England watched trees pass rapidly past him, the large green rushing blur left England grimacing in discomfort. Opening the window of the cab, the driver glanced back at the noise but returned to the road, they had just left London's traffic. Some would say the English love to queue because they would only move a few inches every hour, 'I really need a vacation.' England groaned.
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Canada scurried like a lost child around his home, quickly picking out anything out of place, making sure anything and everything stayed set to perfection. Why? Well, Russia was visiting, of course. The mere thought of the Russian looking at his house and entering it sent Canada's heart fluttering, like a sundry of butterflies taking flight simultaneously. Whenever father or papa visited they knew Canada but when a friend visits the nervousness accompanied with excitement sent Canada's knees shaking like an earthquake. He wanted to look good, share his likes and build on their relationship. When his parents visited he did not care for presentations and first impressions it was too formal. But with his friend visiting one of his homes for the first time he felt the need to impress.
He dumped all of America's stashed computer games into the loft, France's sensual looking gifts and paintings locked in a cupboard in his store room and all of England's tea set had been carefully polished. Something Canada understood was America's obsession with making England proud was that England was just someone you would look up to. England had that aura around him and personality which made him a harsh judge of people and he has never ever has complimented someone. Never had Canada ever heard England say the words 'like' or 'love' in a sentence. So when England suffered after America's departure, from a colony to a country, Canada stood by England's side. Waiting before asking, keyword 'asking' not 'starting a revolution', for independence. He remembered when he uttered those words England had completely shut down for a month. The man had holed himself in his house for weeks until Canada had enough. He broke into the man's house and promised to never leave him, as a son and friend, only wanting to grow into an admirable nation but not sever ties in the process.
Canada would never forget the day that England distanced himself from Canada but after a while, he got used to it. Seeing their children leave them after having spent years of nurturing and protecting them must have been hard, England was not a person who easily let go. But Canada somehow felt an unknown buzz of pride, 'If father saw me now, being friends with one of the most powerful countries, what would he say?' it didn't frighten him anymore. To be seen with Russia, walking in step with each other, laughing away his worries and sharing his problems with the older male. No, Canada felt lucky he found someone to share his emotions with. Eyeing a bouquet of sunflowers open with their sunset orange petals contrasting with their large brown seeded middle. He smiled lightly at the present he received for some reason. He thought back to the end of the meeting…
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Canada was immediately encased in a large pair of arms. Russia packed away his belongings, with speed rivalling a thunder strike, pulled at Canada's waist and gave him an affectionate bear hug. Canada spluttered in shock as the comforting heat was smothered onto him plentifully. Walking leisurely through the crowd while all the other nations leap out of his way, trying to not shiver in the man's presence.
"Russia?!" Canada choked out but Russia could only chuckle ominously before tightening his arms around the petite Canadian. The younger nations smelt distinctly of charred wood, burning soothingly and coaxing the Russian to bury his face into the Canadian's soft neck. Canada feeling the change in position grasped, embarrassingly, and arched out of the reach of cold skin against his glowing skin.
"Kolkolkol. Matvey, very warm, I want a Matvey toy to sleep with, da?" Canada looked down at the Russian, scandalised, but immediately sucked it up when met with a genuine longing expression.
"Non Russia," Canada mumbled helplessly, "you don't need a toy when you have me!" The Russian grinned widely at the notion of Canada playing along with his charade. 'Da, a Matvey toy is not good as the real Matvey.' The Russian cleverly supplied in his brain. Canada's arms tightly entwined around the Russia's neck over his pastel pink scarf. It had taken Canada two years for the man to allow Canada to touch his scarf so openly otherwise Canada knew it was forbidden territory. It was the only thing with Russia had left from Ukraine which showed that she still loved him and cared for him.
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Apparently when the USSR collapsed Ukraine had elaborated with a heavy heart that she had said the cruellest things to Russia, leaving the childlike man in an empty home with no family to turn to. When Canada heard this confession everything clicked in his head. How Russia would monotonously ask about his meetings, be it formal or informal, with the other countries and what they wanted. Canada understood, unlike most people, that Russia was simply extremely insecure. Though sometimes it felt like he was being invaded, 'But I guess not all relationships start off with sunshine and rainbows' Canada countered logically, though to others it would have been weird and slightly concerning at how Russia got along with some mystery person so easily.
