Okay, guys, this if my first fanfiction ever, so it's probably rotten and not good. But I want to improve, so don't kill me for this! English isn't my native language, so I'm sorry for mistakes, both grammatically and language-like.
Rated M for smut, probably involving pain as it is Russia we're dealing with. Now, try and enjoy!
The world meeting had started. All the nations were gathered, talking about the problems the world was facing at the moment.
They basically talked over each other and made a ruckus so no one couldn't really hear what was going on. Germany tried to bring around piece and order but no one listened. They were all basically doing what they wanted. Austria got mocked by Prussia, and it was obvious that Hungary tried to calm and control herself, so she wouldn't inflict too much damage on the white-haired nation with her preferred weapon of heavy metal, which normal people would use for cooking. America ate as if he hadn't had food for several weeks, England sent him an irritated gaze while drinking his tea and trying to ignore France who was hitting on him, being the pervert he was. Italy was sleeping, as well as Greece, and Spain looked around the room. Lichtenstein and Switzerland were talking together. Ukraine seemed to be a bit nervous and just sat in her chair, not talking with any one nor doing anything. Belarus had spent the last half an hour by starring at Russia, whom instead glared at China, his sinister smile on its correct place, making China pretty nervous. It was actually only Japan that seemed to pay a fair amount of attention to the German.
And then, he finally raised his voice to a loud tone, making sure everyone heard him.
"Shut up, every single of you! We are here to solve problems, not making more, sleeping," he underlined that word as he cast a glaze at Italy and Greece, who didn't wake, "and we're not here to mock each other, Gilbert, so please, just focus on the task at hand!" Gilbert looked like he really didn't care about his brother, but silenced anyway.
Silence fell over the room for a few moments where nothing was said and no one moved a muscle, except for Italy who was waking up. Amazingly, he didn't make much noise as he did. When he was finally awake, the meeting started again. And this time, it proceeded in peace and order where the nations only talked when asked. They all knew how angry Germany could be if disobeyed, and no one really wanted to experience that.
Greece was the only one who didn't happen to experience anything that happened at the meeting, as he just continued sleeping and snoring.
Russia wasn't paid much attention. Not that he cared, though. He had a hard time not glancing too much at the small Austrian three seats away, and frankly, he would prefer the other didn't notice it. He was supposed to be overly obsessed with China, not Austria. There was just something about him the bigger nation couldn't ignore. He wondered what he should do. Although, he already kind of had a plan formed in his head. And there was little - if at all - doubt he would follow through.
He stood up, the others looking at him with mild surprise in their eyes. China twitched slightly in his seat, fearing what he was sure was about to come. His fear and confusion only grew bigger as the Russian walked towards him and stopped behind his seat, looking down at the man dressed in pretty robes.
"Don't you worry, da! I won't do anything to you!" he said, not quite convincing and not quite comforting, either, and pat China on the head with a power that pushed him longer down in the chair, fear and confusion clearly shown in his eyes. But fear yielded for confusion when the bigger nation moved on and then again stopped behind the Austrian, who looked up, clearly just as surprised as everyone else, but with no fear in his eyes. Russia looked down at him, the smile becoming wider, and not less sinister.
"Is there anything I can do for you, although I doubt it?" the aristocrat said and turned in his chair so that he better could see the tall man. The smile widened even more, if possible.
"Da! I would like to have a few words with you," This didn't seem to calm Austria down, and he hesitated a few seconds, which was long enough for Russia to grab him by the collar and drag him out of the room.
"Hey!" he heard Hungary call out as she got up and looked after them, already wielding her frying pan.
"What are you doing? Let go of me!" Austria said and tried to free himself from the hands clenching his shoulder. He might as well just give up. Russia's strength was immense and if he didn't want to let go himself, he couldn't be forced to.
Austria let himself be dragged across the room, through another, and then Russia let go of him in a small, dark and foul-smelling room. He immediately straightened his knee-long, blue jacket and brushed off some dust particles left by the other nation's gloves. He then looked at the Russian with narrow eyes.
"Why, may I ask, have you dragged me off to here?" he asked, suspicious.
"I want you to become with me, da!" the other answered and smiled, as if he requested something totally reasonable. Austria sighed and put two fingers to his temple. Russia already knew that this wasn't possible and that he wouldn't do it. But yet, he asked:
"And just why would I agree to that?"
"Because you don't really have much of a choice." The smiles was sinister alright, no doubt about that.
