Saturday, December 7th, 1991 : 18 Days until Christmas
He's so beautiful.
The way he runs his hand through his hair, the way he bites his lip. I like that intense look he gives me over the brim of his glasses, how his gaze can flood my body with ease or spark it on fire with nerves. I like the way his strong arms hold me like I'm the most important thing in the world to him. I can picture the small curves of his firm chest, and the sharp definition of his stomach like he's standing before me. The smoothness of his light skin comes to mind along with the large burn scar on the left side of his chest and the slightly raised scars that span across his stomach. I can hear his soft voice, like leaves bustling in the wind, telling me sweet nothings in French. I can see his soft lavender eyes and how they bubble with mirth so brilliantly, yet can churn with pensive sadness and despair. I can perfectly recall the feel of his warm skin, soft hair, plush lips. . .
This longing feeling, after only being apart hardly twenty-four hours, is why I vowed to myself never to care for someone like this again. Yet here I am.
It feels uncanny to wake up in a dark room. The room I had in both Canada and Russia allowed for the sun to shine in during the mornings. There is no way of telling what time it is in a room like this one. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
Dreaming about Canada isn't going to make this any easier and-. . . My thoughts derail as my eyes find the portrait of the Holy Roman Empire I have hanging on the wall. I took (stole) it from Austria not long after his death. It is ironic really, as I sit here looking at the man who once caused me to feel like this. Feel the way Canada makes me feel. I never liked being so needy and desperate but he just pulled it from me, like I fear Canada may do.
Stepping into the bathroom I turn on the shower and lean against the counter as I wait for the water to warm up. My gaze falls to the mirror where I slowly take in how I look. Better, albeit thin. If I wanted to look how I did before the Wall I'd have to gain at least thirteen or maybe eighteen more kilograms (30 to 40 lbs), mostly in muscle. My fingers find the faint marks at the base of my neck that Canada gave me hardly even the day before. I'll have to wear something that comes a bit high on my neck.
The water is warm as I step into the shower, knocking the chill out of my body. I allow my eyes to close and my mind to wander as I relax into the comforting stream.
The rain is strangely warm, if I didn't know any better I'd think we were in a swamp or some sunny tropical place.
"Is it just me or is the rain warm?" I ask in an amused voice. Russia looks up for a few moments before returning his gaze to me.
"It is warm. . ."
"Do you think it has anything to do with the testing?" He smiles a bit before tapping my nose lightly with his index finger.
"No, silly, we are much too far away from all of that to see any negative impacts. Plus I set it off in the ocean. Don't question this strange anomaly, enjoy it while God smiles upon us."
I smile while glancing toward the empty vodka bottles on the porch. At the beginning of my confinement here a drunk Russia was always an angry one, but now he's just content. Jolly, even, which is a strange but very welcome thing.
"Alright." I say with a bit of laughter, resting my head back on his chest. For once he is actually warm, making the act of holding one another much more enjoyable than it tends to be. The warm rain falls softly around us, sometimes coming through the wood above us and falling onto us. Spring hangs sweetly in the air.
"America is displeased with me."
"Ha," I start, "when is he pleased with you?"
"Touche, but I am serious when I say he is displeased. I'm not sure I've ever seen him so angry."
"What happened?" I ask, leaning up again so I can look into his eyes. A faint blush covers his cheeks but I know it's from the alcohol. Cute nonetheless.
"He thinks I'm winning this little game between us. It has him twisted up in knots, making mistakes. . ." He looks off toward the trees before continuing, "I'd like to think I'm 'winning' as well but that simply is not true. There is a lot of aid I am sending out that would probably do much better here, but every nation that is inspired by this ideology looks to me for protection and resources. I feel for them. They want liberation, self-determination, equality, after being tormented and held underwater for so long. I get how that feels, having the majority of your population enslaved or oppressed brutally by this small upper class. I get it but. . . There is just something about America's capitalism that is hard to beat." My look is sympathetic as I place a comforting hand on his cheek. He looks back to me and smiles. "But for now I will bask in this feeling."
