Hi everyone!

Hahem... pease read this? I had serious problems with my email box, and this means:

- I didn't answer your reviews and I'm completely lost between them, even if they all touch me. I swear it's precious to me but now it's so old that I have no idea when I stopped answering. As I said, I'm a bit stupid. Now you know what it meant-_-'

- I lost my betareader's mail adress and this text has never been corrected! Sorry! If someone feels like correcting it, send me a PM, and yeah, that would help. Elseway, you will judge my work at its natural level, with all the French reflexes I can't get rid of, like, for example, long sentences. But I read it twice and I tried... to make it better ^^

...

Previously in 'Just Bracket It'

One night, America and Russia had sex and America was on top! He fell in love instantly and now, he's got a problem because Russia doesn't seem to share his feelings and he even told him to keep it secret. That's what America tried to do but Canada is a medium and he solved the puzzle with the help of a mysterious pillowcase. He told America not to call Russia but America called him anyway and cheepishly asked to talk to him at the next conference. Russia said 'We'll see' and now America is hoping for his fantasy to come true!

I seriously missed you all^^

The day of the conference finally came. Alfred F Jones arrived early and stood against the door of the meeting room. He didn't like to wait and most of the time, he was late, but today was special. He didn't care much about today's issue, his personal interests were much more stressful and fascinating than the International Green Project. To him, green rythmed with boring. Red was much better. Red was the color of casinos in Las Vegas, the color of action movies in Hollywood, the color of blood, of love, of danger, of socialism, of war. It wasn't harmless. It wasn't "good". Besides, he didn't like this color. Well, it was complicated, maybe he just... needed it? Cause trouble was better than peace to him. Green was different, it was, when not meant in a political way, a dark and mysterious color, a bit depressing, full of melancholy and poetry, the color of an impossible love so... not his stuff. The only green things he liked were... But he didn't want to think about it.

He sighed. The air conditioning was blowing a cold and impersonal atmosphere. He sat down and passed his arms around his legs, pulling down his sleeves. His hands were sweaty. Those past weeks he had thought of Russia so often that he was not able to remember his face and voice anymore. His dreams were melted with his memories. He felt just like a breathless baby. The first time that air went into his lungs he cried, but now it was too late, air had became what he needed to survive, and he couldn't understand this sudden lack of oxygen.

- Come on, don't make me wait...

No sound answered to him. The only breath he heard came from a machine. The system was working, baybe too well. Now he was freezing, which was a bit ridiculous if one considers the fact that it happened in June, in Spain.

He was tired of being stressed. It was too early in the morning, he didn't slept the night before. The artificial sounds of loneliness he was surronded by seemed to play a lullaby for him. And what was meant to happen happened.

- America?

-...

- Hey, wake up.

- Hummmm... What is this about?

- You told me to come. You wanted to speak and now you're sleeping?

- Oh sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to, I mean... Oh, ok, we're in Spain, right? Hummmm, wait a minute.

- You have five seconds.

- Hey, it's ok, don't be like this, so haemmm, did you have a safe trip?

- I'm here in front of you so you can draw the conclusion that it was safe enough.

- Good. Don't be like this, I'm not your enemy, Ivan, please remember this.

- Very well.

- Did you already eat your breakfast?

- No.

- Perfect, follow me then.

They came out of the buiding and walked silently in the town. It was already very sunny and lively. The meating would only began in two hours. They choose a nice café near a fountain, sat down, ordered their coffees and started looking at one other. Alfred laughed:

- You really, really look like you're going to kill me or something.

- Oh no. I would'nt do something like that.

- Ivan.

- Da?

- Tell me, do you hate me?

- Somehow.

- Why?

- I have no answer for that question.

- Because you don't know or because you don't wanna tell me?

- OK. I hate, mostly, your arrogance, your inability to notice things, your sublime indifference about what others can think or feel, and the way you always manage to be seen as a victim while in fact you're the one who oppress others.

- "Take that, Alfred!"

-...

- But... No! Maybe I can be arrogant, maybe I can hurt others and not being aware of this, but... I'm definitely not indifferent when it comes to you, you can't say it, that is not true. Maybe you're mistaken because you drive me nervous.

