Where Winter Meets Summer (Rusame Countryhumans)

Lessons to be Relearned

(Russia POV)

We were given the option to stay a bit after dinner so since we had nothing better to do, we took them up on that offer.

Canada, Australia and New Zealand entertained us with a tour of the house. It was just as confusing as I remembered since it was rebuilt as a perfect replica of the one before. As we made our way through the top floor, my attention was caught by a room with its door ajar so I silently split from the group and walked up to it.

Once I got closer, I could see that someone was in there so I knocked gently to announce my presence.

"Oh, I didn't see you there," Britain's voice called, "Come on in."

The room was a mess, with papers and books stacked everywhere. Yet somehow, it felt like the most sophisticated space in the house. I sat down in the chair that the man had gestured to where a small table stood, holding a nice, porcelain tea set. He pushed a steaming cup to me and sat down. The aroma was nice and I took a sip.

"So, how's your partnership going? I hope my son hasn't been too annoying," he half joked.

"It... could have been worse," I replied as I took another sip, "I'm sure it can be hard to believe, but I don't really mind."

Britain nodded and sighed to himself, "Well from what I know, America has been doing better ever since he met you. I should thank you for that."

Doing better? What was that supposed to mean? Britain saw my confusion and laughed nervously.

"Oh, I guess it's not very well known, but every four years, there is a time when he get a bit... difficult to deal with. It's around that time now but I have yet to see any sign of that yet."

Time began to fly as we talked. Though, it would be more accurate to say that I listened while he told stories. It was remarkable how clearly he remembered everything, centuries upon centuries.

Finally, the sun had begun to set, spilling its golden rays through the window. The teacups sat empty and finally, I mustered up the courage to ask, "Who exactly was Soviet and what happened to him?"

The brit sighed and turned away, letting the sun's rays wash over his face but his face seemed to have darkened instead. He looked like he just aged a hundred years.

"Let's just say, he was a peculiar chap. Could never get too close but never left our side either," he struggled for words, "But I don't think I'm the person you should ask. If you want to hear more, I suggest you go to America."

...

America's legs trembled from the biting winds that stung his bare skin as he trudged through the snow. After Soviet had left, a howling blizzard began to pick up, making it harder and harder to go forth.

"Get back before dinner. Ha, yeah right," he shivered to himself. Most of his body had turned numb already and it was a miracle that he was moving at all. With a trembling gaze, he slowly unclenched his hand that held onto a little key, made to unlock and relock his restrictors. If he could open his cuffs, he would be saved. He wouldn't freeze to death if he could just...

"NO!" America cried to himself as he shoved that thought away. He refused to use it. He had seen too many things turned to ash because of it. The people's screams still echoed in his head.

The young boy continued forward, one step after another until his body couldn't take it anymore. He collapsed into the snow but the fall was painless. His body had already lost all it's feeling.