America walked through the doors of the meeting room, feeling as heroic as ever. The meeting wasn't to start for another few minutes, so America took his seat at the head of the meeting's table, next to England and Lithuania.

So far, all was normal, nothing out of place from the American's usual routine…except….the feel that had once lingered in the air. What happened to that cold, uneasy feeling a certain nation gave off. The air instead felt empty and sad. Why?

America turned his attention, finally to the man sitting at the far end of the meeting table, and what America saw, was like nothing he ever could have expected from the snowy haired nation.

Usually, like the day was supposed to be, Russia would have on a wide, childish smile. A smile that was both cute, and terrifying to everyone. It was that smile and scary personality that gave off the usual uneasy feeling in the room regularly.

But no.

Not today.

Today, all that was there was eye tearing sorrow. Where his smile should have been was an empty, depressing frown.

Where his lively, cheery eyes should have been, were sad, half lidded ones, puffy, as if he had been crying beyond end.

This was not the Russia America knew, no, this had to be some kinda trick, or a trap for him to become one. …but those tears…those tears threatening to spill over the Russian's eyelids…..they looked so real.

So undeniably true. All America could think of was; 'what has happened to the Russia I know?'

America was about to pounce out of his chair, run over to the Russian and shake him senseless until he chanted his signature; kolkolkol, but he didn't. Because one, he did not want to make a scene out of himself and Russia right before a meeting, and two, it might even make things worse.

So for what felt like hours to the impatient American, he waited. Waited throughout the entire meeting, not jumping up once to elaborate on the new plan to solve world hunger he had planned to discus today, but waiting and watching the Russian with intense eyes.

Although doing so got him some pretty creeped out looks from the other nations, but he apparently didn't notice. For if he had noticed, he would have turned to whoever was sporting the look and shout at them until they decided he wasn't even worth it. But like I said…he didn't.

All he did was watch Russia, and every move he made. At one point, Russia had pulled up his scarf, half way over his face, hiding something, and no one seemed to notice except for America. Other then than that short gesture, Russia had not done anything, the rest of the meeting. He was quite and still, almost as if he had transformed himself into a statue.

Stone cold, and lifeless.

As soon as the meeting ended, America did not waste a second at approaching the nation. He reached the taller man just as the last person left the room. They were alone.

"Russia, I need to talk to you!" America demanded. Russia looked at America, putting on his best smile, but it turned out small and sad. "Ah, Alfred, I've been meaning to talk to you…" Russia said his voice no longer happy or frightfully childish. But more correctly, blank and lonely.

'He used my human name…' America thought, rather confused, but didn't bring it up.

"Really, what did you want?" America asked.

Russia was silent for a while, and looked down at his feet, as if they had begun growing white fur all over them. America was about to say something, being as impatient as he is, but Russia finally answered.

"Kill me…"

Silence. America didn't say a word. But rather stood there, gapping at the man with wide shocked eyes, and his mouth hanging open. Why would Russia ask such a thing? He had never shown signs of depression before so…why? These questions roamed in America's mind, until he finally found his voice to reply.

"…what..." was all he good bring himself to say.

"Please? I know how much you hate me, and I've wanted this for some time know, but I find it rather difficult to do it myself. And I thought you would like the satisfaction of killing me yourself so…please? Will you kill me?" Russia pleaded, still keeping that strange lonely blank tone.

America clenched his fist tightly, into balls, and gritted his teeth. '…please? Will you kill me?... those words rang in America's ears repeatedly. They were haunting. They came out so blank, but held so much sorrow, and desperation behind them.

"…How could you say such things!" America finally found himself to yell. Russia didn't reply.

"What could bring you to think such terrible, afoul things Ivan? Yeah I know life as a nation is no joy ride on a gondola, but is living so unbearable that you just want to die!" America continued to fume.

And then, Russia did something America could have never expected from the nation. Something so unpredictable, even from Ukraine's knowledge of her little brother.

Russia shrunk to the floor on his knees…and began to cry. It was a soft cry, one the nation tried to hide by covering his eyes with his gloved hands. But it didn't even help. The tears just continued to flow from his eyes like a burst damn, which a certain American watched break.

America almost felt guilt in his heart, like it was his fault somehow. But either way, America knew what he had to do.

He knelt down on one knee, next to Russia, and embraced him. A soft and gentle embrace that carried the most over whelming emotions to the Russian's heart. Sympathy, care, happiness…and…did he sense…love?

