" Russia can't pretend to be happy anymore. He just...can't. Now, he is about to show the nations who he really is...the hard way. Listening to his insane concious, Russia is going even more uncontrollable. And now, nations are starting to disappear. How is the newly enhanced Russia involved? Can the remaining nations figure out what's going on before they become victims as well? "
So, you guys! My first ever story here on ! 8D I am so excited, I worked very hard, but...now that I compare the number of words to other Hetalia fanfics, I feel sad. OTL;; But DON'T WORRY! This story is going to last a LOOONG time, and I promise to write more elaborate chapters.
So for this chapter, I put some emotion into it, even though it's short. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING OF RUSSIA'S ANGST! Teehee. And Let me tell you, it's going to get even worse... I feel kinda bad. D:
Sorry for any OOCness and such. Review as you will, I need all the help I can get. Enjoy!
I.
Can't.
Go.
On.
I've been holding it in for - how long?- I cannot remember. I just want someone to know. But if I tell them personally, I will be admitting to weakness. So how about I explain it a different way?
"The nature of anguish is translated into different forms."
- Franz Kline
Another cutesy, ordinary day. Seeing the smiles and quarrels of the Allied Forces was the only thing Russia saw anymore. Of course, he never really participated in their nonsense. He just sat there, with that same old sugar-coated smile on his round baby face. America, France, China, England...Such cute countries. In Russia's eyes, they did nothing else besides being "cute" and "comical". Even though Russia was thinking to himself, he could hear everything around him. England's arguing voice, America's loud, arrogant yelling, China's constant "-aru's", and sometimes even France's perverted "squee's".
But Russia knew for sure...
That none of them...
Nobody...
could hear his thoughts. Really, Russia's thoughts are the most audible thing to him. But to everyone else, they didn't hear anything.
And in Russia's mind,
everybody is selfish. Always running away from his large, well-built body, worrying for their own damn lives. Had they ever really known Russia? He had never done anything...or atleast that's what he thought. They only think about themselves, even though they've really never known Russia. But why..?
Russia.
Ivan Braginski.
Only known for those names. But Russia wants to be known even more...not just for his cute smiles...not for "Russia" or "Ivan Braginski", but...something else. Something...else. But what?
He was about to go into deep thoughts, until he felt a shove. A shove that knocked over his tall, great body.
"Ah!" Russia breathed, when he hit the ground. What the hell? He looked up to see the arrogant nation of America, Alfred Jones, staring down at him with sorry eyes.
"I'm sorry, Russia! ENGLAND here just happened to knock me over, and made me hit you!" America half-apologized. There was spite in his words directed toward England. England folded his arms childishly. "Says you." England said. He was looking away, at the wall. Did he not want to look at America? Or the fearfully anticipated outburst of the awesome Russia..? Either way, Ivan felt anger inside of him. But like every day, he was prepared to hold it in.
But something was wrong.
For some reason.
Ivan wanted to kill.
Alfred Jones.
He didn't want to hold it in.
His secretly kept psycho-path side wanted to unleash right on Alfred's pretty little face.
He knew it was a mistake.
But something within Ivan ignored that thought.
Russia grit his teeth, growling low. He slowly stood up, his boots stomping twice as he did so. Towering over the young and prosperous America, he looked down at him with a slightly cold expression. Not anything extremely dark, but enough to send someone with common sense packing.
America's face turned worried. "Russia? I-I...Are you okay?" he asked, his voice also filled with fear. Russia just stood there, giving America that face. He hardly breathed, nor did he give any signs of moving. America arched an eyebrow in worry. "Russia, I'm sorry, don't stare like that..." the American laughed nervously, stepping back. China, England, and France did so as well. It seemed even a small sign of anger sent any nation into panic.
That thought made Russia...sad.
A part inside of him...did not want to be feared.
It made people respect him, but it also made him...
Unloved.
That word echoed through Russia's head like a guitar pluck.
Unloved.
Unloved.
Unloved.
PLEASE STOP!
The corner of Russia's lip began to twitch with displeasure. He slowly sat down, and rested his head on his arms on the table. Strands of hair fell on to his arms. He did not move after this, and stayed quite awhile until a nation spoke.
"Russia, aru..?" China spoke with curiousity in his voice. Russia did not reply. Even though he seemed quite sad, he did not cry.
Not now.
It had been a very hard for the remainder of the meeting. Everybody was talking in muted whispers, except Russia. He just sat there. America's whisper was the loudest. And because of that, you could hear him very clearly. They weren't talking about Russia, but things about...god, who cares. All Russia wanted to do was go home, and have a good drink of vodka. If only England and America weren't screwing around, none of this would have ever happened. Russia would not be feeling this low. He...really just wanted to return home...
After a few moments, Russia's head rose, smiling innocently. The others looked at him.
"Russia, I'm so--" America's apology didn't finish, for the Russian had stopped him with a nod. "It's fine. I overreacted to a mistake." Ivan admitted, smiling a bit wider. The other nations were still slightly scared, so out of instinct, they all smiled back nervously.
Russia didn't like this.
He just felt even more pain build up.
More pretending, pretending, pretending...
He must stop pretending...and show his fellow nations who he REALLY is...
Oh yes...