Long time no post. All I can say is that I hate New York Regents Exams. Five this year, and I have seven finals on top of that. Studying is a time consuming bitch.

Ivan glances around the room. It's strange coloring still not making any sense. His purple eyes meet the Canadians; who's looked rather traumatized.

Matthew sighs and holds his head in his hands. "Ivan, there has been a major issue that I have to deal with deal with alright?"

Ivan simply nods, "I simply wish to stay here until circle time has ceased."

"Fine, fine. There was something else I still have to request of you."

"What would that be?"

"I need you to start fallowing the rules. I had heard of what you did during bonus time."

"Well. Word around here sure does spread fast." He fakes a smile as Matthew looks up at the other with sorrowful eyes.

"Please Ivan, no more shenanigans."

"There is something I need to tell you though."

The Russian grips the paper inside his pocket, as he bites the side of his cheek trying to determine how much he wanted to tell the doctor. Could he be trusted?

"What is it Ivan?"

"I found a note… I haven't read it yet. The way that I found it was rather suspicious." He glances to the side, "I haven't read it yet." He admits.

This perks the Canadian's interest. "Will you read it to me?"

"Uh… Da…"

Ivan pulls the crumpled paper out of his pocket and unfolds it. He glances over the stained and crumpled surface. There was a smeared date on the top right corner, and a scribbled out signature at the bottom.

"What is it? What does it say?"

"It appears to be… a poem."

"What about?"

Ivan looks down reading the short poem of couplets. It reads;

Something is still missing. Could it be me?
I'm told unless your of age you can't see.

I'm told to be myself, but what am I?
Is this all a conspiracy, a lie?

I feel like I matter, but then reflect
on all the people that have lost respect.

These feelings 'tell me' pull me over there.
The direction still unknown, but I swear

When I get there, to where I'm being pulled.
I know things will no longer be quite so dulled.

If I do end up making an impact,
May things stay in a way that they're intact.

The Russian furrows his brows reading it. "I think a child wrote this. Here, read it yourself."

He hands the paper to the doctor, who in turn reads it fixing his glasses. His face flushes a light pink. "Hmm, it appears to be rather old. It might be by a past student. You know this use to be a school, but then it was burnt down. Unfortunately there was a casualty, but he risked his life for the others. I wonder who wrote this."

Ivan shrugs a shoulder and glances up seeing there is writing on the back, "There is something written on the back too."

Matty turns in over and reads the barely eligible writing.

"What a small dirty place
With hidden is but one ace
The teachers here are fine
The students, not so divine

The kids are the worst part
I think they lost their heart
You think this is but rhyme?
Too bad they're causing crime!

The rules here are weird and coded
and most of which have been molded."

The Canadian clears his throat pausing before he glances down the page to read a small excerpt he noticed. "It also says 'To whom this may concern'". He frowns, "and the rest is smeared."

Ivan nods slightly. "What do we do now?"

"We don't do anything. This is just poems from some kids' way back when."

"How long ago was the building burned down?"

"I'd say about six decades ago."

Ivan's expression contorts. "That's awfully long ago. What do you think it means by 'molded'? What were the rules molded to?"

Matthew sighs, "Please Ivan, don't look too far into this. It is simply a child's poem. It probably means nothing at all."

Ivan leans back in his chair thinking that he came across it for a reason. "Can I have it back?"

"I suppose."

The Russian takes the paper back and stuffs it away. He'd learned some new information, but there seemed to still be a lot to find out.

Matthew leans his head on the cool desk. "You may go back to your room. The others won't be back from circle time for a little while, but I trust you to behave and go back to your room."

"Thank you…" Ivan looks down for a moment wondering why the other had suddenly depended on him to do something on his own. Wasn't he considered a psychopath here? Isn't that dangerous? Perhaps the Canadian took too many over the counter drugs and can no longer think independently for the time being.

Either way Ivan stands up and pulls his scarf a bit loose to breathe easier. He trusts him… It still boggled his mind. He had just broken the rules.

Ivan steps out of the office and makes his way back to the dull room. He steps inside and closes the door behind him slowly feeling an eerie draft wash over him. It coats his skin in goose pumps even with the coat he wore. It was chilling to the bone, and sharp instances of this feeling were pulsing deep within him. He pulls the paper out and glances down at it. It was so week and frail, but it still held words.

He looks over to see Feliciano's things. Ivan tilts his head slightly and grins evilly. Looking through his things would be one way of getting to know the Italian more. The light flickers slightly as the Russian makes his way to the bag, and he digs through looking for anything of interest. So far there was just sauce stain T-shirts, some white flags, and a small heart locket that didn't exactly make the Russian's interest. His mouth gapes open slightly looking at a binder.

The Russian opens the dark cover over his lap to see a cover page that says "Game Plan"

He furrows his brows and flips the first page open. Written in large print the page stated, "If you let any of them remember it's GAME OVER".

Ivan blinks looking this over several times. What does "Game over" mean?

He goes to flip the second page only to hear everyone begin to come back with marching footsteps and a light fluttery chatter among a few of them.

Ivan shoves everything back as close to the way they were as humanly possible and shoves the bag back to where it was in the same angles and position propped against the wall.

He lays down onto his bed and stairs at the ceiling as if nothing had happened when the brunet walks into the room humming a happy tune. He didn't seem to notice anything.

Ivan kept his breath rate in check as his heart still slightly raced. So much was buzzing in his mind he was beginning to get a head ache, much like the Canadian…

He closes his eyes lightly feeling like something was watching him. When he dares open them and glances over at the Italian glaring at him with eyes flaring across the room.

Ivan sneers and leans his head back closing his eyes again. "What do you want?"

"I want my locket back!"

"What locket?"

He had never touched the locket… Best to play dumb, but where on earth could it have possibly gone in a two second span of time?

"It's worth money, but to me it's priceless. If you don't give it back we're going to have problems." Feliciano's voice broke and it seemed like he was about to cry.

"I did not take it, I swear, but if I happen to see a locket I will tell you. Now what did it look like?"

The Italian became flustered and wiggles his hands in the air some as he described it. "It was a golden heart locket on a silver chain. It's cliché I know, but I really need it back!"

"I will help you find it after dinner."

What do you think?~
I do not own Hetalia D:
But those poems are mine. Please don't use them for a school assignment or anything. Thank you~