Out of the Snow

Chapter 5

Canada had a smile stuck to her face, the fact that there was even a glimmer of hope that Russia might actually like her, even if it was just friends because she couldn't be sure, had lightened her spirits from the encounter with Belarus. It was really hard to get a read on Russia's thoughts, let alone his emotions. He always had that frozen smile on his face, the one that seemed to creep everyone else out. Canada found the pretty halls of Russia's house were really confusing, and in no time, Canada found herself completely turned around and utterly lost. Why most hallways looked practically the same puzzled her, but nothing could be done about it anymore. A sigh escaped her lips, she was always getting lost in strange places.

"Hello?" She called, not really expecting a response, but figured it was worth a try. Nothing. Ok, I guess it's on to somewhere else. She turned to the nearest door and quietly opened it, peering through the crack. The room inside was aglow from a fireplace crackling happy on the side. A couple long, wooden tables lined the other walls, which were piled high with all sorts of colored and patterned fabrics. There were also a few racks of thread hanging above the fabric, and a single sewing machine sat on a smaller table near a window, at the back of the room. Maybe there's a phone in here or something. She thought and started walking around the room. Her hands trailed along some of the soft fabric, until she accidentally knocked a pile over onto the ground.

"Oops." Canada said, quickly grabbing for the pile on the ground.

"What are you doing?" Someone said from behind her. When she turned, a bright blush already on her face, she saw Latvia standing in the doorway, holding a basket of folded towels.

"Um....I got lost, so I thought I'd try to find a phone....but I bumped into these...I'm sorry."

"There is no need to worry. What were you looking for." Latvia gave her an uncomfortable look, as though he was not accustomed to receiving apologies.

"Do you know where Russia is? I had been looking for him to....thank him for something." Canada inquired.

"I am afraid Mr. Russia has retired for the evening, he has gone to bed, since it is so late." Latvia told her, "Do you wish for help back to your room so that you may rest as well?"

"Um, yeah, if you don't mind..." She said quietly, wishing that she had been faster and chasing after Russia, but if he had already gone to bed there was nothing much she could do but wait for the morning, "But, um, let me just fix this."

"No need, I can do that later." Latvia waved a hand at it, a smile plastered to his face. 

"But..." Canada felt awful for leaving the fabric strewn across the floor, she made to clean it again and Latvia hurried over to her. He grabbed her hand lightly.

"It is no trouble, really. And besides, Mr. Russia would be very upset if he found out you had cleaned something when I was perfectly capable of doing so. No, you will be needing your sleep anyways, since it is so late."

She nodded, dropping the cloth she had gathered. She would rather not stand in the way of Latvia's job, she could imagine Russia took such things seriously. Latvia waved her forward, out of the cozy little room and into the labyrinth of hallways.

Latvia left once Canada was in her room, sitting on the soft comforter. She looked out the window at the piles  of snow that seemed to continue growing. What if the snow never stopped, she mused to herself, and the world could stay the way it was. Frozen in place and time, no worries of brothers or fishing, just the snow piling on forever. Canada thought this sounded peaceful, there was always a sort of quiet beauty to the frozen water. She liked the way it would sparkle in the sunlight, or how perfect it looked before any footprints tarnished it.

A glance at the digital clock on the bedside table told her that it was close to one in the morning. A little too late, she supposed, for day dreaming about perfect snow days. She stood so that she could open the covers, and wiggled inside. Her thoughts did not leave her alone quickly, bubbling up in her and keeping her attention away from sleep. Finally, as the hour struck late in the night, she felt exhaustion catch up to her and willingly embraced it with closed eyes.

Russia's POV

His feet carried him quickly away from the other country. Stupid, she will think you coward because you ran away. Or think you are not a strong man because of stupid poem. Or she will hate it. The worrying thoughts were starting to bubble into the worst case scenario. What if she hates it? She might try to leave before the storm is over...and end up sick or worse. Some part of him hated the weakness he was feeling, he should not care what she thought. Some part of him was scolding him, saying there were only two kinds of people: those who became one with Russia and those who opposed him. It was simple, wartime logic, that he had been accustomed to all these years. When one is alone in the cold and ice, one learns to control their emotions.

He fought that part away, Canada was different. Somehow, he knew, she was the key to him understanding that the world was not always at war. It did not have to be that way. 

When he found himself in front of the doorway that led to a secret staircase, he opened the door and practically ran down the stairs. Once in the basement, the scent of sweet flowers faintly coated the air. The stairs led into a basement area, with two closed doors lining the walls, one was the utilities room, and the other (Russia knew) was locked. Russia fished around in his coat pockets until he found the key he was looking for. He made sure to check to see if anyone was in the utility room, or on the stairs, before he opened the door and stepped into his escape. 

The one place in the house that he could go to when things got rough, that is when he didn't just leave the house when there was sparring going on, and also the one place where he could be a little gentler. Not to have to act tough, and strong, and powerful, but to be left to be who he wanted to be. There were no enemies here watching, or bosses expecting certain behaviors from him. Nothing but him, his plants, and best of all, his sunflowers. He sat on a box near the door, and sighed.

He took in the sweet scent of flora, encompassing him. There was silence down here as well, something he normally fixed by turning on the radio to play some classical music. Not today, that would not sooth his racing mind.

She will have read it by now. His thought trailed off, leaving him with a picture of Canada with a frown disgracing her regularly sweet and smiling face. She'll want to leave, for sure, and probably wants to avoid me now. Idiot, what have you done? You ruined a chance to impress her, to show her that you are not all that bad. He chided himself, and let his back slump against the wall and his head fall to his hands. Maybe I can apologize, and tell her it was just to make her feel better because of Belarus, that I lied in it. Again the image of her face appeared in his head, this time with the hurt look of someone whose trust has been broken. No, that won't do. But, what can I do?

He decided that the only way to clear his thoughts, and hide his weakness, was to tend to the garden. Russia stood and grabbed the metal watering can, which he filled with water from a faucet. There were specially designed lights for the flowers down here. He knew that they would be happier in the real sunlight, but these would have to do. It was much too cold outside for them, and he did not have a proper greenhouse. He began walking down the rows, watering plants and humming to himself. 

Like magic his worries were soothed, through the scent of the flowers and the action of such a simple task. Everything would turn out fine, he reminded himself, just as it always did. He would deal Canada's reaction to his poem later, but for now it was only the flowers that needed help. For a few precious minutes he could let his walls down.