Tʜᴇ Isʟᴀɴᴅ Iɴ Bᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ

Tʜᴇ Sᴛᴀʀ Oғ Iᴠʏᴍᴀʟʟᴏᴡ

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2

"So vould you like some vater or uh, vodka?"

The man shook his head, his eyes ogling at the many dirty dishes and spilled food. His posture was stiff, as though if he were to relax, he would somehow end up with stains on his blue waistcoat. "You wouldn't happen to have any tea would you? It is awfully cold in this area." The man asked as he finally met Russias gaze.

Though Russia broke it almost instantaneously. He couldn't bare to look at his clean, glowing face. It was too much to handle when he knew he was disgusting in comparison. "If it's not a problem of course." The visitor reiterated, waving his hand almost as if to dismiss his first request.

Russia nodded, then turned away to retrieve a teabag, mug and to put the kettle on. He had never really liked tea, though he had tried many times to enjoy it. His pathetic attempts were the only reason he actually had teabags, he never really knew why he didn't just throw them out. But he didn't, guess he was lucky to actually have some.

"So Russia. You missed the meeting again today. Would you like to talk about your absence?" The man asked, his head tilted to watch as Russia placed the kettle on its holster, before switching it on.

The Russian physically winced. He was afraid to be asked that. Truth be told he had no reason for his behaviour, for his forced misery. He was just inexplicably sad, and he couldn't figure out why.

Russia breathed in, then open his lips to answer, his back still to the man. "Vell I-"

"Are you okay?"

Russia froze. Whatever it was he had been about to say had been lost. He hadn't been expecting that, he was waiting to be yelled at, called a piece of shit and then perhaps hit over the head. Then the man would leave with a threat to do much worse if he didn't show up again.

But alas. It seems as though he might never be right, he would always stay cursed to be wrong.

"Yeah," Russia breathed, "I'm fine." He could hear the man sigh, it was obvious he didn't believe Russia. But the Russian had no idea how to tell him the truth. There wasn't a single reason for his depression, it just existed in him. And he had no idea how it came to be, nor how to fight. He simply sat down, and let it happen. And he couldn't tell the man why he had done that.

"Are you sure?" The man asked again, this time more pressing. But Russia nodded his head slowly, "yeah, everything is fine." He muttered, his head low in shame.

Thats when the kettle popped, breaking the tense atmosphere with a strong shudder. The Russian country lifted his head, and reached out for the kettle, poured some water, and made the man tea. All the while neither of them spoke a word, which only made Russia feel all the more self conscious.

Hugging the mug between his hands, the Russian walked over to where the man sat, then placed the cup down in front of him, to which he quietly muttered a 'thank you.' Russia then sat himself down opposite his guest, his eyes drilling themselves into the counter.

"Now I think you know why I'm here." The man started before he took a sip of his tea. Opting Russia to glance at him for a split second before he looked back down. "However I need you to look at me while I speak to you."

Russia internationally grimaced. Oh god he messed up again. He was already annoying his visitor and he had only just arrived. With a heavy heart, Russia finally met the mans gaze and held it. Taking in his vitalised blue face overlapped by multiple white rings and a perfectly drawn map of the world. His ironed white shirt and tie, his pristine blue waistcoat, the white leaved halo around his well groomed blue hair. At long last he acknowledged the man's name, UN, United Nations.