Sorry about the wait for this one. I've been uber-busy lately.
I had another idea for another fanfic to work on…okay, read for this?
GAKUEN ZOMBIE APOLYPSE!
It'll be epic. If I ever get started on it.
Songs (long chapter, lot of songs)
'Enough for Now'- by the Fray
'Stop Trying'- by Sia
'Scar'- by Missy Higgins
'That's Okay'- by The Hush Sound
'No Escape'- by Civalias
Ivan paced back and forth across the hallway in a bored manner. Francis had called in security and had him taken from Alfred's room. Apparently, he didn't take his being set in the hallway in such a fashion as a sign of benevolence… He'd been worried that Ivan was hurting Alfred or something…
Which was ridiculous!
The Russian walked to the snack machine, feeding in some coins and waiting for his water bottle. It didn't drop for him. He kicked the machine half-heartedly and shrugged. It would probably be easier to just walk down to the food court.
…
Francis let himself back into Alfred's room after the Russian had been escorted out. He poised himself on the edge of the bed, sitting elegantly. Ivan had suggested he talk to Alfred about Arthur's lingering feelings. The Russian probably thought England's one-sided affections were highly amusing. But, he was hiding it very well.
Alfred was trying to scratch an itch behind his leg-brace. He gave up dramatically, throwing himself back onto the pillow and wincing when his chest hit the mattress.
Francis could've smacked him upside the head, but there was medical wrapping there too. "Sit still," he scolded instead.
"Yes, mom…" the American snickered. "Why'd you wanna talk to me?" he wondered.
Francis shifted awkwardly. "Well…It's actually about-"
"How Artie's in love with me?"
The Frenchman's cheeks flushed and he choked on his own saliva. "H-how did you know that was it?" he demanded.
Alfred rolled his eyes. "God, I doubt there's a straight country on earth!" he laughed. His smile faded off at Francis' expression. He took on a more serious tone, "I've known for years I guess." He couldn't meet France's eyes. "I just try to act clueless so I won't hurt him again…"
Francis wore an unreadable expression. "Wow, America! I never realized you thought these things through… L'amor never seemed your area of expertise…or…rather an area you knew existed…"
Alfred rolled his eyes. "It's not like I would just walk up to him and laugh in his face about it or something… There's a difference between empathy and compassion."
Francis ruffled his hair gently and smiled. "I think you should talk to him about it. Either way."
Alfred shook his head. "You should do it."
Francis closed his eyes, trying to be patient. He didn't feel like forcing Alfred to do anything. But he sure as hell wasn't going to break the news to England. "I'm going to send him back in. He's still waiting in the hallway to speak with you."
"No!" Alfred practically shouted. It would be completely useless to try and talk to England about how he felt. England pretended to not feel anything. He would just end up embarrassing himself if he tried to make Arthur talk about their past…
Francis' lips thinned like a parent about to scold their child.
"Well, it's not like he'd admit to anything!" Alfred defended himself quickly.
France sighed. This was true. He understood as well as anyone. Even his own charm was barely cutting through that thick shell the "Black Sheep of Europe" had built around himself. He rarely received a pleasant word or a smile…and they'd been good allies for the past few decades.
"I…I'm tired of you tearing his heart into two~!" Francis sighed dramatically.
Alfred just laughed at the display. "It's not that bad!"
France became suddenly serious and leaned closer to the nation he'd helped build. "He…was so happy when the two of you were together in the sixties and seventies… You should've seen his expression when he talked about how much you liked the Beatles and his punk culture."
"Look, France," Alfred began, not making eye-contact, "I never tried to lead him on or anything."
"But you did."
"Well, it's not like I-"
"Oh, stop being such a child, America!" Francis scolded. "You're not in trouble; I'm not going to make you sit in time out or something!"
Alfred just rubbed his wrist that Ivan had most likely broken when they were bickering. Right now, he was on too many drugs to feel it. Francis scooted closer and took the hand, inspecting the bruises and twisting it gently to see how the bones aligned. He 'tsk'ed his tongue and shook his head.
"It's broken I think," Alfred added, trying to be a bit helpful.
