Hello there, Hetalia fandom! How are you guys doing on this fine summer day? I swear, this has been the coldest summer I, as a southern Californian, have ever experienced. What's with all the clouds? Better yet, what's with all the unbelievably cold rain? I bet the weather is PMSing or something.

But you didn't click that link for small-talk… I'm going to be totally psychic and predict that you came here for a story. Stories? On this website? Unthinkable.

I suppose I could give you a little something to read, then. This may just be a oneshot, or I might continue—I'm not sure. It's centered mainly on my favorite character, Russia, and is based on an interesting dream I had the other night. I would go on a rant about how awesome he is, but I hate long author's comments and that makes me a hypocrite. Yay me.

One thing to note: this takes place before Bloody Sunday. Enjoy!

EDIT: Whoops! For 45 minutes or so, I had the wrong story up (I went to correct a spelling error and posted up the wrong file by mistake). Special thanks goes to Kiki4ever for catching that! I'm glad it was caught and fixed early.

Prologue

A young Ivan was walking along the icy tundra, the snow and slush crunching beneath his thick boots. In spite of the terrible cold weather that was a staple of Russian winters, the boy hardly paid it any attention, aside from a small sniff of acknowledgment. He much preferred warm climates to cold ones, but was it his fault that his country was so far north? Ivan had been blamed for many things in the past, but he figured that some things he just couldn't help. He wasn't a magician.

After all, he had a purpose for wandering so far away from home and to the permafrost-covered, southeastern regions of his country. As much as he loved his older sister Ukraine and the recently-discovered baby Belarus, some things just needed to be done on his own. The fact that soft, glittering flakes of snow had begun to fall was a fortunate bonus. No one could hear him.

Perfect.

Noting the snow's graceful movements, Ivan watched it swirl down, bop up, and down again. Hesitantly, the youth crossed his arms over his chest, his scarf brushing against his sleeves, and he dropped into a half-crouch. With an upright torso and determination gleaming in his violet eyes, Ivan took a quick breath and rapidly kicked his right foot out.

Immediately imbalanced, Russia quickly tried to pull his foot back in, his body perilously shaking from the strain of retaining his position. With a cry, a thud, and a loud "oof," Ivan landed hard on his back in the snow.

I am most thankful that the snow is at least soft, the youth muttered in his head. Although he was smiling on the outside, trying to brush off that beginner's mistake, inside he sighed, Well… thirtieth time is the charm.

Bringing himself to his feet, Ivan tried to do that movement once again. In order to hopefully maintain his balance, he brought his foot out more slowly…

The pain was unbearable. Whimpering, Ivan drew it in even quicker than last time, causing him to fall over again.

Instead of getting up, Russia let out the breath he was unknowingly holding. His eyes traced the snowflakes as they skated in slow-motion to the ground. As much as he disliked the cold, Ivan could not help but find every unique crystal of snow to be a thing of beauty.

What am I doing wrong? He wondered, his mindset not quite as optimistic as before. This is impossible. I'll probably never get that move down.

The momentary frown that threatened to turn into outright tears disappeared when Ivan put on a paper-thin smile. He pounded a fist on the hard, somewhat soggy ground and thought, But then again, what have I got to lose? No one is here but me.

Standing up, Ivan came to the conclusion that harder moves such as those ought to be practiced after mastering more simple sets. With a deep breath to calm himself down, the young boy kicked his right foot forward and brushed it back. As he hit the front part of that foot on the ground, his left foot kicked forward and followed the same motion. Moving his arms in a jazzy fashion, Ivan quickly caught on to the rhythm and began to move faster as his accuracy improved, clapping his hands every second or two. Delighted, Ivan began to hum to a song his sister would sing whenever she went out to farm—an upbeat tune that filled Ivan's heart with joy and drive to pursue his dreams.

