A relationship between the two most powerful nations on the planet could never work out.
I dumped you again
I don't understand
It's happened before
Can't take it no more
One flip of his wrist, a few keys pressed, and he destroyed his equal's world again. How many times had it been this year? Every time it would be Ivan who ended it all, every time it would be Ivan who began it all again, and every time it would be Alfred who simply agreed and agreed again. These foolish games
Always end up in confusion
I'll take you back
Just to leave you once again
A twisted, sadistic little game between the two this was; it had begun midway through the Cold War and somehow survived to the present day. Neither man could tire of it, nor could either man possibly abandon it. The sin of pride had infected and consumed their hearts, along with it's equally devious sister; envy. Ivan had lived long and suffered hard, learning and failing and earning victories and status, whereas his counterpart had barely reached his middle age and was constantly living on the edge, persisting and pushing with the same ideology. The game was simple; who would fall first? A simple race to the end of time. I died in my dreams
What's that supposed to mean?
Got lost in the fire
I died in my dreams
Reaching out for your hand
My fatal desire
Somehow, picturing Alfred's death scrambled Ivan's heart. Sometimes the pride and the satisfaction of victory were outweighed by the sorrowful image; an entire continental midsection wiped blank. Sometimes it was the other way around. I've failed you again
'Cause I let you stay
I used to pretend
That I felt ok
He knew, in the small humane corner of his heart, that letting the game end at his expense was the right thing to do. He was older, supposed to be wiser and stronger, and yet he was childish. He could see the unnecessary pain he was inflicting upon the young nation, and while his humanity screamed in disgust, the sadistic majority of his confused heart was pleased. Majority wins; he'd always lived that way. Just one big lie
Such a perfect illusion
I made you mine
Just to hurt you once again
He prided himself on being, what he considered to be, Alfred's first real nemesis. He tried to block Kiku's existence from his world when he thought along these lines; Kiku had been no real threat. A small island country, even with his military strength and intelligence, could never have stood a chance against Alfred, even without the atomic bombs. No, Ivan was Alfred's first. First nemesis, first in bed…what was the difference anyway? I died in my dreams
What's that supposed to mean?
Got lost in the fire
I died in my dreams
Reaching out for your hand
My fatal desire
Hurting Alfred was both the first and last thing Ivan ever wanted to do. Ignoring England's loathing, Kiku's suspicions, Belarus' wrath, and China's disappointment, he fought simply to keep the game going. To make Alfred bleed, to break his heart time and time again, to beat him senseless at every chance, only to turn around and hold him close, to warm his body and kiss him softly. This was Ivan's reason for being. This was his love. This was his hate. This was his game.
This was his Alfred.