"What on Earth are you ..." the Austrian started, but he never got to finish his sentence, as the Russian pulled out a slightly sweet-smelling cloth and tried to put it over the other's face, who dodged and tried to get out of the room. He was hindered, though, as Russia grabbed him around the waist and pulled him backwards, deeper into the room. When they hit the wall, Russia laid a hand around Austria's throat and felt the smaller nation freeze and knew he could do whatever he wanted now; he knew that Austria was very much aware of the fact that Russia could kill him simply by tightening the hand around his neck.
The Austrian forced himself to talk in a low and self-controlled voice as he spoke, but not quite able to blur the anxiety.
"I... trust you do know that... this won't go unnoticed?" he said, slightly struggling to speak. The hand around his throat was, after all, quite forceful.
"Oh, don't worry about that," the Russian said, cheerfully as if he wasn't doing something that would be considered against the law and human morals, "they'll think nothing of it, da." Austria would protest, but didn't get to, as the man behind him put the cloth over his nose and mouth.
At first, Austria didn't breath. He knew very well what the other nation tried to do - there was chloroform on the cloth, he was sure of it - and he also knew that if he inhaled it, he would lose consciousness and pass out; a thing he wasn't eager to in Russia's presence. But Russia noticed that Austria tried not to breath and, with the sinister smile on his face as always, punched him in the stomach, so the smaller nation gasped and inhaled a rather large amount of the anaesthetic. After a few seconds, he felt the world turn around, he became dizzy and his body flabby, as he lost consciousness.
Russia waited for a couple of minutes before lifting the small, light body and took it to the room where the other nations were still talking. They all became silent as the big nation entered, carrying the smaller man in his arms.
Hungary was the first to make a move, although it took her a long, shocking minute to realize what she was seeing. She then stood up, slowly, not quite sure what she should think, but it was easy for any one present to see that she blamed Russia for whatever had happened.
"What did you do to Mr. Austria?" she asked; her voice low and trembling. She sure didn't know what had happened, but she knew very well that it only could be Russia's fault. The bigger nation just smiled at her, didn't answer and walked towards Ludwig, still with the Austrian cradled in his arms. The German pulled his seat a few centimetres backwards. He wasn't exactly afraid of Russia, but right now, he wasn't interested in his presence. He glanced quickly at the smaller person. His eyes were closed, and he hadn't marks or wounds, so they at least hadn't been fighting. He also looked rather peaceful.
"I'll be off to take care of him," was the only thing Russia said, whereupon he turned around and marched out of the room, his big boots banging against the clean, polished floor.
"Damn no, you won't!" Hungary screamed, grabbed her frying pan and lunged towards the Russian, ready to swing it and smash his head, not at all considering the possibly dangerous consequences it could result in. But he was faster. Grabbing her wrist and forcing it down, along with the frying pan, he turned towards her, smiled his sinister smile as he always did and said:
"Please, don't worry about your dear Roderich. He'll be fine. If he behaves, that is." And then, without further circumlocution, he gently pushed her back and marched out of the room with a loud, cheerful "Do svidaniya!" and left the other nations in shock.
It didn't take him long time to get home. Or, at least he didn't think so, but others would probably think of it as a dreadful and lengthy walk. Sure, it was cold and your feet might hurt a bit, but when you had walked for about half an hour, it wasn't that bad anymore.
As he got home with the smaller nation still curled up in his arms, he found a room in which to put him. The room was furnished with a big couch behind a rectangular table of glass, and in front of this were two armchairs. There was also a fireplace, a bookcase filled with books – in Russian, of course, both Cyrillic and normal letters – there was a world map on the wall beside it, and on each side of the fireplace were there doors. One led to a bathroom and the other to a bedroom.
Ivan had put Roderich in one of the armchairs before he had gone to his study to finish some paperwork.
As the Austrian woke up, he put a hand to his head, uttering a silent moan as he felt a keen, stinging headache and decided to stay where he was, just for a few minutes. Now that he thought about it… where, actually, was he? He looked around the room. Nothing seemed familiar in any way. He didn't remember having visited a place with a world map hanging beside a bookcase with that many books, except for his own place, and he knew for sure that this wasn't his home. It was too bloody cold and the dust lay in thick layers on every straight surface.
