a much smaller form. RussPru

Tiny Little Hope

His throat burned.

Prussia wheezed heavily as he clutched at the front of his shirt. It hurt. He was suffocating, as if there was an invisible vice-like grip tightening around his chest and neck, closing up his pipe and respiratory system. He could hear in his head the angry screams and shouts of his people rioting outside of his house, nearby the wall. He could hear it even when they weren't anywhere nearby. Voices filled with hate, anger, and sadness filled his head like drums being beaten near his ears.

Drops of cold sweat flowed out of the pores on his skin, streaming down his temples, neck, back, chest, and hips, staining his already soaked shirt and pants. He wheezed, incapable of drawing in enough air to satisfy his needy lungs. He fell on his knees, hitting the carpeted floor without a sound. Short nails went up to scratch at his burning neck, as if it would help any. Giving up, both hands dropped onto the ragged blue carpet.

Even without anyone telling him, he could feel it.

He was falling. He was dying.

"No, you're not."

Came the voice that sounded like that of an angel of death.

Prussia panted, bringing his trembling crimson pupils up at the sight of a tall blonde standing by the door, a humorless smile on his face. It seemed he had listened to Prussia talking to himself.

It was odd that despite the scorching pain he could still allow a weak grin graced his pale face, and snorted. "I'm dying, you know that."

"I said you're not." That childish voice was no longer there. The man was frowning, violet eyes looked troubled.

"You're not dying. I'd never allow you to die."

Prussia said nothing as the gigantic man strode towards him. He only sat there limply and didn't struggle as Russia yanked him up harshly by an arm, he toned down the yelp that was about to tear its way out of his mouth, clamping his mouth shut. To his surprise, Russia pulled him into his arms, holding him close to his broad chest. A gloved hand went up and down his back soothingly, carefully, lovingly. Prussia breathed in the sent of fresh snow and ice from the Russian's thick coat, feeling the suffocation still lingered within his chest.

"I've dispatched the police to calm the riot." He could hear Russia's speaking to his hair, blowing the protruding white tresses. "Are you feeling better?"

Prussia closed his eyes, his laboring breaths had quietened a tad bit. But it was still painful. "A bit." He wheezed out, feeling more air entering his respiratory organ. He gripped at the back of Russia's coat tightly, trying to reduce the pain in his chest. He could still hear the angry voices of the East German people ringing in his ears. There had been too many riots and revolution attempts lately, and from his body Prussia knew. It was about time before that tall, solid wall that divided him from his brother brought down to conjoin the two split countries.

But Prussia was oddly calm about it, he had realized the possibility long ago. And he was ready to embrace his fate. Prussia closed his eyes as he smiled thinly."Call back your troops. It's just a matter of time before they break it down, you don't need to waste your man."

Russia suddenly pushed his shoulders, malice and anger written on his face and he furrowed his eyebrows. Amethyst eyes shone in anger. He emitted a deadly aura that made Prussia twitched and held his breath under the pressure. "…why are you so prepared to die? I told you I don't allow you to die. I'd never allow that. You're my servant and you must do only what I allow you to do!" He uttered in a sharp, icy tone that stung right at Prussia's heart.

Prussia gulped, lowering his gaze. "I told you," He weakly said.

"I told you to let me die. I told you to torture me to death. I am a dying nation anyway, no one needs me. My brother is more than capable of substituting me. I was great once, but my empire had fallen long ago. I am old, weak, and tired. I'm tired of all the struggles. My time is approaching, Russia. Like our predecessors, I will perish because I am no longer wanted by the people. It's just how life is. I've had my shares of golden times, now all I need to do is embrace my fate and pass the legacy to my brother." He looked up only to see violet eyes flared in rage.

"I don't care! I want you to stay alive, you're not leaving me! I'll make it so you'll never leave me!" Russia exclaimed, in what seemed to resemble a child's wails when he wanted something. He dug his gloved fingers at Prussia's shoulders almost painfully, hanging his head, blonde tresses covered his face.

Prussia felt like he was seeing his little Ludwig in front of him, when he was still very small and like all children, selfish. He smiled as he stroke Russia's hair. "Don't be unreasonable, Russia." He uttered.

"I'm not being unreasonable." Came the statement from the hidden face.

"You are. Focus on pulling yourself together, I know things haven't been well for you. Don't waste your time on me."

Russia lifted up a pair of discontent eyes. "You're my lover."

"I am your prisoner." Gilbert corrected.

