Farewell 1991

Wang Yao could feel pain seeping into him, agony filling mind and body alike. The sting of betrayal showed itself in the form a huge slash over his spine. The wound was fresh and raw; but the pain it brought him could never equal what he felt after his own brother turned against him, cutting him down like a withered flower. Other scars made themselves known on his skin, some of them old and faded; some red and threating to reopen themselves.

He sighed hopelessly, burying his face into the sheets atop his mattress. He lay on his stomach, the pain brought by laying on his bleeding back too much for him to bear. He could still remember the feeling of cold steel slashing into him, tearing his skin as his younger sibling brought the wrath of his sword upon him. Yao had said nothing, merely staring up at the man that stood above him; his eyes as black as coal; his sword dripping with crimson liquid. Kiku turned, and had walked away. Just walked away from him, and Yao could hear his heart shattering into millions of tiny shards.

He felt helpless and alone, the other two major powers of the world he had come to associate with busy on other matters. If Alfred had contact with him, it was only to increase their trade relations further, to use him as always. Ivan was also occupied with the war he and Ludwig fought, only associating with him to belittle his ideas of government.

Yao felt like crying, but he knew that his tears were dry and gone. The betrayal and loneliness he felt covered him like a cloud of toxic black smog, filling his lungs to the point where it was hard to breathe. He got up, his body dripping with what felt like burning ice; making the February air even colder. The room was dark, the only light being that of the moon shining through the closed curtains. He cursed the object in the sky; bringing in light when he wanted darkness, making his wounds burn with memories of his brother. Good memories, ones from back when Kiku had been a loyal sibling.

He left the dark room, wincing as the light of the outside hallway hit his red eyes. He walked across the wooden floor, the only noise being that of his bare fit hitting the hard surface as he walked. His steps were slow and unsteady; his legs steadily carrying him to where he needed to go. Every few moments he would tense, pain stabbing him somewhere within his body.

Finally, he made it into the kitchen. He stumbled over to open one of the cupboards, retrieving a shining glass from inside. He closed the door, hearing the soft noise of wood colliding. He turned on the tap, fresh water falling from the faucet. He filled his glass, holding it up to his lips. His fingers were shaking, threating to lose their hold as he drank. He sat the container down, giving a loud sigh. The water did nothing to ease the feeling encasing him; instead causing his stomach to feel heavy and bloated.

Yao groaned, leaning over onto the counter. His head was pounding, and sweat was still dripping into the angry slash on his back; making it sting. He panted like a dog, long black hair clouding parts of his vision. He straightened himself, making wobbly steps for the toilet. His stomach was going wild, and he cursed himself for drinking that water moments before. He was dry heaving by the time he turned the bathroom door handle; nearly collapsing in front of the toilet. Just in time, his stomach turned and sent itself flying up and out of his throat.

He emptied himself, his mouth burning with the taste of acidic vomit. His breathing was deep and labored as he lifted his head up. Supporting himself on the toilet lid, he stood. He pushed the silver handle down with trembling fingers; the sound of the rushing water like thunder in his ears.

He silently made his way back to his room; panting like a worn out animal. He collapsed onto his bed, not bothering to cover himself as he closed his eyes. The sheets below him were cold with sweat, sticking to his skin like thick honey. He fought viciously for sleep; trying to tackle the pain that wracked his lithe form. He finally crawled to victory; losing consciousness. He fell into slumber, his unconscious mind wracked with nightmares.

…

The next morning Wang Yao awoke to piercing sunlight; gasping as the rays of light hit his eyes. His head was still sore; accompanying the dull throb of his back. He froze. His curtains were open, and he was certain he wouldn't have bothered to open them in the state he was in last night. He could smell hot tea; wafting from behind him. Turning his head slowly; he met a pair of violet eyes.

Ivan was sitting in a chair beside him quietly; sipping from a hot cup of tea. Yao stared at him, amber eyes wide open in shock. The giant man smiled at him, as if he hadn't just been watching Yao sleep for who knows how long.