He decided to get up, despite of the stinging headache, and investigate the room he had been put in. The fireplace was cold and empty. There wasn't even coal or ashes. It looked like ages since it had last been used. Roderich sighed and shivered, looking for something to light the fire. He couldn't find anything but the books, and he simply refused to burn books just to keep warm. Then an idea came to him. If he took a book and looked at the language written in it, he could maybe find out where he was.
He did it, and when he found that he was in Russia, he stiffened, while things slowly crawled back into his memory. He had been in the middle of a meeting with the other nations, discussing and arguing, all the while being annoyed and mocked by Prussia. And then, Russia had stood up, dragged him out of the room, then… then he had been drugged by said nation, anaesthetized with chloroform.
He felt anger build inside him and the blood rose to his cheeks. That damn psycho! How dared he kidnap him like that! It was against the law and it was against all human morals and ethics! Though, of course, Russia had always been outstanding as far as morals and ethics go. He was known for not sharing the same moral as everyone else, always going his own ways and doing as he wanted.
He then heard the door creak and turned towards it so quick he felt the muscles in the neck crack. He uttered a "ouch" and put a hand to the sore spot and massaged it gently.
The entering person started talking to him. It was a soft and caring voice, not at all like Russia's, and Roderich looked up. It was the older sister, Ukraine. He narrowed his eyes a bit, trusting the girl slightly more than the brother, but he thought he should still be careful when around her, the other sister, Belarus, or Russia himself. They were crazy, he knew that. But he was also pretty sure that Ukraine was the sanest of them.
"Mr. Austria," she said, her chest moving slightly every time she moved, "is there anything I can do for you?" Austria inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the slightly musty and stuffy atmosphere. 'This room hasn't been used in ages,' he thought and unconsciously crossed his arms.
"Yes, Mrs. Ukraine, you can tell me why Russia has brought me here," he said in a colder tone than he was used to. Ukraine knew from others that the person in front of her normally talked in a soft and caring, warm voice, and when she heard the cold tone, she bowed her head slightly forward.
"Surely my brother must have told you the reason for you being here?" Roderich ransacked his mind, trying to find information that may lead him to the correct answer or just an answer at all.
"Well," he started, "I do remember him saying some nonsense about wanting me to 'become one with Russia' or something like that." Ukraine nodded, squeezing her hands together in front of her, making her already busty chest look even bigger. Probably unconscious. Roderich stood there, waiting for some information that could explain why he was brought to Russia's house, a move he saw completely unnecessary and horrible as he had been abducted. But as it didn't come, he asked:
"Then, would you please tell me the reason he abducted me and brought me to his house? I don't see how it is a relevant or fair move," the Austrian said and loosened his body a bit. He felt somewhat safe around Ukraine; she didn't seem dangerous.
She seemed quite surprised by this.
"My brother abducted you?" Roderich sighed again. It seemed Russia had told her a blatant lie, probably having saved him or something like that.
"No. I have just decided to go on a trip to this godforsaken land full of snow and cold, only wearing this knee-long jacket of mine." The sarcasm was thick enough to taste, it practically dripped down the walls. Austria knew it wasn't a clever move to call this country godforsaken, but he was starting to lose his temper and patience. Ukraine blushed and bowed her head again.
"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Austria, but I thought…" she stopped, gasped, as a gloved hand tapped her shoulders. The Austrian needn't stand on his toes or turn his head, as Ukraine had to to find out who was behind her.
"I see you're already great friends, da?" Russia said with a smile not as sinister and insane as usual. "That is good." Ukraine suddenly looked intimidated by having her brother so close to her, and she squeezed her hands even harder. She took a few steps forward, then turned around and bowed for her brother.
"Russia-sama," she said, her voice being low as she dashed out of the room, her chest bouncing as if filled with springs.
They were now alone. Roderich Edelstein, known for being honest, but in a polite way, trying not to harm anyone without utmost necessity. The aristocrat, being known for acting neutral, trying to come out of an argument and still being friends with all involved. Knowing for loving art, and especially his piano and his precious music more than anything else, as well as he was known for having been married to Hungary, who still held romantic feelings towards him. This, though, he wasn't aware of. He merely saw Hungary's feelings and actions around him as friendly.
And then there was Ivan Braginski, known for being malicious, highly violent and always with a sinister smile on his face. The Russian, being known for doing things his way, not really listening to others or their opinions. And the Russian known for having an almost sick obsession with China, and always carrying either a faucet pipe or a bottle of Vodka, and having a weakness for sunflowers.
