RusAme rp, The colder war

America felt the Russian hold him close, his head, the bullet was en lodged in it, it hadn't left. He continued to let out small whimpers as he felt the pain slipping in and out of consciousnesses. He didn't want Russia to see him in so much pain and said when he asked what he wanted he said, "K.......Kni...knife..." he knew Russia wanted to die, or that's what he thought , and he wanted to die with him both bleeding out in each others arms waiting for the end and so he pleaded,"K-Knife." some tears he had no control over rolled out of his eyes.

Russia didn't move, still holding America and not letting him go, he carried him with him, walking around slowly and still hoping him close to his chest. He looked around, finding a knife in the kitchen. He carrying it back to the couch. "You don't know how much I love you, you mean the world, and the sun, and the air" Russia said, holding America and the knife. He pushed the knife in to his gut. He shook and kept pushing the knife through the cloth of his coat in in to his skin, seeing the red soak through. "Its ok, подсолнечник"

America went limp in Russia's arms, but still alive his head was pounding and every movement hurt, he felt Russia beginning to walk again and knew he was going to the kitchen. As he caught a glimpse of the knife and displayed a weak smile and said struggling to get the words out, "T.....Thank...ss....I...l..love...you." he panted, it hurt to say them. He loved Russia and his last selfish wish was to die with him.

Russia didnt move. Pushing teh knife in and hitting nervs that had never been though before. He bushed the hair out of America eyes, "Everything will be ok now~" He sadi with a small smile, trying his vary best to make sure America was comtoble. He kept the glove over his head, the 2nd glove soaked in blood too. "Your safe, now" Russia cooed, He put his knees up, America on his chest inbetween him and his legs. "You did nothing to deserve this..." He said, pure guilt washing over him. "You dont know how much I loved you" Using loved, not love, America was gone to die, and there is now was he could do anything about it. Tears ran out of his eyes with out stopping, falling off of his face and on to America, or sliding down on to his neck. "Your going to be safe" He said, trying to say smothing to convince hisself.

America's half-lidded eyes looked at Russia, he felt himself go, he choked out a, "Thank....you." for everything, for loving him, for letting him love him, for the comfort he always gave him, for his kisses that he will miss,putting up with him, fulfilling his last request(to die first),and for being with him till the end. "Love." he know he couldn't say the first 2 words. He continued to clutch, and he lost all strength, he smiled weakly at him, but couldn't hold it, as he slipped away from consciousnesses.

Russia started to panic again, the knife not hurting. He shook America. "No, no no no no no" Hr said, sobbing. "No, you cant" He said to no one. He had killed America, it was totally his fault. "No, Please, no" He begged. Holding America tighter. He murrmerd softly in to Americas ear. "I love you to, America." He said "Dont forget that I love you" He said again, he would always love America, forever and always. He kissed America, pushing his hand over his chest, comfroting and felling his heart beat as well. Slowing, slowing fast. He didnt feel anything, nothing, being to beaten to do anything. "You are a hero" He said, implying more that 'your diying a hero"

America felt his head throb, and his eyes close, but could still hear somewhat, what Russia was saying. He felt guilt, that he left Russia with the pain of watching someone you love die, instead of him. His death wasn't like the one's he's seen on TV, he didn't see the light or see Jesus or God or whatever, or end up at the gates of heaven, he didn't even see hell, it was just dark and he could see himself as if someone one was looking in. He saw Russia, he saw himself and Russia rying and sobbing which broke his heart, how could he leave Russia like that? He had the knife didn't he? And then things got dark again.

Russia froze, and felt his own heart stop as Americas did. He cried and sobbed for a few seconds, just laying his head on Americas chest, and not walking to move. He picked his head up, feeling nothing but pain in his chest. "Я люблю тебя" He said still sobbing, he set his hand Americas head, face covering America eyes. He sat there, holding America. He turned over, kissing his for head and set America on to couch next to him, he wanted to run away. But instead, he ran for the gun, tripping and crawling to the gun, pulling out and tiring the gun again and fired shooting, not knowing why he was tring for fire a broken gun. He sobbing, turing back and going for the knife, getting more and more desperate.

