RusAme-Timeline life

America smiled, "That's good!" and took another bite of his food. He laughed and said, "yeah, I did, people tell me that I grew over night because I grew in such a short amount of time." the light teasing made his heart flutter, but he pushed the feeling away. His smile flattered at bit and said, "We still gonna to space together, that does sound pretty cool having a friend coming along."

Russia smield at America. He giggled "I will go to space with you, Mr Alfred." He said a cirtan tone in his voice. He wished that the tone was not there, but it was. He continued to stare at America. He looked down. "Thank you, Mr Alfred, the food is vary good~" He cooed at America. He found himslef being more and more...depressed. He sighed and looked back up. "America..." He said softer, blushing a bit and twisting his hand in his scarf. He sighed. There was nothing to hid from America, he was a...good freind. He wanted to tell someone, so...so bad. Just to be able to let someone know. He felt his chest start to burn and neck fell like it was choking

America grinned and said, "Awesome!" a word he had learned fro Prussia. He ha looked away to blush from the tone he used, God it just made him, warm. He laughed, "I'm glad you liked it, it's not my food, its the Dutch's." he saw the Russian blush and he couldn't help but have his own blush creep on his cheeks. He cocked his head a bit and said, "Yeah, what's on your mind Mr. Russia?" accidentally using that name instead of Ivan.

Russia frowed. "America...Can I tell you somthing? I dont tell people this alot, in fact, anyone...." He sighed nd leaned his face in the table. "Remember when you staied with me? And how you...saw everything frin the door? And how Ra...that man handed me a gun?" He asked, but he was not done. "And how I came back sobbing, because of the gun, and ou were little, and scard of the dark..." He kpet going still.

America rested his head on his arms and his ear perked up saying, "Yeah, sure." the Russian sounded nervous and he felt a bit honored that he was of the people Russia was telling. He was told about the time he went to Russia's head and he raised his head from his arm and said, "Yeah." where was Russia going with this, he had wondered what had happened that day too but just listened for the rest of the time, for Russia to continue.

Russia looked back down. "Well......That man, said that If I didnt...kill..." It was so hard to say that word. "He wanted me to kill my boss, and my famley." He didn't know what he was doing in telling America this, but he went on, telling America everything and anything he could. He wished that America was not so hard to talk to, but he did ether way. He sighed and looked at the sun sinking over the statue and water, waves lapping in the horbor softly. He went in to detail in some parts he should have not. "He told me about the sound of there skulls being torned by the bullet, the blood and the bone coming out of there heads the dead look in there eyes..." He looked up at America, it felt so good to tell America, but it was...odd. He didn't even fell the cold tear run down his cheek and in to his mouth. The staly of the tear went back in to his mouth. He didn't know what he would accomplesh, but it was going to happen soon, vary soon, if he didn't than they would. He heard heard that they were in the forest, he knew where, and would be going there soon. He put his head back in to his arms, his chest being torned apart.

America listened closely as he heard the explicit and gruesome details. He saw a tear slip from the Russian's face, he felt his chest tighten, why did he feel the need to comfort him. He hesitantly wiped a tear away from Russia's face he felt guilty and bad that one man could make Russia look this sad and broken. When Russia hid in his own arms, America ran and hand through his hair and said, "Hey, Mr. er...Ivan, shhh, it' gonna be okay, trust me on this." the hair was soft and it was a strange and unique color.

Russia held his breath to keep himslef from his breath hitching. He stood up, taking some money out of his pocket and putting it down on the table. He looked at America. "Now can you guess who Im going to visit when I get back home? I get to go see my bosses famly, sacrd, hiding, and kill them, they wnt me to kill the kids I raized and there parents." HE laughed out in to the open and started out teh door. He had dealing with it for a long time, but it was only hitting him now. He, had had a small crush on the girl, Anastasia, but now he would have to kill her. He pulled America with him, going out in to the open, the smell of sea water rushing at him.

America was about to say something about paying, but everything was going to fast, what as Russia going to do at home? Was this some sick joke? He was pulled with the Russian he said, "Hey! Slow down! Think this over man!" What could he tell Ivan to make him calm down. He felt bad, if he ever had to kill Washington...he didn't want to think about it, he was like a father to him, he didn't know. He couldn't imagine what Russia was feeling. As he was being dragged he said, "I'm sorry." very quietly.