As the two men stared at each other, Roderich felt his courage fall, but continued to look into the bigger nation's purple eyes and childish face. He just smiled down at the Austrian, not saying anything nor doing anything. Just stood there, maybe waiting for Roderich to make a move.
But the smaller nation wouldn't. He wouldn't give in to Russia's silent demands and be the first to speak. And so, Ivan had to break the silence. He did.
"So, my good Austrian, I trust you know why you are being put here and what I want from you."
"You want me to become one with you." Russia nodded.
"Da!"
"But then, Ivan," the Austrian sighed, once again massaging his temple, "why have you brought me here, to your house? I am pretty sure that there is another thought behind this. You could easily have tried to talk me into it when we were at the world meeting. There were lots of other rooms." Russia walked into the room and closed the door behind him as he did. He walked towards Austria, who just stood there, not quite able to hide his anxiety over the situation. When Ivan was right in front him, Roderich swallowed something, terribly wanting to step back, but not wanting to lose face to the other, either. He suddenly realized how small he was, compared to Russia. Mariazell was just in height to reach the other's chin.
Ivan's smile fainted slightly as he looked down at the aristocrat.
"You don't overlook any detail, do you? No matter how small," Roderich crossed his arms over his chest.
"I try not to. Now, answer my question."
"Ah, but it wouldn't be fun if I just told you, now would it?" And then, without warning, he pulled back his arm, pushed it forward and struck the smaller nation right in solar plexus, making Roderich gasp and collapse, cramping and holding around his waist and stomach. Ivan then grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to his legs, looking directly into those violet eyes behind a pair of glasses. They looked very wet, as if he was on the verge of crying.
"You will soon know the reason for you being here," he said, smiled and let go of Roderich, who fell to the floor again where he continued to lie. His stomach hurt so much he couldn't find words for it; he couldn't talk and he could merely breathe, inhaling and exhaling in small, painful gasps.
With these words, Ivan left the room and Roderich. The Austrian vaguely heard the door click and knew that Russia had locked the door.
He lay on the floor for what seemed like an hour. Two perhaps. Not because the pain lasted that long, but it felt somewhat comfortable to just lie there, not doing anything or thinking. Just lying there, although the carpet and the floor itself were filthy and filled with dust.
It took him forever to get up. First, he rose to his knees, sitting in that position for a couple of minutes, before he very slowly got to his feet and stood up, slightly bend over, his stomach still hurting a bit when moving. He slowly walked to the bathroom to get some water, realizing how thirsty he actually was.
The bathroom wasn't hygienic. Like what Roderich supposed was the living room, this room was filthy and dust lay in thick layers all over. Spiders had made webs in all possible corners and nothing in here looked like it had ever been used. Roderich was surprised to see that the faucet pipe was still there, at least. It had probably taken a lot of Ukraine's or Belarus' time and energy to convince her brother to let it be in right place, should the guest room ever become useful again.
Suddenly not feeling thirsty anymore, the Austrian walked to the bedroom, more quickly as the pain in solar plexus subsided. The bedroom wasn't much better than the others. The sheets were dirty, dark spots to be spotted everywhere, the duvet and pillow were just as filthy and bed itself creaked when Roderich lowered himself onto it. He instantly got up as he saw a cockroach stick its head out under the duvet, looking for the one disturbing the peace.
"I guess I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight," he mumbled to himself and walked into the living room, where he laid on the couch. He rolled around a few times; lay there for about half an hour, before he fell asleep.
When Russia woke up the next morning, he felt happy, but he couldn't remember why. He remembered, though, something about a certain aristocrat denying becoming one with him. And then, the rest of the day, or should he say evening, crept through his memories, and he smiled widely. Not sinister this times, but just a genuine happy face, not with any dark or creepy meaning. Okay, maybe just a tiny bit sinister.
He got up, stretched his long and big body, before he got dressed and grabbed the nearest faucet pipe before he walked out into the hallway, going to wake up his older sister.
He opened the door to her room and called to her.
"Onee-san~ It's a beautiful morning, wake up, da~" he almost sang and danced into her bedroom, gently shaking her shoulders. She mumbled something, moaned quietly and then slowly sat up, rubbing and trying to shield her eyes at the same time, as her brother had allowed the sun to shine through the window and into the room.
"What are you so happy about?" she said, her voice husky from sleep.
"Our guest, remember? Now, get up!" he answered and plopped down beside her, waiting for her to get up and about, not minding that she would have to get dressed first.