"It does feel nice."
As I open my eyes once more I'm greeted with the sight of the dull shower tiles lining the wall. A wave of nerves pass through my body as I think about the possibility of seeing Russia again. With a clearer mind and memories of better times restored to me I'm conflicted. Do I despise this man or like him? What would he expect from me?
My showers are never long, so I'm dressed, ready, and up on the ground floor in under thirty minutes. I see Germany looking over some papers on the coffee table in the living room and I decide to join him.
"Those look like talking points." I comment while sitting next to him.
"They are. There are a few meetings in Berlin this week unfortunately."
"Why unfortunately?"
"They want you to attend it but. . ."
"But?"
"The last one we went to was horrible on you. I don't want to see you get like that again."
"Don't worry, I'm doing much better now, I can do this."
Germany sighs out and nods.
"Well, if you are going there are some things you should know. Read this so you are not completely out of the loop." He says while handing me a packet of paper. "I'm sorry it's in English."
"That's alright, my English got a lot better under Russia." I say while looking over the words.
A couple hours pass like this, him telling me what has been going on in Europe since 1947 and me reading over what will be discussed in tomorrow's meeting and why.
Eventually he puts the papers aside and sighs.
"Is there. . . something going on between you and Canada?" He asks. I put the packet down and lean back into the couch.
"Yes, but, I'm not sure how long it will last. I'd hate to ask him to change his lifestyle just for me."
"Hm, perhaps it's best to let it end."
"What makes you say that?" I ask, looking over at him.
"Well, Canada is a little. . . different, don't you think?"
"Different? As opposed to?"
"He's weird is all. Refuses to talk to anyone, stays isolated, can hardly look anyone in the eye. What is he hiding?"
I furrow my eyebrows a bit in confusion. Where is all this coming from? I never knew he was this suspicious of Canada.
"He isn't hiding anything, he's just introverted, like yourself." He looks caught off guard by my comparison and falls silent for a while.
"I just got you back," he begins softly, "finally I feel whole, I don't want someone else, who reminds me of the very man who did this to us, to take you away again."
I'd be lying to myself if I said I didn't notice the similarities between Canada and Russia, but Matthew has never hurt me needlessly, never enjoyed causing me pain. He has spent the last few weeks helping me get a hold of myself and making sure my health was restored. . . Yet that is not Germany's problem here.
My face turns sympathetic and I put my hand on his knee. He makes eye contact and those light blue eyes remind me of when he was little.
"I will never leave you like that again. No one will ever take me away from you."
His eyes begin to water as he pulls me in for a hug. I'm surprised and return the embrace. I'm not used to him showing so much emotion. . . He must be really hurt.
December 8th, 1991
"Germany," I say while stopping myself from closing the car door, "we have to go inside."
"I know, it's just going to be so weird. I haven't seen Felicia since she left."
"Come on, you'll be fine."
He sighs and gets out of the car.
"You have a habit of lying to make people feel better, your words hardly reassure me." He admits, maybe a tad tоo truthfully. I just shrug and he makes a concerned sound. There are a few nations waiting around in the lobby as we walk up to the front desk to check in. Sometimes I wonder if humans ever catch on.
"Here is your room key, sir. Um, I like your accent, where are you from?" The woman at the desk asks me.
"I'm from Kaliningrad."
"Oh. . . Uh, well, I hope you have a nice stay." She falters.
As we step into the elevator I sigh and turn to Germany.
"It's like a bad thing isn't it? To be from the east?"
"Of course not, it's just. . . you know it's still a sensitive topic for humans."
"You don't need to sugar coat it. . . I guess that's a habit of mine that has rubbed off on you."
We remain silent for a few moments as we walk to the room and settle inside. It's already ten in the evening once we are done.
"We should get some rest, the meeting is early tomorrow." He says.
December 9th, 1991
"That's weird," Germany comments while looking at the name cards on the table, "where is your name?"
I look around the room at the other cards and notice my name on the other side of the room.
"Seems they have me over there this time."
"Will you be okay?" He asks me worriedly.
