The Little Things [7a/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 06:24:44 UTC
Hm, maybe I should have quit while I was ahead. Not to say these are bad, but… uh, I don’t know if there’s any real way to explain it. Also, part eight was longer than expected and sort of… I don’t know. I had the idea hanging around for a while, and even though it’s post WW2, it doesn’t really touch any real issues, due to me being, uh… yeah. Think I’ll just shut up now.
In any case, thanks for the continued support, guys~ I’ll try to be less fail-tastic next time.
------
seven: rainy days, rainy days
Fumbling with the sleeve of his coat for a moment, Japan squeezed the material to rid of the water it contained. Completely drenched, he could only berate himself for not being prepared for the downpour, even if it had been unexpected. Perhaps, he told himself, it was time to stop trying to calculate how quickly one could walk from one place to another, as if in hope the weather would continue to favour that individual.
Days like these, he had come to realise, often occurred when he thought in such a manner. It made next to no sense, anyway.
He watched as a couple of students dashed by, school bags held over their heads in a useless attempt to ward the rain away: that was always a possible situation to the current problem, as he was already soaked to the bone, clothes heavy with water.
Yet, Japan knew that he could never do that, as the disgruntled cats gathered by his feet reminded him of who he was with. Greece was preoccupied enough as it was, though it was a wonder how he managed to actually keep track of all his cats; you get used to it, he had once said with a shrug (though the question was never asked out loud).
Japan stepped closer to where the rain fell, as he tried to calculate the distance between where they stood - huddled under the meagre shelter of a bus stop - and the nearest convenience store. An umbrella was a good idea, after all; if not just for them (already completely drenched, but still-), then for the cats. If that even made sense, though Japan was certain it did not. Besides that, it did not look like the rain was about to stop anytime soon, and they could not merely wait for it to cease.
It was purely common sense, at this point; his hands were freezing, almost completely numb, and he was certain Greece was in a similar position. The cats as well, he remembered, would appreciate getting out from the rain as soon as possible.
“Japan?”
At the sound of his name, the island nation snapped out of his thoughts and turned to face Greece, who remained crouching, practically covered in half-drenched, clearly irate cats. Instinctively, he gave a short bow in reply; “I apologise for this.”
“It was unexpected,” Greece said, standing up carefully as the cats continued to cling to him. He did not seem unduly worried with his position, or the fact that had nearly spent the last ten minutes under the same bus shelter.
Japan shifted on his feet, while the few cats on the ground circled his feet, as if he would somehow protect them from the rain. He resisted the urge to bend down and pick up as many as he could, as his current plan of action would be hindered by such actions. Instead, he gave another bow, running the course of events in his mind once more.
“I know this may seem rude of me, but if you do not mind waiting here for a minute,” he pondered over his words, before ploughing on, “I will return as soon as I have acquired an umbrella.” He considered the possibility of apologising again, but suppressed the urge.
The Little Things [7b/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 06:32:28 UTC
Greece reached forward, touching his hand lightly (cold, so cold; but they both were, and-) so that Japan glanced back up; “That’s fine.”
Their eyes met for mere seconds before the island nation turned away, apology muffled as he instead took one last, long look at the street before them. Most of his people were too busy to give them a second glance, huddled under umbrellas of muted colours as they hurried from one destination to another, and he was glad for it.
With one final glance back at the other nation - and making absolutely sure none of the cats were in his way prior to moving - Japan ran from under the shelter, careful not to collide with anyone in his haste.
-pitter-patter-pitter-patter-
The rain fell - down, always down - as it slid off umbrellas and onto the footpath; down his back, clothes heavy and already completely drenched. As the electronic doors slid open, allowing him entrance, Japan ran a hand through his hair uselessly. Droplets fell onto once-dry tiles, while the person at the counter murmured a greeting, which he returned briefly before turning back to the task at hand.
When he returned to the bus stop, Japan could not completely stifle his laughter as he caught sight of Greece. Whether it was the cold finally getting to him, or the fact that his clothes were highly uncomfortable (or a mixture of both factors, really), the fact that the brunet was practically being swarmed by his cats seemed to be quite hilarious.
Whether or not his amusement was noticed was difficult to say, however, as the island nation closed the distance between the shelter, and Greece stepped under the umbrella’s protection without a word. Two cats that had failed to attach themselves onto the brunet pawed at Japan’s legs, looking so forlorn that he could not refuse their demands; Greece relieved him of the umbrella, as if knowing, and he bent down, scooping the animals into his arms before straightening up once more.
When he made to take the umbrella back, the gesture was ignored and Japan blinked, perplexed; “Greece-san?”
Greece merely smiled in reply - it was somehow warmer, as if speaking on a level only they knew of - and Japan felt his face heat up. He turned to stare down at the road before them, though unable to completely wipe away his own smile; a purely reflexive action that occasionally baffled him, as he instead tried to focus on present matters.
“We should try and dry off as soon as possible,” he said, voice almost lost in the rain. The cats in his arms meowed at this, as if in agreement.
“Hn.”
Puddles of water on the road rippled as the rain continued to fall all around them, while people surged in huddled groups to their next destination. Muted voices, caught in conversation, as dark grey skies stretched out across tall buildings, though it was soon replaced by a scattering of trees and houses; a familiar, welcoming sight.
As they stepped into the shelter of his home, droplets of water scattered across the floorboards when the cats sought a place where they could dry off, and Japan turned to face the other nation. Half-formed apologies were cut short when Greece took his hand, seeking warmth, and Japan could not bring himself to pull away. With the barest squeeze of the fingers, he tugged his guest further into the house, the rain outside no more than a distant memory.
The Little Things [8a/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 06:37:49 UTC
eight: without
Fingers twisted into white sheets, while Japan contemplated the possibility of successfully leaving the room before someone realised what had happened. He knew it was foolish - the pain that spread through his body like wildfire remained, despite the fact he had been bedridden for a number of weeks - yet he could not ignore his responsibility towards his people, who were struggling to pick up the pieces of their lives.
And while they tried to do it alone, lives torn apart so suddenly by bombs, he could do next to nothing. The room before him (white walls, the smell of anaesthetic; in many ways unnatural to him) was a blunt reminder, though it was impossible for him to forget.
The war was over though. Japan turned the fact over in his mind, despite having done so since that day, but could not seem to piece his thoughts on the matter clearly. So much had happened so quickly, and many people had died, but there were moments where the entire thing seemed to be nothing more than a dream.
A nightmare, more like, as the faint stench of blood filled his nostrils and the island nation wanted to do nothing more than throw up.
