Winter solstice.

Blue sky as a gem. The streets in the country of Aries put on the quiet, deserted look of a winter day. With weather like this, no one was on the street, everywhere the sound of leaves rustling in a tedious way. Someone will immerse himself in such things, because he may have realized the boredom of life, the true nature behind the bustle of this city. But on that winter day. In the freezing cold, there was a person standing still outside the street, just for something. Nobody knows, and nobody cares. Despite the bone-chilling cold, there was rubbing the skin of a tall man. But maybe he was too used to this. The cold might not mean anything to him. Wow, the cold air of the sky is no match for the hardened soul of this European.

Russia it? He wants to die.

What he's doing is trying to cling to the last living hopes of his life. That would still be much. Funny how one of the mighty powers has such an emotion. Killing him every day was not the boredom and the chilling cold of great Russia. Because those things don't match how much he is suffering. Russia is always hovering in the past circle, obsessed with the Soviet Union. Ha, that traumatic past should have been forgotten long ago. It's just that he kept digging it up, chewing it over and over pathetically. Because this person is empty. The heart has rotted, suffering tormented every day. Around and around, it all came from the guy. Disgusting guy. What a comedy.

Russia rubs its shoes on the tile background. This street is like every other street. Strange to the point. Almost every day, every day he wandered around in the cold. Light gray fur coat on the outside, sweater on the inside. It's thin here if you wear it like that. If he wasn't careful, he might catch a cold. But then what? It is better to let the sick to die than to live in this great suffering. The clouds up there leisurely. There is no suffering in heaven. He also wants to follow them. To a place where there is no pressure, no gossip, no small expectations, no expectations about a great Russia. Where he gets to drink every day, do what he likes, get out of the shadow of the Soviet Union. But, after all, it is all a vision, an illusion of a loser.

Finally, Russia still quietly home. An apartment he bought could not be called spacious and rich. But enough for him to live peacefully from the scoundrels out there. However, it was like a bars, separating him from the rest of the world. Partly because of his conservatism still exists from the time of SoViet Union. He has a family, there are naughty brothers. They were very close to him, seeming to be the last comfort to this dead soul. He also wanted to look like a good brother, but then it was all useless when every time he looked at them, he saw the silhouette of an old father. The one guy he always wanted to forget. Then, for a variety of reasons, he locked himself in the bars of the dark house, and his soul was gouged out. But also, ignore it. He can't do anything else. Breathing out, the smoke drifted in the cold air. The road to his house is so quiet. Leaves rustling again. Another light roar on the cloudy cloud is cloudy. It's still cold, he can know it clearly when the wind flows through this soul. Bring a burning pain to the extreme. Like a bone marrow.

Stop in front of the door. Back home already. Go to his house. The house where he was alone and lonely, and blood flowing and stinking on the marble tiles. Searching for the key in the pocket of his coat, this guy's mind is drifting back to somewhere. Conveniently handed into the drive. Russia suddenly realized this door was not locked. Not when he left the house he forgot to lock the door. Someone must have entered here. Then suddenly he smiled, a faint smile and contempt. Maybe one of his brothers came to visit, or maybe all of them. How many are there in 3 children? Only they had the key to his house. Do they still remember this irresponsible brother? Or do they not want to see the boredom reach out to stab him? Russia lightly pushed the door out, wandering into the house. The house was dark, without a light, only a faint light from the living room window illuminated the house. He wondered what these floods were going to do. Enter the house without turning on the light. Russia here is not selfish but forbid them. He put his shoes inside and looked at the shelf. The man's eyes were surprised and he turned to frown. There are leather bots on his house shelf. I also have no one who wears shoes like this. There is only one annoying person carrying these things. A man whom the military imperial lord hated.

In the living room. A glimpse of a boy, relatively neat body. The other wore a dark blue thick coat, a bra in the bra and a pair of thick jeans. The stranger leisurely put his foot on his sofa, his head facing the open window and smoking. Smoke faded in the air. This smell he does not hate. But also not like anything. The smell of tobacco reminded him of some sad past that should not be mentioned. By the way, how many past names does this guy have? I can't count them all. Russia winced as she walked to the sofa, snatched the cigarette from her other hand into her mouth. Do not say no that just like that. For guys like him, he doesn't have to be polite. He rested his hand on the edge of the chair, his gaze fixed on the window, ignoring the uninvited guest. Sometimes having a cigarette like this is not bad. Just enjoy it first and then torture yourself mentally with anger towards the other arbitrary later. The two of them kept silent, not understanding why the person below said nothing. Only when the voice of the person who spoke could attract the attention of the gentleman.