Russia fell silent. Prussia did too.

Prussia saw the taller man's mouth opened slightly and closed. A second later, his lips parted and moved.

"I love you."

Prussia didn't answer. Merely standing there as Russia wrapped his arms around him, closing the short distance between them, trying to be as close to the other as possible. Even though he couldn't see it, Prussia knew Russia's cold lips trembling. His much broader shoulders shook slightly. "I love you, Gilbert." He whispered in to his ear.

"I love you, I love you, I love you. I won't let you die. Never. Not you. God can take everything away from me, just… not you. You can't leave me. You can't. You can't. You can't!" He raised his tone of voice close to that of a scream, tightening his grip.

Prussia winced softly under the Russian's strong hold. Russia was squeezing him too tight! He could barely breathe under such strong pressure around his weakening body. "R-Russia…" He tried to warn the younger man, but he didn't seem to hear him. Instead he squeezed him more, almost choking him. Prussia was too weak with the remains of the riot still clouding his mind, he started wriggling comfortably in Russia's arms. He couldn't breath. His bones were being crushed by Russia's immense strength.

"I-Ivan!" He choked out.

At that moment, Russia loosened his grip, pulling away from the albino with a look of realization dawned upon his face. Prussia coughed, feeling his head dizzy and hurt. Amethyst eyes wavered in confusion and regret as he stepped forward, clumsy arms flailed around Prussia's smaller frame, reluctant if he should touch him or not.

"P-Prussia…" He stammered, worry and plea laced his childish voice. Panic shown on his face and voice when he took in the sight of the panting Prussian. "I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I-I promise I won't hurt you again…" He stuttered, confused what to say. He didn't know what to do, what to say.

He was just like a child.

"I'm sorry. Don't hate me. Please, don't hate me, Gilbert. I don't want you to hate me." Gloved hands clumsily touched Prussia's face, caressing his cheeks. His shoulders shook and tears welling up in his eyes. Prussia lifted up weak, wavering red eyes, seeing the confusion that lingered within those cruel, cold eyes, now innocent and puzzled like the eyes of a child.

He wondered where had his cruelty and relentlessness gone?

The Russia in front of him was nothing like the proud, huge nation with a personality of a devil. He was a cold, cruel and relentless nation who had mercilessly took him away from his brother, built a wall that divided the two. Russia had been the one who mocked him, beat him, abused him as if he was property, not human being. And even though he was half human. And yet now he was nothing but a child crying in his arms, begging him not to go and leave him alone. Prussia had done nothing to change him, he knew Russia was like this deep inside; a lonely child who was afraid of being hurt. He did nothing. They did nothing.

They just fell in love.

Love was the one thing that resurfaced this innocent child and sealed off the beast deep inside. Love was the reason why Prussia was willing to be by his side, despite the terrible things he had done. He had understood him, this overgrown child. Russia had fallen to his knees the night he told Prussia his feelings, crying while begging for forgiveness for the countless scars and injuries he inflicted upon the Prussian's body. Prussia hadn't believed him, he refused and pushed him out of his room. He was hurt. He was in pain. He was lonely. But he couldn't deny the fact that Russia's confession and plea had touched his heart a bit.

Time went, Russia did nothing but keeping a distance. He never once tried to talk to him unless it was absolutely necessary, and he made sure Toris was also in the room when they met, else he would leave the room if the two of them were alone. To others who did not know, it might seem Russia was keeping his distance. But Prussia could see it in those velvet eyes as the Russian averted them every time their gazes met.

Fear.

Russia was scared of him.

Love made the bravest of knights turn cowardly. He was afraid of Prussia's rejection. He was afraid Prussia would hate him, hate him like the whole world did. And it was fine before because he knew the world were not fond of the large nation, but the thought of Prussia hating him was beyond terrifying. Those were the words that escaped the Russian's mouth when Prussia confronted him. Prussia had watched as the larger nation slumped against the wall and wept, begging Prussia to forgive him, pleading him not to hate him. That he had enough that even his own people hated him. He did not want Prussia to hate him too.

How could the sight not affect him so? His own eyes had burned as tears blurred his vision.

And he forgave Russia. That night was the first time they made love to each other.

They fell in love.

"I don't hate you. You're the only guy I like more than my own awesome self." Prussia whispered soothingly, watching innocent violet eyes grown wide.

He smiled bitterly, caressing the cold skin of his cheek. "But I have to go."