A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts - stopped him from clawing at himself in a weak attempt to remind himself of the reality - and Japan straightened, forcing himself to breathe deeply to calm himself before his spoke.
“The door is open.”
Of his usual guests, he had been expecting America to burst in (after all, it had taken the first fortnight to finally convince him to knock before entering), perhaps England or Germany… China was a slim chance, as he had promised the next time he visited, it would be with the ‘rest of the family’; he had no idea if he would ever be prepared for that kind of confrontation.
He had not expected Greece, though. But before he could open his mouth and blurt out the first thing to come to mind - something along the lines of ‘what are you doing here?’ - his attention was drawn to movement closer to the floor. A few cats paused, mid-step, at the attention, and if the looks in their eyes indicated anything, it was that he really should have been prepared for their appearance.
The Mediterranean nation, on his part, stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him as he approached the single bed. He gave Japan a careful once-over, expression completely unreadable, even as he set a small bag on the table beside them. A gift, perhaps, though it didn’t feel right, to be given such a thing.
Japan bit his lip, fingers twisting together (he ignored the wounds that reopened at the action, staining the gauze red), “Greece-san.” It felt strange to speak that name once more, after everything that had occurred, after all the bloodshed and fighting; a world that may or may not have fallen so easily.
“Japan.” A brief, unreadable smile in reply, and it was impossible for Japan to work out what was on the other’s mind.
Shifting a chair that had been placed by the wall, Greece took a seat, while the cats milled about on the floor in an attempt to find a comfortable place to nap. The island nation pressed his hands together, a part of him unsure if mentioning their presence would be any sort of passable conversation starter: he chose to drop it, however, and instead leaned further back into the pillows.
Greece said nothing, eyes focused on the half-open window in front of him. He did not seem unduly worried about where they were - of course, there had been time for him to adjust, once news got out as to what had happened - yet it felt as if he was not completely comfortable either. He preferred the outdoors, after all; where they could sit under the never ending sky as they spoke of everything and nothing, so insignificant yet still living on.
The Little Things [8b/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 06:41:46 UTC
For his part, Japan tilted his head upwards as he traced the outline of the light above their heads, curious of the other’s reason for visiting. He could speculate, but no matter how he looked at the situation, the nation could not figure out any plausible explanation; aside from visiting for the sake of visiting.
Even as the thought occurred to him, he could not bring himself to really understand why anyone would take time from their own busy schedules for that alone.
But was there any real reason for him to complain? To not have doctors or nurses clamouring about, marking notes down as they spoke to themselves, and without the need of papers and politics, while he continued to hear his people in the distance (still unable to help them) was a welcome change.
To remember a time when he watched the clouds move - slowly, slowly - as cats milled about, content with how life was, despite everything…
With a start, snapped out of his train of thought, Japan could only stare down blankly at the cats Greece suddenly deposited in his lap. They did not seem to mind, instead shifting around the injured nation’s legs for a more comfortable spot before curling up to continue their naps. Japan shook his head, uselessly, as a tabby was pushed into his arms even as he spoke up;
“Greece-san, I do not think they allow pets in the hospital. How did you even-?”
The brunet shifted his hold on the three in his own arms, giving a thoughtful hum in reply; “They followed me. I think they missed Japan…”
The island nation almost questioned the reasoning behind such words, but stopped. There were too many things on mind - to remember, always, as his people struggled outside (he couldn’t forget that) - and he knew worrying about something so insignificant changed nothing. The cats were already here, as was Greece-…
It was not like he didn’t want the other nation there, though he would have preferred it under better circumstances. Even Japan could not lie to himself that, out of those who could have dropped by, Greece’s company was one he cherished deeply, even if he would never be able to put such sentiments into words. On the other hand, the idea of breaking the hospital’s rules caused him to shift uncomfortably.
The brunet caught the movement, though; head tilted to the side as he allowed the cats in his arms to jump down and wander off, Japan blinked when Greece leaned forward, one hand raised, as if to touch his face.
He stopped though, mere millimetres from the bandages that wrapped around the nation’s head. Japan turned away quickly, head half-bowed, the stark reminder of where he was, and the reasons why, hanging in the air (the smell of anaesthetic and blood from reopened wounds sharper to the senses).
At least the war is over; the thought caused his chest to clench painfully, as he remembered the destruction that awaited him outside the room. Though a part of him dreaded it - so weak; so, so weak at times - Japan also knew he had to be there. It was his responsibility to pick up the pieces around him, even as the steady stream of visits reminded him of what price had to be paid.
The Little Things [8c/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 06:46:40 UTC
He would not have been surprised if he eventually mad with it all (words, actions, beliefs; screaming- screaming- blood on his hands, explosions, demands, questions, while the dead stretched out into forever).
The cats around him seemed to sense the discomfort, as they practically crawled on top of him and forced his attention on them. Japan accepted the distraction, aware that Greece continued to watch him. There were unspoken words, questions, neither felt ready to speak of out loud, and the mutual acceptance seemed to be enough to lighten the mood within the room; even if it was just a little, Japan appreciated it.
A few minutes of generally comfortable silence was eventually broken by the Mediterranean nation who spoke, almost thoughtfully; “I heard you’ve been trying to leave your room.”
“Oh?” Japan turned at this, “I suppose even the most insignificant of matters can reach the other side of the world, when someone wishes it so.”
Greece shook his head, unwilling drop the subject; “Pushing yourself like that…”
He trailed off with a shrug, and Japan could only tilt his head a fraction. He had a fair idea of what the other wanted to say - though the task of forming it into clear sentences was difficult - and could only sink back into the pillows as he stroked the kitten that nudged his hand.
“I know.” His words hung in the air, and while he half-expected Greece to continue the conversation, he was glad when the other merely nodded, accepting his words as they were.
They lost track of time as they remained that way; in silence, while cats curled up on the hospital bed, in laps and spare chairs, not the least bit worried about the world around them. Japan could not help but appreciate the silence, the warmth of the cats surrounding him like a memory from too long ago. Somehow, it seemed that recently he had done nothing more than talk in circles with almost everyone who had come by to visit him, and the topics were rarely pleasant.
Like this, at least, he could pretend for a moment that there was nothing out of the ordinary. He almost laughed at the thought, words barely above a whisper; “So foolish.”
“It happens, sometimes,” Greece murmured, causing Japan to glance back at him. While it could have easily been a reply to his words, there was always a chance that the Mediterranean nation had merely spoken of something on his own mind.
“Perhaps- perhaps…” He could not find a truly appropriate response, allowing himself to repeat the word over (almost like a chant, in search of an answer to some unspeakable question of his).