The Frenchman laughed through his nose, "Yes, well I could have told you that…"
America studied the pattern on his bed sheet, now spread neatly back over his chest and good leg. Francis had placed his shattered leg back in the sling and threatened to tie him to the bed if he moved again. Alfred didn't like that kind of threat from the old pervert, though he knew well enough that France was too obsessed with love and passion to be lewd to someone he felt nothing for.
"So…um…you think I should talk to him?" Alfred said hesitantly.
France nodded, his lips thinned in thought. He rubbed his stubbly chin and sighed. "Just…try not to make him murder me or anything…"
…
…
Russia was humming happily as he grabbed a tray at the food court, walking down the line and picking up little packages with French writing on them and pictures of food. He'd learned how to read French in the eighteen-hundreds when it was popular among his nobles. He hadn't really used the language since then…
"Russia? What brings you to France?" a curious voice said behind him.
Ivan turned, smiling still. An apple rolled off his tray onto the floor and rolled away. He ignored it and looked down at who had spoken. "Ah, Lithuania. Did you come to visit Америца as well?"
"Well, actually, I came to- …wait…why's America here? Is he hurt?"
Ivan quirked an eyebrow. His little pet had never been concerned for America before. "He was injured in Iraq…does this bother you?" Ivan said, forcing pleasantness into his voice.
Lithuania rubbed the back of his head and looked around for that apple Ivan had dropped. "Um. No, not at all…um…I was just wondering," he muttered. He'd been watching America closely lately. He was afraid of something blowing up again.
Alfred had been sweet-talking Georgia a few years ago, suggesting NATO membership to her, and feigning his support for her. So, she felt safe to provoke Russia…and Russia didn't take it kindly. Alfred had stepped back once he heard Ivan was getting involved. America didn't want to risk a scuffle with Russia again. So, the fight escaladed, and America had completely abandoned the picture. So…a lot of the Baltics and the countries around Russia had lost their faith in Alfred as their protection.
But, Toris still trusted America.
Ivan was singing in Russian under his breath as he waiting in line for silverware. He danced a little in place, grinning like a big child, his voice was forced at a high pitch. Toris shivered. Why did he have to act like he was so cute and innocent if he could guiltlessly crush people's skulls in with the blunt part of a lead pipe? It was just…creepy.
An arm dropped down on Toris' shoulder. "I think dat we should sit together, Bы дyмaeтe?" He gave a quick smile before steering Liet away to a table without waiting for his response. Ivan was even courteous enough to hold the chair out for his 'friend'.
Somewhere on the other side of the room, somebody tripped on the apple and a fork slipped, bouncing off a tray and shooting up through the air. "M-Maple!"
Toris watched with little interest. Horrible 'coincidences' like being stabbed with forks tended to happen around Ivan. He turned back to the Russian who was already ripping open the little packages of food. "So…um…you're here to visit America?"
"Дa?"
"Um…i-if you don't mind me asking…uh…why?"
"Hm?" Ivan looked up from a package of strudel. He put on a childish smile and tilted his head to the side curiously. "You say odd things Liet. I was the one who brought him here."
"Wait…w-what?"
"Of course!" Ivan said happily. "He was in Iraq, killing people, and his jet dove into the ground," he acted it out with his hand, nose-diving and smashing it into his lunch tray. He laughed.
Toris gave up. He didn't even need to know.
"Ni hao~!"
"Здравствуйте!"
Toris almost groaned. Two of the most powerful countries in the eastern hemisphere were sitting at a lunch table with him, making table conversation, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do.
Yao had become comfortable around Ivan over the past two decades. Russia wasn't some big, land-gobbling, nuclear-loaded superpower anymore. China had become strong enough to hold his own no matter what Russia did anyway. He finally understood how America had always been able to keep a brave face on even when being threatened by the Soviet Union when it was at its worst.
The two superpowers held an idle conversation about America's debt and his current injuries, and Toris managed to slink away to chat with Poland.
…
…
Francis ruffled Alfred's hair before stepping out. The American's wrist was now splinted and he'd been given more shots of Novocain to numb whatever was left to feel.
