From the windows of his hotel in one of the United States' biggest cities, Yào could see hundreds of cars passing by, on the wide streets. The lamps on the sidewalk stood tall and Christmas lights hung onto them like a web of gold. Their bright warm fascicles conflicted with the cars' cold ones, or at least, that's what it seemed through his foggy window.
His honey brown eyes were foggy of reminiscences of earlier times.
Ever since Yào appeared on earth, from the blossom of a peony, four to five thousands years ago, he realized that before one dictator came another (from other empires… or from his own) which modified and restricted him after his will. That's why one of his dreams was to escape his duties as a nation and live by his own rules.
Everything changed when he met Kiku, still a child, in the bamboo forest next to his house. He immediately realized the kid was a nation, who probably swam the distance between China and Japan, then got lost. He tried to raise him, like later Arthur did to Alfred and Antonio did with Lovino, but the other preferred to be independent, secretly returning back to his country soon enough. Even if he left, Kiku, as a grown up, often visited him, the two becoming great friends. He showed the younger nation his culture, values and cats. He also taught him how to write, Old Japanese being only a spoken language. He became very attached to the nation; he still wanted to live by his own rules, but he wanted to do it with Kiku.
Tragically, the Japanese's need for power filled his mind with jealousy, hate and hunger. And, helped by his bosses, he subjugated the lands around his country, causing great pain in Yào's heart, whose people suffered in atrocious ways. Thankfully, the Japanese Empire's expansion was stopped by the Americans. Alfred, unfortunately, was forced to help drop the A-bombs on his friend. Grim times for humanity.
But the two were friends now, correct? So, what stopped Yào and Kiku from making up and being fond of each other again?
Lost in his thoughts, he kept watching, hands propped on the window, like his face. He was sitting on a chair, which was currently tilted towards the window, leaning on it. Around him there were scattered luggages, bags, boxes and other tools. He didn't bother cleaning them up. On the table behind him stood a roll of wrapping paper, a ribbon, a small box and a sealed envelope decorated with Yào's immaculate calligraphy.
He turned around, interrupting his train of thought, looked around the apartment and sighed. He sorted all the papers and arranged the boxes, which he hid under his bed.
'At least this looks tidier!' he exclaimed, satisfied. 'Just in case… someone visits,' he added, thinking.
He turned to his desk. He stuck the letter on one side of the box with some tape. Picking up the golden wrapping paper, he folded it skillfully around the package, tying it with a crimson ribbon.
As he studied his creation, he was startled by an alarm coming from his phone, on the other side of the room, announcing 7AM. It was the hour he was supposed to wake up at, to attend the World Meeting, hosted by Alfred this month, at 9AM. Since he had been dealing with insomnia recently, he woke up ridiculously early today, though.
Sighing, he walked next to his phone and closed the alarm, only to notice a message from Alfred, announcing in the last second that the meeting will be held 30 minutes prior. Facepalming in his mind at the spontaneity of young people, aged only 200 years, he began dressing and preparing to leave the house.
Half an hour later, he was ready to leave. He picked up the gift and hid it under his jacket. He got out, closed the door, and exited the block, where a taxi was waiting for him.
After a more than 30-minute drive throughout the traffic of the city in December, Yào finally arrived at a large building. Entering it, he was guided by the gatekeeper to the hall where the meeting would be held.
When he entered the large room, he smiled, seeing the joyful decorations everywhere. On the floor, the plain carpet was replaced by a festive one. Around the frames of the windows, there were light garlands, messily taped (And Yào didn't take long to figure out the American prepared them himself). In the corner of the room, he noticed a Christmas tree so large, he wondered how it fit through the door in the first place. Blue, red and white, thick, tinsel strings raced each other between the branches of the fir, accentuated by the cheerful dazzle coming from a long string of colorful lights. On the twigs hung around fifty globes in the shape of stars. They were skillfully made out of polished glass. The globes reflected the fascicles of light from the installation around the room.
Yào wasn't Christian, so he didn't really celebrate Christmas in his country. Now, he was surprised at how much thought could westerners put into this holiday. He sat at his assigned seat, taking his coat off and putting it on the chair's back. Pulling out the present and putting it on the table, he patiently waited for all the countries to arrive.
On the opposite side of the oval table was Kiku, in his usual elegant white suit. Yào couldn't deny he looked attractive in it. On the table next to him he distinguished a package covered by wrapping paper, white with red stars. He couldn't help wondering who was the lucky person. Still, he made sure to not keep his eyes on him for long, in case he might stare back.
On both sides of him the seats were empty, but the right one was between himself and another tall nation who had arrived before him. He wore a beige coat, thick skin snow boots and a long grey scarf, which covered half of his chubby face. He recognized the person immediately as Ivan Braginsky. The Russian was holding a gift with round edges, wrapped in glossy royal blue paper with a satin white bow. Even if it was done a little messily by Ivan's large unskilled hands, it had many complicated curls.
"Merry Christmas, Yaochka !"
/Yaochka(ru.)- Yao with a diminutive -ka suffix/
While Yào was looking at the present in the other's hands, Ivan noticed him, smiled and waved.
He smiled back, but not too bright. He knew that, deep down, he was just an innocent child, trying to make friends, his intentions were affected by his past trauma, resulting in him acting violently every now and then, because he still didn't understand the consequences of its own actions. While Yào wanted to help him, he knew it would be best if he was more wary, so he tried restricting the contact with Ivan as much as he could.
"Do you mind if I sit closer?" the Russian asked, not even waiting for an answer. He got up and moved to the seat between them.