"I'll be just fine. I promise." I say while putting my hand on his shoulder. I can tell he isn't comfortable with my leaving but I have to. At least for the duration of the meeting.
As I sit down in my place, I notice America hugging Canada tightly and the annoyed face he makes. I have to stifle a laugh.
"What has you so giddy?"
I turn to my left and notice Russia sit next to me. They put our seats together?
"U-uh, nothing." He looks over at Canada and scoffs.
"Well well, so he does exist outside of Canada. I hear you two got rather close."
"I mean, he was just helping me get better." Those cold lavender eyes fall back to me.
"You look wonderful, by the way."
"Thanks. . . my time away really helped."
"I was hoping it would. Do you wish to stay in Germany?"
"Yes. If that's alright."
"Of course it is, I know how much you've missed your family."
Lithuania sits on my right and greets us both, effectively ending our conversation.
"Oh, Gilbert, you look great." He comments while giving me a hug.
"So do you."
"This is going to be painful." Russia comments.
"What makes you say that?" Lithuania asks.
"Listening to these idiots talk about how prosperous they are is going to make me want to blow my brains out."
"It's only going to be two hours long."
"Still."
A few minutes later the meeting begins and I relax into my seat. Overall, the meeting is a lot smoother than the last one I went to. Nothing particularly interesting happens, some arguments, a few rants, nothing too crazy.
Once it ends, I immediately get up and go over to Germany, not wanting Russia to have the opportunity to ask me any more questions. He pulls me in for a hug, which is very out of character for him to say the least. I make a shocked sound and smile.
"Someone missed me." I tease.
"I did." He comments before letting me go.
He smiles but it soon falters as his eyes focus on something behind me. I turn around in time to see Italy approach us.
"Hey, so, France is having a little get together in her room later tonight. Are you interested?"
"Uhh, I'm not sure, sounds like a lot of stimulation." I answer.
"Canada will be there." She says with a knowing smile.
"We'll see, but for now I'm going to go with Germany."
She nods, gives him a little smile, then walks back over to France.
"I wonder if she knows what she does to me." Germany says dejectedly. I frown and put my hand on his back.
"Come on, let's go back to the room."
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Late in the night, while Germany is asleep, I quietly leave the room with intentions to find Italy. I'm not sure which room France is staying in, but I'm sure if she is having people over it shouldn't be hard to spot. As I approach the intersection in the hallway, I hear another pair of footsteps. I think nothing of it until I see Russia walk through and I pause. He must not have noticed me. Quietly, I go to the other side of the hallway and look around the corner to see where he is going. That's when I notice Canada leave what must be France's room and begin heading in my direction.
"Never took you as a social being." Russia comments just before they pass in the hallway, stopping right in front of Canada to block his way. Canada looks up at him.
"I'm usually not."
"Good. Let's keep it that way." Russia says in a low voice while getting a bit too close to Canada.
"I'm sorry?" He says while backing up.
I can feel my heart begin to beat faster as I watch him prey on Canada. I know this is probably because of me.
"You should stay where you belong, outside of everyone's vision. Forgotten." Russia ends his statement by backing Canada up against the wall and putting his hands on either side of the poor North American nation.
"I-I don't understand." Canada stammers.
"As I'm sure you know, Gilbert is a province of mine. I have absolute control over him, you understand at least that, yes?"
"Yes."
"Good. I'm not very comfortable with the amount of time you've spent with him. While I do appreciate your help in giving him his health back, I think your relationship with him should remain professional and distant. Do I make myself clear?"
"Very clear." He says softly.
"And as for your apparent loneliness, maybe England will give you a little visit?," Russia taunts, roughly grabbing Canada's jaw and forcing him to look up, "I can see why he liked to ravish you, such a pretty little face."
"Please don't touch me like that." Canada says while smacking Russia's hand away, causing the latter to lift an eyebrow in amusement.
The door that Canada came out of before opens again and America walks out and down the hall in their direction. I hide myself a little more behind the wall as Russia notices him and steps away from Canada.
"What the hell are you doing?" America asks, voice slightly raised.