So when Greece reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers in a loose hold, Japan could only stare at the red splotches that stained the bandages. The island nation squeezed, as if it would be enough to convey what was on mind - a confused, cluttered mess as it were - before he turned away, once more. A darkened sky met his gaze, and he knew the other nation would have to leave soon. To be left alone with his own thoughts, feelings; neither he really wished to face.
But it was warm, he realised, while Greece spoke in his mother tongue, words barely perceptible as he squeezed back. There was still pain there, Japan knew (physically and mentally; anything, everything) but for one day, at least, he chose to remember calmer days.
Days when conversations were broken by long periods of silence; of a quiet appreciation for each and every moment, as unspoken words (and nonexistent red string) were not necessary for them to know, while life continued on. One day, Japan knew - perhaps hoped - those days would return.
Re: The Little Things [8c/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 08:07:34 UTC
Hmm... is the problem you're speaking of about the pace? Part 7 did seem a little dragged-out, but I really do think it depends on personal opinion - one of the major appeals of Greece/Japan to me is how leisurely and calm they are with each other that seeps into the atmosphere surrounding them and just makes you want to curl up in a blanket and have a nice cup of hot chocolate.
...Sorry for rambling on. (See what the thought of them does to me?) Anyway, yeah, the pace did seem a bit off in that part, but I still finished it with a satisfied smile on my face. If you really do feel like you've run out of inspiration for this fill, though, please don't force yourself. The fact that you've already written eight lovely pieces for a pairing that I ache so badly for without finding anything new for them in weeks is more than enough to make people like me happy.
As for Part 8... get out of my head, anon! I've actually been tinkering around with a potential fic about Greece visiting Japan in the hospital much to the latter's surprise and bringing him a gift, to his even bigger surprise, and things starting out awkward between the two of them but gradually relaxing out. And after reading this, I feel like I should seriously scrap my fic, as you've already done what I wanted to do and more.
...Wow, this comment is getting really long isn't it? XD But I really wanted to tell you how much these pieces make me feel all warm and content inside (and maybe a little wistful for the 8th one), and you're doing something very right if you can capture these subtle emotions. Even if you don't write any other parts for this fill, I'll still be content with what you've written so far. (And I'll be even more so if you ever deanon in the future!)
writer!anon
anonymous
November 28 2009, 10:51:14 UTC
Well, for me I think it was more the flow of the pieces which… I guess sort of frustrated me at times; going from point A to point B without making it too abrupt or something, is what I think I’m trying to say. The first half of part seven was easy enough to write, while eight ended up in fragments I had to try and bring together so… yeah. And since I’ve read them far too many times in one sitting, I’ll probably take another look later and see how it works out. Fff, I can’t really explain myself clearly. And thanks for the feedback on part seven; these are the sorts of things I need a second opinion on :)
… Hm, while a part of me feels that there’s only so much that can be written (before it begins to feel like a repeat of a previous fill/part) I still have some ideas with these two I want to get down. It might take time, but I really want to make something I can be proud of and that sounds really, really cheesy. But yeah, I probably need to step back for a bit as well, rather than pushing myself when I’m not really in the mood ;)
And… aaaahhh I really didn’t mean for that to happen, though it isn’t surprising that other people have the general idea somewhere up there. You shouldn’t scrap it either! I mean, I’d like to read it it would definitely be interesting to see another take on it.
It’s no problem at all; I mean, comments make me smile, especially at the fact that someone out there seems to enjoy these. So, you know, thank you so much for taking time to tell me what you think~ Also, I’ve been thinking that, even if I do find a place (or number) to end this fill, I’ll probably find myself going back to it and adding more anyway; since they’re one-shots focused on their interactions, there’s really no reason for me to anchor myself down in that manner, I suppose XD (I’ll probably de-anon at some point… but right now, aaaah~ OTL)
Fff, this got sort of wordy too. But, uh, yes. Thank you again~
Re: The Little Things [8c/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 16:02:48 UTC
Everything is beautiful, dear. You write them just right and as rare as Giripan fills go, the regularity of this is more than enough to keep us very very happy. :)
Personally, I love this thing to bits and pieces. Please do continue, whatever rocks your boat.
Re: The Little Things [8c/?]
anonymous
November 28 2009, 16:30:07 UTC
Writer!anon, know that when I name my future cat Yaoi (although it may take awhile, since I'm going to name a cat Vodka first...) it is all your fault. (In the best of ways, of course.) ^_^
Your friendly neighbourhood OP
anonymous
November 29 2009, 12:26:46 UTC
Dear anon,
you are absolutely fantastic. When I made an open Giripan request, I expected either one quick short fill or nothing at all. Instead, you came out with 8 wonderful short fills that I absolutely LOVE. I think part 8 was great, I don't think it was too long. Leaving these fills as is is fine, but if you want to add more, go ahead! Go wild~
Sincerely, OP
reCAPTCHA: Oklahoma germania -... captcha is telling me something.
Fingers trailed, aimlessly, across the table’s surface, while Japan watched Pochi wander out the room. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the call of birds - welcoming another day, perhaps - though he knew it was nothing more than a useless observation. A single, steady beat against the table at the realisation; tap, tap, tap.
Perhaps it was time he returned to his chores, Japan told himself. It was not like he had any other guests to attend to, having just seen America off after a long week; politics and lengthy talks he was accustomed to, but their debates on the direction MMORPGs were heading to could take a lot out of a person, no matter how enthusiastic they were.
Still, a part of him could not help but find it amusing at how easily his life seemed to slip back into a familiar routine, as if the past week had not occurred.
He would rise at dawn, do the chores around the house, take care of Pochi, deal with any work passed to him, go out if there was any practical reason to, eat at the appropriate times, then retire for the night. Very rarely were such routines broken, aside from visits from other nations, or an urgent call concerning a recent matter he would already be aware of, and Japan had come to appreciate it.
That silence, the hours in which he could hear his thoughts and try to form them into words no one would hear-
And, sometimes, he would remember. Times when he had isolated himself from the world, when he had fought; hurting others, being hurt…
A part of Japan questioned himself over such matters, even as he stepped out of his house, sliding the door shut behind him. Life continued on, and he could only follow after it, to see where it would take him.
Days would pass, the same routine (over and over); no America to break the serenity, no England to talk about topics that may or may not have concerned them, no China to try and bring up days long gone - perhaps the closest thing to happier moments before the world reminded them of what they were - or Italy to drag him someplace, to enjoy life a little more.
No one to stop him. No one to break the monotony.