But, when he sat, he heard a muffled groan. Surprised and a little scared, he jumped out of his seat.
"Jesus Christ and Holy Maple , doesn't anyone ever notice me?" the familiar voice of Matthew asked.
"Oh, sorry, Alfred, but wasn't your seat there?" Ivan asked, pointing at the seat on the Chinese's left.
"For the last time, I am Canadian…" he answered, exhausted from having to say this in every meeting.
"I am sorry, my eyesight must be getting bad."
"My little Matthieu , did you come already?" a soft voice with a French accent reverbated in the room.
/Matthieu(fr.)- Matthew/
"Who are you talking to, git ? Not only are you insufferable, you're insane too?" the Brit next to him interrupted Matthew, while furrowing his thick eyebrows.
"Be nice! He is one of our adoptive sons! Plus, you're the crazy one, with your unicorns and fairies!"
"How incredibly insulting! Don't listen to him, darlings…" he whispered, offended, while petting the air above his shoulder.
Yào sighed. Every meeting these two had to fight in some way, like a couple in need of counseling. Which is what they were, at least to the rest of the table. No one there doubted their pining and tension existed, but the last time someone brought the two up and called them a couple, it ended in a match of screaming, so they all decided to be quiet about them. Still, the two were getting better, correct? Compared to the Hundred Years War, definitely.
"It's almost Christmas, my dudes ! You know what that means?" Alfred cheerfully exclaimed, after entering the hall, resting his hands on the pair's shoulders.
"Well, I guess it means you finally decided to show up in something more formal, I see!" Arthur the Briton remarked, discreetly pointing at his costume.
"This old junk? No, of course not! I mean, if we're in the holiday period, we should stop fighting over the littlest things!" the American affirmed, pulling both of them together.
"Papa Francis is so proud of you!" the French softly yelled as he hugged Alfred.
/Papa(fr.)-Daddy/
"Hmph, I guess you're right," Arthur mumbled tsundereishly.
"Anyway… Is everyone here?" Alfred asked as he began counting the nations on his fingers.
"NOT YET!" Ludwig yelled, busting through the door at exactly half past eight, with Feliciano on his back. Poor boy looked pretty unsuited for a formal meeting, his costume unironed and with scratches and cat paw prints here and there.
"We're sorry we are late we were supposed to get ready but a very cute cat passed in front of my window you know I love cute cats so I pet it but it scratched me and I cried because I felt betrayed then Ludwig yelled at me from the next room because we don't sleep together we're not gay that's why he was in a different room and I-"
"FELICIANO, I LOVE YOU, BUT STOP TALKING, MY HEAD HURTS!"
"Oops, sorry, Ludwig."
"And we're married !"
Alfred giggled. So did Ivan and Yào, even though the latter tried to suppress it. These two had the strangest dynamics, even when they used to be their enemies, during war, but especially now, during times of peace. Ah, peace! Why is the world doomed to fight against itself continuously? Why are beings so quick to attack others made of the same flesh and blood? Whatever was the dreaded answer, it didn't matter now, in the warm and welcoming meeting room.
"We're sorry for the wait, but I find rescheduling at the last minute incredibly immature!" the German said, in a thick accent.
"Don't worry, dude, you made it just in time, how about we all go to our seats now?" the American humbly (or at least, humbler than usual) spoke, in an awkward apology.
So, that's what they did. Francis, Arthur, Alfred and Ludwig carrying Feliciano walked to their chairs. With Ludwig (between Ivan and Feliciano) and Alfred (between Yào and Francis) on the further opposite ends of the oval and Matthew and Arthur with Kiku on the nearer ones, the meeting was ready to start.
"Why do I have to sit next to you, frog?"
"You chose to sit with me!"
"Quiet!"
Well, now it was.
"I think you all know why I called a World Conference meeting today! Since it is the last day we will spend together before Christmas comes, we will make it special! Last time we wrote everyone's names on individual pieces of paper, we mixed them up, then everyone of us took a piece. And-"
Ivan raised a hand.
"Yes?"
"And then we had to make a gift to the person we got, and keep them a secret, da ?"
/Da(ru.)- Yes/
"That's right, my commie dude ! So, now, we are all here to share our presents! So, who wants to start first?"
"Me, me, can I please start, I wanna give my present to L- I mean can I start?" Feliciano agitated, his chair threatening to trip.
"Sure, if that's what you want, it can be your turn!"
"Okay," he murmured, getting up and taking a gift out of his dirty coat. Its dark red paper, even if a little crumbled, reflected shiny fascicles.
"My present is… for Ludwig," he announced, handing it to him. Once his hands were free, he fidgeted with them, blushing a little and looking away.
"Fröh…Fröhliche Weihnach… ten , Ludwig!"
/Fröhliche Weihnachten(de.)- Merry Christmas/
"Buon Natale , Feliciano…"
/Buon Natale(it.)- Merry Christmas/
He surprised the whole room, by taking another gift from under his side of the desk. Yào wondered how such a large box went unnoticed in the first place. It was wrapped in patterned white paper, tied with nothing but duct tape and a string coiled three times around the middle of the package. The craft thread fastened a twig and a pinecone to the paper.
The Italian quickly took the box, not forgetting to thank him, and messily started to open it. The other took the time to open the wrapper as carefully as possible.
"Whoa , Ludwig you're amazing! I've wanted this for so long!" he cheerfully yelled, raising his new painting set for everyone to see.
Soon after the interjections of admirations from the group had stopped, the other opened his gift.
"What are these?"
"They are beer glasses in the shape of a boot. Now we can toast with a big boot!"