"None of your business, pig." Russia quips back.
"Sure as hell is my business if it involves putting your hands on my brother."
"Alfred, it's fine, I can take care of myself."
"He's got you pushed against the wall, I'd hardly call that taking care of yourself."
"Nothing too insidious," Russia begins, "just a friendly reminder of territorial boundaries. No need to be a hero here." He gives a fake little smile to Canada before walking off down the hall.
"Are you alright? He didn't hurt you did he?" America asks, rushing over to Canada and looking over him.
"I'm fine, he was just being himself."
"Do you want to stay with me for awhile?"
"I'm just tired. I'll see you tomorrow." Canada says softly before walking down the hall. America just stands there looking at the ground for a while before turning and following his brother. I watch the hallway for a bit before deciding on going back to the room. I'll see Italy later and besides, I really wanted to see Canada and since he left I might as well too.
Taking a few steps back I hit something soft, like clothing. I turn around and meet Russia's gaze.
"Did you honestly think you were well hidden?" He says, a small smile on his lips.
"I-I, uh-" His laughter interrupts me.
"I'm messing with you, no need to be so fearful. Tell me, what has you out here so late?"
"Italy wanted me to go to a get together with her."
"Hm, France's thing. . . Yeah, I heard about that too, I guess the invitation isn't extended to communists." I allow a small smile to curve my lips.
"Well, it seems like it's ending anyway." I say as I watch Denmark, Norway, and Austria leave the room. He sees them too and sighs, almost longingly.
"You know, I act like I don't care but. . . for my entire life they've always treated me like I was some subhuman thing and all I've ever wanted was to be one of them." He leans against the wall and watches Italy and Romano leave the room. "But everyone needs an enemy right? Some big bad that they have to fight against in the name of everything they hold dear."
I open my mouth to say something but am stopped by Italy.
"Prussia! I was hoping to see you tonight!" She says while giving me a hug. I return the embrace, noticing Russia's eyes roll.
"Hey Felicia. Sorry, it seems I've come too late."
"Don't be sorry, I'm just glad to see you now. . . How are you doing, Russia?"
He raises his eyebrows, almost like he's surprised she even acknowledged his presence.
"Oh fine enough, little one. You look lovely tonight."
Felicia giggles while Romano rolls his eyes.
"Ugh, come on Felicia, I'm tired of looking at the sad potato and the creepy perv." Romano huffs while pulling her away.
"It was good seeing you both!" She calls to us.
"Creepy perv? She's older than I am." Russia comments, causing me to laugh.
"Yeah but you called her little one."
"Is that it? Hmm." He muses.
I catch him smile at me and butterflies are released in my stomach. This feels strangely normal, like everything else had been a dream and now I'm back in reality. Again, I find myself conflicted. However I spend only a few moments trying to work over how I feel as Russia closes his eyes and puts a hand on his forehead.
"Are you alright?" I ask.
"I will be, just get dizzy sometimes, it's nothing really."
"Do you want me to walk you to your room?" He smiles and. . . has he always had that light in his eyes?
"If you insist, but I'm fine really."
"I do insist, if you happen to grow faint there is no way I'd be able to help move you."
"Alright. My room is down the hall some ways on the left." He says while gesturing to the other side of the hall. I walk with him to it and inside. The smell of alcohol hits me and I grow even more concerned, but bringing it up to him might not be conducive to keeping him in a good mood.
"What? Are you going to make sure I'm not up past my bedtime?" He jokes while sitting down on the bed.
"Just trying to make sure you are alright." He leans back on the bed, propped up by his elbows. His position and the open coat allow me to see how thin he looks. "Have you been eating?"
He groans and fully lies back on the bed.
"Oh yes, I eat, but the economic collapse might have symptoms like weight-loss, dizziness, fatigue, and what have you." I give him a sympathetic look and he rolls his eyes. "So are you just going to stand there and look at me like I'm a kicked puppy, or are you going to leave?"
"You want me to leave?" I ask.
"Do what you want." He sighs out, closing his eyes.