When he knew no one was watching, Ivan was a passionate dancer. He discovered his odd captivation in physical movements after seeing Ukraine move in time to songs she would play when she worked. It wasn't long before he wanted to try it on his own, but after some rather embarrassing failures at home, where his sisters could watch and laugh at him if he messed up, Russia came to the conclusion that this sort of thing was best practiced in solitude. After all, in his mind, to dance like no one's watching is to let your soul fly free.

Eventually, Ivan began to twirl and spin on the tips of his toes, dancing in circles with his hands in the air. Whenever he danced, Ivan felt he could truly be himself. Accidentally slipping on the snow only made Russia chuckle all the louder. Exhausted from the strain of exercising in cold weather, he gently sat down, giving the sky a genuine smile as he took deep breaths and hugged his scarf.

I think I'll try the next move again.

Nodding to himself, he sat up into his more-difficult position and tried to do the kick again. Several times he gave it a good effort, and all with the same result—losing balance and falling backwards into the snow. The more he tried, it seemed, the steadily unhappier he became. After fifteen falls, Ivan couldn't believe he hadn't made a permanent indentation into the ground yet.

Frustrated, Ivan stood up. One more try. C'mon, Braginski. You can do it. Growling slightly, Ivan gave the kick one more attempt…

…and collapsed on his side, landing heavily and gracelessly on his hand.

The crushing pain brought small tears to Ivan's eyes as he choked back a moan. He didn't try to get up, instead choosing to stay in the cold snow bed. What was the use? He couldn't do it. He would never be able to do it.

"Are you okay?"

Ivan practically choked on his spit at the sudden voice. Sitting up in the snow, he quickly turned his eyes to another boy that was coming out from hiding behind a few of the southern trees. He had unusually long, dark-brown hair that was tied to a ponytail in the back, and he was wearing a red and gold robe that appeared too big for him. His light-brown eyes met Ivan's purple ones, and immediately the young Russia felt heat being driven towards his cheeks. His heart pounded at the sight. In his young life, Ivan had never imagined a boy could look so… pretty.

Remembering that it was impolite to stare in company's presence, Ivan shook off his acute discomfiture and put on an awkward smile. "I-I am fine, da." Trying to ignore his embarrassment, he asked, "Who are you, exactly?"

The other boy gasped as if he had lost his manners, and he bowed quickly before Russia. "My apologies, aru. My name is China, but you can call me Yao. Yao Wang. Or Wang Yao, if you go by surname first." Yao looked a little ashamed as well. "Forgive me, aru, I did not mean to startle you."

What an interesting accent! So he is a country too? Ivan shakily stood to his feet, ignoring a minor pain in his left leg and the intense throbbing in his hand. "It's okay, da. It's just… I didn't expect anyone to be watching. How long were you standing there?"

"I… sort of followed you, aru," Yao confessed. "When I saw you walking here earlier, I mean. I guess I watched the whole thing," Ivan couldn't tell if Yao's cheeks were pink because of the cold or out of embarrassment at being caught. "I'm very sorry, aru. It was foolish to let my curiosity get the better of me. I will not follow you again."

Ivan just smiled at him and walked a little closer to Yao. The snow that was landing on his dark hair made it look as if it was bejeweled with glittering diamonds. Russia was tempted to tell him that he thought Yao was pretty, but decided against it. He did not know how other boys behaved, but if he were called pretty, Ivan would not have been too happy—and the last thing he wanted to do was upset this interesting outsider.

"You do not have to apologize so much," Ivan grinned, honesty shining in his eyes. "I wouldn't have done those things if I had known, da." Mimicking Yao's bow, Ivan said, "My official title is Russia, but if I am to call you Yao, then you may call me Ivan Braginski. The surname comes last here, da."

Yao nodded, his eyes softening slightly. China tentatively smiled, much to Ivan's comfort. In a whisper, he murmured, "It's a pleasure to meet you, aru. Say… what were you doing, exactly?"

