Saudade | CountryHumans RusAme

CHAPTER 12: Until I Can Go No Farther

CANADA
It took him a little while to fall asleep that night, and not even South's timely breathing lulled him to slumber.

It was the homesickness that hit like a brick, he surmised, because no longer did France shuffle in to check if he was asleep at midnight and no longer did Britain's morning whirr of the tea kettle wake him up at the break of dawn.

"South," he attempted to whisper, but he had completely passed out, so Canada decided maybe it would be best if he tried to sleep as well.

One, two, three. He tried counting sheep, an old childhood tactic, but the thought of sheep morphed into brain scans and punches and alliances and odd, white areas of nothingness.

★

CHINA
"Dude, it's literally eight am," Russia groaned, his voice gravelly from a good night's rest. "What in the motherland's name are you doing?"

"I'm here too," Germany offered, raising a hand without looking up from his phone, and Russia jumped. "Oh god. I didn't see you there. Please do me the favor of alerting me of your presence next time," he muttered, breathing hard, and Germany chuckled.

"Okay, recap," China said, his hands on his chin. He had laid out on a small coffee table a timeline of events, the note from the mysterious trio, and all the brain scans and documents he had brought with him. "We were created sometime recently, like, somewhere near the present day." He circled a part with a red marker. "In school, we were taught about all the historical events before our creation. But sometime, between present day and our creation, we were wiped of what we remember." A pause. "Okay, I'm going to commit unspeakables. None of this is organized or makes sense."

"Who are you telling this to?" Russia said, looking around curiously.

"Myself," China said, looking slightly constipated.

"Dude, if you're stressed, just play Mario Kart," America offered, strolling into the room with a serious case of bed hair. His golden curls, normally styled to perfection like France, were completely out of place and thrown to all sides, like he had tossed and turned a thousand times trying to fall asleep.

Russia stared.

"Get used to it," America sighed, making himself a cup of coffee. "I'm still holding out on the Mario Kart offer."

China frowned. "And where are you going to find the right devices to play Mario Kart?"

America grinned. "I have my ways."

Sighing, China went back to his map, and Russia took the spot by the kitchen in an attempt to make brunch — just as South traipsed into the room, rubbing his eyes drowsily. "Something smells weird," he muttered.

"I haven't even made anything yet," Russia said incredulously. "China, do I really need to make breakfast for these guys?"

"We don't want your breakfast," South drawled before collapsing onto the couch next to Germany and dozing off again. Russia looked at him, one eyebrow raised as his left hand gripped a kitchen knife. China apologetically pried it out of his hands.

"You know what, the table's long enough," America said. "I and my friends can make stuff for ourselves and you guys make your own thing. Yeah?"

Russia nodded in agreement and the room sank into silence again, the occasional cough piercing through the soft crackles of the stove.

★

By the time the rest of the Representatives were up (North woke up looking like he had just came back from a war zone, Japan and Ukraine entered the room completely presentable to the public, Poland arrived looking significantly more awake because he had napped in the car yesterday, and Canada's only worry was that they didn't have maple syrup here), the fresh smell of fruits, toast, porridge, omelettes and pancakes wafted through the air. Seemingly, everyone caught on to the invisible divide in between the two groups at the table, and during breakfast it was like mealtime at Global High again ⎯ just in closer proximity.