i kinda feel a little weird writing this...I never wrote about Russia before but to me i think of him this way..To me i feel as if theres tht side of him thats like super duper sweet and what not XP hes like super OOC so yeah.. and i dont give a frogs leg if this is written oddly or somehitng like that ._. this just popped into my head when i was hearing my sis playing some depresing music o_0 but yeah...i guess i posted this? Anyway a note on my oher stories::::: that'll take a while cuz i broke my arm ( still is) and i wrote thes with a cast...my arm is killing me so yeah other stories will take a while to write! OKay so no flames or hate revies but constructive comments are approved :D also grammar mistakes may be in there...and my grammar is improving cuz i suck at writing...so BEWARE~

Disclaimer: I dont own hetalia or anything...except my imagination!

He had a garden that no one knew about. He was sure no one knew about it except him. He found it as a child and never told anyone, even his siblings. It had roses, poppies, wild flowers, lilies, tulips and many others with the hues and shades of the rainbow. But there were also sunflowers. He loved sunflowers the most. It reminded him of the sun and where he lived. The sun was always so far away and the land that surrounded him so cold. So he liked how the flower reminded him of the warm sun. He cherished the flowers and his garden; he would always tend to them so delicately, like they were made of glass and could break if he touched them to hard.

He really liked his garden. He would spend most of his days there, usually taking his paper work and made a small basket full of food his sister made. He loved the way the soft fragrance of the flower and earth blended into a beautiful smell, making his sensations shiver. The loved the cool breeze that would waltz in and carry the fallen petals of trees and make the long grass appears like a wave. He loved the way how everything never changed and stayed the same, but he also liked how it changed. The cherry trees were sprouting huge pink and red blossoms, and the pines giving off the sweet sharp mint scent. He indulged it all, always finding himself thinking and becoming overwhelmed with the sight. He sometimes lost himself in there, not noticing until he would hear the melody of a cricket symphony and the raspy croaking of frogs.

Even for a person like him he found it enjoyable. He was big and muscular, but not overly but the right amount to say the least. His hair was a pale blonde; the color of spider silk. He had unusual eyes, a dark purple. Some genetic problem he was told, but he never fretted, he liked them a lot. He was tall and looked intimating. But he wasn't in the least, he blamed his sister for that, he was kind-hearted, though he was insecure at times even if he never showed it, he would put up a thick barrier that kept unwanted people out. Only letting the people he wanted to befriend in.

There was point in time when he thought he was dreaming and he had escaped reality and was forever living in the dream world. A world he had created for himself to escape real life and enjoy the life he always wanted. He wanted to be free and live in his garden. Where no one can find him, see him, talk to him and most of all, take everything away from him. If he lost his garden it would be the end of him, it was the only thing they didn't banish from him. That's why he didn't tell anyone except when everyone is asleep; he would whisper the way to it and the beauty of it. So quietly it looked as if was breathing quickly.

He loved his garden. He really did. He was so very, very sure he was the only one who knew about it. But, there was one day when he found a boy, a years younger than him. He was probably in the awkward stage of adolescences; he guessed he was about eleven. He was small; but not in height. His frame was like a new born calf; all soft and slim looking. His hair looked like snow, softly blanketed on his head like a blanket, barley reaching his shoulders. He was caressing a petal of a Peruvian lavender rose; his eyes were bloodshot.

He looked at him. He felt a mixture of emotions, he was curious as to how this teen found his garden. He angered as to why this teen set foot into it. He relaxed his tense muscles and quietly approached the small man. He stepped in practiced movements, knowing exactly where to step as to not make a single noise. He stopped beside him, the boy not taking in the presence of him by a mile. He smirked and bent down to be eye level with him.

"I see you found my garden." The boy jumped and rapidly looked in all directions; he looked like a scared rabbit he saw in the fields at times. The child looked alarmed when he saw him; similar indigo eyes stared back at him. The pale haired man didn't like to repeat himself, nevertheless for the sake of the boy he did.

"I said, 'I see you found my garden'. Tell me, how did you find this place? I also see that your eyes are quite red. Were you crying before?" He said this with all calmness of a father. His voice was that of an encouraging father. He waited for the other to answer but nothing came out. He got annoyed and irritated.

"If you have nothing to say then I will ask you to le-"

"I come here all the time. I found this place a long time ago. Long before you did!" His voice was soft and cracked. Ironically the small child reminded of himself a lot of when he was the same age. The way he spoke to his appearance. The world sure is small after all. But the boy didn't stop there, he kept going.

