Soviet's POV
I had to answer the door when France had arrived.
It had been a busy day, I suppose. Britain spending time with his sons. They are wild children, and I applaud Britain greatly, but he seemed to have had fun looking after them. It made me happy to see him happy.
But as I said, they are wild children, and it tired them all out, running around and nearly breaking things. Actually, they did break things. The kids seemed to be trying to break things on purpose. So, Britain searched through the house to find things he didn't want or weren't working, and took them outside for the kids to break.
Wild children.
They were all so tired, they went to watch a movie and fell asleep on the living room couch. Huddled together. It was sweet, really.
It made me think of my kids.
God, I feel so guilty.
I promised to take them in and take care of them in a new family then... just abandoned them...
It wasn't that I left them in a forest or that, it was that... I was continuing my life without paying attention to anyone else. Like, nothing anyone said I would hear; nothing anyone did I would see, but I did, I just didn't react to it.
And eventually, the kids left.
They were old enough to and I just did... nothing.
What I would give to say sorry to them.
To tell them I've moved on and have started a new with someone else.
France seems a bit confused to see me answer the door.
"You're still staying here?" She asks.
To me, that sounded like a pretty stupid question.
"Yes." I say, "I'm staying with boyfriend who needs the company."
"Needs? Do you not just see it as attention seeking?"
"You, ma'am, are definition of ignorant person." I say, annoyed at her words.
She continues to just stare at me, seemingly angered, but soon looks away to look inside the house, as if expecting for someone to be there or suddenly appear.
"They've fallen asleep." I say to her.
"Oh." She mutters, she appears to ponder something before continuing, "I don't want to wake them, they're a nightmare to put to sleep, do you think they could stay the night? I'll pick them up in the morning."
"That's a question which should really be asked Britain but—"
"Wow, so you two really are serious."
"Excuse me?"
"I thought it was some joke to make me feel jealous, it was the reason I was confused. But he would never allow you to call him Britain if you two weren't really close." France explains.
It's my turn to just stare at her.
Did she really think it was a joke?
Why would anyone think that?
That's so weird...
Is it a popular thing to do that and think that?
How long have I been living at my house with no knowledge of what modern trends would be like?
Modern trends?
Is that even right?
She's confused? I'm more confused than her.
"I'm choosing to ignore that. I think Britain would fine with kids staying night. It's nice for him to see his kids and... all." I say.
"Ah, yes, thanks." She says as if not even appearing like she heard the answer.
I suppose she is the type of person that doesn't accept anything until it's her way and only hears what she wants to hear.
"I'll be off then." said France.
She goes to turn around but I just want to ask her one quick thing.
"Hey, France!" I shout and she turns back around, seemingly annoyed though trying not to show it.
"Yes?" She asks impatiently.
"I was wondering if, well, I heard conversation with Britain, obviously, and—if right—there's another child, isn't there?" I ask.
"Yes, we have one more son." France says, nodding.
"Do think you could maybe get him visit, I think it would be good for Britain see them, or maybe at least tell him—truthfully—about what's happened?" I ask.
It might be a stretch for France but I'm hoping she has enough good in her heart for this.
(Autocorrect done corrected that to 'food in her heart' and I'm a bit worried)
If not, I've made up my mind about fully disliking her.
"Um," France mutters before pausing to think. She lets out a sigh before she continues, "Yeah, I'll try and see if I can talk to him, I can't promise he'll visit. It wasn't just the divorce that made him leave the house, him and his father have some bad history."
"Literally or more so metaphorically?" I ask.
France seems surprised for me to be talking with such large words. I get this quite a lot when speaking to new people. But If you don't understand a big word you just use it randomly, some asshole will correct you, that's what we do.
"Both kinda. When they get on well, they get on really well. But they haven't gotten on well for a long, long time now." France said, and I can almost hear some sadness in her voice, although she quickly covers it up.
"So he might not visit, but I don't really know."
"I see." I said, "it would just be nice, but won't keep you any longer, bye." I say to her.
"Yeah, bye." She mutters and we both turn in the opposite direction. France walking to her car and me closing the door as I step into the house.
===================================
Britain's POV
"Heya, Britain. You've got visitor."
I'm once again being woken up by Soviet.
"A visitor?" I ask, tiredly rubbing my eyes.
"Yep, didn't expect it be at this time but thought it would be important for you be awake." Soviet says.
"Who's visiting?" I ask him.
"Uh, it can stay surprise."
"Surprise?"
Soviets beginning to kind of confuse me.
"Where'd the kids go?" I ask Soviet now realising they're not in the room with us.
"France had arrived to pick them up since she wanted let them sleep, so they're all outside" Soviet said. "And visitor tagged along with her." He adds on.
"It's not her boyfriend, is it?" I ask in a really uninterested tone.
"No. I wouldn't wake you up for that." Soviet responds.
Thank heavens it's not.
"I suppose I'll see who it is then." I say and stand up.
I look at Soviet.
"Why do you have to be so tall?"
He smiles at that.
"Why do you have to be so short?" He responds.
"I'm average." I argue.
Soviet has the audacity to then crouch down to put his face right in front of mine and in a tone go,
"Uh-huh, really?"
"Oh, if I didn't love you." I say quite annoyed.
"What? You'd—"
"I'm going to stop you before you say whatever you're going to say because your ushanka is looking mighty fine for steeling, if you do." I cut off Soviet.