Either his cheeks were unusually warm today, or Ivan had never felt more embarrassed in his entire life. Being caught dancing by this pretty stranger suddenly seemed a million times worse than being caught by either of his sisters. With a small smile and a blush, he scuffed his foot on the ground and hesitantly mumbled, "…Dancing… sort of. It's nothing, da. Just a hobby of mine."

"Really?" Yao gave Ivan a curious look, tilting his head. Oh, mercy, Ivan thought, he probably didn't think that looked like dancing at all. He might insult me. Or worse, laugh at me. The notion of someone as pretty as Yao laughing at him for his guilty pleasure hurt his little heart.

Instead, China beamed, "Wow, aru… you're amazing!"

Ivan practically fell backwards in surprise.

What?

What was that?

A compliment? On his dancing?

He must have been hearing things.

"W-what's amazing?" he burbled, trying to process what Yao had just said.

"Your dancing. It's amazing, aru! I wish I could dance as well as you!"

Russia smiled so hard he thought his jaw would break. "Da, you mean it?"

"If I didn't mean it," Yao chuckled, "I wouldn't have said it. I am not a natural liar, aru."

Ivan's smile fell a little. But… if he was here the whole time… he must have seen my failures. Aloud, he sighed, "My dancing is not amazing, da. I assume you saw me attempting to do the more difficult moves? That was when I fell… repeatedly…."

And painfully, he added in his head.

The boy smiled. "Perfection is not something you should strive for, aru. Nothing is perfect. You are the best dancer I have ever seen, aru," Yao smiled. He began to pace closer, so close that Ivan could very easily pull him into a hug. Circling him, Yao put a hand on each of Ivan's shoulders. The contact made Russia jump, his face redder than China's robe. He pushed down on Ivan a little bit, so that his knees were bent, but the sole of his foot remained on the ground. "I think you might have been kicking too low. If you practice from this more reasonable height, then it might make that move-set easier, aru. Give it a try."

Ivan hesitated as Yao circled to face him in the front. The Asian's glimmering brown eyes were so hopeful, expectant… Ivan couldn't stand to let him down. He had to try again, even if dancing in front of others was a scary thought. Taking in a sharp breath, Ivan crossed his arms over his upright torso and kicked his right foot out, bending down his other knee at the same time. To his surprise, when he pulled his foot back, he easily shifted to kicking his left foot in the same way.

Ivan blinked, tentatively continuing the new cycle. In moments, he had the movement locked in his memory. Beaming, he breathed, "I did it?"

Yao grinned, "Yes, aru! You're doing it right!"

Ivan had never felt more ecstatic. He eagerly began playing with this new move, tapping the back of his heels together between kicks, jumping around, moving forward and backward in time. Yao smiled. The dancing Russian's unfiltered excitement and pleasure was more than a little contagious.

Then, without warning, Ivan grabbed Yao's ungloved hand and pulled him into a new dance, taking slow, graceful long-steps around the surprised Asian. Twirling around, Ivan faced Yao, purple eyes meeting brown eyes, and he held out his hand again in question. Yao hesitated, but when he saw the innocent smile on Russia's face, something inside him began to cave. With a tiny nod and pink tinting his cheeks, Yao gently held Ivan's hand.

Grinning, Ivan pulled him in, holding Yao's hand in the air, and spun him around as if Yao were a girl. Before the confused China could ask what was going on, Russia grabbed his hand again and began to prance around in a circle. So as not to disappoint him, Yao complied and tried to copy Ivan's movements.

Neither of them shared a word as they danced together in the snow, no matter how enthusiastically or calmly they moved. With Yao's quick learning abilities, he soon found himself dancing in perfect time with Russia. In fluid motion the two of them moved, two parts of the same body, two halves of the same whole. Although there was no music to accompany them, if they listened hard enough, the boys could hear the other's heartbeat on their breath, the whistling wind in the trees, and the gentle snow twinkling on the ground.

They danced in eloquent silence.

The more the two of them danced together, the more Ivan felt oddly… attached to Yao. He didn't want to stop dancing. He wanted Yao to stay with him, to complete his dance forever.

