“They’re still suffering, you know,” Japan murmured quietly, staring out into the distance, “even after all these years. Those bombs had quite a drastic effect.”
He hadn’t turned when Greece approached him, hands wrapped around the iron railing that prevented people from falling to their death by accident. The rain overhead hadn’t relented since that morning, and the island nation was completely drenched, although he didn’t seem to notice it.
Still looking out at the buildings that tried to reach the sky, he seemed to be completely absorbed at the sight and Greece stepped a little closer; the hand clasped around the umbrella’s handle was freezing after his almost one-and-a-half hour search.
It had still been completely dark when he had woken up unexpectedly. For reasons he still did not completely comprehend, he had gone to check on Japan, only to notice the other was not there. It had taken him less than fifteen minutes to change and grab an umbrella on his way out, the dead silence of the house too much for him to handle as he sought to locate the other man.
And now here they were, overlooking the land Japan represented as the unseen sun rose and the rain continued to pour down on them.
“War is such an ugly thing,” the island nation mused, “People killing people… I wonder why they do it, sometimes. It all seemed to make so much sense back then, but now…”
He trailed off as Greece finally reached him, the umbrella covering them both. Glancing upwards to meet the other’s eyes, whatever question he had in mind remained unspoken. It seemed, save for the sound of the rain itself, they were shrouded by silence; an area devoid of modernisation while nature slept on, whiling the time away until the clouds parted.
“The world never stops changing, does it?” The Greek’s voice cut through the silence. Even now, it was hard to tell what was really on Japan’s mind - what had prompted him to leave the house so early in the day - but Greece couldn’t bring himself to ask; wasn’t entirely sure if either were really able to handle the answer.
Tilting his head slightly at the question, Japan turned back to the dreary scene before them; “That’s right, isn’t it.” He seemed thoughtful, although his knuckles were white against the railing and he was barely able to suppress his shivering, “Humans are resilient, despite all the hardship. And we may be the only true witnesses to it all.”
With a hum in response, Greece reached forward, brushing back sopping strands of hair that clung to Japan’s face. This received a perplexed look in response, which was readily ignored as he continued in this manner, noting how cold Japan’s skin was against his - how long had he been out here?
“You know,” Japan said, letting go of the railing and catching Greece’s hand in his own (stopping it and- he was freezing), “England-san once told me rain before seven, clear before eleven. I’ve always wondered what he meant by that, if there was any deeper meaning to those words.”
He released his hold on Greece’s hand, who in turn shrugged his jacket off and, despite some rather polite protests, managed to drape it over the other’s shoulders. They remained there, standing and staring out at the scene, the rain pattering overhead.
Japan then shifted a little, catching the other man’s attention, although he didn’t turn to face him: “I suppose we will just have to wait and see if that saying has any merit.” He smiled a little at this, as if a thought had just occurred to him, even as his hands (pale, so pale) gripped at the fabric of Greece’s jacket, drawing it closer to himself.
“Let’s go home,” Greece offered a hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Japan accepted. They both turned away from the scene, walking further away as questions and words remained unspoken - old memories never forgotten while they continued to move towards the future.
'~' This was sad, but in a nice way. Greece~~~~~~~~ I like how you wrote this, and you characterize them really well. ^^ Thanks for filling this prompt with such a lovely writing!
He hadn’t turned when Greece approached him, hands wrapped around the iron railing that prevented people from falling to their death by accident. The rain overhead hadn’t relented since that morning, and the island nation was completely drenched, although he didn’t seem to notice it.
Still looking out at the buildings that tried to reach the sky, he seemed to be completely absorbed at the sight and Greece stepped a little closer; the hand clasped around the umbrella’s handle was freezing after his almost one-and-a-half hour search.
It had still been completely dark when he had woken up unexpectedly. For reasons he still did not completely comprehend, he had gone to check on Japan, only to notice the other was not there. It had taken him less than fifteen minutes to change and grab an umbrella on his way out, the dead silence of the house too much for him to handle as he sought to locate the other man.
And now here they were, overlooking the land Japan represented as the unseen sun rose and the rain continued to pour down on them.
“War is such an ugly thing,” the island nation mused, “People killing people… I wonder why they do it, sometimes. It all seemed to make so much sense back then, but now…”
He trailed off as Greece finally reached him, the umbrella covering them both. Glancing upwards to meet the other’s eyes, whatever question he had in mind remained unspoken. It seemed, save for the sound of the rain itself, they were shrouded by silence; an area devoid of modernisation while nature slept on, whiling the time away until the clouds parted.
“The world never stops changing, does it?” The Greek’s voice cut through the silence. Even now, it was hard to tell what was really on Japan’s mind - what had prompted him to leave the house so early in the day - but Greece couldn’t bring himself to ask; wasn’t entirely sure if either were really able to handle the answer.
Tilting his head slightly at the question, Japan turned back to the dreary scene before them; “That’s right, isn’t it.” He seemed thoughtful, although his knuckles were white against the railing and he was barely able to suppress his shivering, “Humans are resilient, despite all the hardship. And we may be the only true witnesses to it all.”
With a hum in response, Greece reached forward, brushing back sopping strands of hair that clung to Japan’s face. This received a perplexed look in response, which was readily ignored as he continued in this manner, noting how cold Japan’s skin was against his - how long had he been out here?
“You know,” Japan said, letting go of the railing and catching Greece’s hand in his own (stopping it and- he was freezing), “England-san once told me rain before seven, clear before eleven. I’ve always wondered what he meant by that, if there was any deeper meaning to those words.”
He released his hold on Greece’s hand, who in turn shrugged his jacket off and, despite some rather polite protests, managed to drape it over the other’s shoulders. They remained there, standing and staring out at the scene, the rain pattering overhead.
Japan then shifted a little, catching the other man’s attention, although he didn’t turn to face him: “I suppose we will just have to wait and see if that saying has any merit.” He smiled a little at this, as if a thought had just occurred to him, even as his hands (pale, so pale) gripped at the fabric of Greece’s jacket, drawing it closer to himself.
“Let’s go home,” Greece offered a hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Japan accepted. They both turned away from the scene, walking further away as questions and words remained unspoken - old memories never forgotten while they continued to move towards the future.
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