A/N: Just a quick word that this is a re-uploaded version of my old fic. And yes, I will be finishing it, although it may take some time. I am rather busy. I hope to update weekly, if I can find the inspiration ;DLove you guys 3

This was not the first time that China had felt lonely. Nothing but steady ticking of the clock was there to assure him that time had not stopped, and left him behind. The house used to be so full, so wonderful, happy and full of life. But where did it all go? One by one they left him, taken away from him, his once happy family was ripped apart.

Those damned Europeans. Young nations these days, never respect their elders. They don't ever seem to understand the importance of calmness, tranquility, always out there to do outrageous things. Danger, excitement that's what they're after. They don't understand the bond of family…and the simple happiness that comes with it.

Yao is sitting alone at his desk, in his office, in the country he represents. The moonlight flows through the open window and gives everything a soft, blue glow. His hand moves through the papers, writing, folding, sealing. But his mind is elsewhere, drifting through the sea of consciousness, memories and emotions.

Only on nights like this does Yao let himself remember, of all those times long ago; where there was still family, despite the wars, the terror and uncertainty. On these nights, he drowns himself in these memories, but yet he knows not to live in the past.

The night is calm and welcoming, it understands and keeps his secrets and he knows he can trust it. Yao stares at the moon, or maybe it is the moon that is staring at him. His unconsciously folds paper in his hands, only when he finished does he realize what he as made, a paper crane. Yao remembers the time when he taught his siblings origami… Kiku… A single tear slides down his face.

My brother, what have you become?

World conferences. Where every nation rushes down the hallways to get to conference room, hoping to get a spot before some larger country takes it. Every nation but China. China walked slowly down the hallway, taking his time. Yao never got used to the rush of modern life, he was too old for that.

Yet he walks quicker than usual when it comes to these conferences. His family would be there; Japan, Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, all of them. The meeting would always be awkward, looking at each other, yet trying not to. But despite it being awkward, Yao always felt at peace. It would be the only place where he did feel at peace.

Yao's family seemed to be on strange terms right now, Kiku seemed to avoid his as much as possible, while Yong Soo attempted to grope him ever five seconds(keyword being attempted), Taiwan didn't seem to like him much anymore either, she was too obsessed with Kiku. And Hong Kong? Well, he was just… him. He never spoke much to the family now days. He never spoke to anyone much these days, England has affected his little Hong Kong.

Yao was so caught up in his own thoughts that he did not notice the steady line of paper falling out from his rather large folder until it was almost empty. With no-one to help him, Yao walked down the hallway picking up all the dropped papers. He had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

Picking up all the papers he had dropped has taken a good 30 minutes(since his back had conveniently decided to play up again). But, despite arriving halfway through the meeting, China did not think he missed anything important(unless you really consider Alfred's talk important).

However, he entire conference room was (conveniently) in chaos, another full-scale hamburger war in progress. China sighed, it was always like this when he arrived. There were bits of food flying everywhere, sticking to the ceiling, sliding down windows. Really, a food fight would be the last thing China wanted to get involved in. He just wishes that these nations would grow up.

America and England seem to be having a throw-off, and by the looks of it, it wasn't going to end anytime soon. France seem terrified at the prospect of to getting tomato sauce in his hair and was trying to melt into the wall next to him. North Italy was saying something about how food was good, and they should have pasta too(with pasta~ and pasta would be good~! How about pasta? Pasta?). Greece was completely oblivious to the whole thing and somehow managed to sleep during the whole thing, despite having bits of lettuce covered in mayonnaise sliding down his face. Russia was watching the scene with a rather amused smile on his face(he did not notice Belarus slowly making her way across the room). Korea was taking full advantage of the moment and owning as many country's breasts as possible(although when there was China, he gave up on everyone else).Spain and South Italy seemed to be-

"TAKE THAT YOU BLOODY GIT!"

The entire room turned in time to watch England throw a of hamburger at Alfred… which missed and hit China directly in the face. The room suddenly turned silent.

"Sorry China…"

No, China wouldn't mind, not at all

The day ended uneventfully, after England apologizing time after time. China really needed some sleep, his back was now really painful. He was beginning to wonder if his back was allergic to hamburgers... which was entirely possible.

China lays in his bed, comfortable and about to fall sleep. When suddenly, the doorbell rings...!#!%#$%#!#!$%%#%#!$!^!$#$#!$!%$^$#!%$#!%$#

One glare and the postman cringes, hands over the letter and backs away from China. As soon as he is far enough, he makes a run for it. China stands there, confused as to why the postman actually ran away from him. He just assumes it was his messy hair.

'This better be worth it.' China mutters under his breath as he opens the letter...!

#$!%!%!$#%#!%$#%#$!#

A hysterical giggle escaped from his smirking lips, as he once again brought down the pipe on his unfortunate victim's head. The room was painted a dark red; the diminishing sunlight giving it a hazy glow. Russia always got his way, no matter what.

