Trust is Dangerous- Russia x Germany

Illusions and Phantasms

After I showed Germany the nice little park, he was determined to find a place that was even better. Sometime last week he had told me about a new exhibition of art opening up on campus and asked me if I'd like to go. I was a bit picky with what I liked, but I didn't decline, and he seemed very happy that I accepted his offer. It had finally stopped raining, and many of the students were spending as much time as possible outside. Iceland and I were sitting outside under the lush pines in our courtyard, talking about stuff. Work, weather, other insignificant small talk, the usual. Iceland liked to wrap up the conversation by asking me when I was going to marry Germany. My usual response would be pinching the back of his neck till he abated. And repeat that cycle forever. That's the extent of my friendship with Iceland. Not that he's a bad person, just annoying sometimes. He's told me a bunch of times that I'm his only real friend, and it was understandable, since not many people ice fish, live on Skyr yogurt, and herd goats. He told me that he finally chose a major, and was going to go for Geology. I wished him luck with his rocks. He wasn't really interested in going to see the arts exhibition, since he had to both catch up in work and he didn't like it anyway. I would agree on that, but I didn't voice my complaint. The exhibition was to open tomorrow night, and Germany had been able to rope in Japan, who had talked America into going as well.

"So at what time is this thing again?" Iceland picked at the bark of our tree.

"You want to go now?" I teased.

"No. Just asking."

"Tomorrow, at about eighteen thirty."

"That's late," he commented. "Really."

"It's after many tutoring and after school activity sessions. Convenient."

"Who would want to see art," he said the word 'art' with disdain. I shrugged in reply, but I said nothing. A wind came through the pines, chilling after the warm bout back in February. It made my shoulders rise involuntary, and Iceland pressed himself closer to the trunk. "It's way too cold,"

"Didn't you live in iceberg land?" I asked in a cocky tone.

"Uh, don't you live in snow land too?" He snapped back, but not in an aggressive tone. I've not seen Iceland get angry very much. He was almost like a glittery icy lake. Half frozen, calm, and unruffled. I sometimes wished that I had his nonchalant attitude, calmness inside, and the ability to bounce back from a scorching remark. I felt that inside me, a fire roared, one that only got satisfied after I released it. Even the slightest brush stroke could trigger my firestorm, and other was no way to know who would get caught under it. I still haven't recovered from my wracking guilt over Japan. Even though it seemed that she did.

I continued to talk to not seem like I dropped the conversation. "We don't always have snow,"

"See? We don't always have ice everywhere," he reasoned. "And it's not the temperature. It's the wind."

"Wind makes all the weather," I parroted my father's phrase. He would say to dress for the breezes, not based on how cold it would be. With this, he seldom ever got sick.

"Definitely does," Iceland nodded. "Hey, what time is it? I have absolutely no idea."

I looked at my old wristwatch. "Soon to be seventeen,"

"Ah, great. I should probably start my chemistry work." He heaved himself up and left. "It's gotten to be hard. Atomic valance is now in my dreams. Last night I dreamed of being chased by hydrogen atoms." After he saw me laugh, he shook his head. "I'm serious!"

"I never have dreams of being chased by essays, even though it plausible," Again, I used Mr. UK's word of the day. It might be stupid and repetitive to do that, but I felt more confident in my own speech and writing when he did that. Not that I told anyone I needed help. Just....implicit gratitude. After Iceland left, I dozed off for a bit, only to be awoken by a dumb comment, courtesy of America, and the stream of responses from Japan. By the time I decided to leave myself, it became dark and I headed upstairs to where Iceland made a huge mess with all of his papers. He was scrunched up over his homework, and didn't move till he finished his poor job. He slithered off of his chair and moped into the kitchen, where I decided I would make something instead of going down to the dining hall. I didn't feel in a good mood to be in an echoing and loud hall, being pestered on how my day went. Iceland appreciated my cooking enough to scoff down everything I gave him. He wasn't picky with his food. He pushed a chair over to me, sat down, and laid his head on the counter. "Well, hello." I prodded him with the end of my spoon.