Russia froze in his tracks when America said that he was sorry. He turned around, not deadly calm. He looked in Americas eyes intently, not sure if it coudnt for anything. Russia still felt that burn in his chest. Hefor a fraction of a inch closer to America. "America.." He paused. "There will do not getting around the fact the I will kill them, I..I want you there, so that you..came be there" He said softly, he wondered if America was as important as he saw America. This is why he ddin't think about, if he didn't think about it, it would be more painful to get over. He quikly pulled America in to to a hug. "Im sorry, You dont have to, its a blood awful thing and there is no reason you should be there..." He praied that America would come with him ether way. It was almost kind of funny, that old man had such power over everything Russia had. He winced still crying. He pulls back and cotnied pulling America, the taring in his chest making it hard to walk with out with breath hitching.

America stopped when Russia stopped he looked into the violet eye which were showing signs of crying. His suspicions were correct, Russia was going to kill family and Russia wanted him to go with. He wanted to go see him kill a family, Russia's family. But Russia was a friend, but he had just gained his Independence no way his boss would let him leave the country. He wanted to help Russia, comfort him in some way. He said, "I-I can't Russia, my people need my here." damn it, it broke his heart to tell his to Russia that he couldn't, even though they only had a few meetings, he felt the obligation to make sure Russia was okay. He looked down and said, "I-I'm sorry, I can't help you." he's never felt more useless. His crying face broke his heart repeatedly, "I'm sorry." Russia asked for his help, but he couldn't give it tohim.

Russia felt his heart snap. He took a shakey breath in and huged America again. Tight, almost choking. "I..Its ok, America..." He took a long second before saying anything again. "America, When I get back from russia..." There all going to be dead,,, He said in his head. His neck and chest felt like it was hit with a hammer. He smiled a sad smile at America. "Its ok, it is, but..." He was not sure what to say now. "Thank you, you are alread one of my best freinds" He giggled and whiped his eyes. He let go of America and turned his back, starting to walk away. He started crying again when he got out of the city, but out of Americas sight, He cluched his scarf, warping it in between his fingers and around his plam. He could feel the senstion of cold tears running off of his face and on to the dirt under him.

America hugged back, and his face turned red because of how tight the taller man was hugging him. The embrace felt nice but he liked it and he didn't scold himself on how wrong it was. "I'm sorry." he whispered, he felt guilt surge through his body, this was the only thing he could do was just hold him right now. His heart skipped a few beats when Russia said he was best friend. They only had 2 meetings and they acted as though they hung out every day, "I-I....You're my best friend too, and I'm sorry." he watched the Russian walk away and he let some tears slip from his eyes. He continued to say he was sorry until the Russian left. He wasn't going to let his new friend down, he ran after him yelling, "Ivan!" and frantically looking for him. He found him just standing there, he didn't care if his boss would be angry, he would go and help his friend in his time of need. When he found him, he stopped running and stood about 20 feet away from him and said, "Ivan."

Russia kept crying s bit whenhe heard America voice. He froze and 1/2 turned to America. "Alfred, you don't have to come with me if you don't want to. All it is going to be is me painting my walls with blood." He said faltly, breath still hitching. He twsted over to America, making sure to whipe his eyes before he did. He smiled at America though, he dan't even asked what he wanted yet. He sighed. "Yes, AMerica?" He asked softly. The pain in his chest wass dulling, but still there and strong. He walkedd a few feet closer to America. "Its ok, dont be afride" He smiled sadly

America looked at Russia and said, "But what good are friends, if they're are never there when you need them the most?" he saw the Russia take a few steps closer to him and firmly stood in his spot he bit his lower lip before speaking and said, "Y-You don't have to....don't you have a choice in the matter?" did Russia, he didn't want the to happen to Russia, killing his boss and his children, America he himself wouldn't have the heart to do it.

Russia didn't want to answer, so he didnt. He turned away from America, reaterating him few steps and then some. He continued walking, using a colder and more iced over tone, he murmmered to America. "No choice, you can come with me if you want to, don't hate me for what I do..." He said and continued walking away. The uneven ground treathing to trip him. He didn't breath, continued walking and stopped after another 20 feet. He yelled 40 ft away from America. "You will see nothing but blood, freind." He said, the ice in his voice melted to to a warmer, nicer thing at the end. America was really the onl antion that could stand him. He wished that, the world would just fall over and die. Heconinuted walking, each step hurting and tripping him, begging him not to go

America stood there his face white an a bit nervous and conflicted. He hesitantly took a step forward and stay 10 steps behind Russia. He wasn't going to leave, what was probably one of his closets friends by himself. Even in war friends came to aid him, so he returned the favor with Russia; it wasn't war but it was still something that Ivan needed help in, and a hero always helped those who needed it. He didn't say anything to anything that had said just continued to follow him 10 paces behind the other.

