A Silent Wish

☆

Russia's birthday was never really something he looked forward to. Throughout his long, endless life, his birthdays had either been empty and void of anyone bar him or had just been all-together uncomfortable. He did enjoy when his sisters were there to celebrate it with him and it was nice seeing Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia all there around the table, his house feeling warm and full as they ate dinner together.

But he saw how uncomfortable they were. He saw that they were afraid. Any feeling of happiness fled as soon as he saw their faces. So he stopped asking them to join him.

But that wasn't to say he didn't want to enjoy his birthday.

He longed to have a party as big and bold as America's or one that was filled with dancing, happy people like France's. Even a small get-together would be nice, as long as his guests were there as friends; as people who want to be there.

It had been a tiring day at work. The snow came down heavily outside, covering the grounds outside the building. As they packed up America complained about the coldness and France, for once, forewent fashion to cover himself in the warmest clothes he could find (and ended up looking like a rounded snowman, which caused Russia to laugh to himself).

A few people said a "Happy birthday" here and there, Germany saying it as he passed, not really wanting to make eye contact it seemed but Russia took it happily. Italy had come up to him, arms waving with a smile on his face, wishing him a happy birthday before he left to join the rest of the Axis. The larger country thought it was a shame how the Axis would wish him a happy birthday whereas his own Allies took time, only just remembering to do so.

England hadn't said a word, keeping to himself during the meeting, his mind seemingly somewhere else entirely. He had on his usual clothes, his green uniform, no sign of a scarf or hat, or anything to keep him warm in the harsh weather outside, which was highly unusual of the man. Russia had noted that the Briton had left far earlier than usual, saying he could go over someone's notes from the meeting later, insisting it was important.
He made a face while thinking about how silly and odd it was, watching his back leave the room, wondering what could have been so attached to England's mind that he had forgotten to wrap up as he usually would. England of all people should know to wrap up in the cold as the cold was not kind.

The wind came at him fiercely as he left the building, his scarf fluttering behind him wildly. He pressed his scarf over his mouth and had to squint to see while he trudged through the snow to his car, listening to the loud chattering of the other countries behind him. He saw that England's car was gone and had a feeling in his stomach that he couldn't quite describe or get rid of but he ignored it for the sake of a warm car with warm, cozy air conditioning.

Finally making it home, he none too gently shoved the key into the lock to hurry and get indoors when he noticed the door was unlocked, the door opening slightly as he pushed against the lock. It made his heart jump with sudden fear. Someone had broken into his home? On his birthday of all days? Somewhere in his mind he wondered if it was his sister, Belarus; perhaps she had snuck in and was in there waiting for him. Somewhere deeper he wondered where England had gone.

Slowly opening the old, wooden door, flinching when it let out a loud creak, he made his way indoors. He felt a shiver go through his body as warm air went over him, the house filled with a pleasant air, something he hadn't felt for such a long time.

There were noises coming from the living room.

Rusting, shuffling. The creak of his favourite chair being sat on.

Shutting the door behind him (and remembering to lock it this time), he shuffled over to the living room door, looking down at his snow-covered shoes and the glow of a fire seeping under the door.