"Danke, danke schöne …"
/Danke Schöne(de.)- Thank you/
"Oh, but that's not all! Look in the box, again!"
"Hm, I'll look- FELICIANO WHAT ZHE HELL IS ZHIS ?" he yelled, embarrassed.
"Remember those tons of cassettes you used to watch, but you had to give them up after your boss discovered them? I thought you would like it if I bought you some new ones. See, this one has cute ladies, this one has dogs. Kiku helped me pick them too, you know?"
The Japanese buried his face in his hands, but that didn't stop everyone from seeing his heated ears.
"Aaaaand here we have a classic day in our feared ex Axis Powers' lives!" Alfred commented, not caring if he offended anyone in the room. "Anyway, who's next?"
"Why don't you pick someone yourself?" he was asked by Arthur.
"No need to be stingy on Christmas, old dude! In that case, I choose you!"
"Fine."
He got up, evening out the creases on his pine green uniform and taking out something from a large inner pocket. The package was flat, in the rectangle shape clothes get folded in. It was wrapped in a red paper, patterned with thoughtful and wise words, such as "Ho Bloody Ho" and "Merry Christmas, Wanker".
"Frog, this is for you."
The French gasped dramatically, bringing one of his hands to his chest.
"Are you going to take it or not?" The Englishman raised one of his eyebrows. Thing that everyone there saw, due to the large size those were in.
"Oh, merci, merci, merci !" Francis belted.
/Merci(fr.)- Thank you/
He took the present out of the other's hands graciously, but firmly and opened it, similar to how Ludwig did. In a short time, in his hands he had an elegant frilly blue dress.
"That's exactly what I wanted!" he yelled, as he did pirouettes, his silky blonde hair fluttering in the air, as his new garment, held by him.
In the short span of like three seconds, Francis ripped his suit off himself and put on the new dress. Yào mentally ticked another box in the world meeting bingo: the French got naked.
"I look so pretty already, ohohohon~" he laughed with his characteristic giggle.
When he calmed down, a little, he wrapped his hands around Arthur's neck and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.
" Merci, mon cher …"
/Mon cher(fr.)- My dear/
"It's nothing, really," the Englishman stated as he pushed the other away from himself tsundereishly.
"Okay."
Francis looked defeated for two seconds, before suddenly cheering up again.
"Now it is my turn…" he announced, taking a meticulously wrapped box from below his table. "... to give my present …" he continued, as he walked behind Alfred, Yào and Matthew. "... to monsieur Braginski," he finished, as he carefully handed Ivan the present, giving the Russian a warm smile.
/Monsieur(fr.)- Mister/
The tall man stood up, trying to hide his face in his scarf, because of embarrassment and at the same time trying to show respect by pulling it off. After half a minute of awkward clutching at his scarf, he gave up whatever he tried to do and took the gift the French ever-so-kindly gave him. He tore the wrapper, unused to being gentle.
Inside there was a cubic box with plain white sides. Opening it excitedly, he came face to face with one of the most skillfully crafted globes he had seen. It was red, with tens of little golden outlines of stars all over it. Inside them the fiery colour was polished, while on the outer rest it was matte. Between the stars, it was written the cursive for 'Merry Christmas' in Russian ,in calligraphy, with glittery paint. Not to mention it was pretty large.
Ivan studied the artwork in his hands, looking at it wide eyed.
"So, do you like it?"
"It's very nice, but I am afraid I can't be around fragile things for long. I think I could break it any moment."
"Well, then you have to be careful not to, non ? It'd be a good way to practice not destroying the beautiful."
/Non(fr.)- No/
"I guess, da . Thank you!"
" De rien - Oh, I almost forgot! I have another gift for you!"
/De rien(fr.)- You're welcome (lit. It's nothing )/
The other turned around to search for something left behind in the torn pieces of the wrapper on his desk, only to be surprised by the unfamiliar feeling of two arms lovingly wrapping around him. At first he was shocked, but he realized he didn't mind it, as he hugged the handsome nation back.
After like 5 minutes passed and 3 jealous " bloody git "s were whispered, the two finally pulled away.
"Um thank you," Ivan said, with a pink blush dusting his cheeks.
"Everyone is worthy of love."
"Even me?" the Russian asked startled.
"Especially you. And especially on Christmas, ohonhon~ "
He tried leaving gracefully, but when he turned back to wink at him, one of his feet got caught in the hem of his dress and he was yeeted to the floor.
"That's what you get for daring to get close to him, git . You get cursed!"
"You be nice! He is very lonely!" Francis retorted back, grabbing his dress and running until he reached his seat.
"Whose turn is it now?" Ivan asked, smiling as he radiated a light pink aura, one Yào hadn't seen him have since he was an innocent little child.
"I don't make the rules, dude, if you want to give it now, then go for it!" Alfred responded, shrugging. "I wonder what kind of present will you give..." he mumbled.
"Probably better than you, Alfred."
"What are you trying to insinuate, commie ?"
Yào really hoped the two wouldn't end up fighting in the meeting room. Because, while when Francis and Arthur argued, no one got hurt and it was nothing but a shit show, but the last time these two were enemies, they basically split the world in two. Tearing alliances between countries. He vividly remembered how, at the end of his Civil War in 1949, the Communist Party was in control of his country, damaging even more his tie with the one he wanted to be close to…
Who?
Ah , Kiku.
He glanced at the Japanese. He didn't really seem bothered by the tension rising in the room. Like his country, he was always distant and mysterious.