And Japan liked it; told himself he did, even as a gentle knock knock cut through the haze, and his stomach twisted for unknown reasons (a simple delivery, there and gone before another word was spoken).
This. This was-
So it made no sense, on that cloudy day, when he caught sight of a familiar group of cats that the bag he had been carrying dropped to the ground. His heart was not supposed to beat so loudly - too quickly - as he stepped forward, while Greece continued to stare at the doors, waiting for an answer.
His voice had been distant, though apparently loud enough for his unexpected guest to turn. The cats seemed more than happy to wind themselves around Japan’s feet, clearly wishing to be acknowledged, as Greece approached him.
Half-formed apologies (sudden decision, just thought-) were cut short when impulse drove Japan to step forward, closer than necessary, to wrap his arms around the other, realisation of his actions milliseconds too late. Before he could pull away, however, Greece returned the embrace, and Japan could only wonder when it had started.
The detachment from reality, despite his attempts to keep those he called friends close; a gradual process no one, not even himself, had noticed. Why, as days passed without a care in the world, he thought it had been alright.
And why did it hurt now; this realisation he might have welcomed, once upon a time? There was no answer to it, nothing that made sense, even as he pulled away with a murmured apology.
Greece merely took a hold of his hand, speaking as if nothing strange had occurred; “Welcome home.”
A different sort of silence, as Japan tightened his grip - pain still in his chest, unshed tears of frustration and relief (why? He did not know) as something else… - and managed a reply; “I’m home.”
The Little Things [10/?]
anonymous
December 12 2009, 08:17:35 UTC
ten: intoxication
Though he swayed, just a little, and his lips twitched in something that may have been an amused smile, Japan insisted that he was not drunk, thank you very much. This earned a long, scrutinising look from Greece that would have made the island nation flush at the attention, had it been any other day.
It was not like he was a danger to anyone or himself, though, Greece knew; even now, Japan stepped forward with a deliberate amount of concentration, clearly unwilling to accept any external help on their trek back to his place. And it was incredibly rare to see Japan in this state, so much so that such situations could be counted on a single hand, despite the many years between them.
Greece stopped when Japan did, turning back to look at him for a moment, as if contemplating his next move. Then the barest hint of a shrug, a bow, as he turned once more and continued on his way; they were the only ones present, of course, the night their constant companion.
A warm night, almost heavy in its presence as it blanketed them, while Japan murmured a simple tune Greece recognised; a children’s rhyme, one of the first things the island nation had taught him long, long ago.
He might have joined in, but Greece really did prefer listening to the other, when he had the chance. The way Japan’s voice rose and fell - a little off, though it was barely noticeable - as he continued to walk with complete certainty, tone melancholic as he saw and heard things; remembered parts of his life Greece could only imagine.
Japan trailed off when they arrived at his place, cursed a little before Greece stepped forward to give him a hand, as they stepped inside. Though a part of him thought the island nation would merely wander off to bed, he was not completely surprised when Japan began muttering calculations and key combinations, as he entered the sitting room and pulled out one of his many consoles.
The fact he could play Soulcalibur while completely intoxicated, and still manage near-perfect wins, was a feat upon itself (the same could be said about Greece losing constantly against Japan during versus mode, even in such a state; it might have been due to the fact he did not take it quite as seriously as the other, though). Greece could recall mentioning it, once, only to have Japan mutter something about the weather and were Greece-san’s cats alright? to steer the conversation elsewhere.
A not-so-gentle prod in his shoulder jerked the brunet out of his thoughts, and he blinked, uncomprehending for a moment. Japan had his head tilted to the side, watching him almost curiously, while Greece stared at the paused game on-screen, trying to work out why it looked different. The realisation that he had drifted off came as no surprise, even as Japan drew back on his knees.
It was clear he had decided to stop for the night, as he instead watched Greece, fingers twisting in a familiar pattern; when the other wanted to say something, yet knew he could never really make himself do so.
“Japan?” He prompted, after half a minute passed without a word between them.
The island nation started, “Eh? Aa… um…” Silence, as he bit his lip, fingers still twisting, the barest hint of a slur in his words, “I… apologise. We should probably turn in for the night-”
Greece nodded to this, standing up as he offered Japan a hand. There was something endearing at the fact that he flushed heavily at this, as if suddenly aware of his previous actions - before their walk home, leaning forward; the lightest touch of lips against lips, fingers intertwined, before turning away and murmuring words that were still too hard to say at times - even as he accepted the gesture.
Next morning, Japan would reprimand himself, whether or not he remembered, even as Greece murmured reassurance that nothing terrible had happened (it was not unlike Japan to spend numerous nights playing games, after all). It was alright to be like that, once in a while, he would say, words repeated each and every time, until Japan managed a nod before he buried himself back under the sheets to deal with his hangover.
Then the cats would join in, as Greece took care of him, humming a rhyme he had heard long ago.
The Little Things [11/?]
anonymous
December 12 2009, 08:24:17 UTC
eleven: gaps in-between
“I apologise for calling so suddenly-…”
“That’s fine.” The sound of cats meowing in the background was clear, as the phone seemed to shift in his hold, “We’ve both been busy, so…” He trailed off, as if it were unnecessary for him to finish speaking.
Japan nodded though, could not help but do so, as he stared at the half-completed sentence of the transcript he had been working on; “I suppose… Have you been well?” His computer chimed an incoming message, but he chose to ignore it.
“Mm, well,” Greece hummed, “I’m managing. The cats are doing fine as well.” He added as an afterthought, before Japan could ask.
Another unseen nod, as fingers twisted into the folds of his yukata while the cursor onscreen moved around; click click. “I am sorry you are facing such difficult times right now. I…”
He trailed off, unsure as to how he was supposed to offer help to the other nation. It was not like they never faced issues with their own people - so many conflicting views and emotions, it was almost sad to see them fighting - and he was certain Greece would get through it. Like any other time.
Still, the guilt could not be swept away so easily.
“Japan?”
“Hm?” He stopped, blinked (ignored Italy’s email for the time being; it was not of high importance, after all, but he did enjoy such simple interactions), “Ah, I apologise.”
“No, you don’t need to apologise, I…” A yawn.
“Am… am I keeping you up late? If so…” Japan shifted in his seat, a fresh wave of guilt almost overwhelming him at the fact. But he had been careful to call at a respectable time on both sides, so…
Greece chuckled at this, as if knowing what was on Japan’s mind; “Don’t mind me. I’m enjoying this.”
“Eh?”
“I mean, talking to you.” It would not have surprised Japan if the other nation was smiling now. The cats seemed to be closer as well, clamouring about as they meowed into the phone, “I think they know who I’m talking to.”