No, Ivan corrected himself, it's not my dance anymore. It's our dance now.

"Ivan!"

At the female voice, the silence shattered, and the careful balance between Yao and Ivan shifted. When Ivan stopped to look in the direction of the call, Yao ceased his dancing too. Puzzled, China asked, "Who was that?"

"Ukraine, da. My big sister."

"Oh…" Yao sighed. His brown eyes were shimmering a little, and he began to sniffle. Before Ivan could ask what was wrong, China continued, "Does that mean you have to leave, aru?"

Ivan looked at the ground. He felt torn. He didn't want to leave Yao, but he couldn't leave his sister, either. Judging by the shadows stretching on the snow, it was getting close to sunset. Something clinched in his chest as he breathed, "Da… I must go."

Yao nodded, his expression unreadable. "I understand, aru. Goodbye, Ivan."

China turned around to leave, holding his hands together and trudging back to the south. Ivan watched him take a few steps. Something didn't feel right, as if Ivan were forgetting something… something important.

"W-wait!"

Yao snapped his head around, brown eyes wide with surprise. Ivan ran over to him, panting, and looked him directly in the eye.

He grinned. "Thanks for dancing with me, da."

With a smile threatening to break on Yao's face, he responded, "Thank you. It was… nice, dancing with you too, aru."

"Ivan! Where are you?"

"C-coming!" Ivan called over his shoulder. Even through the snow, he could see the faint silhouette of his sister looking for him. Turning back to Yao, he said, "Can I see you again sometime? I would love to dance with you more, da!"

"That would be nice, aru," Yao said. His eyes were still glittering with an almost damp quality to them. Ivan couldn't tell if Yao was crying or not.

"Da," Ivan whispered. When Yao turned around for the second time, Ivan began to walk towards Ukraine, who was still calling out for him to come. Even after all that, Ivan didn't feel like he did something he should have.

He stopped and bit his lip. Unable to take it anymore, he ran towards Yao and gave him a big hug from behind.

"Hhh—aru?"

Yao's rigidness vanished when he realized what was happening. Ivan could feel him going limp and uncertain in his arms. He didn't want Yao to go, but he had to let him leave. Stifling back tears, Russia whimpered, "Goodbye, Yao. I'll miss you, da."

"I… aru…."

"Ivan!"

At that moment, Ukraine appeared over the small hill and pulled Ivan away from Yao, hugging him as if he had come back from the dead. While Ivan choked in her grasp, Ukraine sobbed, "Where have you been, Ivan? Natalia and I have been so worried about you!"

Barely pausing to look at Yao, Ukraine grabbed Ivan's hand and started guiding him back towards their house. "What were you doing out here that took you so long? I spent the last half-hour trying to find you!"

"I was saying goodbye to a friend," Ivan answered, not letting his frustration show.

"That's nice, now let's go."

Ivan disapproved of Ukraine's unwillingness to listen to his answer even though she had asked him for one, but he decided not to frown at her. It must be a sister thing, he figured. As Ukraine took him down the hill, Ivan looked over his shoulder. Yao was watching him leave with sadness in his eyes, as if he didn't want their dancing to end either.

With a small smile, Ivan's purple eyes began to tear up again. "Do svidaniâ, Yao!" he called, "I'll see you again—I promise!"

As if being snapped out of his thoughts, Yao stuttered, waving, "Goodbye! I'll miss you, aru!"

I'll miss you too, comrade. Until we meet again.

And on that thought, Yao vanished from sight as the snow picked up, separating the two halves once more.

This story was maybe two or three times as long as I originally envisioned, but oh well—if you made it this far, then I hope you liked it!

I'm tentatively thinking of continuing this. Would you like to see more? If so, this would be probably the prologue for a story that takes place when Russia and China are older. It wouldn't be a terribly long fic, but I have a plot in mind. On the other hand, this piece works well as a oneshot, too.

Feedback is appreciated. Have a good day!