'Dreaming of the day mom will see me and smile...'
Russia had pleasant dreams after the nightmare of being chased. Well, not pleasant but certainly comforting. He could hear a song, echoey and faint but soothing nonetheless, as he traipsed along a field of sunflowers. The sun was shining brightly, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and the sunflowers crinkled a little in the breeze. Every so often, Russia reached out and knocked one of the flowers, watching it fall and snap back upwards with a laugh.
It was still incredibly lonely.
Sometimes in his dream he would lie down and strain his ears to hear the song; soothing and sweet. Sometimes he felt a caress on his head, light and ghostly. He would call out, "Mama? Mama?" to the voice, and it would become softer, sweeter, as though smiling down benevolently on him, but never confirm. He kept it to himself, holding the secret of the dream to his chest as protectively as one of his bright sunflowers.
And he constantly, constantly had to remind himself - it was just a dream. Just a fantasy. He sipped the coffee left on the desk (that seemed to happen an awful lot nowadays) to awaken himself. He couldn't live in that world and drive himself mad with the possibility of what he could have had.
Halfway into the meeting, during the break, he put his head on the desk as everyone else filed out of the room, chattering, laughing... Ignoring him as usual. It was not an uncommon occurrence, but it stung every time, and not for the first time, he wished someone had invited him out to lunch. He had a lunch of his own (packed courtesy of his government) but he would happily abandon it if it meant someone genuinely inviting him.
Suddenly, soft light humming came somewhere to his left, and there was a single touch down his neck, gently massaging it. Russia nearly froze, but forced himself to keep breathing and remain still, giving the impression he had fallen asleep at the table. His head was lifted and a pillow slipped underneath it; a blanket was tucked around his shoulders, smoothing out invisible creases. The humming got closer and Russia realised -
- It was the same one from his dreams.
The person, whoever it was, retracted their arms and stopped humming. The loss of the warmth was immense once he realised it was gone. The person moved away towards the door and once Russia was sure they weren't facing him, he lifted his head. He watched England's retreating figure with a little confusion, breathing in the smell of peppermint and grass, feeling it settle his erratic heartbeat to a sense of calm he had never experienced.