You can cry if you want to
Even Russia cries sometimes.
Rated K+.
~o~
Ivan was a silent crier. He didn't usually do it, but when his emotions finally got the better of him it mostly went by unnoticed. The only result was the red puffiness of his eyes, but no one dared to make a comment on it due to his intimidating demeanour.
Today was another one of those days.
Sitting in the meeting room, he couldn't help but overhear two nations gossip about him. Usually he would've just gotten up, went over there, and bashed their faces in with his beloved pipe.
But then he heard them call him a rapist.
And that particular jab struck a wrong cord.
Not only because it was a filthy lie, but because it made him realize just how lowly the others thought of him. He tried to swallow the hot coal that appeared in his throat, carefully keeping his gaze on the speaker in front of the room.
As soon as the twenty minute break was announced, Ivan wasted no time in standing up and leaving the room as fast as possible. While most went to the break room, the bathroom, or outside for a smoke or some fresh air, Ivan searched for an empty office to use as his quiet sanctuary.
He fled inside, the words from earlier tumbling through his mind. Before he could allow himself to break down though, the door opened again behind him.
It was Alfred, staring at the tall nation with an unrecognizable expression.
"Amerika?" Ivan breathed, not taking notice of the treacherous tears gathering at the bottom of his eyes.
Alfred looked left and right, biting his lip before speaking up. He stared Ivan dead in the eye while doing so.
"Don't listen to them. Don't listen to anything they say, not a single word. Because they're wrong ,and you know it."
Ivan stumbled backwards, bringing a hand to his mouth so he could dig his teeth into the knuckles.
He wasn't going to cry in front of Alfred. Anyone but him. Please…
The American seemed to read his mind, as his expression suddenly softened. With a few determined strides he reached the other, pulling him into a crushing hug. Then he brought his lips to Ivan's ear.
"It's okay big guy. You can cry if you want to."
Ivan had no idea why Alfred was doing this. Was it pity? Some kind of trick? A bet he lost perhaps?
…It couldn't possibly be compassion, could it?
He didn't deserve compassion. Didn't want it, didn't need it.
Not at all.
Yet as the violent tremors ripped through his body, the silent tears slipping away, he could only cling to the smaller nation with all the strength he had left in his useless arms.