Canada shook off all negative thoughts and thought back to the meeting…
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Russia walked casually, though the others his posture denoting a threatening outlook, even the cleaner skittered off to a random meeting room much to Russia's childish amusement. Canada huffed and waited, he had grown used to being dragged around (man-handled) by Russia. And he knew if he complained Russia would only enjoy himself more so he looked around quietly.
"Mattie!" America's voice rang, echoing in every nook and cranny of the building, Russia irked by the noise quickened his pace and slammed into his office. Every country had an office rented out for a day to perform meetings face to face with another individual without involving everyone else. Slamming the door closed and locking it swiftly without a second thought Russia dumped Canada onto a plush seat, much to his amusement as Canada squealed cutely with the sudden movement.
"Matvey, you is too serious!" Canada furrowed his eyebrows but noticed the lock on his shoulders as Russia pressed his fingers into them softly.
"Oui, I have never…ah seen your room," Canada mumbled honestly. Gazing around with wide eyes. His purple gaze was being watched by more deep amethyst orbs, the wallpaper decorated with symmetrical black and white columns, the white wooden desk was littered playfully with glass figures all intricately hand painted with bold inks, the windows were all covered with shutters and the only light was from the bright LED in the ceiling. The feel was all professional and Canada just noticed that Russia had stopped staring at him and opened a cupboard at his desk.
Russia snapped up grinning with an ecstatic expression of mischievousness. His eyes gleamed knowingly, only adding to Canada's curiosity. Pulling out a bouquet of sunflowers, growing warmer than the sun's rays, tied together in an indigo ribbon. The shock left Canada's mouth hanging and with no reaction Russia started to worry.
"Matvey not like?" Russia flicked his eyes between the flowers and Canada as if trying to work something out. His eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as if to wonder where his plan had gone wrong.
"Non. Je ne sais pas quoi dire! I love it Russia."(I don't know what to say!) Canada breathed out gratefully. Pronouncing each syllable to show his gratitude and loss of breath.
"Da, that is khorosho (good) or Matvey would not have liked it if Mat' Rossiya (Mother Russia) were to choose between Matvey and the Sunflowers!" Canada brushed off the threat like lint on clothing and carefully took the flowers from Russia with wonderment, it seemed to Russia the gift had shocked Canada so much he did not know how to comprehend the gift.
"Da, Matvey will use the ribbon to tie his hair…?" Russia trailed off with his words at the end, unsure of how to phrase his request, without it coming out as threatening. Canada rubbed the ribbon between his fingers and revelled at his velvety softness.
"Oui, I will," Canada spoke as if he was passing a law, with complete commitment. The way Russia's lips twitched upwards made Canada feel proud. The gap between Russia's real smile and his fake murderous smile was slowly but surely narrowing. Canada couldn't help but compare their relationship to a caterpillar. With every right word, gesture and expression the caterpillar was being fed leaves. Soon it would reach a point where the caterpillar would become a chrysalis and that was when the hardships began, it would feel like everything was in shambles and there was nothing left to salvage. But if Russia and Canada were very trusting of each word, gesture and expression they had shared in the past a small butterfly would emerge from the chrysalis. And it would have the most exotic peacock blue wings glistening proudly in the sun, dancing majestically around anything which could come in its way.
But time was key, and Canada knew this. But he just dreaded the moment their caterpillar would disappear into a crippled and murky brown chrysalis.
"Khorosho, because Mat' Rossiya was planning to visit Canada in his home." Canada snapped his head up.
"Huh?" Canada questioned still not understanding what Russia meant even if it was clear as daylight.
"Mat' Rossiya is going to visit Matvey in his home." The Russian pressed eagerly awaiting Canada's opinion, even it looked like Russia would visit even if Canada rebutted.
"Oui, that would be wonderful." Canada leapt out of the chair while his brain came up with a to-do list of what preparations needed to be made before the Russian decided to make his stay. "But come at nine or else I won't be ready!" Canada quickly jumped up in excitement and carefully carried the gorgeous flowers in another delicate hand. Animatedly explaining how happy he was that Russia was visiting and ran out the room like a whirlwind. But Canada had forgotten- Russia did not have his address.
