More Than a Dream (COUNTRYHUMANS AU)

Brothers

South and CP, well, North's conscious thoughts, had some heartfelt discussions about the twin life.

"What's it like being the favorite?" CP ventured. South hesitated. South's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, reminiscing about a life that once thrived with sibling rivalry and shared laughter.

"It's not as great as you might think," South admitted. "Sure, there were perks, but the expectations and constant comparisons could be suffocating. Always living in the shadow of someone else's approval."

"So, being like North, but to the people who expect great things from you." CP tried to process the answer South had given them. "Must be tough." Russia's consciousness within CP understood South, though she wasn't the favorite child. She was the oldest and was predisposed to high expectations.

"It's almost suffocating sometimes." South admitted. "I'm only majoring in engineering because Dad made me." He sighed. "Otherwise, I'd be a musician." The clinking of the shard glass river filled the silence as South and CP subconsciously held hands.

The symphony of glass shards beneath their feet accompanied their shared moment of vulnerability. CP, embodying the amalgamation of North and Russia, found a flicker of peace in South Korea's candid admission. Together, they navigated not just the surreal landscape but also the colorful complexities of sibling dynamics and the shared weight of familial expectations.

"That reminds me: Isn't Oki's birth name Ryukyu?" North interjected to the silence.

"Actually, it's Luchu, but you know how we get confused with L's and R's in this family." South corrected.

CP and South Korea continued their stroll through the whimsical landscape, the glass shards beneath their feet creating a melody that resonated with the fragments of their shared consciousness. As CP's voice interjected, the conversation meandered into the realm of names and familial intricacies.

"Ryukyu, Luchu, Oki—what's the story behind the names?" CP (Russia's side) inquired, curious about the nuances within their family tapestry.

South Korea chuckled. "Our naming conventions are a bit of a mess. Ryukyu is the old name for Okinawa, and Luchu is another pronunciation mix-up. But the real kicker is Oki's birth name—Luchu. It comes from the original Chinese inhabitants."

CP nodded, amused by the linguistic quirks that echoed through Korea's familial history. The glass river shimmered beside them as they continued their journey. South Korea's gaze shifted, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

"You know, names hold more weight than we realize. They carry our history, our identity," South mused. "But sometimes, they can also be a burden."

CP furrowed their brow, prompting South to elaborate. "Oki's name, Ryukyu, carries the weight of a complex history, a mix of tradition and conflict. It's a name that reflects not just her individual identity but also the collective struggles of her land."

As they walked, the glass trees cast intricate shadows on the path, playing with the dappled sunlight. The fusion of North and Russia within CP contemplated the profound significance of names, realizing that in the tapestry of their existence, each name bore the weight of a unique narrative.

South's expression turned introspective. "In the end, though, a name is just a label. It's the person behind it that truly matters. And, well, Oki might be Ryukyu, but she's still our sister."

CP nodded in agreement, acknowledging the truth in South's words. The glass shards beneath their feet seemed to echo the resonance of shared understanding as they continued their journey, the symphony of their footsteps blending with the whispers of their intertwined thoughts.