East Bound - Russia x Germany

Finally at Dixon

I finished my song to find Nikolai, our semi-insane pilot, in tears of joy. I set the guitar down into its old blue case and latched the two clasps back. I wouldn't be singing on this plane anymore. I'm not the forgiving type, and people that tell me to shut up aren't ones that I'm sympathetic to. No matter any circumstance.

"That was a beautiful song!" He cried. "Lovely!"

"Thank you," I said as if I had done nothing. This man was annoying me ever so slightly. His banter was as queer as his behaviour. Hopefully, he wouldn't continue the conversation once he saw my disinterest.

Alas, I am usually wrong. "What is your name? I never asked in the first place." Great. He shouldn't have asked even now.

"Russia," I looked away from him.

"Russia what? Can't really call you by your first name." In no way did I want to give him my full name.

"Sovietovich," I figured giving him my patrimonial name didn't hurt.

"Russia Sovietovich?"

"Yes," I huffed. "Anything else?"

"No. I'm just curious," he sounded offended. "Don't need to get defensive. And your companion?"

"His name is Germany," I told him. "Germany comes from a place where the patrimonial isn't a thing. I said slowly as if teaching a three-year-old. "They say 'Herr' and 'Frau' along with the last name."

"Foreign."

"It's a different world for sure," I muttered under my breath.

"Well, it's nice to know your names, Russia Sovietovich and...Herr Germany." He said with a smile. "As I said, there aren't many foreigners in these places. They mostly congregate at Moskow and St. Petersburg. I guess that makes sense since other places aren't really built for tourism."

"M, yeah," I nodded and ended the conversation with him. Next to me, Germany fumbled with his coat zipper and looked at the floor. Knowing that we still had around two hours to go, I decided to think till I fell asleep. That method usually worked. I didn't need to be threatened again.

What my mind wanted me to think about was Poland. I didn't. I felt a bit guilty at being so carefree when I knew that he was scared beyond wits. It was too late for sorrys and we didn't have cell service to call each other. I didn't even tell him the next part of my plan, so if he did want to catch up, he could. Well, at least he knew about Pevek. Maybe he'd get there. Honestly, I've never seen my new friend so infuriated. He was usually not very emotionally expressive, got worried quickly, but never ever cried or yelled. I had my qualms about what he would do next, but I had to focus on the present moment. Regretting is a bad trait to have. Only my father could wallow in the past and get away with it.

Poland never really changed from the time I met him. The first time we talked was when he cornered me at the mess hall and asked if I went to his university, IUUP. I thought that was so funny that I had to laugh. He must've thought my mind slipped down the rabbit hole. I just was in shock that I knew him. We became friends quickly, bonding over smart remarks, quirky sarcasm, and of course, Quantum mechanics. Unlike the rest of my comrades, I stayed in contact with Poland after we separated. I left for Berlin, and Poland tried his luck in the southeast. We didn't think we'd meet up where we did. I told him about the jobs they have in Sakhalin, and that he should put his hands to work at the large fishing industry there. The pay was innumerable and outweighed the discomfort of the job. He agreed, we met, and now...it all fell apart.

"Russia," Germany's hiss snapped me out of my half-sleep.

"Huh?"

"Maybe you can tell me the next part of our plan, now that we're just minutes away from Dixon?"