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Canada's wavy hair was a warm rich blonde, much like the sunrise at Vermillion Lake, with a mixture of dark whisky waves, sweet honey locks and borderline auburn strands tied loosely in a high ponytail allowing some tighter ringlets to frame his face unevenly on both sides. The indigo ribbon was knotted into a simple large bow on his head holding his silken hair up without a problem.
The country had reasonably broad shoulders, carrying the weight of his country, with a gentle taper at his hips and below. Wearing mid washed skinny jeans with a small brown leather belt, a freshly pressed linen white shirt tucked in neatly and a pair of black and white converse, something America had gifted him when he saw them become a trend.
A playful knock on the door to a mysterious tune pulls Canada out of his stupor. Scrambling to answer the door Canada tripped over his antique victorian carpet. With a loud thud, the person on the other side of door knocked louder without the unusual tune.
Canada pulled himself up and brushed himself off while lunging towards the door, throwing the poor piece of wood open to reveal a concerned yet angry Russian.
Russia appeared different, compared to usual guise he seemed to have put an effort into his clothing choice. His prominent broad shoulders were dressed in an earthy brown military shirt and a contrasting ashen grey blazer, straight boot-cut dark blue jeans slightly scruffy at the end where some strings were coming loose, but his feet covered in his trademark chunky black leather boots laced together from some unknown era. The signature rose pink scarf was bound around his neck hanging loosely behind him to create a long tail.
"Salut Russia." Canada squeaked out and lost himself in Russia's jewelled orbs.
"Preevyet Canada, I hope you are not hiding anything?" The Russian's deep voice denoted whimsical mistrust.
"Non, Russia I fell..." Canada mumbled to the end as his cheeks heated up like an oven with embarrassment. The Russian grinned broadly and let out a deep chuckle, though not mocking, Canada felt feverish after being under the Russian's microscope.
"Da I like Matvey's home. It is, what you say, 'cosy', da?" Canada having reached his limit turned away to stop staring at Russia's more delighted eyes.
"Oui, I'm happy you find it nice. Come in." Canada stood to the side to let the bigger man into his home. Feeling his eyes dart around to where Russia was looking to make sure everything was in order.
"You are wearing the ribbon Drakonchik..." Canada smiled without a single thought to spin merrily in front of his friend to give him a good sight. Canada watched as the Russian reached out to brush a free strand from his face to place it thoughtfully behind his ear. Canada noticed how the Russian smelt of freshly cut grass, somehow, and saw Russia's choppy ashen grey hair styled to spike at odd angles like a lion's mane.
"Oui, I thought it would help when keeping my hair out my face." The Russian grinned crazily and stroked Canada head endearingly, not to ruin Canada's hard work, to feel the smooth hair glide along his fingertips with ease.
"Why keep it long, Matvey?" Russia asked out of the blue, Canada liked that about him. Russia did only enquire about Canada because he was solely interested in him. He was not trying to get close to America, through Canada, and he was definitely not trying to make Mother Russia an empire.
"Well, I was actually raised by France for a while but was handed over to Britain for the rest of my childhood and that is where I met America." Canada led the man into his living room gesturing to the four-seater oaken dining table. The Russian took a calculative seat facing the kitchen entrance in which Canada was brewing some green tea.
"I grew it in memory of my papa, France, and Britian tried to make me cut it but I refused many times other than to get a monthly trim." Canada turned from his work to Russia to find the older man was playing with a table knife. Spinning it between his thumb and index finger; while his eyes stared fixated on Canada. Russia had removed his blazer to show off his brown military shirt which was folded up to his elbows to exhibit his tight bundle of muscles rippling under his clenching and unclenching of the knife.
"Wha-at are t-the pla-ans for to-oday?" Canada stumbled through the forest of words to see an amused smile ripen on Russia's lips. The man leant back in the chair, preferring to childishly swing on the chairs unfortunate stands.
