Ivan liked to say to say he was a simple man. He owned a small flower shop; his favorite of course was the sunflower, he enjoyed sunsets, and winters. He enjoyed the children down the street's laughter, he enjoyed the way the neighbor always went out his way to greet him every day, he enjoyed life.

But simple was such a loose word. Simple was not a word to describe Ivan.

Not when he shot heads, or broke necks, or slit throats of so many.

Flower shop keeper by day and assassin occasionally, it of course paid well and help keep his beloved, failing- flower shop still in business and he was perfect for the job.

Never any remorse.

Though Ivan's memory wasn't always the best and he couldn't probably name every person he ever killed, or what they looked like, or how many of them begged for mercy. Ivan still remembers the day that man with golden hair and sparkling blue eyes walked in, flowers for his mother on mother's day or for her birthday, then it was for his mother who was in the hospital. Later, flowers for his mother who didn't make it- flowers for his mother who didn't make it to fifty. Ivan wanted to tell him he was sorry for her loss, but the words felt like mush in his mouth.

By and by Ivan had learned the man's name was Alfred and that he loved fast food, he was a video game fanatic, and loved coffee. He learned he had a younger brother who was in college- a linguistics major, he learned that even though Alfred and Matthew were mistaken for each other they were definitely not the same person. He learned that while Alfred's brother Matthew was quiet, Alfred was like a series of fireworks, loud, dramatic, sometimes even scary, but beautiful.

Alfred was so beautiful.

Maybe that's why Ivan found Alfred sometimes scary, not because actually was- Alfred couldn't even hurt a fly, but because he loved him. He loved Alfred so fiercely, and love was a scary thing.

With Alfred days passed quickly, and all those days added up, two years, seven months, and thirteen days. Ivan still couldn't get him out of his head, even though Alfred was his to hold and to kiss, Ivan couldn't ever stop thinking of him.

In those two years, seven months and thirteen days Ivan's flower shop still in business, yet he never told Alfred how. Probably never would. It wasn't like it was a forever thing, it was just every now and then. Ivan also finished them off quickly so Alfred never got suspicious.

Maybe it was better that way, maybe it was worst. Ivan couldn't tell, these kind of things blended together all the time. Good and bad. Right and wrong. Better and worse.

He couldn't remember if love was good or bad either, but when he looked at Alfred, he decided it was a good thing.

Kills came more frequently, which was good. More money. He decided killing was a good thing also.

Did that make killing your love double good, or did they cancel out and leave it neutral.

Then why did it hurt so bad?

He stroked Alfred's face while he slept. Alfred smiled lightly and Ivan tried to smile too, but it didn't stay. Who did Alfred piss off to end up on Ivan's list?

"I'm sorry sunflower," Ivan whispered, letting go of Alfred's cheek and pulling out his gun. "I am so, so sorry," A tear slipped down his face as he pulled the trigger.


I hope you all enjoyed this little short one shot, this was a request on my blog Hetalia-Angst. I have a list of prompts you can send me a ship and a prompt if you would like!

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