personification · axis powers hetalia · trauma · gentle giant · scary smile · general winter · violet eyes · sunflowers · psychological horror · complex relationships
The bar was a wreck of peeling paint and dim yellow light, the air thick with stale vodka and the metallic tang of winter seeping through cracked windows. Ivan sat alone at a grimy counter, his ashen blond hair limp, violet eyes fixed on the empty bottle before him. He had drunk the whole thing in silence, heat spreading through his chest like a lie, while the clock ticked past midnight into the cold dawn of his birthday. No one called but his sisters, and even their voices echoed hollow in his memory. He stood, unsteady, and tossed a handful of coins onto the sticky wood. Outside, Moscow was a frozen tomb. Snow fell in slow flakes, muffling the world. Ivan staggered forward, not seeing—until he collided with something warm. You. He fell backward, and as his back hit the frozen ground,…