Ivan drinking drabble.

Happiness is always just out of reach. Just… Too far… Just past his fingertips…

He wouldn't let anybody know, though. He wouldn't tell anybody. He wouldn't say anything, no.

Instead he would sit alone, or sometimes with Toris, maybe Raivis. Raivis could hold his alcohol better. But today he was alone, sitting in the middle of a papa-san chair set flat, cross-legged with a bottle of vodka cradled between his thighs.

He hmm'd thoughtfully, a childlike smile on his face, and lifted the drink to his lips. It was one thing Finland had done right; Finlandia vodka was, he had to admit, pretty good. Staring intently at the bottle, he let his violet eyes rake over the scene depicted in the back of the bottle, his head bobbing forward the slightest bit in an attempt to get a better look. He stopped when his forehead touched the cool bottle.

"Ah~" he giggled, tossing his head back, vodka accompanying the motion.

His fingers tightened around the bottle before setting it down between his thighs, again, instead seeking out his always-present water pipe.

He had always wondered why it didn't work once he pulled it from the ground. He tried putting it back in the ground, hoping the water would once again flow as freely as it had when he first tried it. Nothing had happened, just the rusty sound of the faucet's handle being turned. No water.

He had been disappointed, but had grown so attached to the pipe that he didn't want to get rid of it, so the pipe stayed.

His eyes narrowed when he brought the alcohol to his lips again, not angry but not happy. Not sad, not pleased… Not anything, really. Despite the smile on his face his eyes were suspiciously blank. He was always suspiciously blank.

Swishing the Vodka in his mouth he smiled to himself, not for anything but habit.

He glanced towards the table before him, eyes lighting up in something akin to delight. Sitting in a lavender coloured vase placed dead centre on the table was a single sunflower that his older sister had given him. And by given him he meant left on his doorstep because she wasn't "supposed" to spend time with him.

He shook his head in mild amusement, he loved his sister, he loved both of his sisters actually, but they were… Strange.

A glance at his bottle's contents enlightened him to its half empty state. He shrugged, taking another, especially big, gulp.

It was getting warm. So warm. His cheeks, eternally flushed from the cold of his country, seemed to grow a shade darker. He took a deep breath, feeling as though he was being suffocated. Tugging gently on his scarf he pulled it away from his neck, letting it hang loose around his shoulders instead of snug against his neck.

He squeezed the bottle with a bit more pressure than intended; A crack assaulted his ears and he eased up, lifting his hand to examine what he had done.

Time to finish it off he supposed, drinking half of the remaining alcohol in one go.

He lifted a hand to his mouth and, using just his teeth, pulled his glove off. Using his newly freed hand, he traced the crack he created in the bottle with his index finger, fascinated by the way he had changed the glass with just his own strength. He kept his hand on the crack as he finished the vodka off.

A giggle vibrated through the room as he drank the last of his poison. He immediately tossed the empty Finlandia bottle onto the rug beneath his chair and curled up at the centre with his water pipe in hand.

It was a good night; no memories, no voices, no bodies to distract him.

Just vodka and sleep.

A/N:: Yeah. Woo. Idk. Reviews are lovely.

Ivan is actually my favourite Hetalia character, so I'm trying to figure out how to get his character written properly. This is just an experiment in mindset.