The only times he saw him act lively and joyful was when he was with Ludwig and Feliciano, his best friends. Yào was often sent by the other Allies to spy them during the war. He was surprised the three most of the time didn't fight, except for the German's mom-friend-like scolding. Back in the World War Two days, when he used to sit at a table with 5 people, every meeting would always end in a fight, while everyone tried to take advantage of everyone, the second "everyone" being himself most of the time. That's why he was so surprised (and a little jealous) to find that the Axis, not only cooperated, not only tolerated each other, but actually befriended each other.
The Chinese blinked repeatedly. 'Silly old man' he scolded himself. 'It's not the time to get nostalgic. Suffering is dangerous.' he tried reminding himself.
"I am trying to say you will get a very good present!" Ivan cheerfully answered, as he grabbed his present, walked through the same path Francis went through before and gave it to Alfred.
"Merry Christmas Fredka!"
/Fredka(ru.)- Alfred with the diminutive -ka suffix/
Alfred muttered a "Well I didn't expect this turn," and admired the satin bow, before unbinding it and coming face to face with a thick handmade turtleneck sweater. Its azure fabric was soft, brushing his fingers gently. On it there were artfully knitted two planets, one with rings, and a shooting star, which made the American wonder how much time did the Russian put into a gift to his friend and enemy at the same time.
"You know this is for me, right?" he chuckled nervously.
"Only for you."
"Cut out that sappy shit, dude ," Alfred said, then whispered "If you want to," after. Yào could swear he saw a mix of regret and shyness in the young nation's sky blue eyes.
"We have been getting along very well recently, da ?"
"If we don't count the political debates, the Cold War, the fight over who gets to the moon first, I gue-"
"No, I mean, leaving our countries aside. We are nations, but we're humans too, da?"
"Well, if that's the case… I agree," he sheepishly said, but that didn't stop his ears from burning, along with his whole face.
Yào always shipped it, and now he was sure the whole room did the same.
"Anyway, how, um, how much work did you put into this? How do you have the time ?"
"Every time I got angry or romantically frustrated because you didn't like me I knitted to vent my anger."
"Every time you WHAT? "
"Oh, I didn't tell you yet," The Russian turned red like his former flag and pulled his scarf upwards to cover his face.
"Tell me what? You can't just leave me on read like that, dude !" he yelled, jumping on Ivan to pull his scarf off as the other wept something about being embarrassed.
"Calm down with your sexual tensions!" Francis yelled, dramatically pointing at them with two fingers.
"Only! When! He! Answers!" the American shouted, his glasses crooked as he kept pulling repeatedly at the scarf on Ivan's neck, making him groan.
"Oh, bloody amazing . You're fucking. Can't you GET A ROOM?" Arthur screamed.
"NO."
"I love you, damn American capitalist. Now get off me PLEASE!"
Surprised, Alfred stopped pulling at the other's clothes.
"Oh. In that case, I do the same!"
"Like, I know you don't- YOU WHAT?"
"You heard me."
Yào rolled his eyes. While Arthur and Alfred weren't blood related, the latter kept the former's hotheaded temperament for when embarrassed. When he was in a relationship with the Brit, in the 19th century (before a tragic breakup) he would often act just as Alfred did now, and the Chinese never truly figured out why. Why would you act stingy to 'defend your honour', then five minutes later be found drunk and half naked in the nearest pub?
"So, do you wanna become one, da ?" the famous, yet kind of dreaded question was asked, as a dark purple aura radiated off Ivan.
Alfred wrapped his arms around the Russian's neck and quickly kissed his cheek.
"If that's what you want, definitely~"
"No fucking in the meeting room!" Ludwig yelled.
The American pushed the other away lightly.
"Yeah, sorry, I got a little carried away, dudes ! Anyways, it's my turn!"
He lowered himself below the table, grunting as he tried to pull a large box. In a short amount of time he had an enormous package toppled over his right shoulder.
"How did you get such an enormous object here? I didn't see you carry it before!" Feliciano asked.
"I placed it here before y'all came, duh!"
He walked counterclockwise around the table, letting Ivan stay in his seat. Yào watched, amused by the look of pure pride on the American's face, while he passed by.
"Here you go, bro. Your present!" he exclaimed, dumping the large box on the Canadian's side of the table, almost crooking it a little.
"Before you open it, I have to tell you something," he declared, after clearing his throat.
Matthew nodded, his ahoge making a small bow.
"So, I know I wasn't always the best brother there is. I ignored you, I was loud and annoying and I was also very aggressive. I was selfish and only thought about myself, putting you in the second place. Since I know you are a decent and adored person, I hope you will forgive me, Matt."
"Wow, Alfred, that is so nice. I can't believe you finally apologized, after decades of being forgotten. I am so glad you can suddenly see me," the other responded, in his whisper-like voice. His eyes said acceptance, his smile said kindness, his words said "Thank you, but also fuck you."
"Yeah, I promise I will try to be a better brother, okay?"
"Okay," the Canadian responded, this time without a single ounce of sarcasm.
"I guess you can open it now."
Matthew tore the lids of the package off.
"Whoa, these are very beautiful, Alfred. Thank you so much!" he told his brother, pulling out, one at a time, a pair of new hockey skates, a hockey stick, a puck, some clothing gear, and finally, a helmet, onto the table.
"All yours, Matt!" the resident of the United States announced, taking the helmet into his hands, and fastening it on his sibling's head. "It fits perfectly, does it feel comfortable?"
"Eh , it does."
"Good, because it's not all I have for you!"
Alfred tilted the box to take an article of clothing from it. Unfolding it in front of everyone's eyes, he revealed a T-shirt with the USA's flag printed on it. Traditional American gift.