"No." Russia shook his head, tears streaming down his icy cheeks. "No. No. No. No. No! Don't go! I forbid you! I forbid you!" He cried hoarsely, sobbing wildly.

"You'll be fine." Prussia felt his own cheeks gotten wet, his vision blurred. He tried hard to not let the increasing pain shown on his face. "Promise me you'll be fine."

"What are you saying? You're not going to die!" Russia sobbed, pulling the older man into his arms and hugged him so tight, never wanting to let go.

"Russia. Promise me. After I'm gone, you have to promise me you'll do your best to survive. I want to see you on top of the world. I'll watch over you."

"No! You won't die!" Russia shook his head furiously, drowning his face into Prussia's shoulder.

"Russia," Prussia felt suffocated. The screams and shouts entered his mind. "Please,"

Russia hiccuped. He withdrew his tear-soaked face to face the older man.

"I promise."

Prussia allowed a weak smile, a trembling hand brought up to ruffle the sun-kissed hair. "Good boy."

He couldn't see Russia's face anymore. Darkness clouding his eyes and mind as he let his face fell to his lover's chest, he could feel his people had gone to the other side. West. To his beloved brother's side. They would be happy there, Ludwig would make sure of that.

They were finally free.

"Ivan…" He choked out.

He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He couldn't think of anything. Only the pain remained. But he could still feel the warmth of the embrace and the cold of Russia's skin. His lips were moving, but no word nor voice escaped them.

I love you.

2001

Ten years had passed since Uni Soviet fell.

Now he was a newborn country of ten years old. It was odd when he was so big and strong, if people asked his age, he would hesitate before answering he had just gotten ten years old this year. People would gawk or tell him he was joking, saying there was no way such a tall ten-year-old existed. They would laugh. And he would laugh too. It felt good though, that he no longer felt as if everyone was his enemy. He was a changed nation now.

Now he was Rossiyskaya Federatsiya-Russian Federation. Or just Russia in short.

"What the hell kinda name is that? Can't even say it without my tongue got tied! I'll just call ya Russia, Big Brat! "

Russia snickered. Yes, Prussia would definitely say something like that. He was never keen when it came to studying Russian language. He always whined they were too difficult to pronounce or remember, and that he couldn't read the words at all. He used to call it resembling "a bunch of worms biting each others' tails". Which was rude because Russia thought his language and words were the most beautiful in the universe.

"What is the matter, brother?" Belarus asked curiously when she saw her brother laughed secretly.

Russia shook his head. "It is nothing."

The meeting was over a short while ago. Now they were leaving the building to take a casual walk. It was nice. The hosting country's climate was much warmer than his own, the green of the tree leaves seemed shone through the strong sunlight above their heads, it was hot that noon that Russia sweat under his ever-existing muffler. It was a fine summer day. So nice. He started to get jealous a bit.

He stared up at the clear, cloudless, seemingly limitless azure sky above the ground, a hand shielding his eyes from the intense sunlight. He loved such a strong sun, also the sunflowers that were planted at the meeting place's garden. The sounds of children's joyful laughter brightened the atmosphere. It was a good town, a good country. A happy one.

Prussia-No, Gilbert… are you watching me? He mused as he started absently at the vast canvas.

"Of course I am! You're doing great, Vanya, keep it up!"

I will. Just as I promised. Russia smiled a sincere smile.

Belarus looked at him with eyes widened. She had never seen his brother smiled like that. But she quickly lowered her head.

Gilbert…

"Huh? What's with you? Still talking with your imagination. You must be sick."

Maybe I am. Maybe I am crazy. Russia mentally laughed. A tinge of loneliness surfaced within his heart, the heart that was broken and empty until he met the Prussian.

But I missed you.

"…I missed you too."

I want to see you.

"Don't do suicide man, that's just not cool. You're a nation, remember? A huge one! You gotta pull yourself together!"

I know. I just want to say it. Russia's smile twisted to a lonely smile. He wanted to see his lover so much, but he knew that was just impossible.

I love you Gilbert, I always do and always will.

But the imagination never responded.

Russia only smiled.

He breathed in the sweet air of summer. He could only enjoy the warm air for only a short moment before he had to go back to the ice and eternally cold Siberian winter of his country. It was these rare occasions when he could go down to southern countries that he had always looked forward to. He closed his eyes, stretching his stiff limbs from sitting for hours in the meeting. He was enjoying himself when his amethyst eyes caught a hold of fierce bright blue ones of a tall and manly nation not far from him. A shorter brunette was on his side, glancing nervously at the German and the Russian.

