Make me fear you, so maybe I'll stop coming back here.

Make me hate you, everything would be easier.

Because I'm not afraid and I have wings to fly, but as long as your chained to Earth, I'll stay.

You may have teeth to bite and claws to catch, but until the world's end, I will stay.

Because no matter what you do to make me fear you, I pity you even more.

And as I begin to hate, I remember how soft and tender the apologies are.

I may not be afraid and these wings may have taken me to heaven, but in the end, in your arms I find my purpose, and that hell isn't quite that bad if you are here.

The bruise on my cheek was still throbbing, the blood beating itself through the pinched nerves, the midnight of a purplish moon crescenting my left eye as I leaned my head back to take in another breath.

'The night is so long when everything is wrong.'

My lips were cracked a bit, echoes of screams still on every soft breath my lungs could muster, and looking softly down at him, I couldn't help but give a smile.

It hurt, a pang or stitch somewhere deep in my chest, as if my soul was harshly threatening me about the danger lurking below my gaze, remembering a monster that was slowly killing me with such kindness that sometimes, I just couldn't get off my knees. My heart was heavy, I had to rest, just once. Please, just one more moment, and I would get up and leave, and never come back.

My hands were nervously running circles and twirls through the locks and curls of his silvering bangs, never disturbing his slumber as I felt the lithe skin beneath his closed eyes, a little dark from insomnia, my fingers tracing remnants of blush on his soft cheeks, the color glossing the bridge of his nose and the very tips of his ears. He was sleeping off the liquor, and how supernatural it must feel to be so blissfully ignorant and unaware of bad nights.

I envied that suddenly, because no matter what I did, I always remembered the entire thing, from first sip to first blow, start to finish in high quality.

My heart was finally slowing, the burning feeling receding sweetly as I swallowed tears that wished to fall. Why did I even try to cry anymore? Tears never gave any filling feeling, it never replaced or stitched up any wounds, why did we even try to do so with them? But looking down at the charming man, I had to cover my mouth before I could sob any more.

'I might wake him.'

Those eyes fluttered open and fearfully I tried to hide the liquid evidence of my weakness, turning quickly as my hands drew up to my eyes, but before I could touch one tear, Ivan had grabbed my wrists and held me curiously, looking up with a deep contemplation, with fire and ice in his gaze.

"Baby Bird, you're crying," was that a smile on his face as his thumbs cleaned my cheeks, wiping stubbornly at me with a light laugh, his tongue wetting his lips as he finished, looking at his handy work with blithe, innocent eyes.

I hated that look. At times I thought I could gouge out his eyes till he was the one crying blood, like cherries slit on the tile floor where we sat now.

All his moves were slow and biding as he stretched from his comfortable nap, a tiny yawn opening his mouth easily, the points of his teeth gleaming in the lamp light, a thrilling sort of sick feeling quelling somewhere deep in my core, smoldering as I felt hot breath on my lips for a kiss.

As much as I felt like I could throw my weight against him and strangle the life from his form, each fiber in me aching to break every ounce of that man with all my coiled anger, my hands found his pretty face and I kissed his right back, like silk and velvet together now as he pulled back and looked me over with that child like pacification. There was no monster behind those blooming violet eyes, just a soul who didn't understand right from wrong, and pushed the boundaries to see how life swung in balance.

Almost like deathly trial and error.

The crown of Ivan's head sunk to my shoulder and his form arched gracefully over to hold me in place as he drifted back to the cool cusp of sleep and as patient as ever I held him with reassuring arms and kissed at the tresses as they fell into place. He hummed against me and I could feel the hard consonants of Russian against my heart, but I never could catch their meaning when he slurred his words.

I suddenly thought of how close I was to snapping his neck, and leaving him like a slain dragon laid out with broken body and still heart, but as he moved his lips to my collar bone for one last good night caress, I all but forgot how I would be able to get away with any murder of his.

In the moment, I had hated him, with every beat and breath I had told myself I would stand this time and I would finally open my folded wings and be free of this place, of this oppression, just as a bird taking flight from a long hibernation in winter, but I could feel tears, hot and salty, on my lips as I drew Ivan's head back and kissed his cheeks for what I thought was a final farewell.

'Next time, I will end it. If it ever happens again, I will walk away, for my own good.'

That's the millionth time I've said it, and it seems with each echo as Russia coherently kisses me back, my soul could stand a million more.

These guys are just too much. LOL

I had a thought that Alfred is too much of a hero to ever leave a victim, and that, in the moment of an argument he's made up his mind to give up on the person, but in the end, his little heroic soul simply can't let someone fall, he just can't bring himself to do it.

Like most of my stuff, there might be more to this...if you guys think there is promise in the story! :)

I really do hope you enjoy. Please comment, and feel free to read my other RusAme stories!

BTW, does anyone else think I'm making this couple a little too OOC? Be honest!