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We're Crazy (RussCan)	By : socksnbacon Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1171 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or it's respective characters, all credit to Himaruya Hidekazu. No profit was made with this story.

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He lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, counting the little dots on the rectangular foam tile. 892, there were 892 dots and he knew it. He'd had five years to count the entire bedroom; the whole bedroom had 10,800 dots. He'd counted it at least six times. Sometimes it took him minutes, others hours.

The reason he was awake was not for any particular reason, at least he wanted to believe it. There was nothing special about this night, there was nothing special about the way he felt like there were chains wrapped around him, like he was alone yet followed and surrounded at the same time.

"Ivan Braginski, he is murderer and man of extreme evil." Ivan muttered to himself, words he'd heard exactly 5 years, 12 hours, and 45 minutes earlier. Ivan did not need a fancy clock to tell what time it was, his body told him well enough.

Ivan lay in silence; he usually lay in silence, his dark purple eyes roaming the ceiling. He rolled onto his side, facing the wall, and then counted the protruding lumps on the wall. On this wall there were 201,783 dots, on the wall behind him there were 201,526 dots. There were no protruding dots on the walls at his head or feet.

His eyes drooped, but he forced them to stay open. No, he would not sleep; he did not want to sleep. He wanted to sit and count the walls, and count the ceiling. At least the night crew left them to their beds, all they did was roam the hallway and sit at their desk talking about girly things. Actually, he wasn't sure what they talked about, he'd only met them after incidents and he was usually sedated at that point.

He tried to come up with something else to think about, something else that wasn't blood on his hands, or on the ceiling, or on the floor, something else that wasn't screaming, whether or not it was his.

There was a creak, and Ivan jumped into a sitting position, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. He started at the door, thinking that was what had creaked, and then the window. After surveying the entire room, Ivan found there was nothing there and had to trick himself into laying back down.

There was nothing there, he had imagined it. The ghosts of his past were not coming to get him, and he could lay down with no fear of anyone coming up behind him. Yet, when he finally did lay back down again, he was facing the door, and his eyes did not try to close on him again.

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Matthew sighed softly as he sat up in his bed, glancing across the room at his roommate. His brother was fast asleep, not a noise coming from him except for the steady in and out of his breath. Slowly he pushed off of the bed, onto his feet, and approached the only window in the room. It was cruelly covered with chicken wire, preventing him from really seeing outside.

Despite the double paned window, the chicken wire, and the thicker than usual winter blankets, Matthew felt like the room was freezing. He wasn't sure if he was tricking himself or not, but he really thought it was snowing for a moment.

With a soft sigh the man turned to watch his brother sleeping in silence for a moment. This would be his first winter not at home, his first winter where he wouldn't be all alone unless his brother just so happened to remember he existed. Slowly he approached his brother's bed, bare feet slapping against the linoleum floor slightly. Alfred didn't flinch; he really thought that his brother could sleep through anything.

For a moment, Matthew sat in silence, and then he moved for the door. The door opened without making any noise, which was nice when one wasn't really supposed to be leaving his bedroom. The nice part about being caught "missing from his bedroom" only to be found several minutes later was that when he was "missing" again, most people were too worried that he may not actually be missing again and didn't bother him about it.

The door clicked closed, and Matthew quietly snuck to the end of the hallway and crouched down, listening to the nightstaff. The two girls behind the desk, long wavy brown haired Elizabetha and long braided haired Celeste who was Francis' (Or Dr. Bonnefoy's) sister. The two girls were discussing something which seemed serious; in fact Matthew had noticed a few of the staff members had been on edge recently. He wanted to know why.

"Do you think he might act out tonight?" Elizabetha asked, her voice hushed but clearly worried.

"I do not think so, usually he is bad during the day though, no?" Celeste sounded equally as worried.

Matthew wondered which patient they were talking about, maybe Lovino Vargas?

The two went on for a few more minutes, coming up for scenarios that this "person" may cause. It became readily clear that it was not Lovino Vargas, but a different patient. Matthew slowly stood from his crouched position, willing his knees not to pop, and headed back down the hall. Just as he was getting out of range of their voices Elizabetha said, "But last year Ivan-" And Matthew's suspicions were set in stone.