Matthew had come up briefly to see how his brother was doing. He had four little puncture marks on the side of his cheek. When Alfred asked about it, he mumbled something vague and incoherent, avoiding eye-contact. The American just shrugged. It almost looked like a fork had nailed him in the face…oh well.
Francis shoved Arthur into the room a few minutes after Mattie had left. He shouted a slur of curses after the Frenchman before turning on his heel. "Ah…Alfred." He nodded his greeting, taking a seat beside the American's bed. "How're you feeling?"
Alfred shrugged. "Hm…guess I'm fine. Broken bones and shit. All the usual. Mattie just visited, though. He's got holes in his face."
"Shit…Matthew…Maaattthheeww…? I swear I know that name."
Alfred just shrugged. As if Arthur would know who Canada was. He at least knew his full name was Matthew this time instead of 'Mattie'. It was sort of a rule of thumb that only Alfred could call Canada Mattie, and only Matthew could call America Al or Alfie. No one else on earth was close enough to them to give them a pet name like that.
The American weighed his choices as Arthur settled into his seat. He didn't want to straight up say that he didn't care for him like that… Instead…he should make sure that Arthur knew how close of friends Alfred considered them. But, still, he couldn't lead him on. "Um…I've gotta talk to you Artie…" he began hesitantly.
"About what?" the Brit said, leaning forward attentively.
"Um…" Alfred was lost for words. He'd had a plan a second ago, and he hadn't forgotten it…he was just second-guessing himself. "It…it's about Russia actually…" he continued, deciding to go with his gut.
England's bushy eye-brow quirked ominously. Alfred swallowed. He had to be careful walking out on thin ice like this. Artie still had some stigmas against Ivan… "Well, it's just that you're my best friend, and I can tell you anything…"
"I told you not to fuck him!"
"No!" Alfred waved his arms frantically. "No, that's not it…we…we never did anything like that. It's just…I…I get this weird feeling around him sometimes. Like…when he smiles a certain way, my stomach flops around and ah- I kinda get all bubbly…" God…he felt like a sappy teenage romance author.
Arthur looked at him seriously. "It's because you're fat. You should lose weight and stop eating food that doesn't agree with you," he suggested.
"No! It's not food! Jesus! I…I mean, I hate him so much, but I like being around him. Arthur, I think I like him again."
The Brit's face flushed a little and he set his lips tightly. "Ah…are you sure it's not indigestion?" he queried.
"I think I'd know the difference," Alfred snapped incredulously. "I mean…there's nothing wrong with it! We've been trying to improve our diplomatic relations for the past two decades…is it really so bad if I want things to be like they were before?"
Arthur frowned. "He hurt you, America. Have you forgotten?"
"I…need some time to think," Alfred decided. "Can you go talk to France for awhile? Tell him to shut up about you. The man rants about you all the fuckin time! He's freakin in love with you…"
England stormed out to find a certain Frenchman that was 'spreading hedonistic lies about their countries' relations'- or something along those lines.
…
…
Yao just laced his fingers together and listened to Ivan's stories of the time he spent in America. "You talk a lot about America, aru…" the Chinese man pointed out innocently. "Have you two been getting along?"
Ivan smiled. "Not at all! I just had a screaming match with him!" He said it as if it were a huge leap forward. "It was quite fun…"
Yao just grinned hesitantly. "So…wait…I'm confused, aru. Are you and America going to be friends again, or if not friends…then what? After everything that you two have gone through…it would be nice if we could all get along…"
…
The two former rivals sat back in their seats, wondering just when this all had started…
…
December, 1870 St. Petersburg, Russia
Ivan sat with his hands in his lap, leaning against the fence around the statue of Peter I. It had been awhile since he'd come to Senate Square. Alfred had promised he would meet him there this day, but it was already dark, and the streetlamps had already been lit. It was snowing thickly, so he'd probably been delayed.
The dark masses of citizens cloaked in thick coats and furs, passed by on sleds or with tall boots. It was difficult to see faces in the faint lamplight. Ivan just fixed his ushanka on his head, and took a small metal gas lighter from his pocket. He flicked it on and ran it under his hands to warm them.