Japan could not completely wipe the smile off his own face at the thought, “That would be impossible, Greece-san.”
“I wonder…”
Thoughtful silence, as Greece considered his words once more. Shifting in his seat, Japan turned away from the computer screen, watching the patterns created on the floor as sunlight filtered through.
“Perhaps…” he began slowly, hearing the nation on the other end hum, “if it is not too much of a problem for you, if I were to visit… I mean-”
“It is rather beautiful, this time of year. It would be nice to see you again as well,” Greece said, effectively cutting through the beginning of Japan’s panicked explanation of his words.
“Is that so. Then…” Japan stopped, as he caught sight of a recently sent email. With a muttered curse, he opened it, “I apologise, Greece-san, something urgent has come up, and I-”
“Hn, you don’t need to apologise. Just call when you have the time.”
“Y-yes…” Japan made no attempt to mask his smile, as he opened another window to compose his message, “Goodbye, then.”
“Goodbye.”
Click. The line went dead, as he set his phone aside. Rubbing his temples gently, Japan slid the chair closer to his desk, ready to deal with the problem and get it out of his way as soon as possible.
And then, once it was out of the way, he would-… Japan squashed the thoughts for the time being, as sunlit patterns on the floor remained ever changing, while time moved on.
In any case, thanks for the continued support, guys~ I’ll try to be less fail-tastic next time.
------
seven: rainy days, rainy days
Fumbling with the sleeve of his coat for a moment, Japan squeezed the material to rid of the water it contained. Completely drenched, he could only berate himself for not being prepared for the downpour, even if it had been unexpected. Perhaps, he told himself, it was time to stop trying to calculate how quickly one could walk from one place to another, as if in hope the weather would continue to favour that individual.
Days like these, he had come to realise, often occurred when he thought in such a manner. It made next to no sense, anyway.
He watched as a couple of students dashed by, school bags held over their heads in a useless attempt to ward the rain away: that was always a possible situation to the current problem, as he was already soaked to the bone, clothes heavy with water.
Yet, Japan knew that he could never do that, as the disgruntled cats gathered by his feet reminded him of who he was with. Greece was preoccupied enough as it was, though it was a wonder how he managed to actually keep track of all his cats; you get used to it, he had once said with a shrug (though the question was never asked out loud).
Japan stepped closer to where the rain fell, as he tried to calculate the distance between where they stood - huddled under the meagre shelter of a bus stop - and the nearest convenience store. An umbrella was a good idea, after all; if not just for them (already completely drenched, but still-), then for the cats. If that even made sense, though Japan was certain it did not. Besides that, it did not look like the rain was about to stop anytime soon, and they could not merely wait for it to cease.
It was purely common sense, at this point; his hands were freezing, almost completely numb, and he was certain Greece was in a similar position. The cats as well, he remembered, would appreciate getting out from the rain as soon as possible.
“Japan?”
At the sound of his name, the island nation snapped out of his thoughts and turned to face Greece, who remained crouching, practically covered in half-drenched, clearly irate cats. Instinctively, he gave a short bow in reply; “I apologise for this.”
“It was unexpected,” Greece said, standing up carefully as the cats continued to cling to him. He did not seem unduly worried with his position, or the fact that had nearly spent the last ten minutes under the same bus shelter.
Japan shifted on his feet, while the few cats on the ground circled his feet, as if he would somehow protect them from the rain. He resisted the urge to bend down and pick up as many as he could, as his current plan of action would be hindered by such actions. Instead, he gave another bow, running the course of events in his mind once more.
“I know this may seem rude of me, but if you do not mind waiting here for a minute,” he pondered over his words, before ploughing on, “I will return as soon as I have acquired an umbrella.” He considered the possibility of apologising again, but suppressed the urge.
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Their eyes met for mere seconds before the island nation turned away, apology muffled as he instead took one last, long look at the street before them. Most of his people were too busy to give them a second glance, huddled under umbrellas of muted colours as they hurried from one destination to another, and he was glad for it.
With one final glance back at the other nation - and making absolutely sure none of the cats were in his way prior to moving - Japan ran from under the shelter, careful not to collide with anyone in his haste.
-pitter-patter-pitter-patter-
The rain fell - down, always down - as it slid off umbrellas and onto the footpath; down his back, clothes heavy and already completely drenched. As the electronic doors slid open, allowing him entrance, Japan ran a hand through his hair uselessly. Droplets fell onto once-dry tiles, while the person at the counter murmured a greeting, which he returned briefly before turning back to the task at hand.
When he returned to the bus stop, Japan could not completely stifle his laughter as he caught sight of Greece. Whether it was the cold finally getting to him, or the fact that his clothes were highly uncomfortable (or a mixture of both factors, really), the fact that the brunet was practically being swarmed by his cats seemed to be quite hilarious.
Whether or not his amusement was noticed was difficult to say, however, as the island nation closed the distance between the shelter, and Greece stepped under the umbrella’s protection without a word. Two cats that had failed to attach themselves onto the brunet pawed at Japan’s legs, looking so forlorn that he could not refuse their demands; Greece relieved him of the umbrella, as if knowing, and he bent down, scooping the animals into his arms before straightening up once more.
When he made to take the umbrella back, the gesture was ignored and Japan blinked, perplexed; “Greece-san?”
Greece merely smiled in reply - it was somehow warmer, as if speaking on a level only they knew of - and Japan felt his face heat up. He turned to stare down at the road before them, though unable to completely wipe away his own smile; a purely reflexive action that occasionally baffled him, as he instead tried to focus on present matters.
“We should try and dry off as soon as possible,” he said, voice almost lost in the rain. The cats in his arms meowed at this, as if in agreement.
“Hn.”
Puddles of water on the road rippled as the rain continued to fall all around them, while people surged in huddled groups to their next destination. Muted voices, caught in conversation, as dark grey skies stretched out across tall buildings, though it was soon replaced by a scattering of trees and houses; a familiar, welcoming sight.
As they stepped into the shelter of his home, droplets of water scattered across the floorboards when the cats sought a place where they could dry off, and Japan turned to face the other nation. Half-formed apologies were cut short when Greece took his hand, seeking warmth, and Japan could not bring himself to pull away. With the barest squeeze of the fingers, he tugged his guest further into the house, the rain outside no more than a distant memory.
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Fingers twisted into white sheets, while Japan contemplated the possibility of successfully leaving the room before someone realised what had happened. He knew it was foolish - the pain that spread through his body like wildfire remained, despite the fact he had been bedridden for a number of weeks - yet he could not ignore his responsibility towards his people, who were struggling to pick up the pieces of their lives.
