Neon Lights & Dangerous Heights

The Letter

I'm getting worried, and it's time we do something about it.

Well, stress was eating at Russia too, even though he didn't know what the problem was about. As he looked around the house, all of his siblings were getting the house ready with tinsel and fixing up the last of the lights that still needed to be hung. Everywhere he went, rays of joy and peace shone on everybody's faces.

He rubbed his hands together, somehow feeling cold and distant from their inner warmth. Normally, he wouldn't be like this. He would have either been in the kitchen, grinning at the stories his siblings told him, or maybe helping his brothers fix some electrical issue that always sprang up last-minute. But how could he even think about the upcoming celebration of Christmas when there was a country waiting for him out there, trying to talk to him?

Maybe, though, he should listen to
Ukraine's advice and take a little breather. It wouldn't do well to concern his guests. He was well aware that they were already hesitant to come, but for the sake of their unstable friendship, they would.

As he walked to the closet and pulled out a thick, fur coat from inside and slipped it over him, he went over the guest invitation inside his head. Canada, whom he severely distrusted, was coming, much to Ukraine's delight. The two were the best of friends, and if Canada's small glances he made when he thought nobody was looking meant anything, maybe they were more. And, Canada was a fine country, soft spoken and well mannered, but he was brothers with him. Brothers with an abomination that sprung up with one desire which was to create as much havoc as he could manage with his nimble little fingers.

Relax, relax, he snapped at himself, unclenching his fists. He wasn't coming. He was out there, somewhere, still as elusive since the first day that Russia had ever met him. Of course he wished to know that this wanted man was behind bars and locked away safely, but since he couldn't, he just had to be content with the fact that he wasn't here at least.

The unknown was very big. There was a lot of space for a person like him to get lost inside of it and never return.

Breathing deeply through his nose, he slipped a set of yammering keys into his pocket and clutched the handle of the door, almost jerking it open.

Wow, I really am tightly wound up, he thought, moving his shoulders around to ease them a bit. Making sure he shut the door with more gentleness than he had opened it, he stuck the keys in the lock and shut his eyes, languishing in the crisp, cold air of winter. The sharp air was all around him, chiding him for not covering himself head to toe in warm fabrics as his face shone through. It was persistent in its duty, to freeze everybody and often went into rampages when it couldn't succeed. It was funny, always hiding everything in its lush pillows of fresh snow, but it could be cruel, too, freezing up the road with a mean glimmer.

Whatever it was, it was beautiful, and it always filled Russia with a sense of himself and homecoming. Sure, snow was difficult and hard to understand, but he didn't become a detective to understand the known. He wanted to crack the unknown and have answers for everything else.

Blinking open his eyes, he pulled his ushanka lower onto his head and tramped off through the sidewalk that he had uncovered just that morning. It glimmered in the bright light, winking and practically begging him to slip on it, to have a little fun.

"Maybe laterrr," he mumbled, rolling out his r's a little more than he needed. English wasn't a hard language for him, as a lot of other countries used it too, but sometimes his native language would pop out in the middle of his speech. Not like he was one hundred percent fluid in English, though.

When he got off the sidewalk and onto the main path, his boots crunched the snow underfoot, making a satisfying little noise that he liked to hear, and he continued to think about all the guests who were invited.