Russia smiled at the sight of the stern nation.

"Why, hello, Germany and Italy. A nice clear day we have today, isn't it?" He greeted in a friendly manner.

"H-hello, Russia." Only Italy replied to his greet. The German remained quiet and stiff as he glared at the Russian.

Russia raised both of his eyebrows. "You look like you want to say something to me, Germany." He pointed out. "You can talk to me all you want, don't be shy."

"I am not shy." Germany retorted sharply, earning a nervous glance from the Italian. "I came to talk to you about something important."

Russia blinked. Then he turned his head at the girl beside him, who nodded in understanding. "I will wait for you at the hotel, brother." Belarus said as she walked ahead, gave warning, deadly glares at the German as she strode past him. Germany flinched under her deadly gaze but remained composed, coughing as he turned to the Russian again.

"Let's talk somewhere else."

It was easy to find a place to talk as they had booked the whole building for the world meeting. The discussion room at the main hall was almost empty, most the nations and their superiors had left to their hotels or prepared for the meeting tomorrow. Germany chose a spot in a corner, where they could converse without having to worry anyone could hear. Russia did wonder what the German had wanted to say, since the German could not stand to even inside the same room as him, if it was not for his duty he would've refused all the world meetings. He knew Germany hated him, after all he had done to his older brother, it was just natural. Germany never accepted his relationship with Prussia after all.

They sat across the other, while Italy was still standing by Germany's seat for some reason he didn't know. Germany wasn't leaning comfortably against the seat, instead he leaned forward with fingers twined and both elbows rested on his thighs, while he put his chin in between the twined hands, fixating his blue eyes at him. Russia could see the hate and anger still lingering within those eyes, and all directed to him.

"You know I don't hate you. I loathe you. I despise you for what you've done to my brother." He spoke in a firm voice to hide the true malice behind it.

Russia smiled. He was used to such looks of hatred and treatment towards him. "I am aware of that." He calmly said, closing his eyes to hide the loneliness he felt. The German, in some way or the other, resembled Prussia, he reminded Russia of his deceased lover every time he saw him. He himself could not bear to see Germany without seeing Prussia's shadow right behind him. And that was why Germany's hatred towards him had actually helped in some way.

Germany looked displeased. "Until now, I still have no idea what my brother saw in you. He could've been with a much better person."

"I thought so too. He'd be much happier with another person." Russia watched as Germany's blue eyes widened, it seemed like he hadn't expected such an honest answer from the Russian.

"…what are you trying to say? Are you trying to make yourself sound good?" The German spat suspiciously.

"What use is it for me? I don't care if you hate me, I didn't when the whole world wanted me dead. I'm only telling the truth. Gilbert would've been happier without me, he would've been if he had stayed with you. I knew he was lonely and sad when he was with me." A hollow smile drawn on the Russian's lips. He felt his chest clenched in painfully, he clutched at the front of his suit.

"But I love him."

"I love him more than anyone in the world. More than anything. I love him and I will always love him until the day I vanished from the world. And even after that, I'll still love him." He lowered his gaze and uttered those words that came from the depths of his heart. The living, beating heart that Gilbert healed and filled with memories of him.

" 'Love'? Not 'loved'?" The German uttered in disbelief. Italy was staring at the Russian with wide eyes, filled with sympathy. "…are you serious?"

Russia nodded. "It is no use to lie, is it? After all, I don't care if you believe me or not. And Gilbert has… is no longer around."

He bit back the word 'died', as if still denying his lover's death. No he shouldn't have done that. Gilbert would be mad at him if he let himself be drowned in sorrow. Ten years ago he had squirted out enough tears and sobs to last an eternity, and the next day he swore he would not grieve anymore and instead drown himself in work, in building a much better nation than before.

Because he promised.

Germany furrowed his eyebrows at the sight of the dejected man, taking in the deep sorrow and misery dawned onto his previously strong and fearless nation, now he was just like a human who mourned his beloved one. Italy tugged at his sleeve, causing him to look up. The brunette bit down his lower lip and a pleading look was displayed on his face. Germany clenched his jaw, glancing at the Russian. Then he stared at the Italy again, nodding. The Italian suddenly brightened up. He smiled widely and hurriedly dashed away, leaving the building in a flash.

Germany sometimes wondered why the Italian only used such super-human ability when running away from an enemy.

