Chapter 1: The Symbols That Spell Ivan

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Everything was blue
His pills, his hands, his jeans
And now I'm covered in the colors
Pulled apart at the seams
And it's blue
And it's blue

Everything is grey
His hair, his smoke, his dreams
And now he's so devoid of color
He don't know what it means
And he's blue
And he's blue

~Colors, Halsey

Everyone is born seeing in greyscale with a name printed on their wrist and hopes planted in their minds. Hopes of falling into their soul mates arms, of an epic romance and beautiful love, and just general greatness. All you had to do was look into their eyes and boom! The world lights up in some magical light and the name on your wrist burns a bit and glows majestically and the next thing you know your set for life. For some who met their soul mates at a younger age, they didn't have to worry about middle school crushes or high school relationships. I mean, when a person is literally hand crafted by the universe for you, why would you need anyone else?

In Alfred's opinion it was all bullshit.

When he was younger he didn't notice the differences between the name on his wrist and those on the other kids. He didn't notice his parents concerned talks or the teachers worried glances. In his homeroom, where all the kids classes took place, they didn't have the chance to meet the other kids. It was deemed unsafe to meet your soul mate before the 8th grade, so for the children who had theirs in the same school they were kept apart until then by the teachers and parents. Once the first day of 8th grade came, though, a surprising amount of kids met the person they'd spend the rest of their life with. Alfred never asked his parents unlike the other kids, he just knew his soul mate was in another class with nothing but a door separating them. That's how his parents were, after all. They met the last year of middle school when the classes were merged and, by the time they were both through with college, Alfred's mom was with child and his father was on his way to becoming a doctor.

Of course that's how it would be for Alfred too. He just knew his fairytale would come true and he'd meet the girl of his dreams.

However, when fourteen year old Alfred rushed into school that morning and ran around amongst the flurry of kids, he felt and sinking feeling in his gut. As a hundred boys and girls passed each other, trying to get a good look at every single person before their classes began, he knew his hopes would be dashed. As some couples embraced, happy and relieved to find their fated one, others were left disappointed but still hopeful. They had the rest of this year and then high school, after all. Maybe a transfer student would come, or maybe they'd meet their soul mate in college. There were so many opportunities and they were willing to wait with hope in their hearts.

As he sat in his classes though, the American teen noticed something that put a wrench in his gut. Every other name on every other kids wrist was written in English. Plain, simple English letters that varied in size and boldness depending on who had met their soul mate at that point, but they were all English. Arthur had the name Francis printed on his wrist, and he had met the boy with Arthur printed on his wrists just minutes before. Matthew, Alfred's own twin, wasn't as lucky. The name Gilbert was scrawled across his wrist thinly, as he had yet to meet his chosen mate at that point. Feliciano was also unlucky, the mysterious man called Ludwig was not in their class either. At least, though, they could understand and pronounce the names inked into their bodies.

Alfred, though, had not one clue how to pronounce Иван. The strange symbols sat nicely on his wrist, a glaring beacon showing he was different.

That night, after he asked his mother and was generously reassured that he was in fact normal, an apprehensive Alfred decided to simply wait. His soul mate would come and he would join the world of color. He knew it.

As high school rolled around, many transfer students from other schools and even other countries poured in as some students left. Off to continue their journey in life, the tug in their gut telling them where to go. Alfred didn't have that tug, and he hope that meant it was because Иван was on his or her way to find him. That was not the case, though, as even when the Beilschmidt brothers transferred from Germany and swept Matthew and Feliciano off their feet, his mysterious partner was still missing. The four years dragged on and, by his senior year, he and sparse other students had yet to meet their mates. Only he and a few other boys and girls were left hanging, but at least they felt a tug in their abdomen that told them their love was waiting. Alfred had nothing.

Way back in his Freshman year he'd took Russian as his foreign language, as that's the language the name on his wrist was written in, and he knew the one he waited for was named Ivan. But he had no tug, no happy or sad feeling, no nothing. He was trapped in a world of grey with a foreign name on his wrist and by the time he graduated he was giving up hope.

The first day of college, Alfred wore a leather bracelet that covered the Russian name.

His parents had taken his to doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist, and they tried to fight the blatant truth that was being thrown in their face. Alfred felt nothing, no longing for his soul mate and no tug in his heart or abdomen, because his soul mate was dead. Dead, no longer breathing, ripped from Alfred's grasp before the American ever had a chance to get to know his. So Alfred mourned for a time, mourned for this mysterious Ivan who was made for him. Mourned for his lost unknown love. Mourned for his future that would never, could never, happen.

Eventually, though, he got angry. Angry at Ivan. Angry at whoever took Ivan away. Angry because he would never get that happy, fairytale ending. That bright light at the end of the tunnel. That joy and love and feeling of hope when his soul mate entered his world. He'd never experience the rush of color as the scenery around him lit up. He was angry at Ivan for whatever he did to get killed, he was angry at whoever had the gall to kill the Russian boy before he ever had a chance, and he was angry at the universe for playing one big fucking cosmic joke on him.

Because, to Alfred, soul mates were bullshit. Soul mates were the biggest piece of bullshit he'd ever heard of because didn't society say his happiness was guaranteed? That his future was filled his color and love and not black and white and bitterness and anger?

So Alfred wore a black leather bracelet around his wrist and no one asked the young man about it. After all, who would cover up their soul mark unless something horribly tragic had happened?

A/N: You all think I'm shitting with you and that Ivan is actually alive and waiting for Alfred and that Alfred is gonna be all happy and leap into his arms? Don't you?

Aw, you poor babies. Y'all got another thing coming.

Question of the Chapter: Am I going to be a heartless bitch? Is Ivan alive? Will Alfred love him if he IS alive?