When China opens the door to a chilly Sunday afternoon, he's not particularly surprised to see Russia standing there, thin cheeks bloody with the cold. It's not the first time, and it's likely not to be the last, so China takes this occasion with more than a little of his usual disdain.
"You look pathetic, aru," he says, folding his hands in his sleeves and taking in his bedraggled neighbor's appearance. "And I am amazed that you dragged yourself out of bed to come and bother me so soon. Half your body collapses and I am still not going to become 'one with Russia.'"
Russia's amethyst eyes (overlarge in their sunken face) blink, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him. His coat hangs loosely on his slumped shoulders, his shaggy hair has lost any trace of a shine, and one arm is suspended in a sling around his neck. A flat box is cradled against his chest, wrapped in dull paper and a worn ribbon.
"Nyet, I... did not want to ask that of you. Could I... come in?"
"No. You can stay right here and say whatever it is and be on your way." As the tall man's eyes widen, China realizes how much they look like healing bruises: dark, lighter around the edges, and yet still... injuries.
"I can say it out here, too," he says, more to himself than to China. "Hold these?" China takes the box with a grain of hesitation, and watches with increasing bewilderment as Russia takes a step back, touches his hand to his forehead and shoulders, and kneels before him in the snow, touching his forehead to the ground.
"I ask your forgiveness," he said, voice just barely caught in his scarf. "If ever I have trespassed against or offended you." With a slight wheeze, he hefts himself to his feet, leaning down once again and kissing China's cheeks three times, one hand resting on his forearm. "Forgive me, Wang Yao."
He turns and departs, leaving China standing dumbly in the threshold, the package still in his hands.
"Those are for you," he calls over his shoulder. "They are bliny. Eat them before the sun goes down."
"Wait, aru! I - ah-"
He half-turns, glances back. "I cannot stay. I am going to the west, starting with Eesti. I will bring you pussy willows soon, da? Then, we will talk."
He disappears, leaving only the prints of his boots and his forehead in the snow. China eventually goes inside and sits next to his cold tea and stares at the package.
"A stupid, crazy thing to do, in his condition," he concludes to himself, resolving to put the curious matter out of his mind. In spite of this, though, he smiles for the rest of the afternoon.
I don't own the characters or APH, etc. Written for lahica-loca on dA.
Too tired to write notes about this now. Questions, concerns, leave me a comment.