If Lithuania was anything less than a nation, he probably would not even have survived the first blow, let alone the following blows. Blood was trickling down the cold plains of his face, slowly, slowly, dripping off his chin. Drip, drip, drip. The timeless rhythm of death. Toris' hands were caked with his own blood; he had long since stopped trying to defend himself. It was useless against the monstrous strength of the Russian.

Again and again he let this happen; anytime Russia felt like it. He could have, should have left many years ago, like Raivis and Eduard. But again and again he told himself not to flee, because under all the violence and harsh words, Toris understood Ivan. Being a nation was a great responsibility, it was not for the weak. But, the other children do not understand this; they do not understand the meaning of responsibility; they do not know the pressure of being the largest country on the earth.

For all these longs years Lithuania has stayed, always silent, obeying. Watching, observing and, whether he intentionally wanted to or not, caring for Russia. Who knew what would happen if the childish nation was left on his own?

But, Lithuania had had enough.

"Ivan… you are no child."

blood be red,

blood be red,

I will paint myself red,

with your blood

Lithuania had left, somewhere far, far over the rainbow.

Ivan was lying in his room, staring at the dark, open sky. Even the bright, glowing moon was not there to keep him company. There were countless glass bottles on the floor, mostly empty or shattered. He could not have been more alone, in the massive, chilly expanse he called home. Everyone had left him. One by one, they left, running, screaming, covered in their own blood, adorned with various injuries.

Ivan's sisters, whom he had loved dearly, and had been loved in return, had even left him. Ukraine of which he loved most, or so he thought, and the younger, and quite pretty, Belarus. That Ukraine was always so kind, so loving. That Ukraine had taken care of him through the years. That Ukraine had hid him from Belarus when she was on one of her marriage rants. And that very same Ukraine had run away, crying, screaming and begging god to make her life better.

"Why did I have to have a brother like you, Ivan?"

These were the words that haunted Ivan the most, spoken though the lips of his most beloved sister. 'She hates you', a little voice inside his mind repeats endlessly, 'she hates you'.

Ivan takes yet another swing from the bottle of clear liquid that he knows will make these pains go away.

"If only they had not tried to leave, then I would not have gotten angry, da?"

Ivan does not get why others do not understand his actions, his pain, his anger. After all, it's very simple, isn't it? People hurt him constantly, and yet think of it as nothing. Being a big, scary nation does not mean he has no feelings. In fact, it is completely the opposite. What he feels cannot be described using mere words. The million pinpricks of pain, heartache and war that he has had to suffer, built up over hundreds of years, has compounded into a constant thudding of pain. Pain, that would be equivilant to the torture of having every organ removed, including the skin, from a normal human's body; the anesthetic corrosive acid. But Russia is a big, strong nation. Yes, it had hurt, but he holds all his emotions back. Pleasent smiles make the world go around.

Ivan's head spins from the excessive alcohol mixed with raging emotions. He is tired, but as soon as his eyes are closed, the memories come flooding back. It was going to be a long night. For him, and many others.

He finally falls asleep, to dreams of better days. With sunflowers and a happy, smiling family there to greet him. The rare day where the sun is shining, the snow has melted, and blood is no where in sight…This is an illusion of happiness

Sunlight battled through the many gaps in the decaying curtains and bounced off the blood splattered walls. Russia was haphazardly sprawled across his large king-sized bed, a glass bottle unconciously clutched in his hand. Ivan woke to a soft knocking on the door. He laid there in a daze, unsure of why he woke up. His brain was still drowsy with sleep, so it took another 5 minutes to register the fact that there was something knocking at the door. A few minutes later, he realised that it was a person who came to see him.

Ivan got up quickly, almost falling over his own feet, and tossed the glass bottle onto the pile of its clones. Russia was always gifted with no hangover from the large amount of alcohol consumed the nights before. He ran down the stairs, hoping, wishing that is was Toris on the other side of the door. He opened the door with much enthusiasm, but was sorely disappointed with what he saw.

"A letter for Mr. Ivan Braginski." The postman said stiffly.

Ivan eyed the envelope with curiosity. Not many people sent him letters these days. There was a thing called the telephone in which you could magically hear other people on the other end. Ivan open the letter carefully, trying his best not rip the contents. However, when he finally managed to open up the piece of paper, he wished that he had ripped it… into thousands of little pieces. On it, written in blinding fluorescent colours was a delightful message from America.

YO RUSSIA!

WE'RE HAVING THIS SUPER COOL AWESOME PARTY FOR 'THE ALLIES' IN HAWAII(WHICH IS PART OF ME~) TODAY(BEACH PARTY BABYY~~)! YOU MUST COME AND JOIN ME IN ALL MY HEROICNESS! (and the others, but who cares about them?). IT SHALL BE EPICNESS! (and if you do not come… I will declare nuclear war on you. :3).

LOTS OF LOOOOOOOVE (no, i don't actully love u, its just the sayin, u knoe?...anywayz, who would?),

ALFRED~~ XD

(P.S. BRING SOME SNOW TOO~! I WANNA HAVE A SNOWBALL FIGHT AT THE BEACH! YEAH~ AHAHAHAHAHA!)

Typical Alfred.