Sorry the editing sucks. I don't care anymore. I just want this over and done with so I can get back to drawing. Enjoy! -wipes sweat- It's finally done!

Love

Despite Ivan's rationale of "there's nothing wrong with our relationship", Yao insisted that they paid a marriage counsellor to solve an essentially nonexistent problem.

According to Yao, it's just to sand off the rough edges, which Ivan promptly retorted that sexual tension was what made life worth living.

But, Yao pointed out that their tension was not sexual in the least, because after their heated arguments, not once did he think of letting Ivan fuck him senseless. He only wanted to sleep in the guest room and never have to see his face again.

Ivan, slightly indignant, informed that his inability to perform his sexual duties up to par was because he could never get a good night's sleep thanks to Yao's snoring.

"Well guess what? I've been with human teenagers that lasted longer!"

"I'd rather hear a goat being sacrificed than you getting off!"

They did make it up to the counsellor's office after stirring up a scene outside, screaming at each other at the top of their lungs and making the hospital personnel want to take cover from what seemed like an impending nuclear war. The counsellor (a tall, bespectacled middle-aged woman with a lazy eye) sat them down like children before her, and the first question she asked was, "So, are you two in love?"

Ivan and Yao fell quiet, looked at her for a while and back at each other. The clock ticked three, and right then, they found themselves in a fit of laughter for no apparent reason.

"Do I love him?" Ivan snorted, "You've got to be kidding me!"

Yao punched him in the arm while giggling himself. "Yeah, they gave her a phD so she could get paid big bucks to ask if the sky was blue... Come on, let's get outta here."

Shaking their heads, the couple got up and made way for the door, oblivious to the genuinely concerned look on the woman's face. They left and never came back, thank God. But, they did walk out of the room holding hands.

Manchuria

1945

Once strong, healthy limbs have paralyzed from the lack of credence, and for the past decade or so, isn't a single bone in Yao's body that hasn't been broken. Thankfully, his heart is still intact after being repeatedly torn out of his chest and thrown on the ground. But, like anything that has suffered the pains of perpetuation, it is tired.

There's nothing to do now, but wait for a resolution that may never come. Wherever this river carries him is his future. Besides, he has grown to like the feeling of floating. The sensation has become very dear to him. It ascertains his very existence now. He could be thrashing in the water for a chance at life, or lay here still as a wooden plank. Either way, Yao will be floating to his demise.

It's embarrassing to just be waiting here for a saviour, putting your fate in someone else's hands. But Yao can't help it. He will lay there, half-dead, until a pair of strong arms cares to pull him out. Lazily, he reaches a hand out to the sky for a butterfly to land upon his dirty, bleeding palm. It flutters its golden-yellow wings, and a split second later, they're crushed to dust. He cackles at the deed.

Looming over him now is a man who Yao knows all too well. Thankfully his torso is blocking the sun, which is beginning to sting his eyes.

"Look Yao, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Yao answers coldly, "no one forced you to be here."

"Is it really the time to be snappy?" Ivan scolds, the sudden caprice in his tone made Yao shiver. "Now, don't be stubborn with me. You know it doesn't work."

Yao sighs, and doesn't say anything as Ivan takes his hands, almost prying them open. "All right, out you come." He lifts up the other man's body, dripping with mud, and gingerly sets him upon the grass. "Now listen to what I have to say, and let me take care of you." He continues, sternly, brushing the bits of dirt out of Yao's hair.

Sinking into Ivan's embrace, and burying his face into his trench coat, Yao takes a lungful of his springtime scent. Yes, this is a man he could invest his faith in for the while. Of course, everyone will end up betraying him sooner or later.

"Damn it Yao, why were you so stupid? What were you thinking? I told you to stay safe, wait for me, and not be a hero fighting a losing battle! Don't you ever listen?"

Yao doesn't answer, and closes his eyes instead. Breath doesn't need to be wasted explaining the many things Ivan will never understand.