"I was planning to explore Canada's house then make you dinner." Warmth filtered into Canada's system as he could already feel his taste buds salivate in the distant memory of having the Russian cook for him again. Something Canada had learn was that the Russian loved to be the ringleader of every variable of his life. Once he had decided to surprise the Russian with a gift, after coxing the man to tell Canada his birthday to no avail, he accepted the gift but the Russian had then disappeared from Canada's sights, somehow.
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For two days Canada heard nothing from the Russian, feeling hopeless for the millionth time, the Canadian received a mysterious call on his house phone and the caller left a voicemail explaining for Canada to meet him in a local park. Disturbed beyond repair the Canadian armed himself with a Kumajiro (Kamajino at that moment) and a well-hidden hockey stick, signed personally by the 'Trail Smoke Eaters' in 1939 after they won Canada his first World Champion Cup. Unreplaceable time's aside, Canada stood in the middle of the park with Kumajiro (Kumakon at that moment) facing the other way covering all park entrances.
"Medvezhonok."(Teddy Bear) Canada twisted his head harshly to see Russia walking over casually with his hand in his pockets and the usual scarf fluttering nervously in the wind.
"Belyy Medved' (Polar Bear), you are well?" The Russian reached out to Kumajiro (Komaton at the moment, how long does this go on for?) ruffling the bears head affectionately.
"Ivan?" Russia's human name slipped out of Canada's mouth without his permission. The Russian looked up with lighten up eyes, as if seeing receiving his Christmas present for the first time, and he left Kumajiro (Kamoreto at the moment) leaving the bear to shuffle off after taking a final sniff of the Russian and nuzzling Canada's irresponsive hand. Canada watched Russia without a flicker of emotion, hoarsely shouting out in discomfort when the Russian scooped the smaller frame into a large heartfelt hug.
"Da, Drakonchik?" (Dragon) Canada felt his eyes water. The tears dripping down in silent remorse for betraying Canada's frozen features. The Russian burrowed into Canada's soft neck only to snap up in surprise as a wet liquid touched his face. Normally radiant entertained pools of amethyst darkened dangerously.
"Matvey, not happy to see me?" The larger man tucked his head forward leaving his hair to hang in front of his face like a willow tree's branches, skilfully concealing the crazed contortion of Russia's lip and dull wine red being injected into his lilac eyes, making them a sinful burgundy, glowing murderously with mistrust.
"Oui." Canada answered, Russia's grip intensified but Canada did not pay attention and watched Russia evolve into something he only had nightmares of.
"Ivan you hurt me." Canada stated with a bite of his lip. The Russian narrowed his eyes grimly while loosening his hold but still kept it firm enough to restrain a future escapee from his clutch.
"Nyet I did not." The Russian breathed down dangerously. Canada did not heed to the warning blaring in his head shrieking for him to perform a fatal blow and escape to his family.
"Non. You hurt me." Russia growled identical to that of an untameable beast milliseconds from ripping anyone to shreds.
"You left me. I was scared you didn't like me anymore." Canada looked at Russia with now fully watery eyes, waterfall of tears pouring down his face, Russia felt his breath hitched as he quickly fumbling with his hands. Opalescent metallic crimson rubies diluted into Russia's more friendly concerned amethyst spheres.
"Nyet, Drakonchik I would never leave you. I will hunt you down if you leave me but Mat' Rossiya will never leave his comrade behind. Not even the world united, against me, could stop me from seeing you." Canada coughed out in relief and sobbed uncontrollably. Hiccups turned into hushed whimpers as the Russian once again encased the Canadian into his larger frame and rubbed his back considerately.
"Where did you go Ivan? I thought you were gone forever!" Canada snuffled into the Russia's tan coat not even caring about how weak he seemed to look in front of the man he has been trying to impress for months.
"Da, Mat' Rossiya is sorry. I had some problems with my younger sestra, you know her right Drakonchik, and she seems to want to stake a claim to my heart. But it is all okay now Matvey I tried to be fast as I can and you see Mat' Rossiya is back with his Matvey." Russia cooed gently into his ears, his voice taking on an entrancing smoky quality. Canada could only nod in response.