"Yo my dear ~"

United States of American. A superpower or the most annoying person in the world.

"Буддийской!"

Russia let out a slander and then kicked someone down the seat. He leisurely climbed up to the guest who had just been lying, rubbed a cigarette into the ash swab on the table. His house, with the courage to open the door to enter this place, this guy is really hated. The other was kicked on the cold tile floor, making an ouch, and glaring at him. Today he was willing to visit, such behavior is not acceptable. The frowned flag gentleman sat up and put his foot on the stomach of the person sitting on the sofa. As a way of real retaliation with a haughty smile full of arrogance. The guy was surprised, so he let out a cry. Raising his eyes and glaring at the man who had caused the incident, he then grabbed his leg vigorously with a lift, throwing his entire body to a corner. American shrieked shrillly and then struggled with the guy on the sofa. He punched him in the face a sharp pain. Then he threw a kick to his stomach. He hugged his stomach but tried to grab the momentum of Russia's head on the chair as the ushanka hat fell out. The other one hugged his head and punched him in the face. American nose blood spurted out after that, but he wiped it away with his hand and threw a charge at his shoulder blades. Russia raised his hand to support it and took the momentum to punch him in the stomach. He dodged and slipped through a blow to his side. Then he continued ...

Not a word. There was no language to explain the current situation, they just fought like that. A kind of childish action. They fought as if it were their survival instincts. The reason is not specific, or just seeing each other face to face with each other. The words they say are usually no more than two words. But somehow, it also seems to be able to ease a little sadness in Russia. Or make it go higher. But one thing, he felt this house, this iron bars. Someone volunteered to get in with him.

The USA is also strange. Do not know today what he took the drug that but grope to Russia play. If it was foreshadowing and asking for politeness, it would be nothing. But who else wonders what this arrogant person is? He wants it, he does it, freedom is free to know. The world's number one superpower, who forbids stopping him? But whoever didn't come, went to Mr. Aries's house again. Cold Russia sometimes makes him unfamiliar, should have come here to dress a little more discreetly. But why Russia? He does not know. Just a temporary interest or is it not right in his way of thinking? His flower flag is one of those who hate Russia. And he doesn't like his face either. Why did you come here today to find a way to fight with this guy? He is crazy.

Or his hunch that maybe Russia will die today. Will seek death.

Truly this American is crazy. Not sure what his premonition is or just superstition. But in retrospect, even if the other Russian guy really died, it has nothing to do with him. Why would he have to come here to see if that person is dead in a house or a river? He himself does not understand the superpower. He himself knew that a nation could not die so easily, it could only rot from within and kill the mind of the miserable. Regardless of the hunch, at first he looked at Russia well enough to know already. The other person kept hesitant, hesitant. Not saying that and then stole his cigarette, his eyes did not look at him, did not ask him why he came here. But his mind just goes somewhere. The eyes were filled with an uneasy sadness. Then American seemed to be caught up in that line of thought, just silently watching the other person through the thick sunglasses without ever seeing him take it off. In Aries, here he is only silent when he hits and kicks him, not bothering to ask the reason. But after thinking for a long time he still did not understand, why should he care about this fool? Why not let him die? That really doesn't know this USA.

Fighting then, too, the result is still American lying flat on the ground and Russia is bored down on the sofa. Both of them were covered with injuries, not knowing how long they had fought. But all they could say was words that were vulgar. The two crazy people are close to each other, who knows what will happen, so they still hate each other, whoever sees the face, doesn't curse and use violence. Fighting like a hobby, both of them probably never thought that the other day would leave a person who had no one to talk to. It is also ridiculous that the relationship of these two. The space continued to be quiet, only the heavy and tired breathing of pain. Then there was a voice, this time the one who started talking was Russia.

"What are you here for?"

American was a little startled, trying to pull himself up to lean against the sofa.

"I'm bored"

"So why did you come to my house? Are you crazy?"

"I don't know -..." He suddenly fell silent after that sentence, still a little puzzled but then he chose to say it. "Probably afraid you're dead."

"Huh? Are you crazy, American." The guy looks at the person below. But maybe he's right. Just now for an instant. I don't know when. Perhaps this guy really wanted to die.

"And how do you get the key to the house?"

"I told Canada to call Ukraine"

"..."

Russia sighs. That boy is so foolish. Glancing slightly at the other person, the gaze lifted slightly.

"Then what did you come to find me for? I'm not fine if I die? Or do the soldiers want to fight the last battle?"

"Do you think I have time to do those things? I'm just worried you're not dead pretty, the corpse lying and rotting somewhere else hurts your eyes to look at Ruski ~"

"There's your head. Crazy guy!"

