Of s and s .
The beginning chapter to what will soon turn out to be a multi-chaptered RusIta fanfiction of the two nations actually meeting for the first time as humans, rather than countries. I know I haven't updated my account for months, so I thought I'd give you a small start to what I hope will be a developing story.
This is an AU, so to speak. Further chapters will explain the setting and circumstance in more details. The characters (Russia - Ivan, and Italy - Feliciano) do not belong to me, but they do not follow the canon descriptions of the characters.
Yours faithfully,
Fading to Oblivion
They seemed to turn to him, all as one, a mass, a flock - it could have been the brunette's imagination, but it was hard to tear himself away from the idea that they had accepted him into their masses; they were grateful for his leadership. To him, the concept of so many of them jostling about in juvenile happiness, was like standing amongst his citizens, grateful to have a place there, happy to just sit and watch.
That would be exactly what he'd do, a hand stretching around his back to reach beneath his collar, itching there for a brief moment before sighing and just working with the buttons to strip his top off altogether. Usually, the idea would have offended him somewhat - he was viewing these flowers as his people, and yet he had the audacity to take his clothes off right in-front of them, with no to little dignity? It wasn't an idea that he would consider to be vulgar, and yet it would have shamed him somewhat if he was to do it.
But no matter. The air on his skin was light, and he sunk to the ground with the feeling of a light heart, one that was barely beating and yet no bother to him in the slightest. The flowers would still smile, no matter what he did to embarrass them, their sunny faces laughing with the wind, dancing in the breeze, shredding a petal just for another to take it's place in new bloom. It made him feel .. special.
In truth, Feliciano was a very down to earth kind of man. An idea would hit him, and he would get it down on paper as fast as he could, without much ado about anything. If someone was being silly and refused to accept affection as help, he wouldn't hesitate to smack them lightly across the face so that they would see sense in what he was saying to them - Polite manners, in his opinion, were a necessity, but he couldn't give up the facade of being happy all the time - if he looked at the field of sunflowers in a real light, he knew that most of them were withering and fading away without a touch. He couldn't water them all on his own, after all.
You're here. I'm here - We're so close. You're laying next to me, and I'm looking at your lips a little, as if to insinuate that you kiss them. I don't want to make the first move, but instead I want you to - it doesn't matter if you're married, or you have a girlfriend. I'm single, we're together. All morals are gone. Does it really hold you down that much? Just a friendly kiss, a hold of the hands; anything to know that I'm closer to you than anybody had guessed. I know your country, but I don't know you. Please, let me in-
He laughed, then - a light tinkling sound, flocks of pleasant imagery filling his head. All of nations, not him least, had connections with farming, and it wasn't just him that had countrysides full of sunflowers like Tuscany. He could gather them all together, start up an event with picnics and sweet grapes, and then they'd all go around together, caring for the sunflowers until each and every one was bright and happy again. It was a childish wish, and not in the least likely to come true, but it did amuse the brunette, if not anything else.
Besides all else, he simply couldn't bear to let anyone else into this beautiful patch of land. To walk along the paths right through the middle, yes - but to wonder among the sunflowers and drift down in the middle of them, staring up at the sky in melancholy thought was something reserved only for himself. It might be selfish, but he didn't want his little harmony ruined - especially not by the loud American with his instant coffee and opinionated remarks on politics.
A sanctuary, of sorts. Larger, far larger than he needed - but somewhere that he was safe from the pressure of a girlfriend, the will to cook and draw, and the inspiration calling out to him from all directions until it was an overload of work that he simply couldn't deal with. He felt comfortable here, though, much more comfortable than he had in years; he hadn't let the shining smile slip from his features for even a small moment. That was, until someone came along to disturb his peace. Feliciano couldn't work out who; as far as he knew, nobody knew of this place. The words of the song they were singing were faint, just carried briefly on the wind, so he could barely recognise the tone of voice, the accent, or the melodic, somewhat soothing melody. And then, as they got closer, everything became clear, and he stifled a chuckle at the memories the song brought back, lifting himself up with his forearms.
e n d .
What can I expect in the next chapter?
Look out for the two nations actually meeting for the first time, and expect less thought process' with more room for thinking space. There may be a little flirting and a considerable amount of fluff, but all the rest is spoilers, sorry!