"Thank you, I guess, really nice," the Canadian said, as he took the cloth and discreetly placed it back into the package.
"It's your turn to give a gift I think."
"Yeah, it is," he whispered, then turned around to the people at the table with a rectangular gift in his arms.
"Um, mine is for Arthur. I am not sure if you can see me, but I will give it to you anyways," he announced, walking on the other side of the table and handing it to him.
"Hm, let's see," the Brit said more to himself, feeling the edges of the white wrapper with red maple leafs. "Hard covers, two round edges, it is a book, innit?"
/Innit(gb.)- isn't it/
"Yes, correct!" the Canadian responded smiling.
He carefully unfastened the scotch around the gift, then pulled the paper aside, leaving only the book in his hand.
"Obscure Myths and Legends from Around the World'' he read the title. Even though his mouth didn't crack the smallest giggle, he smiled with his eyes, wrinkles forming around them.
"Well, I hope you like it," Matthew muttered, attempting to retreat.
To his surprise, he was grabbed into a warm and kinda awkward hug by the Englishman.
"Thank you, my dear son, I am so proud of you."
"I always was, Matthieu !" Francis added.
"Me too, but now you made me so happy. I am sorry for not seeing you before."
The Canadian showed a genuine smile. He knew Arthur's weakness for mythological creatures. He was so passionate about them, he could often see them. People usually called him crazy for that, saying that his age has gotten to him, but they couldn't deny it was strange when they objects float and bumped into thin, moving, air from time to time.
"Okay, did everyone give their presents?" Alfred asked from Matthew's table.
"Nyet ," Ivan said. "We have forgotten Yaochka ."
/Nyet(ru)- No/
"And Kiku," Feliciano added, pointing at the quiet Japanese man.
"I guess there's only the two of us left," Yào affirmed, setting his eyes on the other Asian.
To his inner panic, he was staring back at him, with those gorgeous big dark eyes of his, like two black holes, engulfing all of Yào's concentration and attention. He felt his pulse increase beyond his control, turning his face his favorite color. Was he imagining or was the other's mouth curved in a small smirk? He blinked. Probably imagining. Kiku's ladylike hands rested on the table, in front of him, one over another. He found himself fantasizing about squeezing them, feeling their warmth and soft texture with his calloused hands, or with his lips...
"Bloody hell , are you okay, Yào?" the Englishman suspiciously questioned him.
"Yea, yeah, I am fine," he answered, realizing his forehead was humid with sweat.
"Please, don't catch a cold in the middle of winter."
"I'll try…"
"So, do you go first, or him?" asked Ivan expectantly.
"Um, if you want… I mean, if he wants… if he doesn't mind… I can start first… sure!"
He held the present carefully as he got up and walked the shortest path to Kiku's chair.
"This is what I have for you. I know neither of us really celebrate Christmas, but I hope this will bring you happiness in the upcoming year."
Kiku took the package with both his hands, anticipating it was something fragile inside and setting it on the wooden surface. He carefully untied the crimson bow and unwrapped the golden paper, revealing the box which was on Yào's desk this morning. Opening it, he found inside a set of fine china.
"These must have been very expensive, you didn't have to…"
"Yes, please take it. It's my gift to you," Yào retorted.
Kiku smiled brightly - a smile which made the Chinese's heart swoon - and accepted the gift with a polite "Thank you very much,".
The Japanese, while having shown warmth towards him before, never went beyond strictly official matters. Never since that day. He didn't want to think about it now. Even though his government, his people and his mind kept telling him he should, his heart refused to, making him act like some schoolgirl who got a crush on the popular student. What has got a century of pain, far from the present, compared to a second of Kiku's warm smile towards him, in the moment? What does his government have to offer, compared with the time he used to spend with the other? And what was Kiku's fault anyway, other than letting himself be blinded by his bosses, who used him as their puppet to attempt world domination through crimes that sent shivers down Yào's spine? In every war, politicians fight and populations of men, women and children have to suffer. And nations have no choice but to stand besides them and try dimming their pain, for nations are the people, and the people are the nations.
But no one, ever, thinks nations are people, too.
So, there he was, hoping with all his heart, he, Kiku and everyone else would just apologize, then leave the past where it belongs. Focusing on it makes you forget to live in the present moment, and Yào knew that. And you need to live in the present moment to fix it and help the past be past.
"Yào-san, are you okay?"
He blinked repeatedly, realizing he had zoned out.
"Yes, I am so sorry, I don't know what's gotten in me today," he lied, because he knew very well.
"It's okay, really," Kiku patiently answered. "I want to thank you for your amazing gift."
"You don't have to thank me…" he replied. "I am the Middle Kingdom, after all."
/ Explanation: China's name in hànzì/kanji is 中國/中国, which literally translates to Middle Kingdom.
(you can ask for more explanations in the comments and I'll
Kiku nodded.
"What is this?" he asked, a question that made Yào's heart lump in his throat, as he noticed the envelope and unglued it, taking it in his hands.
The Japanese brushed with his fingers his name written in calligraphy, in kanji, then opened the seal, pulling out the first paper he saw, which looked incredibly fragile. He placed the envelope on the table, then unfolded the sheet, careful to not break it.
To his amazement, he found one of his past drawings, from back when he was illiterate. Specifically, a sketch of a rabbit. Yào could swear he saw waves of flashbacks and nostalgia racing through Kiku's onyx eyes. It's not like the islander could remember every detail of his life; it's just that the bunny was the last thing he drew before he started learning to write; from then on, drawing wasn't a substitute for writing, it became a hobby.
