Mine, Forever and Always

Chapter 11

Soft blankets, messy hair, warmth. America woke up with a pain in his chest. He sat up and looked around. He smiled lazily and moved the grey blankets to the side swinging his feet over the side of the bed. The was a calm stillness in the room. The storm that had shaken the house the previous night had moved along leaving a quilt of snow behind in it's haste. A little snow fox cub played with his siblings in the security of the pines. Everything seemed so still, so quiet. Even the ever blowing wind was silenced today as if to give mercy to the Siberian inhabitants. To America, it was complete and utter bliss.

It had been two weeks since Russia had taken America up on his offer. At first, it had been easy. America kept his eyes on his goal and found he still hated Russia with every ounce of his being. But, as time progressed, it grew more difficult. Russia was persistent, he wouldn't give up on his America. In the course of two weeks, America found himself falling in love with his captor. But, would it last?

America sighed and looked at his phone. Twenty-seven text messages, twelve phone calls, and nineteen emails -- all from Canada. He wanted to know how America was doing, if he needed any help. But, America knew if he talked to his brother things would change. America had never had the ignorance and bliss of a first love. He had always been two focused for it. But, now that he had it, he didn't want to let it go. So, America decided to stay ignorant, stay innocent, stay in love.

A few moments later, Russia came up with a plate of eggs and bacon. America wrapped the blanket around himself and put on his glasses. It may have been a beautiful day outside, but it was still cold nonetheless. The Russian man smiled and kissed America on the top of his head and cupped his face.

"Good morning, darling. How did you sleep?"

Alfred chuckled and put a spoonful of eggs into his mouth. Savory, perfect, warm. "Wonderful. How could I not when I have a bear to keep me warm?"

The Russian laughed and sat down on the bed next to him. For a moment, they just sat there staring into each others eyes. Their relationship didn't need words. The two of them only needed each others company to feel complete. Russia bit the inside of his lip accidentally drawing blood. "Amerika, I want to ask you something."

Alfred swallowed the last of his eggs and started on the bacon. "Shoot, I'm an open book."

Russia took his hands and looked him in the eyes. America swallowed hard. There was something troubling in the violet eyes. America didn't like it. Usually, those eyes expressed many different emotions. Faith, love, warmth. "Please, I want to talk to you about something serious."

America licked his lips and swallowed. What could Russia want to talk about that was so serious? They usually talked about simple things that they enjoyed. It often was a lighthearted conversation that they both enjoyed. This scared America. "Okay."

Russia took a deep breath shutting his eyes for a moment. His eyes drifted to the ceiling fan. It went around and around lazily creating a soft whirling noise that created a pleasant buzzing noise in his ear. "You like it here. Don't you?"

"Of course."

Russia smiled softly and cupped his cheek. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on America's and whispered pleasant nothings in his ear. There were complements, promises, and commitments. At the end, came a simple question. "How would you like to stay here," There was a pause. "Forever?"

America gasped silently. He didn't know. He loved Russia with all of his heart, with all of his soul. But, there was something missing. Every morning America would wake up with a pain in his chest, and every night he would fall asleep with the same pain. In the beginning, he never felt the pain, but now it seemed to grow ever stronger. The core of a country is his or her people, his or her heart. In America's heart, there were baseball games and country fairs, little old ladies baking apple pie and young children playing tag in the streets. There was laughter. There was crying. There was the pain and suffering of his nation, but also the love and nationalism. The American people were the proudest in the world, but even America himself found himself drifting away. If he let it go too much, he would cease to be a nation. He was becoming more human by the day. "I-"

There was a loud bang and America's eyes widened. The Russians eyes also widened staring into deep pools of ocean blue. The hand that held his face fell limply onto the bed followed by the rest of his body. On the side of Russia's head was a single bullet hole the size of a quarter. A sticky red liquid seeped onto the blankets below staining the sheets.

"Ivan!" America yelled applying pressure to the wounded area. He felt the tears escape his eyes and mingle with the blood that now leaked onto the floor. "Ivan! Wake up! Please, I love you!"

The shooter slowly walked over to the side of the bed. The floor beneath him creaked with every step of the leather bound shoes hitting the hardwood. The sound was muffled by America's cries and pleas for the Russian man to awaken. The shooter grabbed his arm and pulled.

"C'mon. We are leaving." He said calmly.

America fought and pulled towards the Russian man bleeding onto the floor. "Please! We have to help him!" America plead to deft ears. The shooter didn't care about America's feelings. He only knew America was not doing his job. "Canada, brother, please!!"

Fear, desire, cold.
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Hey broskis,

Holy cow! That was a knock out to write! Hope you all like what I did with it. It was a risk and I hope it was the right choice to make. Anyway, congratulations to the winner of my little give away, RussiasSunflower! :DD They requested an angst Rusame story so keep your eyes open for that. Sorry it took so long. Honestly I was trying to think of where I wanted to go from last chapter. Thank you for reading and as always feel free to message me and please comment below!!

~ForeverPineapples