Facades [Hetalia AU]

e i g h t

It was not a well-known fact to the general public, but to a specific few high-rankings, Ivan Braginsky was not an easy mind's to mess. Where humans crumble pitifully after periods of sadistic torture or ferocious violence, he was built to withstand and conquer it. He was explicitly created to take any powerful, life-threatening hits willingly and come out at the end smiling exuberantly as if it means absolutely nothing to the old, tired soul. So when the powerful personification of Mother Russia fell apart, it was natural that one Belarus didn't know how to react. 

(i miss you )

Ever since he had been locked in this dreadful, wrenched place, the boundaries between the worlds of reality or imaginations have all but disappeared. It was getting harder to keep track of his normally unvalued time, as all he could think of was a lonely cloud of white and more white. It was so silent, so different from his lovely home where it just radiates comforting warmth and easy chatter flowing around each corner. It was a stark difference which he certainly does not appreciate. 

He did not understand the very reason he currently resides the tiny, barely livable room. It was bare, stripped of any facilities for sleeping or sanitation. Instead, what greets his eyesight every single day were smooth white walls, so soft that he wasn't sure it was there. He wasn't sure if he was alive even, or was he in a word in the betweens?

Every day, a small peephole would open inaudibly, and a small portion of rice served in a white paper plate. Sometimes, he wouldn't even notice that it was there. It was pointless; everything was. How hard he screamed or punched the wall furiously did not affect. He was waiting for a reaction, an action where he was responsible for causing it. Not even the dark shadows that used to follow him everywhere, enlarging themselves into monstrous beasts during the nightmare, would accompany him here in this desolate place. It was like throwing pebbles to a body of water and not seeing any ripples; it was so wrong in so many degrees that it made him sick inside out. It was like living in a new, more cruel world, with so many new, completely ridiculous rules and stupid boundaries. He hated it. 

He was just so alone. Even though he was an introvert, he never thought he would miss them so much. He missed Natalya's awkward and albeit horrifying smile where she attempted to wrestle him viciously for another needed heated, comfy hug when it was chilling to death outdoor; he missed Gilbert's stupid late-night ideas and his boisterous, reverberating and disturbing laugh; he missed Elizabeta's treasured pan producing an ear-piercing clang when it hit varying spots in his humongous, luxurious baroque-style mansion and her random irate speech which happen almost every day on how most men do not possess a single drop of intelligence; and Alfred's prepossessing blue eyes that if stared deeper and longer, was as infinite and enchanting as the skies and heavens hanging over them and his fast-paced ramble about a new thing he discovered when he was exploring his territories, amazed by the alluring array of mother nature, or a new book he stole from Iggy's library that contained some fascinating information. 

It was so easy just to let go of things. To let go of all of the various reason why he was held here. To forget his resolution to go back to his modest but joyful life with his siblings. It was so relaxed to stop believing intensely, too stop wondering whether his people were content and satisfied. 

So, he let go. He gave up. 

He stopped counting dates. He stopped remembering names. He stopped remembering the faces of nameless people. What was the point, after all? 

He banished the sensations and connections he had to his country. He knew he was selfish, but the days trapped in here seemed to loomed for eternities, the choice of being personification seemed heavier. He was a coward, he knew, for facing countless wars and torture yet losing himself and his right mind into one of them. 

The final string was letting go of his identity, of being the personification of Russia. He let his memories, the dreams of being a great country, the envy of all nations, roam free, away from his real head. The threatening but friendly promises Baba Yaga whispered at one end of his ear, and the kind encouragements from the youthful and vivacious Princess Anastasia was lost at the desolate wasteland. The usual tingle of joy he could feel from his people, which usually would serve its purpose of reminding him and keeping his resolutions together, was no longer there. 

In that very moment, Ivan Braginsky decided to stop being the personification of Mother Russia.

 ( i hate you )

"Ivan?" a friendly yet foreign tone inquired for him at his behind. His large stature turned backward, facing the source of the question. He found a confused-looking girl with soft-looking blond hair that extended past her shoulders wearing an intricate dark blue dress that fits perfectly with her petite figure. Her eyes were violet, clouded with unfathomable pity, a mix of confusion and a hint of uncontrollable, seeping anger. 

"Who are you?" Ivan asked back perplexed on how a casual lady could know his identity. His superior stated that his job should remain a secret and his identity has been concealed by the government. He shifted his stance into a protective one, his eyes immediately browsing for any sign of harm or violence emitting from the woman. When he found none, he relaxed his stance and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. 

"My name is Natalya. Nice to meet you." She replied in a sluggish pace as if she was thinking carefully about each word she uttered. She offered her hand and offered a clumsily charming smile. Ivan diplomatically took it and her grip was tight but also lovingly warm and nice. 

"Please trust me," she said carefully, gazing deep into soul before pulling his hand and leading him outside the extravagant ballroom into an unused room down the hallway. Ivan knew he should have refused but a gut feeling of his told him that the girl was to be trusted as he ever did before. 

before? 

what was before? 

 ( i love you )

A/N : 

well, wasn't that a rollercoaster ride to write! tbh, these author notes look quite unprofessional or is it just the formatting of wattpad? been reading too much ao3 fics then haha. how are yall? i'm rlly sorry i didn't update earlier. i had a competition last month which took most of my time since i had to study a new syllabus and shit. this story has probably gone far away from my plan but screw it, it was fun to write!! been watching haikyuu and a part of me want to write a new fic then i stare to this one sitting in this account n im like shiiiiet. yes, i suck as a writer. 

also random question but does anyone live in ny? if you do, do u hv any suggestions on what to do in ny in early november yeet. this will prob go unanswered but if u reply, i'll be quite content :> since i'll have a clue in what to do in my free days after the other round of the competition i mention before yeeet 

don't forget to vote and comment luvs! seeing those give me happiness and motivation to write another chapter. stay hydrated and healthy yall!!