"And I'm not crying. I was just … I was just… You don't know how bad it is to have everything you care about taken away from you and be left alone! Having no one there to catch you when you fall or even just something living beside you. Always having your life being controlled by someone you don't even know." He widened his eyes in shock and looked sorrowfully at the boy next to him, painful memories coming in a flash and disappearing all the same. Oh, how he did know what this boy felt and endured. Yet he didn't say anything as the child sobbed on and exclaimed all his woes of loneliness, family problems, people degrading him mentally and his own self pity.

He, once in his life felt sad for someone.

This child had survived such a life; he could've killed himself at any moment he wanted, a wonder that he's still alive. But he couldn't underestimate him; he had a life like his exactly. He wanted to chuckle at this, but he was too shocked to utter a word.

"I'm feel so pathetic! I can't even stop myself from crying. I'm weak and useless, nobody likes me and… I don't even know anything anymore. I don't even know myself. Everything changed." He felt his heart clench. He wanted to pull this boy close and hug him. Even with his own personality, he was never thought to hug and comfort another, he would always scare them. But, with this boy, he felt different. He felt as if he knew him from somewhere. So he hugged him. He pulled him close and patted his hair softly.

"It's fine to cry, even once in awhile. But it's not fine for you to feel like that. For such a young child to have been through that, I can imagine how you feel." He felt the small boy tense. "But if you truly think you are weak and pathetic, then you might as well be! So, let me ask you this. Do you think you are weak or pathetic?" He felt the boy shake his head against his coat and start to shake. "Then you aren't. But those people who told you that you are of no use or a hindrance and the people that left you and toke what you most care about, are not worth your tears or words. You can catch yourself and take back what is rightfully yours. You don't have to have people control the way live or even have someone. You can meet new people and… and do whatever you set your mind to. You can be free from everything you want to be freed form. Anything you want." His voice cracked in the end. He was not crying or any of the sorts; his voice was sincere and genuine. He meant every word he said. The boy's body was wracked with sobs and jumbled words of gratitude.

"T-Thank y-you. Thank y-y-you so much!" His voice quivered as he clutched the man's coat tightly in his small pale fists. The man just kept patting the boy's head, shushing him. Once the boy was reduced to hiccups and stained cheeks the man chose this time to speak.

"May I ask you something?" He spoke softly.

"Y-Yes." He nodded his head and lifted his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the man above him.

"Tell me, what's your name? I don't think you had ever told me." He chuckled slightly as the small child's face heated up, not that it could, and his face was covered in snot and was tinted red by his tears. He seemed reluctant, so he toke his arms from the boy and looked at him directly.

"My name?" He nodded gently, encouraging him." It's um; um…it's Ivan Braginski." He looked down in embarrassment. He raised his eyebrows and ruffled the boys head playfully.

"Well Ivan, it seems that we share names. Isn't that funny?" The boys eyes widened in childish glee and awe, such an expression for a shared name.

"We do? How weird is that." The boy especially looked happy at this. The man looked up at the orange rust sky, it was getting late. He looked back down at the boy; he was to looking at the sky and looked back down.

"It's getting late and I think you should be getting home to your parents." The boy's happy expression suddenly changed to that of a sad one. He sighed and lifted the boys head up.

"Chin up. Just remember what I told you about and it'll all be fine. And if what I said doesn't work, then you can come and kick me." The boy giggled and nodded. They both got up slowly and went in opposite directions. The small boy waved as he ran off to the left side of the forest. He waved back and stayed under the tree for a while longer to calm himself and indulge a while longer. Think over his life and the child. He closed his eyes and laid down on the grass below him. The wet grass tickled his skin and left his coat damp. He stayed there for a while until opening his deep indigo eyes.

He looked up at beautifully white dotted inky sky. He sat up carefully and was looking around, seeing that it was well into the night. Animals were going about their business, scampering around and making noises. He got up to his feet and dusted himself off, turning to his right and walking away from the garden. While walking he didn't notice that each step brought up tiny buttercups, poppies and colorful flower buds pop out. When he reached the border line where the thick wood and meadow met he stopped and looked back.

He could almost see the young boy crouching in the middle of it all, the sun directly over head, casting its warm rays and bringing life to everything it touched. Insects of all kinds fluttered around and the air blowing gently by. But the image blurred into a murky thought. That child reminded him of himself. The boy he was before he grew. The boy that went through a game called life. The boy that grew into the young man he is today.

The warm summer air passed by and tousled his hair and with it carrying memories of his past. He took a deep breath in and let it out. He really loves his garden.

looked a lot longer on M.W :/ but anyways~ i hope you somewhat understood the story thing...cuz i dont get it much myself...OHYEAH! IF you dont know who the little boy is, its Russia when he was a little kid w tried to explain it was him in the end... i liked the end a lot... i got really into it u