A horse-drawn sled passed, kicking up some snow in its wake. Ivan pulled his gloves back on and adjusted the collar of his coat. There was no point in waiting for the American any longer. If Alfred ever showed up, he could just come the few extra miles to Russia's home. He had no room to complain about the cold if he was going to be so late.
He stood and brushed the snow off his pants and shoulders. He tucked his scarf into his collar and started walking back down the stone road.
It had been a few years since he'd last seen Alfred. The American had told him to go home after his chest had split open during his Civil War. After that, the Russian had sort of kept to himself for awhile. He wasn't currently at war with anyone, and he could easily trade with his neighbors and allies. Things were too simple.
"Hey! Wait up!" A loud voice shouted in English. Ivan closed his eyes patiently and turned back around. Alfred was doing his best to run in the deep snow, carrying a large paper bundle. He was wearing a thick coat, hat and gloves, scarf, and tall snow boots. It was comical to watch him attempting to run. He caught up, gripping the Russian's shoulders for support and panting. "Sorry…I'm late…" he breathed, a little cloud of steam escaping his lips. "Here, I cut these for you…" He pushed the paper bundle into Ivan's hands.
Ivan put an arm around his back to keep him from falling over. Just how far did he run? He glanced down at the package in his hand; some yellow petals were sticking up at the top of the browned paper. He smiled warmly.
Alfred's cheeks flushed and he forced a shrug, "Ah...I figured the ones I gave you last time would be dead by now…"
Ivan just hugged the American closer and played with a lock of his hair. "Cпасибо…" he mumbled.
The first time Ivan had been to America's mainland to go hunting with him, he'd seen the sunny flowers. He'd dismounted the horse he'd been riding, and sat on the ground in front of the little patch of tall flowers. Alfred tried to get him to move, but they ended up sitting there for several hours, just staring at the sky, the trees, the grass, the clouds, talking about flying away.
It was such a small event in Alfred's eyes, but Ivan just wanted things to be that peaceful always. He wanted everyone to get along for once and stop pulling him into conflicts he didn't want a part of. So, every time he saw a sunflower, he felt a little bit calmer, less edgy and a bit more sane.
Alfred didn't bother pulling back from the friendly embrace. At least it was warmer. "Um…I'm glad you like them," he mumbled, resting his chin on the Russian's shoulder. He'd never understand why such a plain flower had caught Ivan's attention. Maybe he was just so used to seeing them that he couldn't see their beauty anymore or something…
"How are you feeling?" Russia said carefully, gently gripping Alfred's side. The last time he'd left America, his ribs were cracked open, and he was almost split in two. He wouldn't have gone if Alfred hadn't insisted that he didn't want to be seen that way.
The American didn't seem to understand the source of Ivan's worry. His eyes lit up a little under the dull lamplight. "Well, things have been pretty good I guess," he began. "Some of my Indian tribes are still revolting in the west, which is part of the reason I'm late…"
"You are very harsh on them," Ivan muttered, his accent thick.
Alfred just shrugged. "It's going to happen one way or another. It's my manifest destiny. The colonists discovered land, and it hasn't stopped since then. It's still the trend, push west, find land, get rid of the natives, and settle. I can't really help it."
Ivan just watched the teen talking. Their relations had only improved over the past century. Alfred was an interesting character, and he'd only built on that initial notion since the first day they'd met up in Alaska. The American didn't seem to be afraid of Russia. And, Ivan was starting to wonder if that childish stupidity was just a show. He'd seen the American with a serious expression and a look of contemplation. Intelligence looked nice on him, yet extremely unfitting. But, the Russian didn't underestimate the westerner for one second. America had a darker side. He had only just outlawed slavery, and he was still at war with the natives of his land.
"You got your glasses back…" Ivan noted.
Alfred just nodded and pushed them back up on his nose. "Yeah…I…um….I saw Will again…" he said carefully.
"He lives?" Ivan gaped, pulling back.
"He's human now," Alfred replied. "It…was peculiar..."
