Yes, I am back from the dead! I'm sorry to any of my followers who hate me now for taking so long on this chapter. ;P I just had no inspiration. I wrote this literally an hour or so ago, because I suddenly had some awesome inspiration, and had to use it. xD Thank you to anyone who reads this fic, I seriously appreciate it!

Hetalia and all of its characters do not belong to me, sadly, they belong to Himaruya Hidekaz. There'd be so much more Prussia and yaoi in it if I did own it. xD

Harsher Than Winter

CHAPTER 7

I rushed through the kitchen door as fast as I could, only sparing minimal time to locate the refrigerator. The fridge's door flung open, and inside the entire fridge, I saw only one bowl, light green, covered in silvery tin foil. On the tin foil was a yellow sticky note, obviously also written by Ivan. I pulled the bowl out, and turned around, lightly closing the door with my foot. Squinting my eyes, I read the tiny hand-written print:

Matvey~

I see you must've woken up and gotten hungry, da? This dish is called cold borscht - do not be intimidated by its odd look. A spoon, place mat, and water have been set for you at the dining table. Remember, do not get into any trouble while I am in leave.

- Ivan

Just an hour earlier I had thought that getting into any trouble had been impossible. But now... Images of the basement's three residents flashed through my mind, gruesome and nauseating. I shook my head of the pictures, hastily going back into the dining room where everything had been set out neatly for me. Courtesy of Ivan's slaves, I thought bitterly.

Sitting down, I took the tin foil off of the bowl and stared at its contents in horror.

Oh God... it was pink. Bright, hot pink. Soup. Soup should not be pink. Ever. And, what was that? It had green stuff floating in it. ... Oh God.

I picked up the spoon that was placed to my right and hesitantly dipped it into the eye-scarring soup. Right as I pressed the spoon to my lips, readying myself to sip it, the door to the dining room burst open, causing me to drop my spoon, spilling the small amount of cold liquid it held.

Thank God, I thought to myself, until I saw who it was who created the distraction of my terrible-looking food-eating.

Ivan grinned at me, striding over to the chair opposite of where I was sitting. "Privet, Matvey! How are you liking your cold borscht?"

I laughed nervously, trying to hide my discomfort at his arrival. "A-actually, I haven't tried it yet, though I bet it'll be delicious, I was just staring at its odd... color." More nervous chuckling emanated from my mouth. Oh God, I couldn't even look him in the eyes anymore, now that I knew what he was...

Ivan nodded. Thank God he couldn't read my mind. "But remember, do not judge things for their appearance! Go on, try it. If you do not like it, then you don't have to eat it."

Just something from him voice told me that even if I didn't like it, I'd have to suck it up and eat it, or starve. "Haha, s-sure, I'm sure I'll like it, even if it is a rather weird color for food..." I picked up my fallen spoon from the table, and got another scoop of the flamboyant food. Without another thought, I stuffed it in my mouth, and immediately the bitter, gagging taste of beets tingled my taste buds. It was pretty hard to not think of puking from eating this stuff, it looked far better than it tasted. Still, I managed to choke most of the spoonful down, washing the rest down my throat with my water, almost drinking the whole cup.

"So?" Ivan's voice had an honest ring in it, a nice ploy.

I nodded as I finished gulping down the water, acting as if I was thinking about it. "It didn't taste too bad," I lied.

Since I didn't hear any response from the Russian, I dared to look at his face. He had an eyebrow raised, questioning. "Oh, really?"

More timidly this time, I nodded, bringing my eyes back down to the horrid soup.

Another pause from the Russian. When I looked back up to his face, he was smiling creepily again, his eyes closed. "You know, Matvey, you really are a terrible liar! You should never lie to me. Even when you do try, you should try better than that."

It may have just been my need of more sleep, or my creative imagination going to extremes, but I could've sworn I saw dark purple flames rise behind his back, an aura of darkness, licking at the air around him. Either way, I got the message clear enough: Don't lie to him.

I nodded, putting on a poker face - for my sake or his, I don't know. "Ah, yes, I'm afraid you're right... I'm very sorry. I just didn't want to sound rude... Won't happen again, Ivan." At his name, I almost flinched in spite of myself. He didn't seem to notice. He just giggled lightly and came over to my side, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"See? It's all right, da? Just don't do it again."

I nodded unconsciously. A moment of awkward silence washed over us (or me, more specifically, he didn't seem to feel awkward at all) before an earlier question hit me. Now would be the best time as ever to ask, especially since it would change the subject. "Oh, I was g-going to ask you earlier... but do you perhaps have a phone here somewhere?"

"Why?" Ivan almost sounded hurt. ... Or mad. But he covered his emotions nicely, adding on, "Who would you be calling, especially so late in the evening?"

"My brother, Alfred. I just need to tell him that I won't be home until... until the snow melts."

Ivan blinked. "Your brother, is he like you?"

I took a moment before I said anything. "We're fraternal twins - we barely look anything alike, but people still confuse me with him, or just don't notice me at all. He's loud, rash, bold, and happy-go-lucky. No, we're nothing alike. ... Honestly, I think he got all the good genes." I paused, thinking back to memories where he always outshined me, put me in the background, did anything I did and did it ten times better. But, even through everything... "I love him, though. He's the only family I got left." At that last statement, my voice became so quiet, I could barely even hear myself.

The Russian nodded, almost thoughtfully. "Where does he live?"

I was more reluctant to answer this question, but knew that if I lied Ivan would know. "He lives with me, a mile and a half or so outside of Dawson City."

At this, the Russian seemed genuinely surprised. "You traveled a long time, little Matvey. You're on the border line of Alaska."

... I could almost feel my jaw drop off its hinges. I had traveled that long, in twelve or so hours? That seemed highly ridiculous, but clearly, somehow, it was possible.

"So..." I started, looking up to meet Ivan's purple orbs. "Could I please call him...?" I vaguely wondered if I looked as desperate as my voice sounded.

Ivan nodded, almost too eagerly. "Of course! I wouldn't want him to be worrying about his brother Matvey, da?" His eyes flickered away from mine, and I followed them to see that he was looking at my empty glass. "But you've talked a lot. Before you speak to him, you might want to wet your throat with some water, da?"

Before I could even answer, he had delicately picked up my glass and walked briskly over to the kitchen's door, disappearing behind it. He reappeared a minute later, handing the glass to me, I nodded my thanks. "Come, drink the water while I show you to the phone. It's right this way."

He started heading out the dining room door out into the hallway, and I hurried to catch up, sipping some of the water so it wouldn't spill out. I finally caught up, staying a few steps behind him as he led me past numerous doors. It almost seemed like we were going in circles, everything looked the same to me. Another drink of water.

Just as I was about to ask if we were almost close to the phone, Ivan sped up. "Hey... slow down..." I murmured. Trying to match his pace, I tripped over my own feet, slamming my hand against the wall for support as I almost fell, dropping the glass and spilling the remains of the water. My vision seemed to blur, and I could feel my eyes dilating, focusing in and out. "Ivan... don't... feel... good..." My world turned upside down as the floor beneath me disappeared. The last thing I can remember is seeing a dark figure towering above me, an outline in my vision.

"Good night, Matvey."

God, Mattie. There's only three rules when you're in Russia's home, that you must remember to follow!

1. Don't drop the soap.

2. Don't drink the water.

3. Become one with Russia. ^J^ ( Russia's own, personal rule. xD)

Review, please...? ^-^