Ivan always gives the best hugs. I want him to hold me forever. He has the softest eyes, the kindest face... The child who used to cling onto me like a puppy, I have watched grow to a man from afar. He never gave up on me, that stubborn little thing. I just take him for granted sometimes, and almost feel like I don't deserve all that he's done for me.

"You think Kiku cares about you, just because you raised him? No, don't you understand, I'm the one who has loved you all along. It's all my fault, Yao. I should have made you mine ages ago."

Beneath his bold, strict voice of a sergeant, Yao can still hear a certain unmistakable tenderness in his words, to which he responds, slowly and clearly, "It's you, Ivan, it has always been you."

Ivan nods. "I promise, love, you don't have to fight anymore." He leans over and thrusts Yao into a long, desperate kiss. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

North Korea

Don't ever bring him up in conversation. Don't even mention his name in front of Ivan and Yao. Nowadays, he's nothing to them but a walking shadow of their inglorious past, or perhaps a mockery of their glorious one. If they could help it, Ivan and Yao wouldn't have anything to do with him.

Opium

1860

"Y-Yao! I can explain!"

No you can't. You have absolutely no excuses for what you've done to me. I have a scar to show for it, see? Not just one, but many.

Oh, look at you, reduced to a snivelling ball of nonsense, only because you're too frightened to face the truth.

"No! No! You're dead! You can't be here, ghosts don't exist!"

Fool! Just because you and your little friends have ripped me apart, drank my blood, and feasted on my flesh, you think that'll destroy me? No, I've had this happen to me multiple times before. I may not be invincible, but I'm infallible.

"You can't be alive, Yao... Your hands are so cold..."

Shh, don't speak, sweetie. You're ruining the fun.

Oh my, look at you, you're actually crying, the great Ivan Braginsky, whose dominion spans from one ocean to another, the dauntless force that if not enchained, could very well make Europe fall from the ground to oblivion.

Am I really that scary? Good.

But you know I don't exist though, right? You were on a trip, and I'm just a hallucination of that special someone you loved and hurt.

Your eyes, still a pale, innocent lavender, despite how much blood they've seen— I want to rip them out of your skull.

Your skin, white as lilies and soft as down— It will bleed from every pore.

Your formidable, god-like strength will topple, and I will make you beg at my feet for mercy like crippled wolf.

Sure, you can set me on fire, set this whole house on fire! I'll just haunt your mind instead.

Let's see you try to burn that too, my dear.

Pregnant

"Look Ivan, it's been a long day for me, I can't take anymore of your nonsense today. Besides, men can't get pregnant, it's biologically impossible! Now if you stopped drinking so much beer or eating so much junk food, then maybe that belly of yours would go down."

"No, I'm serious! I can feel something kicking, and I am able tell the difference between a live foetus and diarrhea, thank you very much."

Yao, being the skeptic that he was, just had to kneel down and put his ear upon the other man's belly, making poor ol' self-conscious-about-his-weight Ivan hate himself a little more.

"Wait, you're right... W-We're gonna be..."

"Yeah, yeah, we're going to be parents, and FOX News is probably going to dub our child as the Antichrist. What, with your "cunning greed", and my "ruthless cruelty", he'll definitely "do us proud and make millions cry in fear"! So, my dear Yao, now that I am carrying a supervillain inside of me, may I please please please have the night off from housework?"

Yao looked like he was about to cry. Tears of joy, of course. Ivan had just said the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

"Ivan Braginsky, honey, you can have my leg."

Queen

Here I find him sitting on an abandoned throne, his robes singed and tattered, his hair dirty.

"It's over, Ivan," he says, wearing a cruel smile, "It's over for you too, thank God... It's sad isn't it? Hundreds of years of history, done in a flash. I can feel it in your heart, you're also lamenting the loss, just like me."

I ignore his crass remark, and instead press a strand of his coal-black hair against my lips. Maybe someday, he'll return to the warm, kind-hearted person I fell in love with. Time will heal all wounds, and I just have to keep faith.

"Imperialism. You miss it, don't you?" He continues, looking up hopelessly at the damp, cracked ceiling of his palace, "The grandeur, the dances, it feels entirely like a dream we've descended from, and now, we're back on the ground, back to where we had started. The rain, the soil, it disgusts me."