Ivan nodded. "I've seen it before. It is strange when the people we fight so hard to defeat become so weak…"
They stood in awkward silence for a moment. Alfred fixed his toboggan and rubbed his hands together to warm them. A little light of realization went off in his head, "Wait! I've got something new you've gotta try!" He tugged off a glove and dug around in his coat pocket. He took out a little paper wrapper.
"Alfred, vhat are you-"
"Damn…I ate the last piece…" the American muttered. "Wait, here…take mine." He plucked something off his tongue and held it out.
Ivan scrutinized the little wad in the American's fingers. "Vhat is it?" he said finally.
"Just chew it, it's good!"
Russia shrugged. He'd probably eaten things from much worse places. He took the American's hand and raised it to his mouth. He bit the object off his finger. He chewed, contemplating. It didn't taste bad. It didn't really taste like anything. "Vhat is it?" he repeated finally.
Alfred grinned, "Bubble gum!"
"Vhy 'bubble'?" the Russian mumbled, chewing in thought.
"Lemme see it," the American said, holding his hand out. Ivan dropped the gum into his hand and Alfred popped it back in his mouth. "You can make it into a bubble with your tongue. We started selling this stuff back in America. Kids love it!" He blew a generous bubble and popped it with his finger.
Ivan just smirked and shook his head. "That's lovely, Amerika; you are quite talented. You are shivering, so shall we walk to my home?"
Alfred nodded, "That's a good idea…" He turned and started walking through the snow in the direction he knew Russia lived. He tugged his glove back on and Ivan followed. "So," the American said conversationally. "How have things been? I heard you were at momentary peace."
"Da, I've kept to myself for a few years, but I have to wonder how long it will last."
Alfred spun around on one foot, landing clumsily on the other. It was boring to just walk. "That's how peace works," he said logically, holding a finger up. "I mean, I'm not even a hundred yet, and I know things fall apart."
Ivan frowned. He hated how right Alfred was. Being a country was tough. You make friends, and go to war against them. You kill their people, they kill yours, someone gets all the blame…nobody ever forgets.
America must understand what it's like to go to war with a loved one…and have them become not-so-loved-anymore. He and England were still pretty tense. You couldn't get them in the same room without someone throwing something. Ivan knew that the Brit cried over his loss often, but he couldn't bring himself to pity the man.
Russia sort of hated all the western countries. They were all too pompous with their 'empires' and 'kingdoms'. He was being left in the dust industrially, and he didn't like it. They'd all fall one day, their revolutions and conquests would mean nothing when they were gone. And he planned to profit off their advancements.
Even America had grown a few inches since his Civil War had ended.
"Things move quickly in this world," Ivan muttered. "We can't be still and enjoy vhat we have. We always vant more. The Franco-Prussian war has forced me to modernize my army…but I hope not to utilize it."
Alfred just nodded. He could understand wanting peace for awhile. He'd been at constant war since the day he gained independence. But, it was partially his fault for pushing west…
The two walked on in silence. Alfred would stay for a few days, just to visit. "So…um…" the American began. "I heard that you and China have been getting along well…"
Ivan nodded. He wondered why Alfred sounded so tense. "Дa… He has always been a very reasonable trading partner."
Alfred hmmed his response. He had become accustomed to being a country. It had taken about a century, but he was used to the bumbling meetings, the bickering, holding his own in a political argument, the grudges, the scams and frauds, the secrets…he was getting his reins on the ropes.
"Why do you ask?" Ivan wondered.
Alfred was staring off into the dull lamplight down the road. "Ah…oh, no reason. It's just…my brother just claimed his independence three years ago. I wanna make sure we get along…y'know? I guess I was wondering if you had any advice on making friends?"
Ivan just giggled and put on a smile. It was as if Alfred truly believed that Ivan was good at making friends…
For the first time it dawned on him. Alfred must be different. Why hadn't he seen it before…?
...
Christmas 1916 Russian military barracks
Ivan carefully smoothed the American's messy sleep-hair while the other just sipped at some coffee. Alfred hadn't spoken much at all last night. It was worrying the Russian. The American was always a chatterbox whenever he came to visit, especially around this time of year. America celebrated his Christmas a few weeks earlier that Russia did, but he always came over and stayed with Ivan on Christmas Eve.