And while they tried to do it alone, lives torn apart so suddenly by bombs, he could do next to nothing. The room before him (white walls, the smell of anaesthetic; in many ways unnatural to him) was a blunt reminder, though it was impossible for him to forget.
The war was over though. Japan turned the fact over in his mind, despite having done so since that day, but could not seem to piece his thoughts on the matter clearly. So much had happened so quickly, and many people had died, but there were moments where the entire thing seemed to be nothing more than a dream.
A nightmare, more like, as the faint stench of blood filled his nostrils and the island nation wanted to do nothing more than throw up.
A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts - stopped him from clawing at himself in a weak attempt to remind himself of the reality - and Japan straightened, forcing himself to breathe deeply to calm himself before his spoke.
“The door is open.”
Of his usual guests, he had been expecting America to burst in (after all, it had taken the first fortnight to finally convince him to knock before entering), perhaps England or Germany… China was a slim chance, as he had promised the next time he visited, it would be with the ‘rest of the family’; he had no idea if he would ever be prepared for that kind of confrontation.
He had not expected Greece, though. But before he could open his mouth and blurt out the first thing to come to mind - something along the lines of ‘what are you doing here?’ - his attention was drawn to movement closer to the floor. A few cats paused, mid-step, at the attention, and if the looks in their eyes indicated anything, it was that he really should have been prepared for their appearance.
The Mediterranean nation, on his part, stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him as he approached the single bed. He gave Japan a careful once-over, expression completely unreadable, even as he set a small bag on the table beside them. A gift, perhaps, though it didn’t feel right, to be given such a thing.
Japan bit his lip, fingers twisting together (he ignored the wounds that reopened at the action, staining the gauze red), “Greece-san.” It felt strange to speak that name once more, after everything that had occurred, after all the bloodshed and fighting; a world that may or may not have fallen so easily.
“Japan.” A brief, unreadable smile in reply, and it was impossible for Japan to work out what was on the other’s mind.
Shifting a chair that had been placed by the wall, Greece took a seat, while the cats milled about on the floor in an attempt to find a comfortable place to nap. The island nation pressed his hands together, a part of him unsure if mentioning their presence would be any sort of passable conversation starter: he chose to drop it, however, and instead leaned further back into the pillows.
Greece said nothing, eyes focused on the half-open window in front of him. He did not seem unduly worried about where they were - of course, there had been time for him to adjust, once news got out as to what had happened - yet it felt as if he was not completely comfortable either. He preferred the outdoors, after all; where they could sit under the never ending sky as they spoke of everything and nothing, so insignificant yet still living on.
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Even as the thought occurred to him, he could not bring himself to really understand why anyone would take time from their own busy schedules for that alone.
But was there any real reason for him to complain? To not have doctors or nurses clamouring about, marking notes down as they spoke to themselves, and without the need of papers and politics, while he continued to hear his people in the distance (still unable to help them) was a welcome change.
To remember a time when he watched the clouds move - slowly, slowly - as cats milled about, content with how life was, despite everything…
With a start, snapped out of his train of thought, Japan could only stare down blankly at the cats Greece suddenly deposited in his lap. They did not seem to mind, instead shifting around the injured nation’s legs for a more comfortable spot before curling up to continue their naps. Japan shook his head, uselessly, as a tabby was pushed into his arms even as he spoke up;
“Greece-san, I do not think they allow pets in the hospital. How did you even-?”
The brunet shifted his hold on the three in his own arms, giving a thoughtful hum in reply; “They followed me. I think they missed Japan…”
The island nation almost questioned the reasoning behind such words, but stopped. There were too many things on mind - to remember, always, as his people struggled outside (he couldn’t forget that) - and he knew worrying about something so insignificant changed nothing. The cats were already here, as was Greece-…
It was not like he didn’t want the other nation there, though he would have preferred it under better circumstances. Even Japan could not lie to himself that, out of those who could have dropped by, Greece’s company was one he cherished deeply, even if he would never be able to put such sentiments into words. On the other hand, the idea of breaking the hospital’s rules caused him to shift uncomfortably.
The brunet caught the movement, though; head tilted to the side as he allowed the cats in his arms to jump down and wander off, Japan blinked when Greece leaned forward, one hand raised, as if to touch his face.
He stopped though, mere millimetres from the bandages that wrapped around the nation’s head. Japan turned away quickly, head half-bowed, the stark reminder of where he was, and the reasons why, hanging in the air (the smell of anaesthetic and blood from reopened wounds sharper to the senses).
At least the war is over; the thought caused his chest to clench painfully, as he remembered the destruction that awaited him outside the room. Though a part of him dreaded it - so weak; so, so weak at times - Japan also knew he had to be there. It was his responsibility to pick up the pieces around him, even as the steady stream of visits reminded him of what price had to be paid.
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The cats around him seemed to sense the discomfort, as they practically crawled on top of him and forced his attention on them. Japan accepted the distraction, aware that Greece continued to watch him. There were unspoken words, questions, neither felt ready to speak of out loud, and the mutual acceptance seemed to be enough to lighten the mood within the room; even if it was just a little, Japan appreciated it.
A few minutes of generally comfortable silence was eventually broken by the Mediterranean nation who spoke, almost thoughtfully; “I heard you’ve been trying to leave your room.”
“Oh?” Japan turned at this, “I suppose even the most insignificant of matters can reach the other side of the world, when someone wishes it so.”
Greece shook his head, unwilling drop the subject; “Pushing yourself like that…”
He trailed off with a shrug, and Japan could only tilt his head a fraction. He had a fair idea of what the other wanted to say - though the task of forming it into clear sentences was difficult - and could only sink back into the pillows as he stroked the kitten that nudged his hand.
“I know.” His words hung in the air, and while he half-expected Greece to continue the conversation, he was glad when the other merely nodded, accepting his words as they were.
They lost track of time as they remained that way; in silence, while cats curled up on the hospital bed, in laps and spare chairs, not the least bit worried about the world around them. Japan could not help but appreciate the silence, the warmth of the cats surrounding him like a memory from too long ago. Somehow, it seemed that recently he had done nothing more than talk in circles with almost everyone who had come by to visit him, and the topics were rarely pleasant.
Like this, at least, he could pretend for a moment that there was nothing out of the ordinary. He almost laughed at the thought, words barely above a whisper; “So foolish.”
“It happens, sometimes,” Greece murmured, causing Japan to glance back at him. While it could have easily been a reply to his words, there was always a chance that the Mediterranean nation had merely spoken of something on his own mind.
