Warnings: Angst, ideologically sensitive material, violence, and... more warnings to come in the future.

~~~ Chapter 2 : Reaction ~~~

Another year, another month, another week, another day, another hour, another minute, another second, another meeting. It was a simple, unimportant, unannounced meeting with the "big eight". The room was quiet, except for one person sitting by the projector in front of everyone explaining every nook and cranny of his proposed solution to a problem.

The black-haired, brown-eyed Japanese man sat calmly at the oak table, noting every word said during the meeting. Kiku was writing as fast as he could on one of his many notebooks- one notebook for each speaker, himself included. There were as many pens in front of each notebook. Whenever a pen ran out of ink, he immediately grabbed another one to replace it and would go back to catching up with his notes.

The aryan German sat with his usual serious, stoic face. His masculine arms were hidden under an old suit, which was forced onto him by his conservative Austrian roommate. He had one notebook in front of him with very little notes. Most of Ludwig's notes consisted of flaws in each of the proposed plans.

The Italian sat lazily on the black leather office chair doodling a picture of his German and Japanese friends. His auburn hair was combed neatly, thanks to his German friend, except for one odd little strand that curled outward, which never seems to follow suit. He looked at the time and decided on a "siesta". Feliciano stretched before putting down his pen, resting his head on the notepad, and closing his amber eyes.

The Frenchman sat staring at the Englishman with perverse thoughts going through his head. Francis's blue eyes secretly spied on the blonde man with bushy eyebrows across from him, earning constant glares from said Englishman; he looked away when such glares occured. It was no surprise that Francis hadn't written a single thing on the notebook in front of him. He did, however, snap back to reality to point out something perverted. Only because he could.

The Englishman sat glaring daggers at the American, who was giving the presentation, with both arms crossed tightly. His bushy eyebrows knit at every word Alfred spoke. Arthur wanted to point out every single flaw in the American's plan. He knew he was being watched, but this was normal since his "magical friends" were always floating around. Still, this didn't stop Arthur from shooting a lethal frown at the Frenchman across from him every so often.

The Canadian sat with a confused look on his face. His brother's plan made barely any sense to him. Matthew decided to border his notes with maple leaves to pass the time. The blonde, blue-eyed, and passive Canadian thought it was better to look interested than to hurt his brother's feelings. Then again, Matthew felt that no one paid attention to what he did, anyway, after peeking up to look around once a while.

The Russian, as usual, sat with a small smile plastered onto his face. Ivan was glad that no one really knew what was going on in his mind. He took note of points in the presentation that seemed to have some potential, but nothing more. He had no plan to propose, so he decided to go ahead and suggest his usual premise.

The American in the front of the room explaining one of his many obscure plans, which sounded a lot more like an advertisement for a fast food restaurant chain. His cowlick bouncing on his head as he emphasized his points. Alfred's blue eyes sparkled as if every part of his plan was the "best part". Even if the over-excited American had barely any time to think of a plan, let alone finish it, the power point certainly looked flashy enough to catch anyone's attention.

"This is absurd, Alfred!" The Englishman stood up slamming his hand onto the glistening oak table. "That won't promote peace! All it'll do is promote your greasy, slimy excuse for food!" Arthur walked to the front of the pushing Alfred into his seat. The teen didn't argue and took a seat smiling and laughing as if this was no big deal. The other countries, however, were all too glad the Englishman finally took over. "Haha, as if you can talk, Artie! So, what was your favorite part?" Alfred stood up again, eagerly waiting for a response. "Mr. Jones, sit down, please. You had your turn." The German adjusted his sitting position, a hand covering his face.

Hours seem to drag on. Some presentations were quite short. Feliciano, the Italian, didn't even have a chance to go up, due to him being fast asleep in the comfortable office chair. Ivan's turn came and he quickly went up, offering his usual "speech" when he didn't have anything prepared. "Become one with Russia, da?" The replies were always an ensemble of "No"s and "Hell no"s around the room. The Canadian, well, they completely forgot that he was in the room.

Finally the bland meeting ended with no solution to any problem. Some people in the room stood up and began to socialize. A few took their time in placing various items neatly in their briefcases. Ivan, having brought barely any things, pocketed his small notepad and just sat there watching.

The clear blue skies and the warm bright sun lured Ivan to the big glass windows. He took a deep breath closing his eyes happily feeling the warm sun on skin exposed skin. His amethyst eyes observed the sky, tracing the barely visible misty clouds. The Russian imagined unending fields of sunflowers that went so far in the horizon that you'd have to walk for days to get to the other end. That is what he thought would truly be happiness. He then looked at the American conversing with the other countries. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Perhaps, having some friends that didn't fear you would be nice too. Without warning, the Russian felt inexplicably lonely and turned to stare longingly at the sky, once more.

Alfred's eyes drifted and spied the Russian staring out the window. The conversation he had just ignored was starting to die down and break off into separate topics, so the American approached the tall blonde man. "It's a nice day out." Alfred smiled, his eyes observing the view outside the window.

"Da." Ivan was surprised that the American had approached him. He found himself staring at the teenager. Looking back, he didn't exactly remember why they were fighting. He quietly hoped that it wasn't too late to possibly make friends with the American. "S'there somethin' on my face?" The Russian was dragged back down to Earth, and he replied, "You have beautiful eyes, just like the sky, da?"

Alfred didn't expect the compliment. Being thrown off by this, he half expected a threat to follow. "Oh, um, thanks!" He really didn't know what to say or think. "I swear, Alfred wouldn't know what a suck-up was if it hit him in the face!" Arthur stated from across the room. The American turned to face Ivan, the latter, obviously hearing the statement, frowned in response. "So that's what you're doing, is it?" Alfred had thought it was odd that a normal compliment could ever come out of the ex-communist's mouth. He grimaced, believing what Arthur had said. "You commie bastard! Sucking up to me? Really?" Before the Russian could get a word in, Alfred angrily stomped away.

Ivan stood there alone once again. He felt that this was the way he was meant to be. Alone. No one to care about him, no one to laugh with him, and most of all no one to to simply be with. He left before everyone else. As Ivan left, he caught the cold stares of a few nations. All he wanted was to try and make friends. He thought the world might give him a chance at one friend, Alfred. Unlike so many others, the American seemed approachable. Ivan saw Alfred as the only one who didn't seem to fear him. He thought he had a chance. But that chance had already stomped off.

Outside, Ivan quietly walked onward. He turned back to the building to catch a glimpse of the dirty blonde looking down at him. Their eyes met for a moment, vivid blue to dull violet, before the Russian turned away. He sat in his car getting ready to drive to the airport and finally home. Home sweet home, they say. For him that's just another illusion in life to look forward to.