The Canadian stopped outside his door, looking over his shoulder at the desk of the nightstaff. He felt badly for the ward's most notorious patient. Having been sat on by him not once but four times, one might think that Matthew would have been afraid of Ivan, or at least intimidated by him. Instead, Matthew was simply intrigued by him.

Why did he always wear that scarf? Why did he often go to bed before everyone else?

Of course Matthew knew who he was, the murderer who was described as blood thirsty by the papers after having killed half his family the day before new years eve six years prior.

Despite his track record, and his knack for intimidating people to get what he wanted, Matthew didn't feel like he was "blood thirsty". Why would he want to cause trouble tonight? Matthew wondered, as he let his hand rest on the doorknob of his room. As he mulled this over in his head Matthew began to chew his lower lip, remembering fondly the time Alfred had told him an animated story about the time he had successfully infiltrated Ivan's room (Though Arthur had told it to him later as a much less successful story).

Without even really thinking it over, Matthew began to turn away from his door towards the end of the hall. The staff wouldn't be doing a sweep for another ten minutes anyways, and they wouldn't notice he was gone.

Ivan was facing the door when Matthew opened it and entered as silently as he could, he felt himself going tense just from the gaze which had fallen upon him.

"You are in my room." Came the slightly hushed yet equally as tense voice.

"Haha," Matthew laughed nervously as he pushed the door closed behind him, "I figured that-"

"Leave, now." The mass on the bed to his right began to sit up.

"You know I was just thinking-"

"I am not asking, I am telling. You will be leaving." Dark purple eyes narrowed at him, and Matthew bowed his head slightly. He closed his eyes tightly and he squared his shoulders.

"I just, didn't want you to be lonely." Matthew blurted out, standing like a tense ball of squish for a moment, two moments, and then nervously popping one eye open to see what Ivan was doing. Okay, maybe he was a little scared of him.

Ivan was half off of the bed, one foot hanging just above the floor, the other planted firmly on the floor. His hands appeared to have been balled into fists at his side, but they had relaxed slightly, no longer gripping the blanket to the point of tearing.

Matthew slowly opened his other eye, raising his head even though he leaned back slightly as he did so, trying to figure out what had stopped Ivan from moving. He was still fixed with those narrowed eyes, his lips unmoving, his face stony as if he did not want his emotions to be known.

"Why?" Ivan asked slowly, the word elongating on both his accent and uncertainty. Matthew had to stop for a moment, think about it. Often he did things just because it felt like it was the right thing to do, actually putting words to the reason was really hard for him to do. Francis had tried helping him with it once, to no avail.

"I think… Well… The nightstaff were talking about how you were going to act out tonight, and I felt like that must be lonely." Matthew replied, after a good long pause. He was looking at his feet again, and when he heard Ivan make a "tch" noise and then shift on the bed his gaze flew up to meet Ivan's back. The large man had laid back down to face away from him.

"I do not want your pity." Ivan replied stiffly, "Leave now, little Jones." He grumbled. Matthew was about to leave, but something in his pride made him stay.

"My last name isn't Jones." Matthew grumbled right back. Ivan glanced over his shoulder, his eyes flashing slightly with annoyance.

"You are Alfred's brother, da? So you are little Jones." Ivan replied stubbornly, rolling slightly so that he was facing Matthew, but not bothering to actually sit up. Matthew felt like Ivan didn't want to give him the time of day, so he pressed on. This was, of course, the most logical thing for anyone to do.

"But my name is Matthew Williams; can't you at least call me Matthew?" Matthew asked taking a step towards Ivan's bed, watching him tense, and then leaning back against slightly.

"I will call you Matvei, and you will be leaving now." Ivan replied, his voice tense once more. Matthew sighed softly, reaching for the door knob again. He pulled the door open, but just he was walking through and he was closing it behind him he heard Ivan speak again, "I am not so lonely now, Matvei… I thank you."

As the door clicked shut, Matthew had to hold back the urge to shout his joy. He felt like he'd just made a friend. Down the end of the hall, he heard Celeste and Elizabetha getting up to do their third nightly round, so Matthew dashed back to his room.

Even as he heard the footsteps past his securely closed door, from his still very chilly bed, Matthew was still replaying Ivan's words in his head.
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We're Crazy (RussCan)