Style: School AU drabble | Pairing: RussiaxAmerica / Cold war pair | Warnings: language and some implications.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of his characters. If I did this pairing would be so hot that cold war would melt!

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How things turn.

Alfred F Jones is a young 19 teen taking a major degree in visual design.

Since he was a young boy he decided to be a Hero, soon he realised that was hard and a bit unrealistic so he kept being a Hero for his friends and aspired to create the greatest thing in the world- Games.

He enjoys the active part of it, making, planning, the creative ideas that come and fill his life and mind; He even decided to join in video design to include more views and special effects to his creative works. He must admit many are too patriotic but they are fun and people like them. He couldn't sketch for his life though so he works mostly with 3D.

It can be a bit boring, tiring and long. The late parts of render, and the process of 'copy' and 'paste' that takes for most of the final part of his projects, takes many hours and sometimes, like today, he is forced to stay working late on the little McDonald's joint near the park.

Don't take him wrong-, firstly he had to stay one hour late in school, then went to the library and then he needed a place to stay and have energy current for his laptop. This led to the joint where he can be found, every big project, until the 2am.

The blond grabbed his bag, rearranged his glasses waving to the cashier, a friend from college, and ran a hand through his hair, a cowlick making himself known by standing tall and proud as he stood out, and started crossing the park to his parents home.

The moon was full and the dark sky was clouded. A cold breeze hitting his naked arms making him shiver and rush his pace to get home and finally rest on his, oh so desired, bed. He was walking through the sky clear part of the park, no trees to hide the big moon, when he saw him.

Ivan Braginsky, 20 years and taking a major degree in fine arts. They have two chairs together and a competitively level that can not be considered normal or even healthy.

They fight verbally and enjoy making mental games with each other. Once, a long time ago, they were close friends, now they are merely colleagues with mutual loathing. A stupid fight brought that but none of them want to admit defeat and to be honest, Alfred can't even recall what brought their sour relation. Even sour Alfred always kept close to the Russian student; he stayed close enough to know things but far from talking or acting directly with him. He misses him and wished the other felt the same but he makes sure to let Alfred know he doesn't.

The curious thing about the Russian student was not that for once he was not sketching but that he was holding his arm tightly in the middle of the night while staring intently at the moon. Alfred knows as a fact that the Russian likes to be home early since is mother died; he likes to keep one eye on his sisters and father. His curiosity was peaked with this as he walked closer.

Alfred, being the awesome person that he is became a bit worried when he realised that something was very wrong. He could see something dark growing on the light brown coat of the Russian. His instincts started peaking up and, invaded by a sense of curiosity and protectiveness, he decided to walk closer and tease the man a bit. He just wanted to tease, really.

''Sup dude, creeping on the park?'' he grinned.

The Russian turned to him in apparent surprised and the slight orange light on the park made Alfred see that his eyes and nose were red, probably from crying.

''What do you want Alfred?'' he spat with his childish soft voice, placing a fake smile on his face.

Alfred frowned and looked to his arm, the wrong dark thing was blood, the light turning it into a shade darker but not even the pressure the Russian made on the arm was making it stop; perhaps there's another source but he looked at his face and it was vacant as always. Purple eyes narrowed staring at him and Alfred felt a pang of something in the bottom of his stomach and wanted to help him. Of course he knows the Russian won't ask for help but he is worried and decided to be blunt about is intentions.

''What happened?'' The Russia moved his eyes to the full white moon and Alfred sat on his side. He knows he can't force help on the tall man, he knows him too well.

This close he can see his scratched face, the moon light and park lamp making his pale flesh looking a shade darker and the bruises dark pink. He wants to help, to know or al least to take him and clean the bruises.

The silence stretched and made Alfred uncomfortable; he looked at the free hand on the Russian lap and saw a paper.

''What's that?'' he tried to peek.

The Russian simply grabbed the paper tightly before sighing and shoving it to the American lap.

Alfred peeked to Ivan and grabbed the paper staring confused. It was a little sketch of a sunflower. One of the most beautiful sunflowers Alfred has ever seen actually. The Russian may have big clumsy hands but he had always draw as an artist. Alfred still has the draw he made for him when they were 14. 'A sunflower' as he named it, Alfred's portrait.

''It's the only one left…''

''Left?'' he asked and turned to Ivan who decided it was no use in holding the arm, now Alfred could see his side also bleeding. The coat was also ripped and torn making Alfred wondered who did that, Ivan is not one to stay quiet and take it, he fights back.

''He destroyed them all…'' he murmured softly and placed a hand on his face laughing an empty sound. Alfred flinched.

''Ivan…''

''Nyet, don't say a thing. I don't need your pity.''

''Tell me what happened, please…'' he pleaded. He was surprised to feel that he meant it and was able to make it show on his tone. Ivan looked at him and flinched in pain grabbing his side.

Ivan proceeded to grab the piece of paper and stare at it as he talked.

''Father never liked the idea of his only male son to pursuit an artistic career, you must remember that…'' He looked hopefully to Alfred and he nodded.

Yes, he remembers. It that was his mother was who convinced his father to let him go to the art school. He was not pleased to know is son preferred art to maths, sports or even science. Alfred was still his friend at the time.