I carefully lay my head upon his lap, and take a deep breath. He smells like sweat and shame. I reach for his hand, and see that his fingers have become raw from hard labour. I kiss it anyways and say, "It doesn't matter, Yao. You'll always be my queen."

Regret

One day, Ivan asked, "Yao, do you ever regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"You know, everything. The pain and suffering you caused to these people, the millions of lives that were lost because of you."

Yao's face fell. "Will regret turn back time and undo what I did?"

"Well no, but—"

"Then regretting would just be an empty gesture, and therefore, a waste of time. People die, Ivan, it's a fact. The sooner you get over it, the happier you'll be."

Ivan didn't know how to respond, or whether he should at all.

"You know," he admitted finally, looking away, "Sometimes, the things you say make me fear for my life."

"Well, good."

Ivan's question kept Yao preoccupied for a while, but it didn't take long for him to remember the once in his life when he truly regretted something he had done.

A few decades ago, after Ivan and Yao had both parted ways, Yao finally learned how to do needlework, something he had been pondering over for centuries. Not only was it to fix his own clothing, but also, to him, needlework was something you did for someone you loved. It required plenty of care and attention that Yao wouldn't invest for the sake of anyone else, and somehow, it helped to lessen the pain of missing that person day and night.

I'm sorry, Ivan. It's my fault. I shouldn't have said all those hurtful things, otherwise, we'd still be together...

During that period, whenever Yao wasn't busy "leaping forward" along with the rest of his people, and actually had free time, he sat in his room and made scarves, gloves, and other little items for when they would meet again. Because for a few hours each day, it felt like his dear Ivan was still right next to him, for him to kiss and hold.

But Ivan never got to see those items that Yao made, and he never would, because otherwise Yao would have admitted that he was capable of feeling regret.

Sand

There's nothing wrong with a bit of self-loathing once in a while—

I don't like it here in your country. It's too warm, and the sand on the beach gets in my boots. There are people running about, without having to bundle themselves up from the freezing cold. There's nothing to keep secret, nothing to hide. They all seem to know each other, and therefore, can understand and work with each other. Your society is more likely to adapt to change, while I'm forced to live in the same old snowy hell that just won't get better, despite all of the promises the government makes. It's the damn cold that freezes your hearts, and takes the hope out of everything.

Yao turns and puts his hand upon Ivan's.

Maybe there's a bit too much fire where I live. People are becoming greedy and ambitious, and they forget about who they are. They sacrifice their happiness for the sake of money and power. They need to visit your country, and learn about living a simple life with your family and friends. It's cold up there, yes, but when people huddle together for warmth, it won't be that bad.

Telly

Ivan lifted his head up with great effort, just to see Yao standing over him with hands on his hips and tapping his foot.

Just as Yao opened up his mouth, Ivan knew exactly what he was going to say. He groaned inwardly. This was one of the few times when he regretted marrying Yao, who loved to nag more than food. Which was a lot, by the way.

"Ivan Braginsky, it's been days now, don't you think you should get up from the couch and move on with your life?"

Ivan, who decided that he really wasn't in the mood for this right now, buried his face into the first cushion he could find. As talented as Yao's mouth could be in bed, there unfortunately wasn't a mute button for it when needed.

"You know, you're supposed to meet your boss at the airport at six in the morning to fly to Islamabad, and it's midnight already!"

"Yao, I just don't understand..." He muffled, sobbing, "Why did they do this to me?"

Yao facepalmed. He gave up. He didn't know what to do with him anymore. Taking a seat next to Ivan, he turned to him and said, while trying to sound as comforting as possible without actually buying into this silliness, "Look Ivan, I know you're sad that Gossip Girl is over, but you can't just sit there and watch re-runs and cry for the rest of your life, right? It's about time you got your life back in order!"

Ivan sobbed even louder at the inconsiderate comment. He allowed his wet, sloppy face fall squarely onto Yao's shoulder, and let the liquids flow. Without thinking, he took the Chinese man's sleeve to blow his nose.

