The Distant Wish
He heard the news by his boss' cell phone falling to the floor. The tall Russian nation was in a meeting with him, masking the current distaste he felt with the familiar childlike smile. His boss had answered abruptly, allowing his clear blue eyes – so much unlike America's – to bore within his own. No emotion had echoed across his face as the room chilled. Russia allowed his pulse to slow, nothing that whatever it was, the news wasn't good.
His boss spoke in clipped Russian, so quiet Russia could barely hear him. His teeth were clenched, and a shadow overtook his face. Still, the words remained the same. "Those homosexuals are now allowed to marry in every state across America. Disgusting." Russia still smiled, his lilac eyes obscured. Allow the former empire had faced calmly to situations such as this, the snowy nation couldn't trust himself to speak. It had been very hard for him to live in his country he loved. Or did he love it? Russia had both loved and hated his country many times over the centuries and the millennia…but never more than he did that day. It was forbidden to talk about gays in his house. It was forbidden to do many things. Russia only knew that his boss would kill him if he knew about…his nation's feelings.
Russia had no idea what love truly was until in the past century. His body had only known hardship, blood, and pain. So much pain. His childhood…was nothing but darkness. So much blood. There was so much pain in his childhood that he once thought that feeling of hurting people – of how people felt when breaking limbs and cracking spines – was happiness. No wonder all the other nations thought he was insane. He was a nation drowning in his own loneliness and his people's sorrow and blood until the year 1904.
He had fallen in love with his boss' son, Alexei Nikolaevich. He had known that since the child had seen the little child. The boy had loved him too. Even now Russia could see the smiles he once had. They hadn't done anything – Alexei had been a child and had a very delicate frame – or even kissed. "I love your smiles, Mr. Russia. When you smile from your heart." Someone had said that as well. It had been Russia who had been forced to kill him. The boy's expression as he died echoed in Russia's mind every year of the anniversary of his death. The warm June sun suddenly felt too cold, as if Russia was embraced by winter's arms. Russia had not felt his heart beat again until he had meet a nation with sky blue eyes and light brown hair again during the war.
He had denied he had those feelings. He of all people knew what happened to people…like him. Still, Russia thought of the nation who haunted his dreams. Russia kept his feelings deep inside. Then they had fought, against another, for over forty years. It was the happiest years of Russia's life. For he saw America again and again.
It was only when the war ended when Russia realized how much he missed the nation. He felt alone and afraid, as he felt like when he was a child. It was only worse. Russia felt his emotions shatter, wailing like an infant inside. He only thought of America as his friend. Or more. Everyone else, especially Germany, feared him. No one liked him. No one except…
"You should smile more, you commie bastard! Your face looks nice for once!"
America…
His current boss said nothing as his nation continued to smile. He had come up with a nickname for America, but was deathly afraid to say it out loud. Russia, as brave as he felt when he country was being invaded by Germany's people, felt afraid at the prospect of telling America of how he felt about it. About of how he feared the fellow nation wouldn't share his feelings.
Fredka…my dear Fredka…you hate me and fear me, but I…
"I will crush America the next time we meet, da?"
His boss nodded.
Never noticing, of how slightly, his nation's brief broken gaze of grief.
As you celebrate today…even though I know it is a mere selfish wish….I want you to know I love you, America.