"How did you preserve this?" he asked, genuinely impressed, but trying to show as little emotion as he could to the Chinese man.
"I can do many things you young people can't understand. You'll all learn them when the right time comes," he mysteriously responded.
"I didn't know you kept it all this time."
"I just thought it meant something to you and was determined to give it back to you one day."
"Thank you, Yào-san, it is greatly appreciated," he politely thanked, as he folded the paper back to put it into the envelope.
"There is another paper!"
"Yeah… true. Please do not ... read it out loud," he responded, putting a lot more effort into speaking than he should.
"Understood."
He quietly read the contents of the letter.
"To Kiku
I wish I could tell you these by myself, but every time I try to, you always find a convenient excuse and discreetly leave. After you read everything I have to tell you and don't like it, I promise to not bother you ever again!
First of all, finding you in the bamboo forest was one of the best things that genuinely happened to me, even if you left shortly after, back to the island. I didn't realize how lonely my life was getting before I heard your child voice, reminding me I am not the only nation out there.
Perhaps that's one of the reasons we became such close friends after you grew up and visited me again. You were always so quiet! But that was one of the best things about you, because you were the only person I knew that actually listened to me and didn't try bossing me around!
You were so calm, in your own world and never tried to live in someone else's. You held yourself with such poise, such elegance, such grace. I think back then I started to catch feelings for you. There is something in your warm, deep voice that has always lured me in. Or maybe in the way your hair harmoniously sways in the wind, soft like my silk and saturated in the darkness of a thousand clear nights, their stars loosely hanging in the way it shines in the moonlight and in your eyes. And, oh, your eyes; when I stared at them, in the quiet nights we spent together in our backyard, I felt like I could get lost in them, never escaping ever again, just swimming forever between the thoughts, hopes, dreams of the beautiful person you are, but I wouldn't mind.
As time passed by, we two and the other south/east asian countries were discovered by westerners… and everything changed. New nations meant new influences for the both of us. The difference is that, while I fought with them, getting their hostility, they seemed very fond of you and you seemed fond of them, borrowing their values the same way you once borrowed mine. And, surprisingly, your country flourished, like a blend between old and new, between morals and necessities, between yourself and what others thought you were. Your empire started to rise. Then the dreadful wars came. You came one last time to my house… and our relationship got strained forever.
I just want you to know, against all odds, I still care about you and love you. Yes, romantically. Aishiteru. (That's how you say it, right?)
With love,
Yào"
/Aishiteru(jp.)- I love you/
As he read, the Chinese noticed his face get redder and redder, but Kiku refused to show any emotion. He got scared. What if he accidentally embarrassed the other in front of the whole world? Of course, the Japanese must've moved on already. What was he even trying to obtain by confessing?
After two minutes of embarrassment, the other placed the letter face-down on the table, staring into Yào's amber eyes.
"I didn't know you felt this way about me, Yào-san."
The remark turned heads. Francis and Arthur stopped fighting, Alfred, in the middle of telling them to shut up, while giving Ivan a seductive stare. Ludwig dropped his mouth, making an "huUH?" sound. Only Feliciano was dreamily watching the two, sitting the closest to them.
"Yeah, but I understand if… It's okay if… I mean it isn't… But I care about your opinion… Not like I have a choice… What I mean is, you can tell me if you do not feel the same. You know?"
"I think I understand more than you might guess…"
"What do you mean?"
"You will see."
He took his own unopened gift and handed it to the other with both hands.
"Yào-san, I have a Christmas present for you, too."
"Eh, the western custom. Because it is Kiku giving it, I want it."
"I'm glad."
Yào could have sworn he heard a small giggle coming from him. Nevertheless, he didn't hesitate, but quickly unfolded the silvery wrapper with its red stars, coming face to face with a cardboard box. He looked for its nearest opening and used it, pulling out the content of the package, which was quickly dropped in shock: In his hands, the Chinese held a large fluffy doll in the shape of a cat. Squealing, he squeezed it in his arms, pressing the soft material to his face.
Surprised, he realized another pair of arms, coming from the other side, wrapped themselves around the plush and himself.
"Kiku? Is… Is that you?"
"..."
"..."
"... Yes."
"All this sweet stuff is giving me a headache. Just kiss already!" the Englishman yelled, rolling his eyes.
Yào buried his face in the cat, yelling a "Shut up, opium!" first.
"They would have kissed if you didn't interrupt them, you unbuttered toast!" Francis screamed in his nasal accent.
He felt Kiku's arms slowly dripping off his waist. His first impulse was to ask him to put them back, but he decided not to.
"Thank you for the gift. I'll keep it for a thousand years."
"Honoured."
He picked up the paper waste and the cat and started to leave to his own seat. After he stepped five feet, a voice into his head went 'WAIT' and he turned around, asking nothing but a question.
"Kiku, do you love me too?"
The answer he received was simple, but it made Yào's heart rise through all nine circles of heaven then back to earth.
"Yes. Wǒ ài nǐ!" The Japanese smiled a little, closing his eyes.
/Wǒ ài nǐ(cn.)- I love you/
He walked-ran to his chair, humming with emotion. As he took a seat, he spotted Kiku stare at him like he was the most precious treasure in the world. He smiled at him, only to see him do the same.
"Okay, our new lovebirds seem to have made up," Alfred announced. "And now it's time for food!" he excitedly added.
"It better not be unhealthy American trash! You already look f-"
"What did you say to me, after I saw you consume five Fish n' Chips plates in 10 minutes this summer?!" he retorted back.
