Sweet Nothings - [5/?]
anonymous
June 4 2009, 05:52:44 UTC
"Are you lost?"
"Not really. I'm just not where I'm supposed to be right now." He ran a hand through his hair, and looked at the box the girl was holding, filled with books. "Are you throwing those away?"
"These are Russian phrasebooks and notes. My boyfriend doesn't need them anymore," she replied, and she seems pretty happy, America thought distantly, Ivan, comes up in his head before he could stop himself. "He picked up Russian two months ago, at least bits and pieces."
You're haunting me everywhere.
America made an 'o' with his mouth. "You're Russian? I'm sorry; I mean, your English is amazing."
"Yes, and thank you. Sometimes I start to talk to him using my mother tongue, because I'm embarassed to let him know how I feel about him." Her cheeks coloured, but she smiled with genuine delight. "Every time I do that, he gives me strange looks, da? But he went to find out what I was really saying. I felt like dying when he repeated what I said, in English. Now, I'm glad he understands, even if he does like to tease me about it."
"That's cute," America said, and he meant it. The girl shrugged. "Do you like calling him anything in particular, if you don't mind me asking?"
She giggled. The small talk was relaxing - it was nice to have a chat with someone who wasn't a nation once in a while, or someone whose life didn't revolve around politics, or someone who he had to keep up appearances with...
"Oh, there is a lot. Dorogoy, most of the time. I love calling him solnyshko, though, because he gets this affronted look on his face like a cat."
His heart stopped.
"He says that 'sunshine' makes him sound like a girl," she elaborated, with her voice oozing with affection. She looked up to America to say more, before stopping. "Are... Are you all right, sir?"
"I..."
... than that, rest assured. Sleep, solnyshko.
He looked down hastily, and the feeling in his chest from before comes back with a vengeance, squeezing his heart until he felt like he couldn't breathe.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? Do you need to sit down, or -"
"I just remembered something, I-I need to go."
"I see -"
"But, ah... Your books - you don't need them, right? I was wondering if, since you aren't using them; there's a friend. He's... He's Russian, too."
Make or break. I need to know.
Do you mean them?
"Ah."
When he looked back, the girl's eyes were warm, in a semblance of understanding - as if she knew.
"Take it, please."
She had a soft, small smile as she handed the box to him, and America was struck at how meaningful it was, and, Ivan, your children are beautiful, just like - just like you.
"Do you want me to pay for it -" He paused at the way she shook her head furiously. "I can't... I... Thank you."
He couldn't be more honest, even if he tried.
"It was nice meeting you, ah... Your name?"
"You can call me Natasha. It was nice meeting you too, Mr. ...?"
"Are you lost?"
"Not really. I'm just not where I'm supposed to be right now." He ran a hand through his hair, and looked at the box the girl was holding, filled with books. "Are you throwing those away?"
"These are Russian phrasebooks and notes. My boyfriend doesn't need them anymore," she replied, and she seems pretty happy, America thought distantly, Ivan, comes up in his head before he could stop himself. "He picked up Russian two months ago, at least bits and pieces."
You're haunting me everywhere.
America made an 'o' with his mouth. "You're Russian? I'm sorry; I mean, your English is amazing."
"Yes, and thank you. Sometimes I start to talk to him using my mother tongue, because I'm embarassed to let him know how I feel about him." Her cheeks coloured, but she smiled with genuine delight. "Every time I do that, he gives me strange looks, da? But he went to find out what I was really saying. I felt like dying when he repeated what I said, in English. Now, I'm glad he understands, even if he does like to tease me about it."
"That's cute," America said, and he meant it. The girl shrugged. "Do you like calling him anything in particular, if you don't mind me asking?"
She giggled. The small talk was relaxing - it was nice to have a chat with someone who wasn't a nation once in a while, or someone whose life didn't revolve around politics, or someone who he had to keep up appearances with...
"Oh, there is a lot. Dorogoy, most of the time. I love calling him solnyshko, though, because he gets this affronted look on his face like a cat."
His heart stopped.
"He says that 'sunshine' makes him sound like a girl," she elaborated, with her voice oozing with affection. She looked up to America to say more, before stopping. "Are... Are you all right, sir?"
"I..."
... than that, rest assured. Sleep, solnyshko.
He looked down hastily, and the feeling in his chest from before comes back with a vengeance, squeezing his heart until he felt like he couldn't breathe.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? Do you need to sit down, or -"
"I just remembered something, I-I need to go."
"I see -"
"But, ah... Your books - you don't need them, right? I was wondering if, since you aren't using them; there's a friend. He's... He's Russian, too."
Make or break. I need to know.
Do you mean them?
"Ah."
When he looked back, the girl's eyes were warm, in a semblance of understanding - as if she knew.
"Take it, please."
She had a soft, small smile as she handed the box to him, and America was struck at how meaningful it was, and, Ivan, your children are beautiful, just like - just like you.
"Do you want me to pay for it -" He paused at the way she shook her head furiously. "I can't... I... Thank you."
He couldn't be more honest, even if he tried.
"It was nice meeting you, ah... Your name?"
"You can call me Natasha. It was nice meeting you too, Mr. ...?"
Reply
Leave a comment