Ivan was a chubby young kid who was bullied a lot and Alfred used to protect him, and most of the times get assaulted with him. Alfred misses those days, not because he had the chance of being the Hero or at least behaving like one but because after that he and the Russian would walk home together and talk about everything. They argued about politic, agreed about astronomy, talked about philosophy and shared design and colour ideas. This lasted until they were 16, Ivan grew tall and wanted to befriend everyone but was awkward about it, Alfred grew slightly geeky and popular making lots of friends. Along the way they grew apart, Ivan was too possessive, Alfred a free spirit. Ivan felt neglected, Alfred guilty… Then Alfred dated a girl and Ivan other. Somehow this made them argue about something he doesn't even remember…

Now they are here.

Alfred feels a pang of guilt and nostalgia, he was not there for Ivan when his mother died, and he was not there for whatever he is passing through…

He wants to help him, he wants to start their friendship again, and he wants to feel him close again because he may miss him a bit too much to be considered simply just another friend.

''I remember, did he went back on his word?''

''Yes…'' he murmured softly with a hint of hesitation.

''But it has been two years… three in a week right?''

''Ah, you remember.'' A small smile came to Ivan lips. Alfred flushed grabbing the frayed end of the Russian scarf and played with it. He is one of the few that get away with it without a punch.

''Is he-... he's been doing this since then?''

''Nyet, it started a year ago but this is for other reason…'' Curious blue eyes looked up and he frowned seeing the hurt on violet orbs.

''What would be so important to make you this?'' he blurt out and Ivan made a guilty face for one second and looked to the moon again.

They stood like that for minutes, Alfred looked up to his watch and saw that he had been there with Ivan for 40 minutes, give it or take. When he lost hope that he would talk the Russian gave a sigh and murmured ''Father found that I am gay…''

Alfred stared in surprise, he would never guess or even think of it. Alfred suddenly wanted to touch his face and hug him, tell him everything would be fine but he stood frozen, his hands still warped in the end of the scarf.

He was bisexual himself, he knows how the people look to you, how parents freak out, how cousins start talking behind your back and friends go away. They don't understand. That hurts more than he would admit.

Ivan kept looking at the moon, but when Alfred decided what to say he spoke again. Alfred wondered at that moment if the Russian was measuring his words or gathering the courage for them.

''He ripped and destroyed all my works. Then he hit me telling me that no son of his would be a stupid artist and a queer…'' Ivan eyes dropped to the ground and Alfred could see the tears threatening to fall. ''The worst was not that or even when he threw me out the door, no, it was the disappointed look on my sisters… I loved them dearly and they agreed with him and looked at me disgusted because he found that I dated a man for a few months…'' He laughed again empty and bitter and Alfred closed his eyes, agony creeping on his chest for the friend, yes friend, he still cares, he still feels him. He never stopped feeling him even afar.

''It was Toris, and you know who told my father? His own father because Toris was too perturbed and sad because of me, because I broke with him… He was perturbed and destroyed my life because he cheated on me with the polish guy and I had the guts to end it all… I just wanted someone to love me…''

Alfred could feel the scarf shaking, he knew the Russian was shaking ''He didn't even love me… he just… I…'' Alfred opened his eyes and saw the Russian holding his face, tears finding their way through big fingers and Alfred hugged him tight.

He didn't took notice of the tensing body under him, the flinch of pain Ivan did or even when himself started crying. He understood now why they fought all those years ago. They loved each other but didn't knew, they didn't bear someone loving the other, they never stopped care even all those years and he left him all alone, to be hurt.

Alfred failed as Hero, he failed as friend. He failed to understand when the Russian brought him the sunflower and tried to make peace between them he had just realised his own feelings. He failed to understand that all the times he tried to tease the Russian, fought so hard to be seen by him was the time he was suffering and avoiding him to forget the rejection. Alfred only made it worse being always there, always trying to be there to make the other simply look at him. He failed with himself, he failed to realise it until now that the damage is done.

''I'm sorry… I'm sorry Ivan…'' the Russian found his way between them and awkwardly hugged him back.

''I'm sorry Alfred… I… didn't know… Forgive me…''

Ivan stopped shaking after long minutes but both were slightly warm from each other body, backs frozen by the cold spring breeze. Alfred cleaned his eyes with his hand and ignored the fog on his glasses.

''Did you love him?'' Alfred asked afraid of the reply, but not sure if some reply could ease him.

''I was getting there…'' he admitted.

Alfred pulled apart and he noticed the lower lip of the tall man went bitten and bruised along the time they were hugging. He ran a hand through his hair and looked to his watch, 4:23am. His parents must be worried to death by know.

''Do you have where to stay?'' He asked the sullen man and Ivan simply shook his head. Of course not... stupid question Al... he thought.

''Let me take you home, you can clean that and stay for a while…'' he chuckled softly and added to light the mood ''Ma missed you and I'm sure dad won't mind…''

''I couldn't…'' Ivan shook his head and looked to the ground.

''I know things are so much different now but, let me help you…'' 'Let me make it up to you' he added on his head standing and holding out a hand.

Ivan looked at his hand then at his eyes as if reading him and Alfred closed them not wanting to see the deep purple studying him.

''Let me be your hero again Vanya…'' he said softly eyes closed tight missing the softening purple on the other side.

Ivan shook his head and gave him a sad smile holding his hand with the uninjured hand while standing up with a soft low sentence. ''Only this night.''

It was all he could ask.

Notes: I'm sorry, I'm depressed so I made a little depressing drabble...

I couldn't work on the other stories somehow and wrote this... *nods*

Thank you for reading and forgive me any mistake.

Reviews are appreciated.