America had once again seen black and then he was standing in the living room, unwound ed and the pain was gone. He looked around him examining himself and then looked up to see the Russian crying...over him? But he was right there, he called out, "Russia!" but the Russian didn't seem to see him. Was....was he a ghost? One of the things he feared the most? He saw Russia hold him,, it reminded him of the time he had seen Russia injured and he was crying over him, but Russia wasn't dead and so he held hope, America didn't look alive and his very presence there in the living room okay and feeling no pain proved that he was in fact dead. He saw Russia going for the gun and wanted to cry, he couldn't, he didn't know why they didn't fall. He saw the broken Russia trying to make the gun work, and saw the blood on his gut, had the knife not worked, no it was probably too painful. His heart broke at the scene had Russia, and his desperate attempts to die, he choked, but Russia would join him, and he felt a pang of guilt when he realized, Russia was going to die alone. His eyes widen, 'What did I do, no I don't want him to die alone, no, he doesn't deserve that.' he thought, and said, "I'm sorry Russia." he was going to watch Russia die but the only difference was Russia couldn't see him and he couldn't comfort Russia as he died.

Russia held the knife in his hands. Looking at America and composing himself more so. He looked at America body on the couch. "He died a hero" He said, smiling as if watching his love die was normal. He turned the knife in his hand. He didnt know what to do now, knife? "I love you, America" He said, looking at the floor now. "I love you so much" He smiled at the floor. He put the knife on the back of his neck, cutting enough to draw blood, lots of lots of blood.

America balled his fists shut, he had angry tears, but he couldn't feel them, why was he so angry at the scene he said, "Russia stop it!" he knew the Russian couldn't hear him, but he hoped that he did. He was selfish and wanted Russia to keep living, "You have a country to go back to, people who need you, don't do something stupid!" he yelled.

Russia stopped, not daring to turn around. What? He though he heard America... He shook his head and shook, looking around and making sure that there was no one. He saw a faint outline of America, he fell back, this was like one of America movies. He turned his head away from the place where he saw America. He barried his face in to his coat. He was going insane, it was not right. He still heald the knife in his hands. Cutting them lightly.

America had seen Russia stop, had he really heard him? A faint smile crossed his face, and went over to him, saying, "Russia, can you see me?" or hear both would be great, what was he still doing there? No heaven or hell was this limbo or like in the scary movies where they can't leave because they haven't rested in peace. He saw the knife in his hands and said, "Russia..." again, nto wanting to scre him, he hoped he could hear him, he really did.

Russia shook, he pushed himself back in to the end of the wall. He hold up the knife up, the air shivering and shimmering. He heard his name "I...I don't know.......What is going on?" He said, pushing his nose in to his scarf and still holding up the knife against his chest, defensively. "What?" He asked, what the hell was going on? What was wrong with him? He saw the air shimmer like it was hot, and he saw Americas face. He pushed his head in to the conner, He felt like he was broken, and now seeing things.....normal. normal, normal, was this normal?

America looked at Russia and went over and knelt over him and said, "Hey, what's wrong?" well, he had just seen the one he loved die. Could he really see him? Could he touch him, he put a hand on his leg, went right through, ad he frowned and said, "Stop, don't kill yourself." he regretted killing himself if Russia was this much of a mess, "I'm sorry." he whispered, he still wasn't sure if Russia could see him or not.

Russia felt his knee turn ice cold. He shifted away from it. "What is happening to me?" He said shivering and the cold instantly filling him up. He didnt know what to do "Whats wrong? I just got to watch the only reason I wanted to live die a horrific and painful death!" He shouted in to nothing. the blurring of the air was slowing down, lined becoming more defined, but not clear still. "My old boss use to beat me in to dust and my new boss made me kill America! I almost killed him before!" He said, wanting to say it, even if there was nothing there, there was somthing there, somthing. He dropped the knife and pulled his own hair.

America raised an eyebrow, why was Russia trying to get away from him, was he scared of him? He was shivering, was he that terrifying? He scooted back a bit, 'What's wrong was probably the wrong thing to ask.' he told himself. He heard Russia and frowned, he didn't want this for him and said another, "I'm sorry." at least Russia wasn't getting beaten, but what now Russia was bleed. He sat down across from him and said, "I'm so sorry." America was dead and Russia wanted to be, what did they do, for it to become so bad?

Russia didn't move. He looked up from his coat and saw the soft shimmering in front of him. He watched and the form stopped shimmering so much. He saw a faint, and still outline of...America. His eyes open wide. "A..America?!" He scram, he looked over at America dead body, and then the other America. He got up, "Im going insane..." He kept saying to himself. He ran over to Americas body, looking over it and felling his neck, America was still dead cold and trendily still, dead. He slummed down, warping his hand around Americas pant leg, "What is going on?" He softly. Looking at the ghostlike America. "What are you?" He asked shakily. his face was pail.

