Blue With White Stars | RusAme ✔️

Blue With White Stars-- One

This story is the remake of "The blue In His Eyes"
I hope you enjoy the newest version.
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The violet eyes of the Russian nation gazes over at the fresh cut on his arm, slowly bleeding and freezing from the cold air.

America breathes heavily and throws his knife away, hearing it land in the deep snow surrounding the area.

"I told you I didn't want to do this to you, but you never listened!" America shouts in anger, leaving Russia in surprise of the other nations outburst.

A stream of blood rivers down Russia's arm and drips onto the snow.

"Are you going to say something already! You know I didn't want this for us!" The American nation yells once more, still not receiving an answer from the male a few feet away from him.

Russia stares straight into America's eyes, showing his response with a glare.

Tears stream down America's cheek and he slaps his hand over his eyes, covering the rivers of tears on his face.

"A certain darkness is needed to see the stars." Russia states, turning around and walking away slowly through the tall snow.

America grabs Russia's hand and he flinches, pulling his hand away immediately; Leaving America staring at him.

"You can't just walk away! This is war and you decide to fail like this! I wanted this to end for our rela-" Russia cuts America off, raising his tone, "It's over America! Please just... Take your victory and go!"

With that being said, Russia runs into the blizzard without hearing America's response.

He shouts at the Russian nation, hoping he'd hear him, "Russia! You'll freeze to death if you don't watch where you're going! Russia!"

The nation waits in the cold, pulling his military coat around him tightly from the cold breezes.

No response, not one noise, nor a source of light. He sighs and turns around the opposite direction of where Russia ran.

He won't freeze, he's already frozen in his own sorrow.

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Russia slows his pace down, feeling the cut on his arm freeze to its lowest temperature. Although he is wearing a heavy military coat, he can still feel the frostbite on his skin.

He groans from the sharp pain in his legs and arms, knowing America was right; He'll freeze to death.

His legs tremble violently as the strikes of snow shoot against him, even though the snow is his only ally in the war. Russia pulls his scarf over his nose and continues to try and walk as fast as he could.

Not only is he running from the cold, but he's running from the aura following him. It's mixed with darkness, sorrow, and red; Which he assumes it's the torment of his past, but he'd rather not find out.

Russia's legs give up and he falls to the snow, sinking his hands and knees into the cold ground.

He breathes heavily as the sound of whispering breaks the silence of the area he's in. Although his sadness is already taking over him, the aura still attaches to Russia; Showing illusions of his own sanity.

Russia's eye lids drop and he hears the sound of people running towards him from behind his fallen body.

"Russia! Your skin!" An American voice yells, one that sounds exactly like his belligerent; or ex-ally after what was said.

With no strength left in Russia's body, he falls face first into the white snow.

The Cold War was at the end, and Russia wanted to join its failure. Although a nation can't die, he still wishes to end.

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---2 Months after the Cold War---

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"He's... Alive?" France asks the Brit next to him in the hospital.

No one knew Russia was critically frozen and in the hospital for intensive care, not like any of the nations would care.

America enjoyed his victory while Russia sat in the hospital with a large scar on his arm and a permanent aura that haunts his sanity.

Then again, Russia isn't as important as America, right? It wasn't even America's first intention to save Russia, nor was it a second thought.

"Unfortunately he is, but he did lose the war... Thank the lord." England implies, making it quite obvious that he doesn't give not one concern for Russia's health.

"Angleterre! That was uncalled for!" France protests, earning a glare from England.

"You can't say you don't agree with me right now?" He questions the Frenchman while staring at the sleeping Russian nation in front of him.

"I suppose... Your right." France reluctantly agrees, turning his gaze at Russia. They

watch him breathe lightly and France sighs, "When will he wake up?"

"Probably tonight, depending on the results of the blood pressure." England replies to France, who seems nervous about Russia waking up.

"Should we go now?" He asks, tugging lightly on England's sleeve.

"You go, I'll be there in a second." England says, getting an understanding nod from France.

He leaves the hospital room and closes the door, leaving England and the sleeping Russia alone. The British nation sighs, slightly smirking.

"America seemed worried about you considering your skin was pale when he found you freezing your whole body off in the blizzard. It's pathetic to know you gave up that easy." He tells the Russian in front of him, "Although I've always liked America, he still doesn't seem to show the same kindness to me like he does with you; Unless he's that type that acts nice but actually fears you behind your back."

England chuckles, "The Cold War was another excuse for you to try and get with America, wasn't it? Yet again, you still gave up! What happened? Did America reject you? I knew he'd do that, who would love a pour little soul like you!"

England laughs and walks over to the door, reaching for the door knob.

He turns his body slightly and looks back at Russia, "I've always hated you, but now it different; I despise you with every emotion I have."

"Watch your back, this will never end... Your the Fallen sunflower of winter."

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Sorry if I was late with the first chapter, I got surrounded by school and other stuff.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hopefully I release the next part by tomorrow or Friday. Please try to be patient with the updates, but other than that, thanks for reading.

----Carousel Palace----