I take a seat next to him and run my hand through his hair.
"I know that it bothers you that I keep asking about your health, but it comes from a place of genuine worry. I want you to be healthy."
"That is something I am not, obviously. No amount of you asking is going to change the fact that I'm dying." He sits up and meets my eyes. "It's like asking a human terminal with cancer whether or not they have tried eating clean and drinking water. Nothing matters, I'm going to die."
One moment I'm staring into his lavender eyes and the next I lean forward to kiss him. I'm surprised at my own actions, and so is he if that startled sound he made meant anything. But that doesn't stop either of us as he returns the kiss, opening his mouth and gripping my hips to make me straddle him. He's insanely cold but I can feel the warmth in the way he kisses me and the way his right hand softly caresses my hip bone. The way our lips move together is familiar, as is his icy touch underneath my shirt that makes me break out into goosebumps.
I haven't seen him shirtless in awhile, and as I rake my eyes down his torso I have to stop myself from reacting. He's always been a well built man, to see him look so thin and weak is just. . . wrong. I know if I gawk for too long it'll bother him, so I ignore the faint outline of his ribs against his skin and begin kissing down his jaw. He grips my hips tighter as I ghost my lips down his neck. I ignore the large scar across his throat as I kiss and suck at the sensitive skin.
"Gilbert, please don't tempt me, I can't do anything too rigorous." He says breathlessly. His voice snaps me out of my trance and I stop giving attention to his neck.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do this." I admit. He sighs and gives me a wary look.
"You like him, don't you."
"What? Who?"
"That North American boy. He's done a lot more to you than give you your health back." He says while tracing my collar bone. His action reminds me of the love bites that must still be there from Canada. "You've also been a rather lustful man."
"Coming from you is quite rich." I say a bit defensively.
"Watch your tongue," my eyes cast downward, "I don't like how close you and Canada have gotten. It isn't safe for you to be around him while being this close to me."
"His intentions are true, I swear. He only wants to help."
"You can't honestly believe that. Do you think it was a coincidence that Germany and France asked Canada to care for you? You stayed with him so he could watch you, see if you'd been too influenced by my ideology, see if you knew anything about me that would be useful."
"I don't think he's as sinister as you believe him to be." I defend.
"You're too blind to see what is truly happening. I forbid you to pursue a romantic relationship with him."
"Ivan you can't-"
"I was not asking. What you saw in the hall was just a fraction of what I could have done to him. I'd hate to have to hurt him."
I look away and nod.
"Okay. I won't pursue anything with him."
December 10th, 1991
Our seating arrangement is the same as it was yesterday, me sitting with Eastern Europe and Germany sitting with the west. I notice Canada as I look over the western nations and wonder how he is doing. How did his encounter with Russia last night impact him? Will he stay away from me? Will I stay away from him?
I watch England walk up behind the chair Canada is sitting in and put a hand on his shoulder. The North American nation tenses up a bit and looks down at the table.
"You just can't keep your eyes off him, can you?" Russia asks me as he sits next to me.
"Does that bother you?" I ask, turning in my seat to look at him.
"Uh, yeah I thought that was pretty obvious. I don't like when anyone that shares a border with me gets too close to the west."
"I would hardly consider Canada a threat." I try.
"Are you arguing with me?"
". . .No." I say dejectedly.
"Good. Because he is a threat, no matter how kind and mousy he may appear. A camera can be just as harmful as a missile."
I stare down at the table in silence until I hear Russia sigh and curse under his breath. As I look up, I see America walking in our direction.
"God, it's gloomy in the east." America comments. Russia pulls his chair out a bit so he can face him.
"I'm sorry my lack of smiling upsets you, America. What do you want?"
"Hm, pleasant as always." America looks at me then back to Russia before speaking to him in a language I don't know. If I had to guess, it sounds like Mandarin. At first Russia seems a little surprised, but as the conversation continues he looks to be severely bothered. By the end of it, as America walks back to his side of the room, Russia is gripping the side of the chair like a vice and is taking deep breaths.
"Are you alright?" I venture asking.
"Trying to be."