"Dobroye utro." The blonde said, greeting him in his own language. He sat his tea in his lap, letting it sit between two huge thighs. Yao tried lifting himself, attempting to look like the dignified nation he was, only to fall back onto the bed.

"Ivan… What are you doing here?" He asked; voice shaking. Damnit, he must have been the most pathetic thing the Russian had ever seen. "How long have you been watching me?" He questioned the larger nation.

"You knew I was coming didn't you?" The Russian replied. "You invited me over last week, da?" He questioned the Asian man in return, moving again to sip at his hot tea. Yao searched his brain, faintly recalling the event.

"I suppose I did… But you weren't supposed to be here until the middle of the afternoon." Yao told him. He managed to position himself in a way that it was easy to talk to the other nation without straining his neck. "And I'll ask you again, how long have you been watching me?"

"I came when you asked me to." Ivan told him. "You were just asleep. I didn't want to wake you. I made myself tea and lunch, but you still didn't wake up. After that I went exploring, but then I got bored and came here." The Russian said, almost sounding like a curious child who had gotten tired after a lack of discovery. "I think it's been ten minutes. Not much more than that."

Yao's eyebrow twitched. Not only had Ivan come into his home-and his room- without permission; he had gone snooping around the place with that big nose of his.

"Just who do you think you are?" The Asian nearly hissed. "You can't just invade my home like this! It's disturbing, especially when you tell me that you've been sneaking around while I was asleep." He told the other man, who took the last gulp of his tea. The blonde smiled again. That smile that he seemed to constantly hide behind; serving as a friendly mask to anyone that looked upon him.

"I'm the man you invited into your home. I only looked around, I wouldn't tell you if I had been 'sneaking'." The Russian told him, frost lacing his voice. "You are hurt, da?" He asked. Yao could feel a burning sensation over his wound as the other asked him.

"You know I am. Even a blind man could tell when I'm in this state." Yao replied. He looked away, ebony hair falling over his shoulders. "This war with Japan is tearing me apart." He admitted in a near whisper. The smile slipped from Ivan's face.

"I see. You got that wound on you back from him, da?" The giant continued to question Yao. The Asian nodded in a silent yes. The Russian let his false smile creep across his face once more. "It hurt, being betrayed by you own little brother." He stated, not in a question; but as a fact.

Yao sent a look of fire in his direction. How dare he tease him like that! "Get out. I don't want to talk to you anymore." He said, dismissing the other man. The giant didn't move. Yao's anger flared. "Are you deaf? I told you to leave!" He snapped at the Russian. He let out a strangled gasp; an electric bolt of pain shooting across the red of his back.

As Yao lay panting with pain, Ivan stood. Turning his back; he left. The Asian nation gritted his teeth together; his wound throbbing painfully. He fisted the sheets, curling himself into a ball on his side. He could feel the wound reopen itself, dripping down his spine and onto the bed. There must have been a battle of some sort going on for it to hurt this bad, he thought. He cried out once more; his eyes snapping shut.

He didn't hear the door click open over the sound of his heart drumming away in his ears; nor did he notice heavy footsteps coming towards him. When he opened his eyes again, his breath shallow and shaking, he met Ivan's gaze once more. He hadn't left; only searching for and retrieving a first aid kit.

"I told you… to leave!" China barely made out through his ragged breathing. He was pathetic, being seen in so weak a state. His breath hitched in his throat, a wave of burning pain overcoming his spine as the wound opened itself even farther apart.

"I'm going to help." Ivan told him, pulling out a roll of white bandages. Yao looked away, gritting his teeth together so hard that it added to the pain in his flesh.

"You know it won't do anything." The Asian nation said through agonized gasps. The Russian unraveled the cloth, holding it out.

"But I can always try, da?" He said, stretching the white strip. Yao hesitated for a second, and sighed. He tried sitting up, but he fell back with a loud hiss. He looked away in embarrassment as the other nation lifted him into a sitting position. Yao could feel blood trickling down the vertebrae of his spine to his tailbone.