Yao looked like he was about to cry too, but for another reason. He tried his hardest to keep himself together, as his husband, a full-grown man, the embodiment of the great Russian Federation, cried his heart out over some stupid TV show designed for pubescent women.

"Oh... w-why c-can't our love be as -sniff- amazing as theirs?"

"I don't know, Ivan, I really don't..." Yao replied wearily, trying to combat the urge to slap him.

Suddenly, Ivan's phone rang from his pocket, and of course, the ringtone of which was set to the theme song of the American sitcom sensation. Yao rolled his eyes and took it from his pocket, and saw that it was Ivan's boss. Oh great.

"What do you want?!" He growled without thinking, and immediately regretted it.

An angrier, more frantic voice buzzed from the other side.

"Oh, sorry Mr. President, sir," Yao forced out an apology, not wanting to start anything over the phone, "But I don't think Ivan is be able to make it today."

Yao had to get the phone out of his ear so he wouldn't go deaf.

"Y-Yes sir, he, uh... he drowned himself in feels."

Unyielding

"Look, at these sunflowers, Yao, and tell me what you see." Ivan whispered into his ear, carefully lifting his gloved hand away from the other man's eyes, as Yao gasped at the pure, untainted beauty before him.

"I see... us."

"Yes, my little Bolshevik, we are just like them, and must reach for the sun or die trying, no matter how far away it is, no matter how impossible our dreams may seem at first."

Ivan was the truth, a message from the heavens above that Yao had accepted with open arms, for whom his heart hummed the grandest symphonies. Ivan was his strength, the hands that held him high, so he could soar into the clouds once more. To Yao, not only were Ivan's words a command, they were poetry.

Ivan was the king of the iron world. He represented progress, development, the bright future ahead, and Yao was so convinced that if he stayed by Ivan's side, Ivan would restore him to his former glory. The weakest, most battered souls were the easiest to touch, after all.

In these elysian fields, amidst the miles and miles of gold, Yao finally let slip three little words that Ivan, for hundreds of years, thought he'd never say.

I love you.

Victory

is not the reason why they do what they do. For Ivan and Yao, it's the journey that matters, not the destination. Even if they lost the game and were banished to the pits of hell, they'd just hold hands and laugh about it on the way.

Weird

Outside of work, Elizaveta Hedevary considers journalism (spying) as her favourite hobby, and is the co-founder of People's Magazine— The Nations Edition alongside Honda Kiku, who has the writing and photography skills to pair with her hungry curiosity about the latest, freshest, juiciest gossip of the personal lives of the nation-tans.

This week, they are working on the long anticipated piece about Ivan and Yao, the so-called "Brangelina" of their social circle. The following is a snippet of the interview—

EH: So, first of all, I would like to thank you for taking your time to sit with us today.

WY: You're welcome, we're glad to be in the studio.

EH: So, how are you two doing?

IB: We're doing well. Could be better if we got over this quicker though. We're both very busy people, you think we have the time for this stupid nonsense?!

WY: -laughs- Don't mind him, Ivan is just grumpy because I accidentally made him decaf this morning.

EH: Oh, okay! That's perfectly understandable! Well, to start things off, let me ask you a few questions about your current relationship. Let's see here... So, it's a general agreement among the rest of us that you two are somewhat of a... you know, weird couple, to put it delicately. We don't even know how you two went from neighbors to friends, and eventually hooked up. Do you mind sharing that story with us today?

IB: Well what's important is that we're together now. Otherwise it's none of their business, okay? Geez, it's not like us to be telling others about these kinds of things. If people say they don't understand the relationship between me and Yao, then they weren't meant to in the first place!

EH: Nono, I'm not trying to offend, but it's what some people think though, myself not included of course... You two are very different people, from separate backgrounds and cultures with values that may not always agree with each other. Some critics say that this relationship won't last very long. How do you respond that then?

WY: -holds hands with IB- We just enjoy the time we have together, and not worry about anything else. I know Ivan better than anyone, and that's how Ivan knows me. We still have many challenges ahead, but we work together to overcome them. It's not like you can sit around and expect a successful marriage to fall out of the sky. It's hard work!