Ivan would still be on the battlefield as a soldier if it weren't for the holidays. They'd all called a momentary truce from the fighting to just enjoy their Christmas.
They had stayed in a military bunker a good distance behind the frontlines. There were minimal supplies, and everyone was bustling about, but at least it was better than sleeping in a frozen dugout with grenades and shells dropping around you.
The soldiers were grateful for the break, even if they knew they'd have to return to the frontlines in a few days. For now, the bunker was filled with singing, drinking, and storytelling. Everyone was just glad to be alive and warm around the fireplace. There weren't any festive decorations and the rations were just about as good as the ones on the field, but the warmth and lack of gunfire was very refreshing.
America just rubbed his hands on the sides of his mug to warm them and his eyes skimmed lazily over an old Russian newspaper that he couldn't read.
Alfred being quiet was unnatural. He was never quiet…he always spoke with fervor. He always acted as if it were the last time they'd ever speak to one another.
Ivan frowned. With the way things were going, the day was coming when it really would be the last time… Just a few weeks ago, the Prince Yusupov had Rasputin killed, a strong leader of the Reds. Russia feared how this might anger the revolutionaries. It didn't help that he was already in war with Germany on his western front.
Why was there always such unrest?
Even the imperial army was unloyal. If the Reds put up a major rebellion and tried to overthrow Tsar Nicholas II, the White army would probably step back and watch…or maybe even join in.
Russia exhaled, watching his breath stick on the air and make little swirling clouds. If the Reds took over, he would become a communist country. It would be nice… His people were unemployed, the banks were broke, and the social standards had past the point of being hierarchy and become a food chain. As a communist, everyone would have a job, there would be no need for banks, and everyone would have the same social standards…
The revolutionaries had so many good points. Their campaigns were so simple, but so true. Communism held what the people wanted and needed. It sounded perfect.
The only thing…
Was sitting right in front of him, leaning on an elbow and resting his chin in his palm.
Communism and Capitalism could never co-exist peacefully. If Ivan became a communist socialist state, he would have to leave Alfred behind…possibly forever.
And that would hurt most of all. Ivan brushed a strand of hair away from Alfred's eye and ghosted his fingertips over the side of his cheek. America was his best friend. Alfred was his lover. If he became communist…he'd be pushing away his own happiness. But…he wanted communism…he wanted equality.
He had never told the American how he really felt for him. He always got the feeling that it would just be a burden on his mind if he knew. Things could be simple if there were no strings attached- nothing to be cut. But, if he told Alfred what he meant to him, then the relationship suddenly became something real and breakable.
Russia leaned up across the table, sliding a hand behind America's neck and tilting his head up. He brought their lips together in a soft open-mouthed kiss. They were chapped from the cold and dry from the lack of humidity. He quickly relished the taste of bitter coffee on Alfred's tongue before the American pushed him away.
Alfred's face was flushed and he was glancing around at the soldiers passing by, enjoying their time off. He knew the current stigma against homosexuals in the army, and he knew the soldiers wouldn't know it was socially acceptable since they were countries.
Ivan just smiled at him warmly, his hands resting over his gently. "You're awfully touchy today…" the American pointed out.
Ivan nodded, smiling still. "Of course. It is Christmas!"
Alfred gave him a skeptical look. He'd come all the way out here to the edge of the first World War just to spend his favorite holiday with the Russian. There were so many better places he could be right now. And now that he was here, Ivan was acting all tense and clingy. He hadn't let Alfred leave his sight since he'd gotten here.
The American set his bitter coffee back down onto the little wet ring it had already left on the newspaper. "Is this because of the war with Germany? …I can send some aid if you need it…"
Russia shook his head vehemently. "No, no…it's best if you stay out of it for as long as possible. It's not that anyvay."
"Then what's been buggin you?" Alfred demanded, fixing Ivan with a persistent stare. "Is it the anti-Semitism? I know you hate it when your people fight with themselves… You've been really uptight…"
Ivan wondered how to explain this. He was sort of stressed out over everything that was happening. "No, it's not that. Vell, that's not helping…but it…it's not that."