"... fabulous. I mean fabulous, sure enough," Arthur said, wrinkling his forehead, making his eyebrows take scary shapes.
Alfred ignored his pathetic attempts at lying and loudly snapped his fingers. Immediately the room filled with waitresses, putting large dishes and cutlery onto the table. Three of them carried an enormous cake on their backs, placed it in the middle of it and left as quickly as they came, along with the others.
And, oh, the cake was quite a sight: It was bright blue and green, so intense, the room's colors seemed pastels compared to it. Yào already knew that it was the last color he wanted to put in his mouth.
He cut himself a slice of the piece of turkey before him. Despite their deserts, American foods were often pretty tasty and this wasn't an exception, even to his own high standards.
They ate in silence, drinking eggnog, with the Christmas tree cheerfully lighting up the whole room.
Finally, everyone either finished the turkey (like Alfred and Kiku), didn't bother finishing it (like Ludwig and Francis), didn't finish it out of politeness (like Yào and Matthew), attempted to finish it all, but dramatically failed (like Arthur and Feliciano) or ate their plate, asked for 2 more and also finished everyone else's food (like Ivan). It was time to cut the suspicious cake.
Alfred grabbed a huge butcher knife, swinging it around the room, causing half the nations to hide under the tables and a British complaint. He chopped it with the blade, cutting it into 8 approximately even pieces, putting each on a plate and passing them to the nations.
Avoiding the weird marzipan, Yào began eating the chocolate batter. It was soft and it had flavour, but it was too sweet for his liking. After eating half the dish, he placed it aside, signalling that he didn't want to eat it.
"Alfred-san, I am afraid I cannot eat anymore…"
"No problem, Keeks."
Kiku made a cute frowny face when he heard the American call him that, even though he repeatedly asked him not to. Yào placed his elbows on the table, resting his head on his palms. Luckily for him, Kiku seemed distracted, so he could keep watching him.
The murmur of the group was interrupted by the sharp clinking sound created by a teaspoon repeatedly touching a glass. Ludwig had noticed the countries have pretty much stopped eating.
"Pay some attention to me, please."
Once every nation's head was directed at him, he continued:
"As you know, our time together is coming to an end. I would like to give a speech to follow us through the holiday period, before we all depart to the place we belong."
Two or three people nodded, encouraging him to continue.
"First of all, to my amazement, I think we just held a genuinely useful meeting we all got something out of, for the first time since the existence of nations. I would like to thank my partner, Feliciano, for suggesting this Christmas idea, in which everyone is giving and everyone is receiving; in which everyone is happy and no one cries, in which everyone hugs and everyone smiles. I've seen countries make up, get along and cooperate together. I know everyone at this table, including myself, made mistakes in the past, but I am so thankful for this change. That's the Christmas spirit!"
He received a round of applause from around the table.
"So, if you don't mind, I have an idea too. How about we sing a carol together?"
"Yeah, that would be amazing!" exclaimed Feliciano and his big brother Francis, both very passionate about all that meant art.
"Eh, I guess…" Arthur added, secretly excited.
Yào was pretty hesitant about the German's proposal. He knew very little christmas songs, due to a very small portion of his country celebrating it. Also he was afraid the others would mock him because his voice sounded like a woman's when singing, even more than usual.
Anyway, Ludwig began, seeing positive feedback from most nations.
"O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
How lovely are your branches!"
By now, the Italian and the French had joined him too, singing harmoniously together.
"O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
How lovely are your branches!"
Alfred and Matthew eagerly started to sing too, but the Canadian's whisper-like voice was almost canceled by the other's loud one.
"Not only green in summer's heat,
But also winter's snow and sleet."
The Englishman and the Japanese joined too, their lower voices reverberating in the room. (Since Kiku spent more time with Alfred and the westerners, he knew more about Christmas than the Chinese)
"O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
How lovely are your branches!"
Ivan's soft voice added to the growing chorus. Yào's too, recognising the carol.
"O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
Of all the trees most lovely;
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
Of all the trees most lovely.
Each year you bring to us delight
With brightly shining Christmas lights!
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
Of all the trees most lovely."
Their harmonious unison reverberated in the large hall, carrying their song through sound ways. Not even the powerful sound insulators could cancel all the music, which was pleasantly heard in the neighboring rooms.
When the group stopped, Alfred raised a glass.
"Merry Christmas to every dude! I toast with this non-alcoholic eggnog, since I am underage."
"But, Alfred, your human age is nineteen," Francis added.
"Your point being?" he responded, still smiling.
A hand was raised by someone at the table.
"Yeah, Ivan?"
"Are we supposed to leave now?"
"I guess so, my dude."
As the nations started dressing in their winter clothes, a man in his fifties, dressed in formal clothes dashed through the entrance, knocking the door open.
"I am afraid to announce to you that, due to a large blizzard covering Eastern Europe and moving swiftly towards East Asia, the public, as well as private flights to Moscow, Beijing and Tokyo have been cancelled."
"Oh, c'mon man, it was getting almost perfect."
"It's okay, Alfred. Maybe I can stay with you until it passes. The USA is a pretty nice place around Christmas," Ivan suggested.
"Oh." Alfred thought about the idea of staying with his new boyfriend. "Sure, commie," he responded, trying to play it off as cool. He turned to the man. "Are there any free apartments at the White House?"
"I'm sorry sir, but they're all full."
The American turned to the Russian.
"I'm sorry but…" he pondered for a second. "Nope, fuck it, you can stay in mine," he told the other.
"Oh, is that so? Okay…"
"Well, I rented an apartment for a few days, I can stay in it. Kiku, what about you?"
