"Why , if it isn't Mother Russia," you say slowly, taunting, meant to anger me. You were laughing with your neighbours only moments ago, keeping them close and they stayed, and they seemed happy. Now you stand away from them, posed to block them from my sight- you're protecting them, but from what, States? I don't understand. I can't understand this.
I hate this, I hate that I put you on the defensive. Do you honestly believe that I want to fight you? I'm not that stupid, I know you're not so stupid either. You, me, everything this world needs us to be, I can't grasp it at all, I just want to know why .
"I don't wish to fight." I say. You holler with incredulous laughter, shaking so bad that the sunglasses begin to slip off your nose. It is simply that unbelievable of a claim that Russia does not want to be the Western world's enemy.
You wound me, States.
I wish I could take these feelings out of me and forget about them as easily as you seem to have forgotten about me. I want to pretend that I never knew a different version of you. I want to think that the bright young man standing at the port died in those years between then and now so I can hate you like the world says I do. Abiding by the politics of our reality would be so much easier, I would only need to become a puppet and echo everything my administration says and become the cold and unfeeling Russian that everyone says I am.
The thought makes me sick.
"Wait, I get to keep this? It's mine?" Jingling, the Russian ruble glinted silver in the soft sun. You cupped your hands and shook them, listening for their tinkle. I turned back around and fell for you again.
How hauntingly beautiful you were.
"Yes...?"
"Thank you!"
I wonder if you have died, and the United States of America is someone I don't know and I am clinging onto the idea of someone that doesn't exist. Soyuz wouldn't have really... would he?
UN's voice rings through the auditorium and shocks Russia from his consideration.
"If I may call the delegates to their seats, we are to begin soon. Thank you."
Russia turns back around to try hope to get a glance at USA, and nobody is there.
Have I not eaten enough of reality's bitter pills?
How easy would it be to stop resisting his government and stand for his people and take on their feelings and become the "right" Russia that he isn't? He wants to cut open his chest and pull out everything that hurts him by the root and forget it all, run away. He doesn't. He has a responsibility here and his will to live hasn't deteriorated to the level yet.
The vodka helps.
"Global Governance may sound lofty or abstract. It is not." The UN-Secretary General finishes, and thus begins the first day of general debates.
China, seated next to him, clicks his tongue, nudging Russia to look at the notes of the proposed 12 commitments as States goes up with another member of his delegation to present on climate issues and objectives.
The 12 proposals are:
Leave no one behind,Protect our planet,Promote peace and prevent conflicts,Abide by international law and ensure justice.Place women and girls at the center,Build trust,Improve digital cooperation,Upgrade the UN,Ensure sustainable financing,Boost partnerships,Listen to and work with youth, andBe prepared.
He draws attention to the 8th point.
"I'm concerned about this one," he says. Russia considers it for a moment, flipping through his memory for what exactly was said on it... 2030 goals, sustainability...
"They called it UN 2.0." Russia mutters. China nods.
"Wonder what will happen to him." That's all he says, before waving Russia away (wasn't he the one who called Russia's attention first?), "no more chit chat, I'm next to present so I actually have to pay attention to 小美美."*
There's a lot of talk of climate and pandemic, many things everyone has already heard of before. Sometimes, talk of human rights and military power. Some social issues.
He hears "Crimea" more often than he would like and desperately tries to ignore his big sister. (When he looks, he sees fear. Fear.)
Who is she seeing every time I speak to her?
I was born from Kievan Rus'. I was Rus, and Ukraine, all those hundred years ago, she was Kievan. She came first, and so she was my older sister.
I don't know what kind of country she is. Perhaps her memories span all the way back to then, and here to now, and maybe she sees me, Soyuz, and Rossiya.
And I can't help but think: what if I finally let her go?
With that, Russia looked away.
How much power do the others think he has? He is, in legal name, one citizen of the Russian Federation, and he is a democratic country. He cannot get on a podium and order everyone to stop existing in the vicinity of Ukraine, that would be dictatorial and manipulative, and it is also banned by Mr. United Nations himself after the fiasco known as "the Third Reich used his charisma as a country representation to brainwash his entire population and beyond". Russia isn't even allowed to vote half of the time on account of his "ability to sway the public with his emotions", which he is fairly sure is not true, otherwise every Russian citizen would be secretly gay for an American person. If so, maybe Russia should watch Vladimir and Joe more closely to test this hypothesis.
He needs to think about something else, anything else, preferably as soon as possible. His mind grabs onto the next most available thought-
The United States of America takes a sip of water, and by water, everybody already knows it's alcohol. There is no member of the permanent Security Council that doesn't drink on the job, a grim reminder that the fate of the world rests largely in the hands of 5 uniquely undiagnosed depressed people a concerning amount of the time. Russia already knows Britain's thermos of "tea" probably has whiskey hiding in it, France's "water" has been through Jesus Christ's magic of winemaking, China has baijiu shoved in his bag somewhere, and Russia's vodka is never far. In fact, he has a flask in his hat right now. A small one, but one nonetheless.
States drinks, and the moment the bottle is tucked away, the bravado he had when speaking about the future evaporates and he slumps in his chair. Russia has never seen his eyes underneath the sunglasses he always wears, but he feels that they would have to have lost their light, an ocean's aqua waves sparkling by the shoreside turned rainstorm grey. One of the American humans leans over to talk to him. States smiles as he always does, and his grins are so fake it hurts.
There was always the sense that States isolated himself somehow. That with every step someone came closer, he would hide, run, or simply...
...fade away.
Falling like dust through his hands, папа, don't go-
It was a ridiculous thought: crumbling to dust? Now? As much as Russia wished USA didn't exist sometimes, there was no way. Sure, economic struggles, civil violence, but he's survived all that before, and fuck that statistic that said empires only last 250 years on average and States was 245 years old, what kind of world wouldn't have that annoying American in it? If America falls, the resulting power vacuum would be enormous! Who on Earth could replace that? Himself? No thanks. China? Probably not. It's not like Britain would go colonize it again or Canada and Mexico would divide States' land and absorb him.
What would the world be without him , and his stupid candy cane striped face?
Russia rested his face in his hands, willing away those worst-case scenarios, and looked back up at the real, current States. (245 years old.)
He looked so tired .
"俄," China again, "with how you're staring at 美国, United Nations will start to get suspicious." China whispered to him, jolting Russia out of his thoughts as he realized he was caught staring. Thankfully, by China. Feeling his cheeks warm, the country straightened himself from his leaning position that he assumed when scrutinizing States, and turned to China.
He looked at China.
China looked at him.
He looked at China.
China looked at him.
He remembered that normally, people responded when they were talked to.
"Uh-huh. Thanks." Russia replied after a long pause, his voice the usual deadpan. He went back to staring. Russia could feel China looking him as if he had grown three heads.
There was once a younger America, before the sunglasses and party attitude. He remembers seeing Alaska calling the American "Dad!", a title that used to belong to him (his grandpa. Him. It never feels right for "his" life to be split into multiple sections. Russian Empire.), and the country beaming, ruffling the state's hair. What happened to that? The genuine smiles, the sparkle in his eyes, and the self-respect the country held?
He doesn't have to contemplate that for long because UN adjourns.