Yao immediately knew that Ivan had no idea had to properly wrap a bandage. But he supposed that in this situation it didn't matter; seeing as the condition of the wound was controlled by the battlefield. The larger nation did try however, wrapping the cloth around him so it was just tight enough. Yao felt a little relieved, at least to the point where he wasn't doubled over in agony. He could feel the bandages sticking to him; and he knew that the blood had probably gone and soaked through his wrappings.

"How does it feel?" Ivan asked him, making sure that everything was placed correctly. He closed the first aid kit with a soft click.

"It's better." The Asian replied, his breathing more stable now; but not fully calmed. Waves of pain continued to wash over him, but they were slow and dull; not like bolts of vicious electricity as they had been before. The two sat in silence for a few moments, Yao's shuddering breath the only noise in the room. He turned his head, his unbound hair falling in ebony tresses over his shoulder.

"You should have just left." He said. "I don't need your help. I've gone through much worse than this on my own." He told the nation across from him. Russia kept that emotionless smile plastered on his lips.

"We are friends now, da?" The Russian inquired. Yao gave him a look.

"It will take more than something like this for me to call someone like you my friend." He told him. He watched with curiosity as Ivan's hand sank into his huge coat pocket; searching around for something inside. The larger nation pulled out what seemed to be a packet of paper; rolled up so it would fit inside his pocket. He held it up before Yao's eyes. Some of it was in his own language; some in Russian.

"That's not what it says right here." He told the Asian. On the front page written in black ink letters was; 'Sino-Soviet alliance of friendship'. Yao's jaw dropped. He grabbed the paper from the other nation's grasp, flipping through the white pages of the document. He only bothered to read the signatures at the end however. Sure enough, there were two signatures at the bottom. One was the name of Ivan's boss; the other Yao's.

"They can't do this!" He exclaimed in disbelief. "They should always get a nation's consent before signing, let alone creating a thing like this." He said. He had never even heard a thing like this mentioned in front of him.

"But they have." Ivan told him. "In the end, it is all up to them what happens to us; whether we agree with it or not." He said; and Yao knew it was the truth. Manipulation by your ruler was a normal part of any nation's life; at some point or another. He had experienced things like this more than once over his many years. But, that still didn't mean that it was the right thing for the leader of a nation to do.

Ivan stood, his tall figure looming over the Asian nation. "Come with me." He commanded. He grabbed Yao, helping him stand. Once he had his balance the giant man walked out of the door, turning into the outside hallway.

Yao hesitated for a moment. Ivan was acting very strange. Well, stranger than he normally did that is. But the smaller nation followed, silently shadowing Ivan as he led him through the house and to the door. Yao pulled on his coat; not wishing to step into the cold air with nothing to cover his torso. Outside snow was slowly falling to the ground, blanketing the earth in a white sheet. Ivan walked out a bit further, stopping at what seemed like a random point. He looked up at the sky; the sun hidden behind white clouds.

"The snow is beautiful, even at your house." He said, a far-away look in his eyes. He stayed like that for a moment, Yao watching him stare motionlessly at the grey sky. Ivan turned, looking down at the smaller nation. He stretched his hand out, his gloved palm open. His long white scarf billowed in the cold breeze that blew past them; carrying flurries of snow with it.

"Will you follow me, little Bolshevik?" He asked him. Yao was taken aback; in part by the question itself, and by the name the other nation had used for him. He looked up into the violet eyes of the other nation; seeing the cold grin on his lips. Ivan motioned his hand a little bit, silently asking the Asian nation to accept. Yao hesitated.

Slowly, silently, he took his hand.

Dratini here! This is my first serious hetalia fic; based off of the MAD 'farewell 1991' on youtube. I'm adding more though; so this will be Russia and China's relationship from the signing of the alliance until December 1991. And remember- the more you guys review, the faster I update! So even if you hated it don't hesitate to tell me! Thanks for reading 3