"Then what?
"Vell…I….I love you…" he admitted, fretfully turning a spoon around in his hands.
Alfred's expression didn't change. He seemed to be absorbing it slowly. A slow sad smile spread over his lips. His fingers closed around his cup again. "Um…me too I guess…" he let out a stiff, brittle laugh. He'd sorta figured that this confession was coming, but it was hard to accept it gracefully.
There was a sort of lightness in their chests, as if a weight had been lifted and they were free to float away. Ivan smiled. He wished they could find a secluded place, away from the eyes of his comrades. He wanted to show his affection freely, but there was no private place in the army.
It was probably for the best. Ivan had to remind himself of his country's position. "But…things are changing, Alfred. I feel so unsteady."
The American just nodded, gripping both hands onto his coffee cup.
Ivan closed his eyes and stared into the common room where the other soldiers were passing a jug of vodka and singing a festive tune. Things were going to be different soon. Something big was about to happen, and he couldn't let America be pulled into it yet. If he became communist, eventually, Alfred would intervene and try to stop him, but this was what he wanted.
He wanted to have both…communism and Alfred, but he had to choose, and as a country, he needed to do what he felt was best for his people. So, he should be ready. He needed to make sure that America stayed out of his life for a few years…he didn't want to fight with him yet…
"After this Christmas, I vant you to go home," he said firmly, sadly.
Alfred's shy smile dropped immediately. "W-what?"
Ivan swallowed, gritting his teeth. He hated doing this… "You von't see me again afterwards…"
America stood angrily. "What the hell?" he shouted. Their argument was ignored. The Russians couldn't understand the English anyway. Alfred leaned over. "What is this?" he spat. "A joke? Are you teasing me? You just said you loved me! Was that a lie? Why are you tellin' me ta leave?"
Ivan sighed. "I'm not telling you to leave. I'm simply warning you that you vill need to go home after my Christmas has passed…" he hesitated. God, this was tougher than he thought, looking up into the American's flushed, desperate expression. "…and when you leave…do not return again."
Alfred's cheeks were tinged dark red with anger. "Why?"
"I already said…" Ivan gritted out. It was already hard enough to say all this…Alfred was making it worse by making him repeat. "Times are changing in my country. I'm simply telling you dat I vill need some time alone to sort everything out. It does not change how I feel for you."
Alfred glared at him. "So…you're breaking up with me?"
Ivan frowned. "Yes...but it is not my decision."
The American's head seemed close to exploding. "It doesn't seem like you're tryin very hard to fight whatever this is!" he huffed.
Ivan stood, putting a hand up and trying to calm him down. He wanted to say something, he just didn't know what.
Alfred cut him off before he could even try. "No…y'know what? I get it. It's fine. It makes sense. You haven't been yourself for the past few decades anyway… I've tried to ignore it, but it-it's fine. I'll go. Have fun by yourself." He turned for the door and stomped out into the forty-below blizzard.
"Прошу прощения…" Ivan muttered miserably, hiding his face in his hands. "Я хочу, чтобы ты знала…r буду всегда любить тебя…"
Translations
Прошу прощения- I'm sorry
Я хочу, чтобы ты знала- I want you to know
Я буду всегда любить тебя -I will always love you
There're some others, but they're not really important. Things like 'yes' and 'thank you'.
FINALLY~
My God. I've been busy lately, I joined 7 clubs at school, and I'm trying to keep straight A's and get my Gold award for scouts, and finish my book by December, and get my cosplays together for Halloween and con in January, and I'm trying to set up a panel at Ichiban, I went to a college fair, knitted a scarf, sent in my Gold paperwork, and wrote this long-ass chapter.
YOU ARE ALL WELCOME. Hopefully you like. 2 long history drabbles in there. BONUS. The next chapter should just be history drabbles- of my own making. Since SOMEONE went apeshit and sort of insulted my originality. Yeah…not quoting any more cool stories anymore since apparently that's NOT ALLOWED for a GOOD QUALITY story.
Anyway. Sorry about the wait. Tell me if you see any grammer mistakes. (I'm sure there are tons in that giant block of words)