(This is just going to be a short, sweet little story I wanted to write to show I'm still alive.)

Stars

Matthew walked into his and Ivan's home late one winter afternoon, just as the sun began to set. He flopped down onto the couch, exhausted. His Russian lover poked his head out from the kitchen.

"Finally home, Matvey? I was expecting you hours ago," He was stirring ingredients in a large bowl, obviously preparing dinner. The Canadian exhaled deeply whilst simultaneously blowing his ahoge hair out of his face.

"Yeah... sorry about that. I meant to call, but Alfred can just be so suffocating, you know?" Ivan chucked; he knew well. Considering the fact that the American was dating his oldest sister, whom he liked to visit often, he had to deal with him more than he'd prefer to. Matthew had been helping his brother sort out a few of his nation's issues, which was apparently a full time job.

"Da, it's alright. Would you like to come help me make dinner?" The request hung in the air for a few moments as Matthew thought about it.

"...Can I just rest for a little bit?" His voice was small, as if he were afraid of not helping. Ivan laughed deeply, pausing his stirring momentarily to brush his unruly bangs aside.

"Of course, Matvey! Dinner will be ready soon, so just relax, da?" Matthew finally pulled his head away from the cushion and looked up at Ivan, gratitude written all over his face.

"Thanks, Ivan." He was met with a smile and a nod, before his partner disappeared back into the kitchen. The Canadian sat up and stared at the TV, wondering if he should turn it on or not. He finally decided not to, instead standing up and stretching. He sighed contently, before looking around. What was something relaxing he could to do pass the time? He looked out the window and saw that the sun had set already. Suddenly, he had an idea.

Matthew walked through the kitchen, pausing to take a taste of what Ivan was preparing, before going through the back door and onto their back patio. He saw down and stared up at the sky.

It was considerably darker than it had been when he'd arrived home not ten minutes ago, and the moon was glowing brightly. The stars twinkled, and all in all it was a beautiful sight. Matthew laid back on the ground, enamored with the mesmerizing scene. He formed pictures from the constellations; there was Kumayo (was that his name? He could never remember), a maple leaf, a bottle of vodka. He even found a constellation resembling Ivan.

With these pictures, his mind formed scenes, almost like mini movies made from the stars. Kumakuro sat up, and crawled across the sky, before disappearing. Ivan greedily downed the bottle of vodka. A bottle of maple syrup poured it's sugary goodness all over a piping hot stack of pancakes. He smiled and laughed, amused by his imagination. He hardly heard the door open, or Ivan come and take a seat beside him.

"It's beautiful, da?" He looked to the man beside him, startled. When did he get there?

"Yeah, it is." He smiled, scooting closer to the Russian. He was hardly surprised when he felt a strong arm wrap around his waist and pull him in so close he could smell the never-fading scent of vodka. "See the constellations?" He pointed out the pictures in the stars. Ivan, in turn, pointed out some of his own.

"There is Katyusha, with your brother towing behind," he pointed out. Matthew formed the picture in his mind and laughed.

"There's Arthur talking with a fairy,"

"And Francis holding a rose."

This continued on for hours.

The moon gradually moved across the sky, and the lovers slowly began to drift off to sleep, curled up together on the patio.

Dinner had long been forgotten about.

And so the duo slumbered, dreaming of star-formed pictures moving and mapping out stories.

They slept under the safety of the stars, in all their twinkling wonder and beauty.