The breeze writhed throughout the field of sunflowers and ruffled Ivan Braginski's platinum-blonde hair. He stood, watching the sun set with a look of melancholy. How could he be happy when everyone he had cared for had left him without a second thought? Not even his vodka could douse the sadness within his shattered heart. He sighed and headed for his home. He walked silently through the field, barely disturbing the canary-yellow flowers. He thought over and over about everyone's departure.
It had all started with his elder sister, Yekaterina Braginskya, claiming independence. She now avoided him as much as possible in her efforts to be independent. His younger sister, Natalia Arlovskaya, had left after Yekaterina, deciding it was best to go with her elder sister. After that, one by one, the Baltics had soon claimed independence, too. Now he lived alone in a large, empty house. Going home wasn't such a joyful occasion nowadays. In fact, he tried to stay away from his house as much as possible. He didn't need to be reminded of how everyone had left him.
He sighed as he walked through the front door. Silence. Awkward silence, to be exact. Ivan froze as he saw his fellow ally, Yao Wang, in his kitchen. Ivan's violet eyes were glancing directly at Yao's hands. He appeared to have been cooking something.
"N-ni hao, Ivan..." Yao stuttered, as soon as he caught Ivan's glance. "I h-heard that the rest of Soviet Union left, so I thought I'd come and cheer you up, aru..." His Chinese accent shook as he spoke.
"What are you cooking?" Ivan questioned, his brow slightly lifted.
"P-pirozhki, aru," muttered Yao. He still hadn't completely recovered from the shock of Ivan suddenly entering. Ivan's expression converted from question to surprise.
"You know how to make pirozhki?" he asked. He never thought his Chinese acquaintance would know how to make a Russian dish.
"I just looked it up, aru..." he admitted. "On any account, sit down, aru." Ivan nodded, sitting at the mahogany table placed neatly in the kitchen. Yao served him the piping-hot pirozhki. "I hope I made it correctly, aru," he said. Ivan picked up the meat-filled pastry and took a large bite. It was the best pirozhki he had tasted, made of top-quality ingredients. The meat was quite fresh, and the breading was well-made. Ivan was soon on his feet, hugging Yao tightly.
"Aiya! Ivan, what are you doing, aru?!" Yao asked firmly, his cheeks flushed.
"Thank you," Ivan murmured. He repeated it over and over."Thank you, thank you, thank you."