“Perhaps- perhaps…” He could not find a truly appropriate response, allowing himself to repeat the word over (almost like a chant, in search of an answer to some unspeakable question of his).
So when Greece reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers in a loose hold, Japan could only stare at the red splotches that stained the bandages. The island nation squeezed, as if it would be enough to convey what was on mind - a confused, cluttered mess as it were - before he turned away, once more. A darkened sky met his gaze, and he knew the other nation would have to leave soon. To be left alone with his own thoughts, feelings; neither he really wished to face.
But it was warm, he realised, while Greece spoke in his mother tongue, words barely perceptible as he squeezed back. There was still pain there, Japan knew (physically and mentally; anything, everything) but for one day, at least, he chose to remember calmer days.
Days when conversations were broken by long periods of silence; of a quiet appreciation for each and every moment, as unspoken words (and nonexistent red string) were not necessary for them to know, while life continued on. One day, Japan knew - perhaps hoped - those days would return.
One day.
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...Sorry for rambling on. (See what the thought of them does to me?) Anyway, yeah, the pace did seem a bit off in that part, but I still finished it with a satisfied smile on my face. If you really do feel like you've run out of inspiration for this fill, though, please don't force yourself. The fact that you've already written eight lovely pieces for a pairing that I ache so badly for without finding anything new for them in weeks is more than enough to make people like me happy.
As for Part 8... get out of my head, anon! I've actually been tinkering around with a potential fic about Greece visiting Japan in the hospital much to the latter's surprise and bringing him a gift, to his even bigger surprise, and things starting out awkward between the two of them but gradually relaxing out. And after reading this, I feel like I should seriously scrap my fic, as you've already done what I wanted to do and more.
...Wow, this comment is getting really long isn't it? XD But I really wanted to tell you how much these pieces make me feel all warm and content inside (and maybe a little wistful for the 8th one), and you're doing something very right if you can capture these subtle emotions. Even if you don't write any other parts for this fill, I'll still be content with what you've written so far. (And I'll be even more so if you ever deanon in the future!)
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… Hm, while a part of me feels that there’s only so much that can be written (before it begins to feel like a repeat of a previous fill/part) I still have some ideas with these two I want to get down. It might take time, but I really want to make something I can be proud of and that sounds really, really cheesy. But yeah, I probably need to step back for a bit as well, rather than pushing myself when I’m not really in the mood ;)
And… aaaahhh I really didn’t mean for that to happen, though it isn’t surprising that other people have the general idea somewhere up there. You shouldn’t scrap it either! I mean, I’d like to read it it would definitely be interesting to see another take on it.
It’s no problem at all; I mean, comments make me smile, especially at the fact that someone out there seems to enjoy these. So, you know, thank you so much for taking time to tell me what you think~ Also, I’ve been thinking that, even if I do find a place (or number) to end this fill, I’ll probably find myself going back to it and adding more anyway; since they’re one-shots focused on their interactions, there’s really no reason for me to anchor myself down in that manner, I suppose XD (I’ll probably de-anon at some point… but right now, aaaah~ OTL)
Fff, this got sort of wordy too. But, uh, yes. Thank you again~
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Personally, I love this thing to bits and pieces. Please do continue, whatever rocks your boat.
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you are absolutely fantastic. When I made an open Giripan request, I expected either one quick short fill or nothing at all. Instead, you came out with 8 wonderful short fills that I absolutely LOVE. I think part 8 was great, I don't think it was too long. Leaving these fills as is is fine, but if you want to add more, go ahead! Go wild~
Sincerely,
OP
reCAPTCHA: Oklahoma germania -... captcha is telling me something.
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reCaptcha is saying 'cuddly as'. I think it wants more hugs.
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And part nine made complete sense in my brain. Because Japan. Just, fff, I need to stop listening to things on loop:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgxvqmknSac
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nine: clock lock works
Fingers trailed, aimlessly, across the table’s surface, while Japan watched Pochi wander out the room. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the call of birds - welcoming another day, perhaps - though he knew it was nothing more than a useless observation. A single, steady beat against the table at the realisation; tap, tap, tap.
Perhaps it was time he returned to his chores, Japan told himself. It was not like he had any other guests to attend to, having just seen America off after a long week; politics and lengthy talks he was accustomed to, but their debates on the direction MMORPGs were heading to could take a lot out of a person, no matter how enthusiastic they were.
Still, a part of him could not help but find it amusing at how easily his life seemed to slip back into a familiar routine, as if the past week had not occurred.
He would rise at dawn, do the chores around the house, take care of Pochi, deal with any work passed to him, go out if there was any practical reason to, eat at the appropriate times, then retire for the night. Very rarely were such routines broken, aside from visits from other nations, or an urgent call concerning a recent matter he would already be aware of, and Japan had come to appreciate it.
That silence, the hours in which he could hear his thoughts and try to form them into words no one would hear-
And, sometimes, he would remember. Times when he had isolated himself from the world, when he had fought; hurting others, being hurt…
A part of Japan questioned himself over such matters, even as he stepped out of his house, sliding the door shut behind him. Life continued on, and he could only follow after it, to see where it would take him.
Days would pass, the same routine (over and over); no America to break the serenity, no England to talk about topics that may or may not have concerned them, no China to try and bring up days long gone - perhaps the closest thing to happier moments before the world reminded them of what they were - or Italy to drag him someplace, to enjoy life a little more.
No one to stop him. No one to break the monotony.
And Japan liked it; told himself he did, even as a gentle knock knock cut through the haze, and his stomach twisted for unknown reasons (a simple delivery, there and gone before another word was spoken).
This. This was-
So it made no sense, on that cloudy day, when he caught sight of a familiar group of cats that the bag he had been carrying dropped to the ground. His heart was not supposed to beat so loudly - too quickly - as he stepped forward, while Greece continued to stare at the doors, waiting for an answer.
His voice had been distant, though apparently loud enough for his unexpected guest to turn. The cats seemed more than happy to wind themselves around Japan’s feet, clearly wishing to be acknowledged, as Greece approached him.
Half-formed apologies (sudden decision, just thought-) were cut short when impulse drove Japan to step forward, closer than necessary, to wrap his arms around the other, realisation of his actions milliseconds too late. Before he could pull away, however, Greece returned the embrace, and Japan could only wonder when it had started.
The detachment from reality, despite his attempts to keep those he called friends close; a gradual process no one, not even himself, had noticed. Why, as days passed without a care in the world, he thought it had been alright.
And why did it hurt now; this realisation he might have welcomed, once upon a time? There was no answer to it, nothing that made sense, even as he pulled away with a murmured apology.