- Really? Why would you be nervous?

- Everything you say... You make me feel so... And now you say that you hate me.

- I said "somehow".

- Whatever! You don't like me anyway.

- Who cares?

- I care.

- You look so serious, that's unexpected. In fact, I like you, America. Sometimes.

- Oh, somehow you hate me and sometimes you like me? Congrats, it could't be more obscure!

- And what about you? You didn't say anything.

- I tried twice, Ivan. But the first time you left, and the second time you hung up, so I begin to think that you don't want to hear it.

- I'm listening to you now.

- I want you to stop considering me as your enemy. Forever.

- Forever? That's stupid and lovely, da.

- That's lovely. And damn serious.

- I'll think about it. Your coffee must be cold now.

- Yours too. It's time to go anyway.

They both let bills on the table, secretely refusing to be kept, leaving a comfortable tip to the waiter. The sun was warming the air. Its light was playing on the surface of every drop of water in the fountain. It was enough to make America smile. He decided to forget the cold part of the conversation and just kept: "That's stupid and lovely, da."

To him, this sort of expression allowed him to hope. He didn't understand why Russia seemed to reproach him their night together. As if something bad had happen, something he would have been responsible of. But even Ivan had said: "It's a beautiful night"

Trying to understand Russia's way of thinking was like being lost in a dangerous maze. In winter. But the difference between Shining and his life, America thought, was that the twisted guy was not running after him. Actually, he was running after the twisted guy.

They went to the conference. Nations had to propose different projects based on the respect of the environment. America wanted to sleep so much that he did so. Canada nunged him when he had to speak and gave him a prompt and America went back to sleep. The same scene was repeated each time someone asked his opinion, but except Germany's passionate speach, the tone of the debate was extremely consensual and as propitious for sleep as a sweet lullaby. The Planet would have to wait, once again.

And then the debate focused on health and nutrition. America woke up when the words "fat"; "pityful" and "disgusting" enter his brain through the frontier of his subconscious. They were running him down, all of them. Even Canada. They looked like if butter wouldn't melt in their mouth but they were malicious bitches, talking about him like a poisoner. He felt a ball of anger grow and fidget in his belly. He stood up and looked at them, tapping the table with the fingertips. It was in vain that he looked for a friendly smile. Canada was sitting on France's knees, who was whispering naughty things that seemed to amuse his brother quite a lot. Arthur was speaking to Danmark with a very serious expression, visibly concerned. America's anger decreased and he smiled: Arthur seemed just sooooooo ridiculous in front of a giant like Danmark! It was... touching... cute, well, sort of. With a sigh, he forced himself to look somewhere else and realised that Russia had disappeared.

He had been sleeping for so long that he didn't know when he had decided to leave.

"He's just like air!" America thought.

At a loss, looking around him he wondered where he should go first to find him- not that he had anything to tell him anyway, but who needs context when you're in love?

Slamming the door he went out of the conference room and found himself alone in the cold hallway with the sounds of air conditioning.

"Back to the start!" He whisped before starting to look after Russia.

The hallways were not just cold. They were labyrinthine. He didn't find Russia. He remembered Canada's words: "Do not harrass him, it would be as digging your own grave." Aaah, but it was exactly what he was a frustated smile, tired and feeling the beginning of a slight headhache, he sat down against a wall, and thought of his situation. He hated those silent moments. They made him realise how lonely he was and want to cry again. But he knew that he wouldn't dare to cry, anyway.

All he wanted - and it was quite innocent after all - was to hold him, hug him, make love to him, talk with him and keep him by his side. Oh and: stroke his adorable plump cheeks. Very Important.

The sound of a door opening took him by surprise. He stood up to face Russia who was crossing the hallway like if it was empty. When Ivan was about to pass him, Alfred grabbed his sleeve with a little sad noise that stopped Ivan.

- Please look at me. Ivan... Please...?

And that's how this chapter ends!

Sorry it's a transition but I'm sure it's kind of useful.

Oh and:

I still love reviews!

(And this time I'll answer! Isn't that great?)