"Uhm, but I need to take my clothes on first," she said, finally completely awake. She looked at her smiling brother who just sat there and stared at her, happy.
"You can do that with me around, da!" he sung and turned his back on his sister, so she didn't have to feel embarrassed by him looking at her when she was most vulnerable. He heard the rustling sounds of clothes falling to the floor and clothes being put on. He swung his legs back and forth like a little child and whistled softly as he was waited for his sister to finish. When he assumed she was finished, he turned around and found his sister dressed as usually; a white shirt stuffed into the braced trousers.
Ivan smiled and jumped to his feet, eager to continue. But the eagerness subdued as he realized that he now had to awake Belarus, his other and creepier sister who held an unhealthy, romantic obsession towards him. He let the pipe sink a bit before saying to Ukraine, that she could go and wake the other. She sent him a confused look, not really getting him or his way of thinking. Ivan dashed out of the room, nearly running towards the guest room where he knew the Austrian would be sleeping. The clock was only 8 o'clock in the morning. He had to still be sleeping, Russia reckoned. Roderich didn't seem to be quite the morning person.
When he reached the door, he pulled out a big, old-fashioned key and put in the keyhole, turned the key and heard the lock click, meaning it was now open, and he entered.
As he thought, the Austrian was still sleeping. Ivan smiled widely, walked over to him and shook his shoulder, till he awoke. The violet eyes were not capable of focusing, both because they needed the glasses, and because their owner had only just awaked.
"It's a beautiful day, da!" the bigger nation smiled and let go of the other man. "Wake up!" Roderich sat up and grabbed his glasses that had been lying on the table. He placed them on his nose, and his vision cleared, able to see again. He sighed at the smile on the other nation's face.
"I don't see how I could possibly be happy about that," he said and stretched his limbs; several of them cracked and he felt the pain move around in the bones; he was not used to sleep on couches, "as I am being held hostage in a house famous for giving shelter to a mentally unstable person." He massaged his sore joints and stood up. Although he normally never would even consider sleeping in his everyday clothes, he had found himself forced to do so. There was no carpet in here, and the room was really cold, so sleeping wearing his coat had been the only solution.
"Ah, but don't think of it like that!" Ivan said cheerfully and leant against a window, creating a long and big shadow on the floor. "Think of it as a once in a lifetime opportunity to visit the biggest and most influential country in the world, which you will of course become one with, da!"
"I am very sorry, Ivan," Roderich said and could taste the lie he had just recited, "but as I believe I also told you yesterday, I don't plan on becoming one with you. What could you possibly offer me that I wouldn't be able to refuse or be able to get myself?"
"Faucet pipes!" Ivan said in a highly excited tone and lifted his own pipe. Just as the Austrian was about to argue, he continued, "endless supplies of Vodka – it's kind of our subsoil water – and power! I can promise you power you otherwise will never experience, da!"
"Mr. Russia," Austria started, trying to sound calm and reasonable as he put two fingers to his temple, "I am very sorry to decline your offer, but I'm not interested in faucet pipes or as much Vodka I could pour down my throat, as I don't drink that kind of strong alcohol, nor am I interested in more power. I'm fully satisfied with the amount of authority I have now. I assure you, I don't want to become one with you."
What then happened was something Roderich had never foreseen could ever happen. He saw the Russian's smile faint, making his usually childish face sad and gloomy to look at. His shoulders dropped a bit, and the faucet pipe he held in his hands lowered.
"Why?" he mumbled. Austria was confused for a couple of seconds and then opened his mouth to say something, but the bigger nation anticipated him. "Why won't you become one with me? Do you not like me?" Roderich wanted to say something, but it was as if his voice was caught in his throat. More so, he didn't quite know what to answer. The truth was that he didn't like to be in the same room as the Russian, at least not when it was only those two. But this, he was afraid of saying. Frankly put, he was afraid the bigger nation would crush him with a single blow of his giant fist.
He shifted uncomfortably as he started to speak. He noticed how he stuttered and how shaky his voice had become.
"Uhm, Mr. Russia, it's not that…. I don't like you. You're probably a good person, and I'm sure that…" but was then interrupted by the other man. His head had lolled forward and he clenched his fist. Roderich could almost feel the anger, or perhaps, it was frustration, emanate from the other nation as he stood by the window. He suddenly turned around, facing the glass and looking at all the snow.
