WARNING: ANOREXIA, DEPRESSION, MENTAL DISORDERS, BLOOD, AND SHITTY WRITING AHEAD
AN: Here's the next chapter, again, sorry it's so short, but it's better than nothing. I'm thinking about making this RusAme, but who the hell knows where it's going at this point? I certainly don't. Please Please Please leave me a response, they always make me smile, and considering how low and depressed I am at the moment, that's a whole fuckng lot. Sorry for any weird errors. Hope you enjoy.

Alfred was taking another shower, rubbing his sore head as the next to boiling water fell on his skeleton. It had been a week since the blonde had seen his older brother, but Alfred hadn't left the house, either too exhausted to move, or too fucking afraid. His supply of celery was gone, and there was nothing in the kitchen besides a small shaker of pepper. Alfred had rid himself of the salt because of his fear of sodium intake. The water pipes let out a small grunt, and Alfred immediately snapped into panic mode, thinking the sound would've been Arthur, getting into his house despite the high security and locked doors that'd been installed due to the nation's extreme paranoia. Alfred immediately flattened himself to the bathtub floor and turned off the water, hiding from whatever was in his house as if it would kill him. Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty as Al shakily decided the house was clear. He slowly stood and turned on the water, the pipes sounding again, causing the terrified blonde to immediately shut off the water and drop to the floor, silently sobbing as he curled up into a ball

The shower had ended two hours later, a montage of squeaking pipes, desperate sobbing, and knocking out from loss of food. Alfred was now up in his room, dressed in layer after layer of shirts and sweatpants, trying his best to stay warm under the clothes and a mountain of thick blankets. Dry tears in his eyes, the representation of America closed his eyes, quiet and depressed as he fell into a sluggish state, too exhausted to do anything. The cold seemed to come from inside him, and tormented Alfred's immobile body, icicles stabbing through his lungs and stomach, twisting at every corner and fading in and out. Dull then sharp, sharp then dull, sudden horrid stabs of pain through the fog of sloth that had eclipsed Alfred's slowly dying mentality. The only thing keeping him from death was his immortality as a country. Anyone else would have starved at this point, but all Alfred could do was let out soft cries and whimpers of sudden pain, sounding more and more desperate with each sound. Time was nothing anymore, and the pain and smog seemed to last forever before pulling the blonde into a deep sleep, nightmares reaching out to grasp Alfred's consciousness

"Do any of you know how to pick a lock?"
"Yes, but we have no tools."
"Francis, do you have a bobby pin or something?"
"No, we left too fast, I had no time for such vanities."
"God fucking damnit... Have we checked all the doors and windows?"
"All that we can reach."
"Alfred doesn't have a ladder in his yard?"
"No."
"How the hell are we supposed to get in then?!"
"I don't fucking know!"
Three of the four nations sat bickering over getting into the house, Arthur, Francis and a very frightened Kiku were all shouting, worrying the neighbours who wouldn't dare let their children outside to play. Then all three suddenly went silent as a loud crash sounded, and Ivan walked back outside the house, softly rubbing his shoulder from it's impact on the door. No alarms sounded, and the keypad at the door showed obvious signs of tampering, as well as the alarm.
"Did- Did you just?-"

Arthur stuttered, eyes wide.
"Knock down the door? Да. The alarms are disabled for the moment."
Ivan said, his monotone more serious and menacing than usual. After his words he immediately walked into the house, searching around and opening every door to see where Alfred's room was. The others slowly walked inside, Kiku picking the busted door up off the floor and leaning it against the doorframe to fix later. Heavy footsteps climbed up the stairs, as Ivan ascended to the next floor, desperate to find the missing nation.

"Arthur, over here!"
Francis called, kneeling next to one of many dark pools that stained the carpet, this one somewhat dry. The Englishman practically ran, and gasped softly when he saw what Francis was looking at, knowing they both had the same idea.
"Are- Are these-"
"Oui… It's-... It's blood. They're all blood."
Arthur teared up again, panicked by just how many fucking stains there were. He was soon hugged by Francis, who slowly rocked him back and forth in an attempt to calm the representation of England. Kiku just stood there, emotionally frozen at just how bad it was. He could tell, as there was nothing dirty in the house besides the consistent dark spots that stained nearly every surface. The furniture, tables, chairs, countertops, all over the carpet, and on just about every sharp corner in the house. Alfred's place was always dirty, and his kitchen, his kitchen was always full. Now there was nothing in the small room, nothing at all. The only things being pepper and crushed ice, and it was obvious the pepper was never used. Then there was a soft sob from upstairs that caught everyone's attention, as well as soft cries that sounded extremely painful to anyone's ears. Arthur, in his anxiety, tore himself from Francis's arms and dashed up the stairs, closely followed by everyone else.

In Alfred's room, Ivan was kneeling in the floor, the frail blonde in his arms, and held against his chest, shaking, whining and crying out in pain, not from being held, but from sheer starvation and exhaustion. Even after so many periods of starvation in his country, it had never been this bad. And Ivan, the biggest, toughest fucking country in the entire world was sobbing. Fucking sobbing over Alfred as he held him, his strong arms shaking softly as tears ran down his pale face. To the other three nations, it was one of the most shocking things they had ever seen, and everyone was frozen. Ivan never did anything but smile and speak in his indifferent monotone, his only emotions either menacing or happy, and to see him this emotional, this raw and broken at the sight of Alfred, was more than just a surprise. Francis was the first to move, taking a small step forward and reaching out.
"...Ivan-"
"NIET"

He growled, not loud, but deep, dark, and terrifying as he looked up at the blonde, tears still streaming down his angry and defensive face. It was like a bear mourning the loss of all it's cubs, and no one dared move, for fear of being maimed. Alfred let out another cry, this one quite pained, and Ivan immediately dropped the defensiveness, becoming soft as he looked back to the shaking nation and gently pet his bony face, soft Russian being sang to the blonde. Francis, Kiku, and Arthur stepped out of the room, leaving the two be.
"Has Ivan always been?-"
Kiku asked, a little confused until Arthur spoke up.
"He's been protective of Alfred even as a tiny little nation. Alfred doesn't remember it, but he used to play with Ivan all the time."
Francis continued, solemnly nodding.
"He has always been protective of Matthieu as well. When they both grew up, he distanced himself, but he's always checked in. I do not know why he never stayed in contact with them, or even let them know he cared, but he protects them both, from a distance."
Kiku looked at the floor, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
"I-I never even knew."
"He doesn't let anyone know."
Both european nations said, looking at each other before Arthur continued.
"It's only us. I called him on this trip because if I didn't, he would've gotten here before us, and never let us in."

Kiku just nodded, and looked to the floor, trying to comprehend all that was happening. Maybe it was all just a nightmare? Maybe he was dreaming… Yeah… The small man slumped against the wall, slowly sinking to the ground and hugging his knees to his chest, cutting off from the others. Arthur had been placed back in Francis's arms, softly crying as the Frenchman tried his hardest to be the strong one, and comfort his lover. Everything was falling apart, and it seemed the only thing anyone could ever do was cry. Francis took a deep breath and picked Arthur up bridal style, still holding the blonde to his chest, and carried him downstairs to set him on the couch.
"Stay here, I'll be right back, amour."
He said, walking back up the stairs and kneeling next to Kiku.
"Can you come downstairs, darling? For me?"
The soft tone made the raven haired man nod, and slowly get to his feet, silent in every aspect as he was walked downstairs and to the couch, burying himself into the soft corner as Francis sat down, only to be clung to by Arthur.
"Ssssh, mon amour, it's okay. I promise you'll be okay. It'll all be okay, Ssshhh…"