CHAPTER 17: The Rift Of Knowledge

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RUSSIA
"No, nothing much," Russia said, still wincing. "Just UN Representative workers out to get us. Daily occurance."

"What?" China's expression fell. "How— who— how do you know?

"I saw them," Russia blanched. "I'd recognize that shade of blue anywhere." 

China looked to the ground, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed down the queasiness. "But they're gone now?"

"Yeah. I hope so."

"Then... just keep it between us for now," China sighed. "No reason to trouble anyone else too much."

"It's really like we're on the run, aren't we?" Russia laid his head back on the seat pillow, the same way he used to do when they were back at school — rueful reminder of the school life bygone.

"It's cause we are," China laughed. "We'll have to cover up our tracks now. UN's really serious about this, clearly. I do wonder," he said, his voice trailing off like contrails as he pursed his lips, dark eyes crinkling slightly at the edges.

In some ironic way, the thrill of being a runaway was adrenaline. And maybe it came with its share of good deals as well. But inherently, Russia couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness that he just really didn't know how to get rid of.

And he didn't know what it was for. For him to miss a life that had turned out to be fake the whole time — it was odd, to say the least. Maybe it was a longing for something that had never been, something that had been lost ever since.

What was the word for that again?

AMERICA
He rose from a pretty satisfactory slumber by another one of the laggy announcements from the overhead speakers. The attention of the group cast to the ceiling, where the man's voice was blaring yet again — they had arrived at New Haven.

Please do not forget all of your belongings, the transportation enterprise will not provide any compensation for lost goods. Have a good afternoon in New Haven, and thank you for taking our line. America groaned, stretching his arms and shoving Japan to one side, who had a litany about complaints about manspreading and loud breathing and did not stop until they had long left the station.

"Yale, huh," Germany said, putting a hand to his forehead to block the sun. "How far are we?"

"Just around the corner," Poland replied, pulling up a map on his phone. "Oh, right there," he said suddenly, and stopped in his tracks as the directions seemingly ended. When there was no further response from him, heads moved up and to Yale University before them. 

"Wow," South blurted in awe.

Yale was no exception to the beauty of an Ivy League campus. Green flora spread out all across in patches and fields when you looked down, and towering looking towers with spires took up the skies, making for a medieval-looking set of buildings and a fantastical atmosphere. Students ambled to and fro, either in summer school programs or jumbled into the masses of tourists on group sessions, all dreaming of the idea of school life in the heart of New Haven. Germany looked stunned.

"It really is gorgeous," he breathed. "Must be why so many people want go to there."

"You guys think if I got the admissions team to fall in love with me they'd let me in?" America grinned.

"I'd file a restraining order if it was me," South said, and he broke out into a run, laughing, when America tried to land a flying kick on him.

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