"Ivan…" America said softly. Russia looked up from his hands, into America's sweet blue oceans of eyes.

"I'm not going to kill you, and you are never going to kill yourself. If you died, there would e a lot of people that would miss you, and mourn for years beyond end for your death." America said.

"Like who?" Russia asked in between sobs, not really believing the American's words.

"Well…like me…"

Russia looked up at the American with wide, shocked eyes. 'He…he would…miss me?" Russia thought, full of confusion.

"…Y-you…would?" Russia asked, his heart pounding in his chest so fast, it resembled a jack hammer.

America was silent for a second. Why did he say that? It just rolled off his tung so unexpectedly. But could it be true?...S-sure America had hated Russia at one time, The Cold War, but… he didn't hate him anymore. No, they were friends…America felt it in his heart.

…But wait. There was something else there. Something the American had never noticed before. It was warm, and it seemed to grow ten times like poring oil all over a fire. Could it be…possibly…

"Yes. Yes, Russia, I would miss you with every fiber of my being. Every ounce that is me would cry if you died, down to the innards of my core!" America said with one gasp of air. When had he become this poetic?

Russia looked at America, skeptical if this was even the real him. Why would America, America of all people be saying such things to him so unexpectedly. By the way the American normally acted towards him, he made it seem as though he hated the Russian.

But…the usual hate the Russian felt from America was gone. It appeared something deep had completely consumed all that hate and discomfort the American had felt for Russia, and what it was replaced with was suddenly over flowing like…like…a broke damn. One the Russian watched break.

"…A-Alfred…I-" America cut Russia off, bringing a gloved finger to his lips. "Russia, there is something I must tell you here and now. Something I wish I could have told you so long ago, but didn't know how to react." America said, asking for Russia's approval to continue. Russia nodded.

"Russia…for so long I've seen you as my enemy. Someone that I only wanted gone, out of sight. Now you might know I've fought in many wars, but none as intense and fire filled as the one in my heart for you. And it's not over just yet but…Ivan…I…I think I love you." America said, each word rolling off his toung as sweetly as warm honey.

Russia was absolutely, and utterly speechless. Just a few minutes ago, he had been begging to die. His heart had been empty, sad, and hurt. He saw nothing to live for…nothing. But all of a sudden, it was beating with life and emotion. Perhaps even…could it be?...Love.

"A-Alfred, I…I-I think, I love you too." Russia replied, letting his heart finally speak for him. America smiled down at the Russian, still rapt tight in his arms. "I-I'm glad." America said.

Even though he just let out every last emotion of his heart completely flood through his mouth, he still felt like he wasn't done. Like there was one last thing he had to do. Something overwhelmingly important.

"Ivan, may I…kiss you?" America asked. Russia looked up at America, a small blush tinting his cheeks, but he smiled lightly. "Вы можете." He replied.

America smiled too, he was sure he was blushing himself. There was no doubt there. But none the less, America began to lean in, slowly, carefully, not wanting to move too fast. And when he got barely a centimeter away from the other's lips, he paused.

America remained frozen there, just enjoying the feel of Russia's warm, unsteady breath against his own lips. Oh good, Russia was just as nervous as he was.

"Americ-." America finally closed the gap between their lips, and began to kiss the Russian passionately. It started out a little rough as Russia had been talking, but it quickly became gentle, and magnificent.

As their lips moved against one another's perfectly, the world itself seemed to end. Like all history before that point had been erased, and the world was being reborn, opening up to a brighter future. One where the two would love each other, for eternity.

After what felt like hours, America finally broke the kiss. He hadn't even noticed his need of oxygen until he did so, and neither had Russia. It seemed they were to wrapped up in their own passion to notice.

"A-Alfred…" Ivan panted, trying to catch his breath the best he could. America looked at the clock. It seemed it was already 7:00 pm. "We should get going, it's late." America suggested. "Da." Russia agreed, and the two stood up from the floor.

They began to leave the room, when all of a sudden, America felt a warmth in his left hand. He looked over to see Russia, smiling his usual childish smile, his hand grasping his own. America smiled back, pulling him closer.

"So, no more suicide?" America asked. Russia couldn't help but laugh. Even if it was just a light giggle, it still brought joy to the American's heart to hear once again. "Da!" Russia replied, hugging onto America as he held him even closer.

Well how was it, please review! I love to know what my readers think. :D And by the way Вы можете means; You may, in Russian. Just something I was testing with Google Translate.