Lithuania sits down on my other side and he too gives Russia a concerned look and that's when I feel it. That awfully familiar feeling of fear and despair, like every ounce of hope and light is sucked out, leaving nothing but emptiness and darkness. I feel Lithuania grab my arm and I notice the nation on the other side of Russia cower slightly. Lithuania begins shaking like Latvia behind me as Russia stands up and leaves the meeting room. It's hard to snap out of the state Russia's aura puts you in, even when he's gone.
"We have to leave. Now." I hear Ukraine tell us. I'm not sure when she got up and walked over here, but I don't hesitate to listen to her. She grabs my arm and leads me out of the meeting room and straight into the elevator. That's when I regain my senses.
"What are we doing, can we just leave a meeting like that?" I ask.
"We can when Russia leaves like that." She answers, holding the elevator door open for Lithuania, Latvia, Poland, and Belarus to walk in.
"This is insane, let me go." Poland snaps at Belarus, pulling his arm out of her grip. "Where the hell are we going now?"
"Following Russia." Ukraine answers coolly.
"Why? Who gives a fu-"
"Felix, language." Lithuania interrupts, holding Latvia closer to him. Poland rolls his eyes and presses the emergency stop button, causing the elevator to come to an abrupt stop.
"We owe Russia nothing. We are free, don't you see that? Why should I continue to listen to you? I want nothing to do with him. If he decides to throw a fit during a meeting that is on him, why should I suffer because of his actions? I don't want the West associating me with him anymore."
Ukraine furrows her eyebrows and crosses her arms.
"You will be associated with him no matter what you do, Poland. You share a border with him, not even a year ago you were a soviet republic. You are in shambles, you are poor, and you are bland. If you honestly think for a second that Western Europe will ever give a damn about you, you are a fool."
"So what, we are just supposed to follow him around like lost dogs? I'm just supposed to be grateful for his liberation, right? Cause I never asked, and I never wanted a liberator who would just continue to subjugate my people."
"Don't you ever compare him to Germany." Belarus practically growls.
"Stop fighting!" Latvia begins, "please. We are independent, yes, but there are certain things we must still do. I don't like Russia either Felix, but we do have to pay attention to what he is doing and the moves he is making. Ukraine is right. The West doesn't give a damn about us."
A heavy silence hangs in the elevator before everyone turns to look at me.
"What?" I ask a bit nervously.
"You spend time with the West. What do they think?" Ukraine asks.
"I. . . don't know what they think, but if their actions say anything it is that they care. Canada owes me nothing, yet he still offered to care for me so that I could get back on my feet. Lithuania has had a few meetings with America who genuinely seems to want to help us. And sure, people are wary of us and scared about the future and what may happen, but for the most part they are on our side."
I hear Poland scoff and I give him a confused look.
"Of course you'd get the royal treatment. Of course you would. Why do good things keep happening to you? Is it because you gave up on all your morals? I bet leaving the Catholic Church was the best thing that ever happened to you, huh?"
I'm shocked to say the least. I hardly even know how to respond.
"I left the church due to ideological differences, I didn't like the corruption I saw. And anyway that has nothing to do with anything we are talking about right now. I hardly think that being severely scarred by what happened in the last sixty years was a good thing. I could barely function when I got back to Germany."
"Oh poor you, had it rough in Russia? We all did! Not to mention having to deal with what you pulled in the thirties and forties, you are pure evil. You get what you want from the West because they look at you like Germany and your sordid relationship with Canada gets you what you want from America. But, then again, you've always done that."
"Done what?" I hardly recognize my own voice.
"You've always used your feminine wiles to get what you want. After the Thirty Years War you had no objections to it." I've punched Poland before, many times before, we've never gotten along. But Lithuania knows that, so he grabbed my arm before I could punch him again. Poland flinches slightly and then shakes his head. "It's always been violence with you, hasn't it? You aren't fooling anyone with this helpless little act. I still see Prussia when I look at you." He pulls out the emergency stop and the elevator jolts back to life. It opens on the fourth floor and Poland walks out.