America had jumped back when he screamed and yelled over and said, "Calm down, it's me!" well everything Russia's been through he had a right to be scared and saw Russia go over to his body a check for a pulse, apparently one wasn't ound because he saw Russia ask what was going on. America went over, wanted to hug Russia, to comfort him, but couldn't, "Why can't I comfort him, like he comforted me!" he yelled at himself. Russia asked a question he couldn't answer, he himself didn't know what was going on, and he said, "I'm America." or he wasn't a country anymore and so corrected himself and said, "I'm just Alfred." he said.

Russia didnt move. He sighed "Your dead" He said, asking it more like a question the a statement. He giggled a bit looking at the blood on the walls and Americas dead body. "This is like one of your movies" He said, not sure what to say. He walked over to the wall with the blood on it. He held his hand at the top of the wall and slid it down. Leaving a think line of the blood and his hand covered. He went over to a wall with no blood. He made a "s" shape, the blood on his hand making the letter. He went over to America body, only needing to barly set his hand on Americas head to have it be soaked in blood. He wrote "o" "r" "r" "y"...Sorry in bloody letters, drops of blood running down the letters and hand still covered. "I promised your boss that I would not hurt you..." He said, still thinking he was going crazy, or snapped from the strain of his horrible life.

America nodded, he was dead, but yet he was still here, not physically but physically at the same time. America didn't ay anything, he looked serious and depressed, he wondered what Russia was writing on the wall, he saw an 'S' and then Russia went to his dead body, 'What's he doing?' he thought to himself. And then he saw the word sorry written on the wall, which sent chills to his spine and he shuddered. America's eyes widen and defended the statement, "You didn't hurt me? It was my fault, I hurt you, so many times I've lost count! I killed myself, I'm the reason I'm dead!"

Russia smiled and steeped back, admiring the word on the wall. "Lets face it America. If your boss walked in here and found you dead, Im gone, after you and me had a little war? Who would you think have killed you?" He said, the word on the wall would probably just do good in giving the next person to walk in Americas house nightmares. He looked at Americas form in the air. "You didnt hurt me, I forgave you, so you didnt do anything wrong." Russia said softly at the form, He smirked a bit, getting use to the idea that he was mentally broke and was seeing his dead boyfriend after he killed himself and died in his arms. He put a hand up and waved it though Americas head. Going through and making his form shiver a bit. He giggled and walked through America.

America listened and if he put it all together then people will think Russia killed him, and his allies, might try to avenge him or something(whoever would care enough). He didn't want that and said, "Yeah." agreeing with his statement. He killed himself, but he had to admit, he loved Russia to death(no pun intended), but he knew he had a bad reputation. When the hand was waved through his head he didn't feel it he said, "Hey!" and when Russia walked passed him, he turned saying, "Hey! Where the hell are you going?" following after him.

Russia smield. Walked around and looked through Americas house, pulling out a new knife,a the broken gun, and walked out the door. He looked down at himself, a bloddy mess, he picked up Americas body and set him up righ ton the couch. He kissed his hand and than held it on Americas head for a second, but with sad eyes, looking at him. He then started out the door again. "They will find you dead, think I killed you, and if I'm there when your there...." He said, not finishing his sentence. He closed the door behind him, then looking around and lifting up a latch of some sort. He took the key to what he assumed was Americas house. He looked around at the black nothing around him, the ground burnt. Its was not America any more. He walked, and walked before asking "Whos land is this?" He said softly, to the air, or what spot America looked like he was at.

America followed Russia to everywhere, and not bothering to say anything. What was he supposed to do now? "Where are you going?" he asked, he didn't want to be alone, he hated being alone,but he didn't want to obligate Russia to stay, especially when he didn't want to. He saw Russia kiss his hand and say his goodbye's and he let a few tears slip, he had left this behind, but it was the best. He followed Russia but stopped at the door, in the movies he had seen the ghosts couldn't leave their home, he put a foot out the door, Russia almost out of sight, and he wanted to catch up and once he cleared himself, he ran towards Russia. He didn't know why he could leave his ain house, but he thinks because he whole country was his home and he probably couldn't leave his country, he ran after him saying, "Wait up!"