Greece merely took a hold of his hand, speaking as if nothing strange had occurred; “Welcome home.”
A different sort of silence, as Japan tightened his grip - pain still in his chest, unshed tears of frustration and relief (why? He did not know) as something else… - and managed a reply; “I’m home.”
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Though he swayed, just a little, and his lips twitched in something that may have been an amused smile, Japan insisted that he was not drunk, thank you very much. This earned a long, scrutinising look from Greece that would have made the island nation flush at the attention, had it been any other day.
It was not like he was a danger to anyone or himself, though, Greece knew; even now, Japan stepped forward with a deliberate amount of concentration, clearly unwilling to accept any external help on their trek back to his place. And it was incredibly rare to see Japan in this state, so much so that such situations could be counted on a single hand, despite the many years between them.
Greece stopped when Japan did, turning back to look at him for a moment, as if contemplating his next move. Then the barest hint of a shrug, a bow, as he turned once more and continued on his way; they were the only ones present, of course, the night their constant companion.
A warm night, almost heavy in its presence as it blanketed them, while Japan murmured a simple tune Greece recognised; a children’s rhyme, one of the first things the island nation had taught him long, long ago.
He might have joined in, but Greece really did prefer listening to the other, when he had the chance. The way Japan’s voice rose and fell - a little off, though it was barely noticeable - as he continued to walk with complete certainty, tone melancholic as he saw and heard things; remembered parts of his life Greece could only imagine.
Japan trailed off when they arrived at his place, cursed a little before Greece stepped forward to give him a hand, as they stepped inside. Though a part of him thought the island nation would merely wander off to bed, he was not completely surprised when Japan began muttering calculations and key combinations, as he entered the sitting room and pulled out one of his many consoles.
The fact he could play Soulcalibur while completely intoxicated, and still manage near-perfect wins, was a feat upon itself (the same could be said about Greece losing constantly against Japan during versus mode, even in such a state; it might have been due to the fact he did not take it quite as seriously as the other, though). Greece could recall mentioning it, once, only to have Japan mutter something about the weather and were Greece-san’s cats alright? to steer the conversation elsewhere.
A not-so-gentle prod in his shoulder jerked the brunet out of his thoughts, and he blinked, uncomprehending for a moment. Japan had his head tilted to the side, watching him almost curiously, while Greece stared at the paused game on-screen, trying to work out why it looked different. The realisation that he had drifted off came as no surprise, even as Japan drew back on his knees.
It was clear he had decided to stop for the night, as he instead watched Greece, fingers twisting in a familiar pattern; when the other wanted to say something, yet knew he could never really make himself do so.
“Japan?” He prompted, after half a minute passed without a word between them.
The island nation started, “Eh? Aa… um…” Silence, as he bit his lip, fingers still twisting, the barest hint of a slur in his words, “I… apologise. We should probably turn in for the night-”
Greece nodded to this, standing up as he offered Japan a hand. There was something endearing at the fact that he flushed heavily at this, as if suddenly aware of his previous actions - before their walk home, leaning forward; the lightest touch of lips against lips, fingers intertwined, before turning away and murmuring words that were still too hard to say at times - even as he accepted the gesture.
Next morning, Japan would reprimand himself, whether or not he remembered, even as Greece murmured reassurance that nothing terrible had happened (it was not unlike Japan to spend numerous nights playing games, after all). It was alright to be like that, once in a while, he would say, words repeated each and every time, until Japan managed a nod before he buried himself back under the sheets to deal with his hangover.
Then the cats would join in, as Greece took care of him, humming a rhyme he had heard long ago.
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“I apologise for calling so suddenly-…”
“That’s fine.” The sound of cats meowing in the background was clear, as the phone seemed to shift in his hold, “We’ve both been busy, so…” He trailed off, as if it were unnecessary for him to finish speaking.
Japan nodded though, could not help but do so, as he stared at the half-completed sentence of the transcript he had been working on; “I suppose… Have you been well?” His computer chimed an incoming message, but he chose to ignore it.
“Mm, well,” Greece hummed, “I’m managing. The cats are doing fine as well.” He added as an afterthought, before Japan could ask.
Another unseen nod, as fingers twisted into the folds of his yukata while the cursor onscreen moved around; click click. “I am sorry you are facing such difficult times right now. I…”
He trailed off, unsure as to how he was supposed to offer help to the other nation. It was not like they never faced issues with their own people - so many conflicting views and emotions, it was almost sad to see them fighting - and he was certain Greece would get through it. Like any other time.
Still, the guilt could not be swept away so easily.
“Japan?”
“Hm?” He stopped, blinked (ignored Italy’s email for the time being; it was not of high importance, after all, but he did enjoy such simple interactions), “Ah, I apologise.”
“No, you don’t need to apologise, I…” A yawn.
“Am… am I keeping you up late? If so…” Japan shifted in his seat, a fresh wave of guilt almost overwhelming him at the fact. But he had been careful to call at a respectable time on both sides, so…
Greece chuckled at this, as if knowing what was on Japan’s mind; “Don’t mind me. I’m enjoying this.”
“Eh?”
“I mean, talking to you.” It would not have surprised Japan if the other nation was smiling now. The cats seemed to be closer as well, clamouring about as they meowed into the phone, “I think they know who I’m talking to.”
Japan could not completely wipe the smile off his own face at the thought, “That would be impossible, Greece-san.”
“I wonder…”
Thoughtful silence, as Greece considered his words once more. Shifting in his seat, Japan turned away from the computer screen, watching the patterns created on the floor as sunlight filtered through.
“Perhaps…” he began slowly, hearing the nation on the other end hum, “if it is not too much of a problem for you, if I were to visit… I mean-”
“It is rather beautiful, this time of year. It would be nice to see you again as well,” Greece said, effectively cutting through the beginning of Japan’s panicked explanation of his words.
“Is that so. Then…” Japan stopped, as he caught sight of a recently sent email. With a muttered curse, he opened it, “I apologise, Greece-san, something urgent has come up, and I-”
“Hn, you don’t need to apologise. Just call when you have the time.”
“Y-yes…” Japan made no attempt to mask his smile, as he opened another window to compose his message, “Goodbye, then.”
“Goodbye.”
Click. The line went dead, as he set his phone aside. Rubbing his temples gently, Japan slid the chair closer to his desk, ready to deal with the problem and get it out of his way as soon as possible.
And then, once it was out of the way, he would-… Japan squashed the thoughts for the time being, as sunlit patterns on the floor remained ever changing, while time moved on.
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I teared up at part 9. FFFF you capture them so so well!
/sobs tears of happiness into Kleenex
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