EH: Well of course. You get what you put in. Now, as we all know, you two have set an example for all other nation-tans to pursue love, no matter how hard it is for us. What advice do you have for the many people who look up to your relationship?

WY: Some people love us because they admire what we are destined to achieve, like the whole rumour about the "New World Order" that we're supposed to be establishing. But come on people, we cannot possibly account for it completely. We will try our best to achieve our goals, because that's all we can do. But don't count on anything.

IB: Yeah, and if you truly want to be with someone, then go for it. Don't be a coward and not tell them how you feel just because you're afraid of rejection. Don't do what my one colleague does either, sit alone in front of a computer and invent a website where he and the teenagers in his country can complain about their hopeless love-lives without actually fixing the damn problem!

Ex

Once, when the topic of exes came up, Yao admitted that he could not possibly remember all of the lovers he'd ever been with his whole life. Ivan began to wonder if one day, he'd be forgotten as well.

Yours

They're standing at the edge of the Earth.

Yes, the Earth has an edge now, two in fact. Humans have managed to split the damn thing in half, and now Yao is on the one side, and Ivan is on the other.

They look at each other without saying anything. There's nothing to be said. They're surrounded in flames, listening to the sound of bombs being set off. Yao can see it clearly in Ivan's eyes that this was goodbye, and he believes it too.

"Great job we did, huh? Trying to make the world a better place, and ended up destroying it."

Count on Ivan to still make jokes during times like these.

Yao lets out a chuckle, which sounded more like a cough from all the smoke. "No, Ivan. The world will be a better place because of us. Sacrifices must be made for progress, and we just got the wrong end of the deal. We can't be together anymore, but at least planet Earth didn't explode to smithereens, right?"

Ivan smiles sadly. He reaches his hands out for his lover, but it's too late. Yao is already miles away, and drifting even further apart. All that he could grab were burning cinders, which turned black the moment they fell onto his hands. "So, I guess this is the end for us?"

"No, I'm still yours. I'll be forever yours. Don't you forget that. Wherever you are, I'll be right behind even if I seem far away."

But Ivan is already too far away to hear that. Overhead, against the backdrop of the last sunset mankind will ever see, Ivan watches as the image of Yao, his shining star, dwindle and fade into the night sky.

Zyklon

The air is filled with the heavy, oppressive scent of ammonia, sulfur, and in general, poisonous filth. They're both wearing gas masks, radiation suits, hard boots, and because only Yao would still have a sense of vanity at times like these, the last flower on Earth was tucked behind his ear as an ornament.

It'll take a long while before the poisonous gas subsides. But on the bright side, there are no countries anymore. They've all disappeared. The apocalypse has come and gone, and now, they're left to pick up the pieces. Ivan can feel his human heart beating in his chest, air in his lungs, blood running through his veins. It all feels very strange indeed. He's still learning about the different processes. A stomach growling means that he's hungry, and the condition of a sore bladder can be cured by relieving himself.

Ivan looks over to Yao, who's standing right next to him all this time, and shrugs. "I guess it's you and me now."

They've been to hell and back, and because they refused to let go of each other's hands, as the cycle of life rolled on, they were stuck together.

"Yao, isn't this great?" Ivan asks, as they stand before the unstately ruins of what used to be the Temple of Jerusalem, the borderline between this life and the next.

"What, this pile of crap that we're left with? Yeah, compared to how you used to keep your office desk, it's heavenly."

"But we can finally have what we've always wanted, a human life that has a beginning and an end. We can spend the rest of it together, free of any burdens. We can find a place of our own, and we'll grow old and die together, don't you w—"

They sealed their fate with an embrace, a long, passionate one, as if it had been a thousand years since they last felt each other's warmth.

And, that was that.

Fin.

I got sooo lazy at the end. :P This is the first and last time I will ever like a pairing enough to write alphabet drabbles. These get so damn tedious.

Please review anyways. I'm blind now. Going to bed. :D