Russia frowned, pulled his hair to the floor. American was suddenly screamed. He tried to get up his strength to throw a charge into the stomach of that obnoxious guy. He struggled to stand upright, but then he lost momentum to fall on the other person. The country of origin let out a groan because of the throbbing pain in its stomach. The man lying on the sofa was also restless, but the other person lay on him. He put pressure on some partially cracked ribs. Caused a sharp pain along the back of this European gentleman. But he did not cry out, quietly enjoying the pain like a hobby. Hand hanging down on the brick floor, the other hand did not know where to put the top of the bay. The American saw that he did not say anything, so he just lay still without moving, occasionally raising his hand to lift the glasses so it would not slip down. As if giving himself a rest after a fight. Suddenly, he raised his hand around his head, leaning his head against his large shoulder. Inhale the masculine scent of him. Close the eyes half-tired. As a natural nature of this person. As for Russia, he was somewhat uncomfortable because of the close action of the other person. But also, to the anger he also felt very tired.

"You are heavy like a pig, you pervert"

American was distracted by his voice. Try to slap the other guy a hand.

"You crazy dog! Is this the way you talk to someone who is richer than you?"

"God damn it! Why do I say that, what is the point of being rich or poor? Or are you inferior to your appearance?"

"There is a monkey. My young master here has a handsome appearance from a young age. Don't talk nonsense!"

"Really? Disgusting"

Russia smiled solemnly, put his hand on the face called "handsome" of American that pinched. The other one said he was dreadful, and the guy kept laughing wryly at his funny face. A, Russia seems to see better then. Somehow, in this person, he felt so relieved. Probably because he would have to think about how to provoke this man instead of immersing himself in that dark past. It's comfortable being with him ...

The Russian Federation tilted its head to the side, letting go of his hands to let him rest on him, just because Russia is not strong enough to kick the other down. Glancing out the window, the sky was getting dark when it's not good. The other light only glimmered as if it could disappear at any time. It gets colder at night, especially in an atmosphere like this that's hard to say is not cold. But today is really not cold. If it was normal, there would only be a guy with loneliness and memories of that dark past. Immerse yourself in the shadow of the Soviet Union that could not escape. Malicious words sank into his ears like parasitic insects. Russia will never get rid of it, never catch the ghost of the old father. Then in the end, he would nibble at it gradually, killing himself with that past knife. The whole house, the whole iron bar and then only he was left, lonely, cold and stinking blood mixed with the smell of alcohol. And now it is different, someone opened that iron bars to enter Russia. Someone had come here to fight a fight with him. Whoever it is, it is like a final salvation to this guy's life. Even if it is the United States of American ...

Suddenly his gaze struck a brown paper bag reclining in the corner of the room. Before that, he remembered that it was not there. Curiosity curled up in this military empire, gently enjoying the man hugging his huge chest.

"That bag that you brought?"

"Um huh? I brought it."

"What's in it?"

"Just some vodka bottles."

"Get back here".

"If you have feet, you can go by yourself, I can't handle them"

"So you get off of me, and don't carry your face here again."

"Let me go get it"

American tried to get up, trudged to the corner of the room, and picked up a heavy paper bag. It contained about 3-4 bottles of expensive wine wrapped in foil carefully. Russia behind the sofa has sat up ever since. The European gentleman circled around behind the kitchen to get some glasses and then returned to the table. He opened the cupboard under the table, in which there were several more bottles of vodka. He chin up for a while, then turned to American to speak in an urging voice.

"Turn up the lights"

"You're just good at taking advantage of other people."

He complained and lifted the switch off, the room was brighter. American walked to the sofa and plopped down beside him, his mind wandering. Russia opened the expensive red wine bottle, just like that and downed the whole bottle. He sat next to him and threw a deeply concerned look at him. Rude eating. Bring out the cup, why? I do not understand the streak of this person. As expected, the other two never really got along. If there is nothing to swear at or argue with each other, then beating and killing these two crazy people will not tell each other half a word. American put his foot in the shape of a Dai and opened another bottle of wine and poured it into a shiny glass. The stream of red lipstick flowing slowly into the glass exuded a seductive scent. He likes alcohol. Besides Hamburger and Cola, he likes wine, too. Expensive brands for a dozen or a hundred years are not enough for him to feel valuable. Russia glanced over at the other laugh. Do you like to be so luxurious? See him hideous.