Soviet takes his ushanka off his head and places it on top of mine.
"What? Are you gonna squeak angrily at me in your cute little pipsqueak voice~?" Soviet continues what he was saying before.
I stare annoyedly at Soviet.
"Well, that hurt my feelings." I say.
"Wait, no, that's not what I was meaning to do, I'm sorry." Soviet panics and pulls me into a hug.
"Ha, that didn't hurt my feelings at all, Soviet." I say to reassure him.
"Wait, что?"
I look to Soviet, I didn't understand what he said.
"What?"
"What?"
"... Pardon?"
"No, что means what."
"Ohhhh," I say in understanding. "Yeah, I just lied because I knew you would react like this."
"That cuddle?" Soviet asks.
"No, this is a bonus." I reply.
"I think you should go see guest now." Soviet says.
"Yeah, we probably should." I say and we both pull out of the hug to go and see the guest.
I ponder on who it could be, but I can't really seem to come to a conclusion.
We soon get to the front door. Oh the joyous place of the front door.
The door is open as we walk up to it, and through the open door...
There I see... Someone I haven't spoken to in a very long time.
I freeze as I see him.
What is he doing here?
Why is he here?
Was it voluntarily? No, there's no way it was...
He spots me and we both hold silent eye contact, probably both with the same facial expression of not knowing what to do.
"Um... heya... son." I say slowly.
"Hey... well... uh, Dad."
This is probably the most awkward reunion.
He begins to walk up to me.
"Yeah, Uh, France told me about, well, about everything and... Canada, added onto that, and after hearing from them both, especially Canada, I..." he begins to start tearing up. "I didn't know that you were in that situation. I was so horrible and, I just, no one ever told me and... it's my fault 'cause I never even asked... I'm sorry... I was selfish to think you could just put someone through all you were put through without any consequences happening to that person. I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
"Hey, hey, slow down," Britain cuts off his son gently. "There's no need to apologise. We've all made mistakes, we've all done things we wish we could take back—trust me; but don't dwell on those mistakes—keep moving forward and focus on the present, on the things important to you. And, America..." Britain lifts a hand up to rest on America's cheek, "You have no idea how important you are to me, son."
America begins to tear up more and I pull him in for a hug, he is a bit too distressed to instantly hug back but then slowly does.
I'm keeping myself from crying, it's using all of my strength.
Sometimes you don't want to forgive people for what they've done to you, but at the same time, forgiveness is needed if you want to finally have peace with that.
But, of course, forgiveness isn't needed for every situation cause if you take the last cookie from my cookie jar purposefully hidden in my room, I will never forgive you. Not even in the after life.
"You need a little breather?" I ask America.
"Yeah." He replies.
"Okay, this way, we'll just go down the hall a bit." I lead America.
I just felt like it would be easier to stomach if we're not being stared at by everyone.
"Well, even at this point I can see you've grown." I begin with a smile.
I want to cheer America up.
"That's a bit of a cliché thing to say." America responds.
Did he really just say that?
"I'm trying." I say.
"Yeah, I... well, I guess I've just got quite a sharp tongue."
"Indeed, you do." I confirm.
"Are you getting on better now?" America asks me.
"Yeah, I would say so. It's difficult when sleeping and sometimes I just feel really down with no way of really being able to feel something opposite. But having someone here with me has helped."
"Oh yeah, mom told me about how you and—"
"Wait, she actually told you?" I cut off America in surprise.
"No, she didn't, that was just a test, spill the tea, Dad." America says, quite happy with how that played out.
I frown at him.
"You always were a trickster." I say.
America smiles at my words.
There we go, I got him to smile.
"Truth is, I am in a new relationship." I say.
I'm not too sure if I'm as comfortable telling America about all of this.
"Really?! With who?!" America says as if excited and surprised.
"Not too sure if I'm ready to spill that much tea." I said.
"Awww." America whines disappointedly.
"It'll be easy for you to figure out anyway, just, try not to be so 'woah, I can't believe it, I need to shout this at the top of my lungs to everyone I know'—please."
"Yeah, I promise not to do that." America says.
I then continue to ask America the same stuff I did Canada. He's getting on as well as Canada, too. He's just not in a relationship, or he's not telling me the truth, but, come on, I told him, it's only fair he tells me.
I'm happy all my sons seem to be getting on so well.
After the catch up, however, America, Kiwi, Australia and France need to go. I say goodbye to them (more enthusiastically to my kids than my ex-wife but that's for a good reason).
The it's just me, Soviet and Canada again.
"That was sweet, Britain." Soviet says to me.
"I was hoping it was, I wanted to be a proper parent in that situation." I say.
"You were, now, I go make food." Soviet says.
He's definitely enjoying having a kitchen full of more ingredients and equipment than at the cabin.
"Great." I say happily.
We all begin to walk back inside the house. I let Soviet go in first do I can quickly stop Canada and ask something.
"Hey, Canada." I say and grab his attention.
"Yeah, Dad?"
"Do you know any of these countries?" I ask and pull out a list from my pocket.
Canada looks at the list.
"Yeah, I know them," Canada says and points to a certain name. "Why?"
"Good, I just was planning something,"
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I finally finished my English essay and this chapter and now I just want peace for my soul, please...
I apologise that this is quite late.
Anyway...
Stay Safe and...
Have A Nice Life!
Word Count: 2293