He turned to Russia again. "I never wanted to tell you this because I despise you so much." The German told him, his eyes strayed down onto the table in front of him. "But my brother… told me he was happy."

Amethyst eyes widened.

"What?"

Germany screwed his eyes shut. Russia could see tears seeping out in the corners of his eyes.

"I didn't want to believe it either. We had been contacting each other in secret. He told me he was happy. He was happy with you. I couldn't believe it. I refused to believe it. My brother, my older brother whom I love and respect so much, fell in love with a monster like you? I told him he was out of his mind, but he laughed, and said maybe he was. Then he said maybe he had gone out of his mind because he fell in love with you, Russia." He choked out.

"But he felt it. He truly did. He was in love with you. He was happy. From his voice I knew he was happy. His voice brightened up when he spoke about you. He told me you became gentle and kind to him. But I didn't believe it. I couldn't forgive you. I couldn't forgive you for taking away my brother from me. I couldn't forgive that he died by your side, instead of me, his little brother!" He cried hoarsely, tears streaming down his cheeks. His voice echoed throughout the room.

He drowned his weeping face into his hands as he sobbed faintly, broad shoulders shaking violently.

Russia only stared at him, wide-eyed.

"B-But… that can't be…" He stammered shakily, a hand went through blonde hair.

"I thought… I thought he hated me…. I thought he only returned my love because… he pitied me… I thought he was unhappy… I…" He felt hot tears gathering at the back of his eyes and his shut them. No, he mustn't cry. It was a mistake. No way. There was no way Gilbert would love him back, after all he had done to him...

"It's true," Germany uttered, wiping his blood-shot eyes with the back of his arm. "He was happy. He loved you. He told me that."

Russia paused.

Gilbert loved him.

"Germany! Russia!"

Both of them turned their heads at the coming Italian. He was sweating like crazy like he had run a mile possibly from the heat of summer, panting as he entered the hall. Russia's amethyst eyes was focused on a white-haired child beside the Italian, a foreign child he had never seen before. But why did he looked so familiar? Maybe it was his hair color that was as white as the Siberian snow. And the messy, naturally prickly hair style was very nostalgic. Then he realized the boy's skin was also very pale, almost as pale as his hair. He couldn't see the boy's face because he had his back on him, staring up at the Italian.

Italy smiled apologetically, taking the child's hand as they approached the two nations. Russia's velvet eyes widened. Crimson eyes. The boy had deep crimson eyes. Hair and skin as white as the snow. He was an albino. And his face… he possessed an uncanny resemblance to someone he missed so much. The way he curved his thin eyebrows to the way he frowned. The boy was like a much younger version of Prussia. His Gilbert.

Russia's eyes stayed locked at the boy as the two approached.

Before he knew it, Germany had stood and walked over to them, crouching before the boy. "Hey, how are you?" He spoke with a gentle voice.

"I'm bored. You guys took too long." The boy whined. Russia held his breath. Even the way he spoke…

"Sorry. I'll get you ice cream later." Germany smiled apologetically, laughing softly.

The boy tilted his head. "Are you crying, Ludwig? Why are you crying? Is someone bullying you?"

Germany furiously wiped off the tears that fell without his consent. "I'm fine." He choked out, wearing a grin that was unlike his usual stern face. "Just got a little dust in my eyes." He assured the boy.

"Hmmm." the boy kicked his feet around. "I'm really bored, promise we buy ice cream later?" He asked, looking up at him.

Ludwig smiled and pinched the boy's chubby cheek. "I will. But first I want you to meet someone." He said, standing up and turning to the silent Russian.

Russia stiffened as the three turned their heads towards him.

The boy who looked like Prussia was looking at him with with Gilbert's red eyes.

Those big innocent crimson eyes only stared at him for a few seconds. His small mouth parted and moved.

"…Russia?"

Russia felt his heart stopped.

Germany took the boy up into his arms, where the albino child settled comfortably against him. "We found him wandering around the ruins of Berlin Wall two years ago. He had no parents, nor did this child is human." Russia snapped his head at the German, staring at him in disbelief.

Germany stared back. "…we didn't believe it either, when we first found him. He… looked too much like my brother. And he was too small and weak to be called a nation. He was just barely born then. But after we tried to search the reasons behind this phenomena… we found that there was a small group of people who wishes to resurrect the fallen Prussian country. And we, nations exist as long as people want us to stay existing." He looked at the child, who looked at him back curiously.

