DISCLAIMER: I STILL DON'T OWN HETALIA
Chapter 4
Thank you…?
Russia felt exhausted. His hair hung down his face as dark circles accented his violet eyes; making him appear more terrifying to most. He was just tired… Life was difficult when in a constant state of fear.
Being without his faucet, Russia had nearly stopped everything. Production of nearly everything slowed to a snail's pace due to his lack of sleep. Military training was non-existent due to the fact that Russia was still missing his guardian object. The country and its persona were falling apart; it was only a matter of time before someone took advantage of that fact.
Because of this small detail, Russia himself had to run from country to country, nearly falling at their doorsteps in a panicked haze. He would babble a few words and be sent on his way; receiving strange looks. He had been to all of the Baltics… each one had threatened him on their entrance ways before he could speak. He had been to China; nearly scaring the shorter man to death by tripping and destroying the man's fine plates and cups. Russia had even dragged himself to Germany's home; nearly begging the blonde man to shut up his small companion for one second to see if the cerulean eyed soldier had picked anything up.
There was nothing to tell.
Nearly two weeks had gone by at this point; leaving the silver haired Russian as a mess of emotions inside himself. Outside; he appeared as though he would murder anything that touched him. Shaking violently, he decided to make his way across the open waters to England; though he didn't hold much hope.
Russia and England hardly ever had communication. The scarfed man pulled said article tight as he walked along the dirty streets of London; where the sunny blonde's main home was located. The slightest breeze shook the Russian to his core, sending him in a fit of coughing. If he didn't end this search soon, and return to his people, he might be in a quite a bit of trouble.
Glancing around, the Russian noticed something; the sun was shining brightly, despite the country's infamous ability to almost always be raining. Sighing for a moment, he looked through the trees lining either side of the road, watching as small leaves flew around in the tiny gusts of gentle wind. It almost looked peaceful, and Russia would have enjoyed the smell of roses on the air if he wasn't in so much mental pain.
"Oi, what the bloody Hell are you doing here?"
Russia turned around to find Arthur staring at him as if he'd committed a crime. In reality, he might have; crossing the border without warning. He mumbled an apology before glancing down to the fiery tempered soul and preparing his speech once again.
"Privet… England…" Talking was difficult nowadays; so was trying to be nice. "I have been to almost every place I could think… and now I've ended up here." He closed his eyes tiredly, waiting for another verbal scolding from yet another person that wanted anything but his presence in their home.
"Ah, yes, I suppose you are looking for this? I-"
"CHTO?!" Russia snapped his eyes open as Arthur grabbed his weapon from inside of his pea coat. The metal looked as if it had been polished; glinting in the odd sunlight like it was welcoming an old friend. Gingerly, Russia took the metal pipe from the country's hands, his breathing stilled and careful as he caressed the object with his own gloved appendages. Surely… surely if Arthur had taken it, then he wanted it for selfish reasons. But then why give it back?
Russia glanced back to the Englishman, feeling the energy rush back into his muscles just from holding the weapon. Production and training could continue now; now that Russia was whole once more. Yet; there was something about the way this smaller male held himself in the Russian's presence.
"Why is it… that you who are having my belongings?" Russia had intended for the words to be threatening, but they came out as more of an awestruck question. "You are realizing I am only going to beat America over head with pipe?" There; that sounded more like his usual self. He smiled for the first time in a good many days. It felt amazing simply feeling complete.
"Knock yourself out old chap; I don't care much for the lad anyway." The Brit began to walk away, waving behind his head at the man. Taken aback, the taller man rushed after the blonde, eyes wide with astonishment.
"You are not caring if I kill your child nation?" He fell into step beside the gentleman; tucking his beautiful weapon under his coat. Why had England cleaned it?
"I am simply calling your bluff. Are you following me?" Sharp emerald eyes snapped to amethyst, making the Russian freeze. Where had that intensity come from? Arthur must have no sense of self awareness.
"You have not answered my question, da? Why are you having pipe?" He felt flustered. Why did Arthur make him frustrated? Was it because he spoke to him as if he weren't a threat? Maybe Arthur was the threat? He shook his head; no, England was no threat to Russia.
"I believe it was a folly of your own, you were the one who stormed out of the meeting room and left it there. I was simply going to return it when I saw you at the next meeting. There, is that better?" Russia could only feel confused as the man continued to talk. He had grabbed the weapon and kept it safe only to return it to him later. This didn't make sense.
"If what you are saying is true…" Russia trailed off; studying the way England's hypnotizing gaze kept flickering over to him as they walked. "If you are telling truth, then I suppose I am to thank you…" He furrowed his brow. How did one go about thanking people? Would helping them suffice as payment enough?
"It's no problem; really. I suppose you'll head back over to your country now that you've got what you came for?" Was Arthur really voicing disappointment or was Russia hearing things? He shook his head slightly. Moreover, why was it that he wanted to stay?
"If you are not minding… I would like to accompany you. This is acceptable?" The man smiled up at Russia and caused the large man to blink rapidly. Arthur's face lit up at that moment, the sun beaming off his milky white skin, his hair giving off a soft glow of gold in the rays of light. Emerald pools swam with delight and Russia felt his voice fail him. Who was this man of sunshine and warmth?
"I would enjoy that very much, Ivan."
What?