The grin on Sakura's face is so wide that Artem's eyes narrow instantly from the moment he notices it. If anything, he grips the book in his hands tighter and holds it slightly closer to his face. It isn't, of course, that he doesn't want to see her smiling face— simply that such an expression is positively suspicious. It usually means that he's going to be subjected to some form of embarrassment in the next few moments and he doesn't like the idea one bit.
"Artem-kun~." Her smile widens. Artem looks up from the book he's reading and eyes her face over his reading glasses.
"…Sakura."
"Guess what I found!" His eyebrows scrunch together. He's no idea what she could've found, unless she means— his face pales. All of the letters he's written her from before they dated? The figurine he carved for their three-month anniversary as her gift? No! Worse— pictures of him dancing in his traditional clothes?
His voice is weak as he responds. "What… exactly… have you found, Sakura?" She giggles, then smiles brightly at him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kisses him on the ear and watches it turn red as revenge for his not sounding as excited as she'd like. "Sakura." He says her name again in a slightly strangled voice. She leans over his shoulder to peek at his face, but he lifts his book to cover it, glaring away from her. "Really, Sakura, you… you should have more… self control." Sakura smiles, then presses herself into his lap. It's not really that she is trying to fight with him, but there is simply nothing that cheers her up more than watching her embarrassed boyfriend grasp for things to say. Tilting the book away from his face, she holds up one of her hands.
"I found this!" It's a crisp black and white photograph, clearly from the mid-40s, judging by his clothing. Artem's hair is long and pulled back from his face as he stands tall in a distinctly Russian military uniform. Though it wasn't traditional to smile in photographs of the era, the look in his eyes was a clear indicator that he likely wouldn't be able to smile anyway. Artem's eyes widen.
"Where did this come from?" He takes the picture and stares at himself. He doesn't remember taking it, but he definitely remembers the hairstyle. He touches the back of his head with his free hand.
"It's a secret," Sakura responds solemnly. "And I'll never tell. Artem-kun, you never told me that you had long hair!"
He glances at her wryly, his voice deadpan as he says, "I can't fathom why not."
"Oh, Artem-kun, don't be so sharp-tongued!" She slaps him lightly on the chest. "I just found it interesting because I used to have long hair as well." He grimaces vaguely in her direction and she accepts it as his attempt for a smile. "I cut my hair long before I met you, however."
"Ah. It must've been a sight." Artem imagines it for a moment, the photograph still in his hand.
"Ah, don't get too used to looking at it," Sakura teases, "—you can't have it back. I acquired it fair and square." She grips one end of it, prying it from his fingers. Artem's eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly in response. It takes him a moment of hesitation, but he put his arms around her and leans his forehead into her shoulder. Taking a moment to breathe in deeply, he appreciates Sakura and the effect she has on him, not for the first time. She smells good. She feels good.
"Trust me," he says finally. "I don't want it. I don't want any reminders of who I used to be before I was a nation." Sakura leans her head on his shoulder. "I would rather just forget."
"Tell me, then," Sakura responds quietly into her neck. "What were you like? I know you don't want reminders, but if you are going to forget all of your bitter memories, I will hold them all for you."
Artem is silent.
"Artem-kun?"
"Weak," he says finally. "Weak, and useless." Artem shakes his head. "I'd tried to rebel almost three decades earlier and failed miserably. I was nothing more than a puppet, simpering under elder sister like she was a God." He holds her tighter, his hand trailing across her thigh distractedly. "I wish I'd been stronger. A formidable nation, like you, with power and glory and a name."
Sakura freezes.
"A-Artem-kun… I may've been powerful, but… what was it worth? The destruction after the war to my nation and the identity of my people was not worth the price. Nothing in this world is free, Artem. I became powerful but also… cruel. To nations I now call family, to people I now support. My government did terrible things and I condoned them for the good of my nation. I…" She searches for the right words. "I was weak because I gave into a hunger for power and recognition." She runs her hand through Artem's hair, then grips the end of it and tugs. They're both silent as they reflect on their individual mistakes. Sakura gazes at the unhappy memory in her lap and touches the picture lightly.
Artem sighs.
"Oh, Artem-kun. Why are we like this…?"
"Because… because we're nations, I suppose. It seems that every nation has done terrible things. Humans and nations alike… we're all prone to cruelty. I think that's why I… why I appreciate my moments with you the most. I can guarantee that I am not a monster when I am with you, and I would hope that you feel significantly less monstrous in return." He pauses, then teases halfheartedly. "Regardless of your attitude when you wake up in the morning."
Sakura smiles and sings quietly in his ear.
"I love you- baby, I'm not a monster…"
Artem groans. "Oh, no. Not that. Anything but that. Sang Hee was singing that group for months." Sakura shrugs.
"It's not a bad song." She kisses him lightly on the mouth, then slips off of his lap. "I'm going to put this—" She waves the photograph, "—away."
He lifts his shoulders and picks up his book. "Mhm. You go do that." He reads a few lines, then calls her name. She answers from the other room.
"What is it, Artem-kun?" His eyes don't stray from his book as he speaks, quietly building the courage to say the words properly.
"I love you, too."