East Bound - Russia x Germany

Ufa

We were back in our compartment, but with an extra guest. The train rocked ever so slightly from side to side, making me sleepy. It was the end of the day after we had been in Saratov, we passed by Samara, where our train stopped for an hour, and our next stop in the morning was to be Ufa, the Bashkir capital. The sun had already almost set, and since we faced the east side, the sky outside was a deep bluish purple. Poland added his own provisions of Viola bread, a leg of cold meat on a bone, flat cubes of beet sugar, and dried cranberries to the table. He kept hanging his hand from the top, which was annoying because I was the one on the bottom. Last night, he had to have a whispered conversation with me. At two thirty in the morning.

"Russia," he loudly whispered from his bunk. I thought it was my dream for a minute before I saw his head appear from above. "Hi."

"Good night," I turned over, not wanting to speak.

"Wait, wait!" He said hurriedly. "Germany's sleeping, right?"

"No duh," I muttered back. "I am too."

"No you're not," he jumped down gracefully from his bunk and sat down on mine. The moonlight washed his face in bright light, his eyes reflecting the outside.

"Now I'm not," I sighed. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to ask. About you and him," he pointed to the sleeping Germany with his thumb. Germany grumbled, but it was muffled because his head was under his pillow. 

I yawned. "So what?"

"Is he your actual friend? Or are you hiding something?" Poland tipped his head to the side so that now I could see his light light blue eyes. "Because I have a feeling like you aren't." And I knew he meant if it was something deeper, not shallower. I was ruffled by his question, because he should know better than to go digging in my emotions. I don't take kindly to people who told me what I have to think or do.

"Listen, I just met this guy in Berlin. I have no idea who he is, what he actually does, what his story is, how he got here, and most importantly, why he's going to Sakhalin," I snapped. "So don't play this game with me. I can't tell you anything more than what he told you."

Poland was unfazed by my rough reaction. I was glad that he was used to it, because after I said so, I felt overwhelmingly guilty. "I don't know really myself, but I just have this inner feeling. It's always correct, and I think you two have more connection than you think."

"And why are we discussing this in whisper tones at two thirty?" I rolled my eyes, shooing him off my bunk.

"Because. I just wanted to tell you this. You are my best friend." He smiled and hoisted himself up to his bed. "Just don't tell him." A few seconds of shuffling around, and then he went still. Asleep. I didn't like to be woken in the middle of the night, because I would start to dream. Usually, they were frustrating or repetitive nightmares. This time, I was surprised. I was an observer, looking out on my former university. It was a warm day, and my heart leaped to see myself, only younger and more self conscious. He walked along a path, straight to me, looking up at the sky to watch a cargo plane fly by. Next to him, which shocked me even more, was Germany. He was smiling widely and holding my younger self's hand. I blinked and plainly stared as they went by. What. I shook my head and tried to follow them, just to frustratingly see that I couldn't. Something was holding me by the wrist, like an invisible chain was shackling me to the ground. It became painful soon enough, like the unseen metal was cutting into me. I moaned in desperation and was flung back into the real world violently. The first thing I saw was the glint of morning light reflecting off of Germany's round glasses. Poland was hanging upside down from his bunk, with a frown on his face.