He turned to Russia. "We concluded this child… is my brother's reincarnation. He is the New Prussia. A newfound nation."

Russia was dumbfounded.

The two nations, along with the small new one, stared at him with wide eyes filled with shock, much to his confusion. The child furrowed his silver eyebrows, wriggling within Germany's hold until he landed onto the floor again. Then he ran towards the Russian, huge, innocent red eyes looked up at him and a tiny white hand reached for his cold, icy cheek.

"Why are you crying?" He asked.

Amethyst eyes widened.

He brought a hand to touch his cheek and withdrew, seeing water had stained his fingers. He hadn't realized tears had overflowed and streamed down his cheeks uncontrollably, dripping onto his lap. Italy had started sobbing and crying at the sight, while Germany tried to calm him down, although his eyes were still red and tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

"Don't cry. Don't be sad." The boy reached the Russian's face and tried wiping off the tears, his face twisted in sadness, as if wanting to cry as well.

But it only made Russia want to cry more. But cry in a sudden, unexplained happiness he felt soaring from within his chest, overcoming his senses. He smiled. "I'm not sad." He spoke gently, caressing the boy's soft cheek. He choked back the sob, but still couldn't stop his tears from flowing. He wiped it off with his long muffler. It was no use. He couldn't stop it. And he had thought he had run out of tears years ago.

"What is your name?" He asked, smiling while crying.

"Gilbert!" The boy exclaimed. "What's yours?"

"Ivan."

"Ivan…? Ivan! It's a cool name!" The boy laughed joyfully.

And Russia couldn't take it anymore, he pulled the boy into a tight embrace, sobbing furiously on the small shoulder.

"Ugh… uuuh… Gilbert… Gilbert! Gilbert… Uuugh… uuhh…" He let out the tears he had been holding in for years, for the sake of his promise. He released the pain and sorrow that had accumulated within those years; sobbing, wailing, bawling, weeping, and crying furiously as much as he pleased. All emotions he thought he was incapable of, exploded right there and then. The boy in his arms was confused at first, then he cried along with the Russian, both crying openly like two innocent children.

You come back… you come back to me.

Italy's face was tear-soaked, hiding his face with a white handkerchief Germany lent to him. The German stayed silent at all time, listening to their cries with a stern, thoughtful face. Two hours later, they had calmed down. Little Prussia had fallen asleep on Russia's lap, tired from crying. Russia's own eyes were red and swollen from hours of crying, but he looked very happy and content, stroking the sleeping child's hair gently. Italy had calmed down as well and now sat next to Germany, a small smile was on his face as he stared at the boy.

"I have discussed it with my superiors." Germany said as he eyed at the boy on the Russia's lap. "We're going to let you adopt him. I think it's for the best. My brother would've wanted it too."

Russia looked at him. He glanced at the boy and smilled. "I refuse."

Germany jolted up, he didn't expect such an answer from the Russian. "Why? Isn't it what you want too? Why refuse?" He drilled the questions at the oddly serene Russian, who hadn't took his eyes off from the boy.

"Because I don't want this child to grow up facing the cruel cold every day. I want him to grow up in a much, much warmer place where he could see trees and flowers blooming each year. It is impossible in Russia, where winter reigns eternally." He uttered softly. Then he lifted his gaze to the German. "You don't want that, don't you?

Germany flopped down onto the couch, looking confused. "Yes, but… but you…"

"I love Gilbert. He taught me how to love. I've made an unchangeable mistake when I forced him to go with me. I don't want to repeat the same thing. I love him, that's why I should let him go and be free. It's so like him. A free spirit." Little Gilbert sighed in his sleep, smiling. That brought a warm, loving smile onto the Russia's face.

"Russia…" Germany uttered dumbfounded.

The man truly had changed.

"Just let me be with him a while more. That's all I ask for."

"Yes, yes you can take your time." The German said, standing up to leave the two alone. Italy did the same, following Germany from behind.

Before they left the scene, Germany glanced over his shoulder. "Russia." The mentioned man glanced up at him. A blush crept over the German's face as he averted his eyes. "Y-you can… visit us anytime you want. I'm sure Gilbert will be happy."

Russia smiled.

"Thank you."

After the two nations left, Russia stared at the little boy with eyes filled with love and fondness. He stroke his white hair, a smile of happiness graced his face.

And a drop of tear fell from his eyes onto his hand.

"Thank you… thank you for being born."

Fin

A/N: I'm going to write an omake in Little Gilbert's POV next. :-)