My Shivering Sunflower ON HOLD

The Fight

"I-Ivan?"

America resembled a cold and scared puppy. His blue eyes wide and glistening. Gazing up in pure desperation.
Even he was a bit intimidated by the large country.

"P-please don't hurt anyone. He is just a bit grouchy t--"

Almost speaking to himself, Russia whispered, a childish grin plastered on his face.

"He shouldn't be disrespectful to me that, da. Or to my America. He should pay for being mean."

America shivered. My America?

The towering man in a beige scarf strode briskly to the door. He then flung the door open, ramming the doorknob into the wall. Causing a hole to be punctured through the drywall

"R-Russia!"

America trailed Russia. He wasn't sure whether Russia was the villain or the victim. All he knew was HE was the hero and will prevent violence whenever he can.

Russia had his evil phases. But he seemed to be... Protective.

Russia met Germany, wiping down his dusty desk, their backs to them. Russia raised the pipe, ready to hit Germany when America threw himself in front of Russia, who hit the American instead.

Germany was stunned.
"Ivan! What--"

"You shouldn't be rude. It's not nice to slam doors and turn lights off before everybody is out of the room" Russia's voice became more and more husky as his accent started to make it hard to understand him. Eventually, he turned to the unconscious male in front of him.

Oh no! what have I done? Russia almost burst out screaming at himself. But no. He was more composed than that. At least he was the mature one. Even though he rather enjoyed seeing people suffer. He couldn't stand seeing Alfred in pain. Even worse--he was knocked out cold.

He had enough with anything that was associated with cold for a while.

America reminded Russia of a sunflower. Golden locks swaying lazily across his forhead, like yellow flower petals. His big blue eyes are FAR more beautiful than the fuzzy chestnut center of the flower.

He was....sunny.

His personality, was bright and cheerful, like the clear skys he rarely got to experience back home. He, himself, on the other hand, was overcast. Platinum hair framing a big childish face with violet eyes. Like....why violet? Thats one of the eye colors that belong to an albino! [*] He didn't want to be reminded of the cocky red-eyed Prussian ever. He aways felt like Prussia mocked him. The name. His wish to rule the world, to be the best.

Basically, what is there to want from me? Russia thought to himself.

"Now, I must be going, da." The Russian spoke softly, his dark aura disappearing.

Scooping America us in his arms, craddling his upper half into his chest and shoulder, he felt contempt as he carried him out of the office.

He feels so right. Like he belongs in my arms. Fits perfectly. Like how sunflower roots are woven precisely through rich soil.

[* Yes. You read that right. Albinos can have red, orage-yellow violet, amber, or white-pink eyes, unknown to lots of people.]