"Do you know, Austria," he then began, speaking slowly, clearly preventing him from doing anything violent towards the things – or persons – in the room, "how I feel? How lonely I am? No one comes to visit me. I rarely see other faces than my sisters' or the Baltic States'. They are kind and helpful, sure, but just seeing the same faces again and again makes me feel lonely, somehow."
Roderich just stood where he had gotten up as he awoke. He didn't know what to say or do. He just looked at the Russian's back and the faucet pipe in his hand.
"You," he started again and abruptly turned towards the Austrian, who immediately took a few steps back. The look in Ivan's face was outright scary. His eyes didn't contain or emanate desire to kill or harm, nor did it show any sign of sudden or uncontrollable aggression that may be taken out on him, Roderich. But in his eyes was something he had never thought he would see in the slightly mentally ill person. There was grief, despair and a slightly gleam of frustration. "You have always been surrounded by many different persons. Germany, Prussia, Italy, Hungary, Spain, France, Switzerland and his sister."
"Now, "the Austrian said, trying to get some facts straight, "it's not like I invite them over. Except, maybe, for Elizabeta, but that is different. The others just come barging in and it's not like they're polite and consider how I feel about it! Prussia only comes to mock me, and…" but yet again, Russia interrupted him.
"When I was a child, I was left alone to take care of myself. I had no one to turn to, and no one would help me. My sisters were taken away from me. My only company was General Winter. Not that talkative. He was only with me for half a year at a time, and so, the other six months, I had to do everything myself, being alone and lost." His voice had lowered to no more than a blurry and hoarse tone, as if … as if he was on the verge of crying.
The Austrian had never in his life been prepared to experience this and he didn't know what he should do or what he should say. On one hand, he didn't like it when people felt depressed or sad – except if it was a certain, white-haired nation with red eyes and a horrible personality that had probably deserved it – and he always tried to cheer people up if they felt down. But on the other hand, he was afraid of Russia, even if he was somehow vulnerable and melancholy. It could, after all, turn to sudden anger and aggression which could result in violence, a thing Roderich wasn't a fan of.
He cleared this throat, reluctantly taking a step forward so he could see Russia's face. It was dark, gloomy and worrying, not at all childish as it used to be.
"I was alone, Roderich," he whispered, and the aristocrat was somewhat shocked to hear the other say his personal name. "Imagine it. Being in this house all alone. This enormous house, with all its rooms, dark corners, high ceiling. Have you any idea how lonely it is? How you end up feeling?" He abruptly stood up, and Roderich twitched at the sudden movement. Ivan's eyes were no more filled with sorrow, agony, despair or painful emotions. Now it was angry feelings that showed in them. Fury, hostility, aggression and hatred.
"People left me. They didn't want to have anything to do with me. I wasn't good enough. Or maybe, I was actually too good? What do you think?" he asked as he took two steps towards the Austrian, standing right in front of him, watching the aristocrat become truly anxious.
"Do people hate me? Do you? Disgust me? Do they want to forsake me? Do you? Do they want to leave me – again? Why won't people become with me? I'm the biggest, the most powerful in the world; I can make everything good again." Austria didn't know what to do; he just stood there and looked into the Russian's wild, furious eyes. They maintained eye contact for what seemed like an eternity, until Roderich couldn't take it anymore and averted his eyes.
The atmosphere in the room was very tense and somehow awkward. It was so thick you thought you could reach out a hand and take a handful of it. Anxiety and anger, hatred, frustration and yet something like understanding filled the room. As if the two nations had reached an understanding of each other. Finally, Roderich looked into Ivan's eyes and tried to figure out the feelings he could see in them. But he couldn't. Emotions appeared, showing for less than a second, then disappeared, making room for others. He couldn't tell what the other really felt. Maybe all humanly possible feelings at once? He looked as if though this was the truth.
Roderich stood in front of him, looking him directly in the eyes, still trying to sort out all of those emotions. Then, the Russian spoke. It was with a low and almost husky voice.
"I-I'll be off. Feel free to examine the house, except for the study. Put a foot in there without my permission, and I will personally transform you into a mushy pile of bones and muscles." The last sentence came out hard and brutal, and Austria knew that Russia was being himself again, sentimentality long gone and forgotten.
He then pushed the aristocrat down on the couch and rushed out of the room, leaving the other man completely confused over what has just happened. He just looked at the place the Russian had disappeared and whispered:
"Ivan… what… was that all about?"