Why Don't You Call Me Big Brother?

Why do I want you to call me "big brother"?

"Yao-san? Why do you want me to call you big brother?"

Why? Well, truthfully hearing you call me any kind of loving name would make me happy. But I knew you'd never call me husband, boyfriend, or even lover so I had to settle on something. After the war ended I was more worried than anything. I was worried that this was then end of us, then end of sharing sweet moments, holding each other for comfort. I was so worried that this was the end of you loving me...

Russia tried to cheer me up once, convincing me that one day we'd set this aside and once again spend our time gazing at the moon. As the years went on we have grown closer, although there still seems to be this odd distance between us. It's almost like this thin wall of glass is sitting between us, every time we come together. I can't see it, but it's bluntly felt when and only when I try to get close to you. It's every single time, that polite smile, those one worded answers and that gently spoken "yes, Yao-san." When coming from you it almost seems forced, and it stings.

"Call me big brother!" I'll often say in return. Sometimes it's out of pride, like laughing after a fall. Of course it hurt, but allowing a pained expression to show on your face would be far worse. Other times I'm just grabbing at nothing. Hoping that if I search the empty space long enough, I might find your hand, waiting and willing to help me back to my feet. That maybe you'd see that little hit of seriousness in my eyes and just maybe play along to comfort me.

You never did. To be honest, I never expected you too. "Do you think I'm cute?" "Will you spend the spring festival with me?" False hope will often fill me during those times. You of course never fall for it, only glaring at me and calling me out for acting strange. On good days, I'll laugh it off and pretend that I was only joking. On the not so good ones I'll simply say "Call me big brother..." Still hoping that you'll look up, see the wanting in my eyes and just try to crack the glass, if only a little.

But you like that glass don't you? You like the separation it brings. You like being close enough to see me smile, cry, laugh without the need or responsibility to do anything about it. That's okay, I understand. It won't stop me from trying though, nothing can. Trying gives me hope, hope that I need to get through seeing you.

So why do I want you to call me big brother? Because I want to be with you, but know you'll never return my feelings.