The yellow petals smiled at the large nation. He was shocked stiff. He had walked into his house to find the rather mysterious gift on his table. Sunflowers. A mostly beautiful and thoughtful gift, Russia thought, smiling. Anonymous and fragile, those flowers were. Russia dared not shift or move them.

But who would give them to him, and why? None of the Allies liked him enough to send him flowers. America just blathered on about being 'the hero.' Not to mention Russia thought that maybe the hamburger-loving fool didn't like the fact that all Nations should-become-one-with-Russia~ Really, the rather large Nation couldn't see why not in the least. So no, Alfred was crossed off Russia's mental list.

England? No. He was too busy fighting with America and France to notice Russia. In Russia's mind, they all seemed too preoccupied with other things to even talk to one another about the goings-on. It was all Axis this and Axis that. No one asked Russia about what he wanted. Besides all Nations becoming-one-with-Russia~, that is.

Why was it so cold in his country? Russia thought. Why couldn't these beautiful, smiling flowers grow in his homeland? Russia's eyes dropped to his wrists, which were sloppily bandaged, and new blood seeped through them. Not other countries' blood… he knew that he might have been endangering his country by doing this… but… it couldn't be helped now…

He went to get something out of the kitchen, but looked at the sunflowers. No… he couldn't drink away his sadness, not with the sunflowers on his table, or anywhere near his house. They were so… fragile. They couldn't know what Russia did to himself to make himself feel 'better.'

He went to throw them out, but saw a card wedged on a stand sticking out of the vase. It was the flag of the Nation that sent them. No message, just a card printed with a flag. The flag had two red stripes on either side, with a small red leaf in the middle of the middle white stripe.

Alfred's… twin? Matt… Matvey… Canada!

Russia set the sunflowers back down on the table, tears threatening to fall. Someone actually… actually cared… about… about Russia… Someone that Russia had never thought of, never actually seen. But they had seen him. And sent him sunflowers in the dead of Russia's endless winter…


I know, it's short. And it'll stay that way. Thank you for mon belle ami Avec Plaisir for writing an angsty!depressed!self-mutilating Russia, and making me write this peice.

I blame you, mio amico...

But! Canada is there to make things better for poor Ivan~

Now to go write some real Hetalia stuff...