"I am afraid I can't do the same. I just arrived here by flight, maybe I can rent a hotel room or…"
"No, it's okay, Kiku, stay with us!" jumped Feliciano.
"Don't be an idiot! You know we have to board our planes tomorrow morning! And we're going separate ways," Ludwig sighed.
Feliciano looked down, a little sad because he couldn't help his friend.
"Maybe we can free him another room. We can kick out someone!" Alfred added, only to be silently scolded by the older butler's look.
"He can stay with me."
It took Yào five seconds to realize the voice was his. Embarrassed, he added:
"Only if he wants to, of course!"
"I'd be more than happy to," Kiku politely spoke with his velvet voice.
"Well, I guess all's solved," Alfred shrugged. "Y'all can go to your houses now."
"It's YOU ALL, not Y'ALL!" malded Arthur.
"Calm down, cher!" Francis added, sighing.
One by one, the world's most powerful nations left the festive room. Yào was the last to, glancing one last time at the cheerful lights, as he squeezed the plush tight to his chest. He exited the room, closed the door. Kiku, Alfred and Ivan were waiting for him outside of it.
"So, is everyone okay? I tried to make the meeting more special."
"You succeeded I think. You decorated the Christmas tree, didn't you?" Yào responded, giggling.
"President Biden let me do it, so yeah."
"Very American of you, Fredka," Ivan added, remembering the red, white and blue tree, with stars.
"Thanks, commie ."
"I am no communist anymore, capitalist swine !" the Russian said, lightly hitting the other's shoulder with his elbow.
"Prove it, eye-van," he teased the other, pronouncing his name englishly. "Anyways, bye dudes!" he said, waving at the two Asians.
"Bye, Yaochka , bye, Kikuchka !" /Kikuchka(ru.)- Kiku with the diminutive -ka suffix/
They waved back, a little embarrassed. As Alfred and Ivan walked away, Yào could swear he heard the Russian ask the other to " become one with him now, da?".
"I guess there's just the two of us now," Kiku noticed.
"Yeah, I … I guess you're right."
Only after the palm of his hand brushed against Kiku's soft skin, he realized that he had tried to hold his hand. Flustered, he quickly backed away.
"Why are you so nervous? We've held hands before."
"But then it was between friends… Plus I haven't done that in a long time."
"I see…" Kiku took his hand and squeezed it with his delicate fingers. Yào's pulse accelerated, like it was his heart receiving the squeeze. "Let me help you a little, then."
They dashed down the stairs, still holding each other, like two innocent kids who just fell in love, called a taxi and went home. All the ride, Kiku leaned on the other, who held him wrapped in his arms, both on one seat, with the presents on the other.
Finally, they reached Yào's temporary apartment's door. He took out a key to open it and they both entered. As they took their coats off, he thanked himself for bothering to clean before he left. If Kiku saw the mess, what would he think?
"Make yourself comfortable," he said, pointing at the bed, next to the wall.
Kiku sat, watching Yào pull the drapes, turning the room dark.
"Do you need anything? Are you hungry or something?"
"Thank you, but I don't need anything, really."
Yào threw himself with a small thud, shaking the other.
"Then why are you shaking? Are you cold?" he asked, putting a hand on the other's shoulder.
"Yeah, a little."
"I see… Let me warm you up."
He picked up the blanket, folding it over the other's shoulders.
"Better?"
"I guess…"
"Stop lying, I know it when you do."
He laid in bed, stretching, then, to Kiku's surprise, he pulled the other down, dragging him below himself. He laid on him, pulling the thick blanket on them both, then removed his hair tie, discarding it somewhere.
"You're very warm," Kiku whispered affectionately.
"Only for you."
He buried his face in the croon on the other's neck, inhaling his pleasant scent. He smelled like flowers and spring, like food and spices, like restless nights when one stays up to enjoy the silence, free from the world's burden, and like the fresh start of a morning, by the rising sun. He was everything Yào longed for.
He felt Kiku stroke his back softly with one hand, holding his waist with the other arm. He relaxed into the touch for a moment, before pulling himself, so he sat on his elbows, with Kiku's head between them.
The ends of Yào's ebony hair tickled Kiku's neck, making let out a crystalline giggle, which shortly stopped after he felt the other's soft lips on his forehead.
"You're very adorable, did I tell you enough times?"
Kiku shyly nodded, smiling and pulling the other closer, who responded by cupping his porcelain face between his calloused fingers.
"Um, Kiku?"
"Yeah?" he responded, running the fingers of one hand through the other's hair, as the other caressed one side of his chin, tucking a few strands behind his ear.
"Can we … kiss?"
As a response, the Japanese pulled the other's face, gently pressing his lips to the other's. The simple act set Yào's heart on fire. His mind was fogged by the pure and sweet pink haze of passion and fondness. Kiku's lips left him feeling vulnerable, exposed.
Surprised, he realized the short-haired nation pulled away.
"I am sorry, I am not too good-"
Yào saw his eyes widen when he kissed him, again, deeper. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the movement of his lips and his frantic heartbeat. His hands stroked Kiku's nape, feeling his smooth skin get hotter. He was desperate to show him centuries of hidden feelings, all in a fraction of a minute. He kissed with sadness. He kissed with anger. He kissed with pain. He kissed like a promise, waiting for the other to break it. But he always returned to affection, tenderness and care.
"Koishiteru."
"Wǒ gèng ài nǐ."
/Koishiteru(jp.)- I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you/
/Wǒ gèng ài nǐ(cn.)- I love you more/