"Come, Matvey, Mat' Rossiya needs to help you feel better." Canada was swiftly lifted up and carried with ease towards a blank picnic spot. Russia reached out to the back tail of his scarf and wrapped it securely around the Canadian's neck. Kumajiro had sneakily placed himself behind the duo allow the two to lay down and rest their heads on his furry back. The scarf smelt eerily of freshly baked bread and calming enticing honey.
"Matvey did not eat breakfast and lunch did he?" Canada stared bewildered at the older man but nodded obediently without a word. It was one of those moments where Russia once again knew about Canada's personal life. It had scared Canada at first and he tried to covertly look for the bugs, under the pretence of cleaning the house, but found none. So he gave up and got used to it seeing as Russia was not actually taking advantage of anything. But he just hoped his bathroom was clean.
"Non," Canada was passed a warm loaf with an intensive smile. Seeing Canada's questioning gaze at his loaf the Russian explained.
"It is Borodinsky, da, it was popular during the Soviet Union for its sweetness and strong aroma." Wedges between the two bread slices was a creamy filling with chopped vegetables and satisfying pineapple pieces. Canada took a timid bite out of the sandwich, feeling the Russian's eyes on Canada like a devils hound eagerly awaiting praise for a good catch. Canada hummed appreciatively at the dish before nudging it towards the Russian.
"Nyet, Canada it is for you." Canada mumbled a token of gratitude before retreating to finish his meal. Cheeks thoroughly lit up with an uncontrollable fire he dug into Russia's scarf for comfort and something to hide behind. Seeing the cloth connect both his and Russia's neck Canada could not help but move closer to the Russian for more reassurance of his presence. As if reading his mind the Russian smiled blissfully before leaning into to rub his more prominent nose with Canada's button like nose. Canada felt his breath quicken as the Russian moved to reveal Canada's hockey stick.
"Khorosho, Matvey is very careful with his surroundings. What is this?" Canada pulled out from under the scarf and saw a Russia point at the signatures scribbled over Canada's hockey stick. Canada beamed and opened his mouth to explain his happy experience with the more glee filled Russian. Russia watched the animated Canadian drive his heart into oblivion. Canada was going to be Russia's death and sole joy.
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"Da Canada will give me tea?" The Canadian snapped out his musing and placed the tea set onto the table and placed a delicate cup and saucer in front of Russia. A loud urgent knock on the main door had Canada looking at the exit in wonder.
"Matvey is expecting others?" Russia stared at Canada in annoyance.
"Non, Ivan Kumajumko (Canada when will you ever get it right!) is not here. And no one knows my address except you," before Canada could explain further to the super nation a fatigued gritty voice grumbled on the other side.
"Matthew, son, I need to talk to you now!" Russia raised an eyebrow comically before lifting his tea and leaving the room with a smirk adorning his features.
"Da, I'm sure Drakonchik will be able to take care of this?" Gulping down the blistering hot tea with a straight face the Russian retreated down one of the corridors.
"Fukeneh." Canada sweared with a sigh of impending doom. If Russia came halfway into his meeting with England, which was not scheduled, there would be unneeded drama in his life. Russia had explained to Canada that he wanted to keep his relationship a secret as people would come after Canada seeing as Russia was more lenient with him. But if Russia wanted to reveal it this way then all hell would break lose. England would look at him with alarm, America would try to prove that Russia was a 'Commie bastard in every way' and France would…would actually Canada did not know. France was unpredictable like that even if he tries to flirt with anything moving and remotely appealing.
"Canada, I don't want to play the waiting game with you, you're not America are you?" Canada skittered towards the door and flung it open only for the British man to stare bewildered at the younger male.
"Canada. You seem… words fail me." England stared at his well-groomed son in front of him only to stop dead in his tracks. England now frozen in time left Canada swearing.
"Fukeneh, Mr. Britain come in, it is cold." Canada groaned at his ruined day.
"Kolkolkolkol…" A chill ran up Canada's spine as he felt the hands of time turn to indicate his calamitous fate.
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Please comment as I feel encouraged to write more if I get a response but please do comment even if it is a small comment and tell me what you like or dislike. I want to hear my readers views as I write to help me improve.