Russia continued walking, being glad that America was following. He looked up at him, and smiled grafuly.
-le time skippy to the house-
The trip had been long, to long. He didn't say anthing the enitre way, America loyaly folowing behind. He silentry started crying again and stopped in front of the masion, this is where his boss would be killed. He looked at America, waking behind him and grabbing his hand. "Mr Afred, I want to you to go upstairs, and wait for me, ok?" He asked, smiling even though the gun was buring him like the metal had been burt red hot. He grabbed the gun, crying and exmaining it, the old man had put the bullets and gunpodwer in, a sleek relover. He knocked on the door, his grip tighning on Americas hand. A main opened the door. "Ay! Mr Rossua! Come in!" He bowed to him and he smiled. He walked in and looked around, making sure that there was no one around before Russia pulled America in to a tight hug. He felt no pain, just a numb felling, he already knew that the pain would be horrific. He looked at America. "Go up the stairs, and wait in my room. the one with the golden door handle.Da?" He asked, he warched the gards tell the famly to go in the basement, for a picture? He didn't smile though. Anastaia burst out of the room, he jumped on to him, choking him in her hug. "Brother Russia! You came back!" She cried out of joy. Russia hugged back. The little girl was now a teen, long black hair and white skin. She knew almost no Russian, having been razied in the UK. He smiled. "Ana~, you should go with your famly" He said as if nothing was happening. He turned his back as the girl ran off. He cried again, and looked at America. "She is one of the 6 children." He shorty explained. He whiped his eyes as the famly funnled in to the basment. There was no pain, just guilt

America had stayed silent during the entire trip, not knowing what to say in situation like this. They had made it to the mansion he looked at it in awe, a few people had mansions, him not being one of them. He felt Ivan grip his hand and was about to pull away and say that men shouldn't be doing the sort, but whatever made Russia more comfortable, he could suppress his growing feelings. They walked into the house and couldn't help but feel dread, he knew what was going to happen, and he let Russia hug him, keeping his arms to his sides. He saw the young girl hug Russia while America was leaning by a nearby wall, and had no idea why he didn't like the girl; he didn't have a conversation or know anything about her yet he didn't think they would get along. He was told to wait in Russia's room, he could feel their time come soon, he hesitantly left there, and tried to keep an eye on Russia for as long as he could. No hero's here, if he stopped it, it might be an act of War and he couldn't afford to go to war with Russia; not while still recovering from the revolution.

Russia cried, smiling down in to the basement. He ecnded in to the underground barrier. Where the gars blocked the door after he walked in. He whiped the tears of his eyes, not letting the famly see. He put his hand in this pocket, the metal buring his thigh made his fingers freez. The oldest of the children started demanding to know what was going on. Russia's hand shook when he pulled the gun out. The children gasped, but the Parents didn't seem all that shocked, they knew that the nation hated them and that they would be meeting there end. Russia closed his eyes and end up the gun, waitghing 100 pounds. He sobbed openly. He mouthed the words "Im sorry before shooting with his eyes closed. He swear that he could tell withc on of the famly was hit by there screams. He continued sobbing, and could swear he tasted blood in his mouth. He shot all 6, somehow managing to hit all of them but one. He opened his eyes, a pool of blood rolling around the floor and the little girl. Anastsia sitting sobbing jsut as Russia did. He dropped the gun, he looked at one of the gards at the door. "Get her" He whisped, still sobbing and boots, and hands being sovered in blood. He left a red trail up the stiars and on the carpeted floor. He went up, sobbing to his room wehre Americas was waiting. He collaped on the floor. He had to have bitten his toung, because he coghed out a small think of blood. He wondered why he was bleeding. But coucghed more and mroe blood, the image of the butllers having hit there heads and chest. He could here the snap of there ribs slamming back in to there lungs and hearts, the small fragments of there skulls laying drenched in blood around the room and a lake of blood falling off of them, coating his feet and hands, the gun's dark pourse being fo filled. He bleed through his nose as well, all the cuts he had ever gotton feelning like there were taring back open. He

America went into the Russian's room and couldn't sit still. He paced around the room waiting for screams, a gunshot anything. He had killed people before, but they were always complete strangers and enemies; he never had to kill anyone close or dear to him. It was always easier when you didn't know the person you were pointing your gun at. He had a feeling of deja vu, he was waiting in the room waiting for Russia to return, scared and barely knowing what was going on. He heard footsteps come up the stairs. He sa just crash to the floor his heartbreaking sobs indicating that the deed had been done. He couldn't help but try and hold back tears in his eyes; not letting them fall. He went over to the crying and sobbing Russian and sat him up hugging him trying to calm him down, saying, "Hey, it's gonna be okay, shhhh jut let it all out big guy."