A long time later, when the alcohol died down, the alcohol left behind in the body. Their faces were both red to see, but still conscious. Not drunk yet. They can't get drunk so easily. But their current minds can be called relatively dreamy. Russia put the wine bottle on the table, but it was empty. How many bottles is this? Counting is not good.

"American ... What did you say you were afraid of when I died? I never thought someone like you would be afraid of others dying. You didn't even bother to say the reason ..."

He opened the lid to another bottle, so he brought it to his mouth and gulped. The alcohol was uncontrollable, but it continued to flow in his throat. Extinguish the alcoholic ravening thirsty yeast.

"Hmm? I already said that. Afraid you won't die pretty, huh ... ha"

The gentleman poured wine into a glass and brought it to his mouth. Iridescent water flowed out along the edge of the mouth and into the white neck. Truly USA here also do not know why I act like that. Just hearing Ukraine say his mood is not good lately, just afraid he risked his life ... then he quickly flew here. Do not forget to bring some bottles of booze for him. He could not understand himself anymore, as if this was not him. Is he afraid of the other person dying? Ridiculous. Or is he afraid no one will talk when he's bored? Every time he wants to hide from something ...

"Is that really the case? Anyway, if you want to get into a fight with me, there's no reason for a mother to fail."

"Clever boy-"

American chuckled and gulped down the wine in his glass. Another bottle is gone. He felt the yeast brewing into his mind. It doesn't seem to control itself anymore. The face turned red all the time, but still didn't give up and continued to drink. If he drank like that, he would someday become someone he didn't know ...

---------- ● ---------

"American ... You smell really good"

"Russia ... Kiss me"

The gentleman flag, incompetent, climbed over the guy, put his arm around the other's shoulders, and smiled deeply. Drunk, really, the other guy doesn't know what he's doing anymore, he's just drunk. When drunk, the desire of man is revealed most clearly, what he wants, his true nature is clearly shown before his eyes. Or even he was drunk, not interested in the abnormality in the other's personality, forgetting his arrogance as usual. He seemed to want to forget everything, focusing only on the haughty rose in front of him. American here at times for him is too noble for him to reach. Russia understands who the other person is, if he is a toy in his hand, he will sooner or later be thrown away. He is an arrogant contempt for those under him. He was just flooded with lies, maybe he came to him just to satisfy his own beastiality. He knows it well, but dives in. How pathetic. It is a fool after all. Tonight they may be entwined. But for what? To satisfy yourself, there's no such thing as love exists. Or to fill this emptiness. Perhaps his soul was raving hungry for love and lust. But what if everything was a lie after all? At that Russia will laugh a horrifying smile. Despair for your own weakness. But ... being filled with a lie sounds great, isn't it? ...

Reaching for his hand and cupping the small waist, he thought he fell in love with this too. Above violently occupy lovely lips. Well, let it be, he would rather let himself be foolish once than helplessly watch his mind die every day. It was ridiculous for his frail nature, clearly exposed, as if he wanted the world to look and laugh at it.
The mouth of the other person is very warm, enamel smell of expensive alcohol. But the things that come from that mouth are cruel words. He just wanted to bite it off. American narrowed his eyes and slipped his hand through his smooth, silky hair. Perhaps he really enjoyed this. Perhaps he really likes to do this. But it is done with Russia here. No one else but Russia. The one he hates the most. And also probably the most beloved ... probably so.

Both of their actions now are really out of control. Are leaving the other person to do whatever he wants. The sound of flesh rubbing against each other as if expressing desire was culminating. When either of them can not hold it anymore.

"Ruski ~ Enter your room, it's uncomfortable here"

Well, it was all because these two crazy guys drank too much. And they told each other that, then tonight will be long ...

--------- ● --------

Russia woke up from the deep delusion. The sunlight outside the window cast a beautiful face on it, drawing a dreamy look on it. He sat up, there was no one beside him, only a little warm from the night before. As expected, he left again, as expected, he only came to him for love of flesh, then left and left him here. In this house with emptiness once again. He did not want to react. It was so desperate that his mind could no longer think. Setting foot on the bed, this European gentleman changed and walked out into the living room. Strangely, the battlefield yesterday had been tidied up. The person probably did not want to leave a trace in his house. The other eye suddenly caught on the table a piece of paper.

"Good morning my dear ~

Yesterday was a fun night, wasn't it? I hope your mood will get better after this. In the future, if you're upset, you will give me an howl, I'll bring the liquor to your face. I don't love you at all.

United States of American "

Russia took the piece, involuntarily picked up the phone placed on the table, looked up the other person's number. Before long the bell rang again.

"Hello?"

"I need you..."

"What?"

"заполнить это пространство"

END

For a friend of mine 💖