Coffee Break

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When Russia entered the break room to make a cup of coffee vodka, he came upon an unexpected but pleasant sight of China sleeping on the sofa with one of his arm thrown over his eyes. For a moment, he stood there lost in thought before shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Without another look at the other nation, Russia walked towards the counter but when he reached it, cursed softly. The coffee pot was empty. He sighed to himself and added more coffee beans to the pot.

As the coffee began brewing, Russia placed both of his hands on the counter and closed his eyes, letting the bitter aroma of coffee fill his nose. The only noise that he could hear was the quiet bubbling of the machine and the soft, steady breathing of the sleeping nation behind him. Unconsciously, Russia felt his gaze drift back to his once long ago lover.

China no longer wore his military uniform or his traditional clothes. Instead he wore a suit to the meeting like everyone else. Russia felt his lips slowly turn upwards in a smile. China must’ve hated wearing the suit, noticing that the other nation tossed his tie and jacket haphazardly over the arm of the sofa, and had his first three buttons undone.

Like a flame to a moth, Russia could feel himself being pulled toward his sleeping southern neighbor. Instead of sitting in the multitudes of chairs in the room, he sat in the chair closest to China, allowing long, black tresses to brush the side of his pants. Russia placed one elbow on the arm of the sofa, resting his cheek against his hand while the other hand idly played with the silky strands. It had grown longer, almost midway down his back now. Russia always did wonder why China grew his hair so long. It made him look more like a woman- something the Chinese nation hated. Russia pressed the ebony hair against his lips, kissing them. Personally, he was glad China grew his hair out. Not because it made him more feminine but because Russia loved the feel of running his fingers through them. China always scolded him for undoing his ribbon, making his hair a mess.

Russia traced the side of his face gently with the hair in his hand. Their relations was better now. At least they were on talking terms and their bosses were trying to tie the two nations economically. However it wasn’t the same. It has never been the same since their split. When they see one another- as they must- they greet each other like strangers, as if they were never lovers, never shared the same bed, bodies, and breath. The time that they were lovers was wrought with war and bloodshed but with each pain and grief, they found comfort in each others’ arms, kissing away the hurt. Pity they reduced their time together as if it was something to be ashamed of, a skeleton in the closet.

From the time Russia took China under his wing, to their split, to now, the nation had changed drastically. Back then he was a weak, powerless nation that only remained free from total colonization because the Europeans allowed it. Now, he was a force to be reckoned with, holding the eyes of the world with the speed of his economic growth. So much has changed in such short a time.

Russia grazed the side of China’s face with the back of his hand. No matter the amount of time that passed, China always looked the same as if time stopped just to preserve this elegant creature. Russia’s fingers touched China’s lips. Did he still taste the same? Still sweet like the taste of honey?

Hesitation wasn’t in his nature and without much thought, Russia claimed the sleeping nation’s lips and sighed in contentment. Yes, it was still sweet as he remembered, perhaps even sweeter. It tasted like sun ripened peaches. Soft, succulent, delicious. It tasted like sunshine and warmth, like heaven. Like everything he needed, wanted; what he missed since his birth, since their split. He could have stayed there forever and allowed the damn world to collapse around him, but he heard the door knob turn and quickly ended the kiss. It wouldn’t do to be seen kissing another nation, especially a sleeping one.

Russia got up to leave the room, forgetting to make his coffee vodka, just as Hong Kong came in. They both murmured their greetings before the larger nation marched off.

Shutting the door behind him Hong Kong sat beside his brother, “How’s your headache, Ge*?”

Instead of answering the younger man, China buried his burning, red face into his hands. Indeed if this headache didn’t kill him, the fevered embarrassment Russia brought on him would. When he heard someone come in, his head was throbbing too hard from him to care who it was. What he didn’t expect was whoever it was to kiss him! Still…the moment the stranger’s lips met his, China knew who it was. You can’t spend a few decades with someone without recognizing their taste. China licked his lips. The kiss tasted like vodka, the vile drink the Russian liked. China himself couldn’t abide the drink but on those lips, he found it intoxicating, addicting even.

China opened his eyes and sat up. Without looking at his brother, China walked towards the counter, fingering the coffee pot handle, “Do you know how to make coffee vodka, Didi*?”

Unperturbed by the sudden question, Hong Kong stood beside his brother, “A little. Why?”

China just smiled and took a stab at making two cups of coffee vodka.