Nnnrggg....I had to write myself some RussiAmerica, in order to continue with my survival.


And, of course, it came out all dark and miserable but hey, that's one of the side effects of this pairing. I'm going to try to get some fluff out here soon, so bear with me and do yourself a favor; read some fluff after this one.

hetalia belongs to hidekaz himuruya

They had been fighting for so long.

Always fighting; not even quite sure what about, only knowing that they had to run, had to reach the top of whatever mountain they were climbing first.

It was exhausting. So wearing, the furtive glances backwards- just to make sure. So painful, the glaring and the murmured threats- just to keep the other at bay.

It was nice to close his eyes and pretend they weren't in a long struggle. Pretend they didn't hate each other, and that everything was alright between them.

Ivan ran his fingers lightly down the American's spine, sending shivers through his body. He smiled down at the smaller man, and stroked back his blonde hair, murmuring little things in Russian.

Alfred buried his face into the other's shoulder, pressing himself tightly against Ivan's chest. The Russian seemed to radiate cold, a living block of ice that moved and smiled but was never touched inside.

"Ivan…" he mumbled, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes, "…I-I'm so sorry…"

"Shhh." Ivan continued to stroke Alfred's hair. "It's alright. Don't worry about it." He held his enemy close and kissed his forehead lightly. "I'm sorry too."

Alfred pressed his hand against Ivan's chest, and felt the heartbeat there. It wavered, stammered, but continued doggedly to beat, pounding out a rhythm of pain and heartbreak.

There was blood on Alfred's hand. Ivan's blood.

He looked up into the violet eyes that were rapidly fading, and saw his reflection in them, like pools of sorrow.

He was crying.

"I'm so sorry…"he murmured, like a mantra, over and over. "So sorry…sorry…sorry…"

The hand stroking his hair began to tremble. Ivan held Alfred to him closer and tighter, his last lifeline.

There was blood on both their hands. Alfred's blood; Ivan's blood. Just a field of red they had painted with anger and hurt and betrayal.

Alfred's breathing hitched, every gasp was painful –so painful- but nothing compared to seeing those wonderful violet eyes fading before him, seeing Ivan –his Russia- drift slowly into that place where he couldn't find him.

"Alfred…I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry too…"

A kiss; it was all he asked. Ivan bent forward and kissed the other gently, so carefully as though the touch could shatter him.

They lay there on the ground, clutching at each other, falling so fast, so surely into oblivion that they could only stare into the other's eyes and whisper that yes, I love you and I'm so sorry but it had to be done.

This is for the good of the world.

Yeah, no idea what just happened there...the apocalypse? a glorified Cold War turned hot?

What-EVAR, as Feliks would say, and please, like totally wait 'round for some fluffies. They're'a comin'.