Russia put a hand up to attempt to clear his face. He brough his hand back in to viwe and found the red pouring over his skin, the blood faling form the cornner of his mouth and nose. He continued to sob, he looked down and he saw his boots covered with the bloo dof what would endup being his last royal famley. He pantes and his breath hiched from crying so hard. He saw the blood on his boots roll down, now in partly coagualated blobs. He looked up and America. He still wondered why he was bleeding. He coninued crying, the blood mizing with his tears and droping donw his face, turing the color in to a swriling mess and clear and red. He just killed he last things the wanted him alive. He could feel himslef faltering a bit. Not human sef, nation slef. He could feel a diffrent thing wash over him, forcing its way and making everything seem red. He pulled up to America, holding him tighly and only getting blood and tears on his shirt. He shook his head. "No. Its *sob* not going to *sob* be o..ok! *sob* He scram at Americas though choked and bloddy sobs. He felt the sudden movemet trow a bit of blooding to both of his eyes. He felt the red spreding across, turing his eye and odd red color and blainding him in the bight and yet dark color. He sobbed louder when he heard the girl scream, the gards steping back, even though the floors of the house. He cried, only the tears slowly washing the red out of his eyes.

The scene of Russia bleeding and crying just made him feel so helpless unable to do or say anything that will make the pain go away. He felt the blood and tears bleed into his shirt, and he jut let the Russian cry, he wanted to say that he still had him, that it wasn't his fault, but his own tears were preventing him from doing so. He had to be strong for him, he rubbing his back trying to sooth the Russia to some point and said, "It wasn't your fault." because it wasn't, if Russia had a choice, he wouldn't have done it, this is the kind of injustice that he didn't want in his country. He whispered and cooed that it would be okay and that it wasn't his fault, that he didn't have a choice in the matter and if he did, he wouldn't have chosen this. He didn't know what else to say, and hopefully his words of endearment helped the Russian in some way. He moved a hand up and up the blood mixed tears off of Russia's face.

Russia coninued Crying, letting America do what ever he wanted. He still held America close though. He cryed untill there were no more tears left in him. He stood up, getting ereamly light headed and crashing back down to the floor. Hitting the ground face first. His breath still hiched and panted, making him only more light headed. He had a fear that he would pass out if he didn't calm down. He knew that would not happen, so he jsut didn't breath holding his hreath untill the image of the murder in his mind changed colors. He opened hsi mouth and gasped, breathing being alot slower now. He still held on to America. He praied that the gards claned up though. He stood up, using AMerica as support. He sat down onhis bed, more justifed than the floor. He brough America up with him. His face was a flutereed red and he still dodn't know what he just did. He looked at his hands, still soking in blood. He shook and set them down, looking at his own blood that had fallen all over the floor. He stood up again, being sucasful and walking in to the bathroom, elaving the door open and looking at himslef in the mean and washing his face off. The blood turned the water a pink, but made his face clear and normal colored again. He cried over the sink, the red still came out in the tears. He realzied then that he was crying blood. He shut his eyes. He turned the water off and walked down the stairs. He found the gards all lined up at the side of the door. He gave them a odd look, but they returned a more understanding look. "Mr Rossia" One of them called out. "You have a new boss, a diffrent kind of boss!" One toehr said. AT the second, the door swung open showing a tall and dark looking man. He spoke in Russian. "Russia, you are now the Soviet Union, The comunist super power, several members of your famly are in the union, and will be living with you as one now" His boos said fatly. He nodded and walked up the stairs running when he was out of site. He Jumped on America crashing in to him and hiding his face in the crook of Americas neck.

America watched Russia wearily as he tried to stand up, he tried to catch him when he came crashing down. He went over and tried to help him up and was brought to the bed not bothering to protest because he was still speechless, othing he tell the Russian could make it any better and make him forget what just happened. He eyed Russia as he walked into the bathroom, thankful that he now seemed to have a steady grip. He silently watched getting off the bed and looking over, but making sure Russia didn't see. His eyes widen when he saw him crying blood, could that happen? Russia was probably feeling the ultimate amount of grief right now, and was only just a bit surprised. Russia went downstairs and America poked his head out the door, hearing a deep voice speaking in Russia; naturally he didn't understand a single word, but heard footsteps coming back up the stairs and went back into the room. Then Russia came in and was tackled, his feelings growing for the other man but knocking them off with homophobic remarks he had heard his people say. He couldn't help but feel and from the point of view he was in Russia looked so small and broken, a difference between that had come to his country to visit him and the broken mess holding onto him.