The crap that goes on inside my head, essentially. Britain may be a reoccurring figure, but I try to be as inclusive as possible. Requests are always open.
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New Zealand was never a fan of this part of the city in particular. It was bitter, cold, unforgiving. One slight misstep and you'd be the district's punching bag for a week. It was sophisticated, yet brutish. Honest, yet slimy. Wealthy, yet poor. The perfect place for a certain gang New Zealand wasn't all too fond of.
Being apart of this street business was no easy fling, certainly not for the faint of heart. New Zealand has his own people. His family, his friends, his compatriots. People that could leave his life overnight. Part of him was always frightened by that aspect, but you learn to live with it. This was just another one of those risky ventures. He was knee-deep in enemy territory, nothing but a knife and a pistol to defend himself, and alone.
His eyes drifted from one overhanging street sign to the next, from Bob's Hardware to Pipes - Natural Bloom Cigars, to The Daily News, soaking in the details of each font and design. Cars whizzed by with a loud whirring noise, the potent scent of gasoline ever-plaguing, the smoke partially tastable. New Zealand shifted uncomfortably. As he said, he wasn't a fan. Thankfully, he had arrived at his destination.
New Zealand found himself at a particularly clean spruce door, sandwiched between a dingy alley and at an old antique shop with a particular stock of relics from Asia. The door had a single, simple gold plate, the words that were engraved in which were now covered by a piece of tape, the words 'Syonan-to' and some Japanese kanji written on it in knife-like handwriting. Kiwi's lips pursed uneasily, painfully recalling some less-than-lovely memories he had experienced with Singapore and a certain Japanese man. He could still remember holding on to Singapore's bloody hand tightly as the South East Asian man was yanked from him. The scream of terror he bellowed out still rang in his head.
His hand slipped over the cold gold doorknob, hesitating for a moment. He wondered how Singapore was doing now. He hasn't seen the man since that fateful day. He inhaled deeply, time to find out. He opened the door and was immediately greeted with a flight of wood stairs.
At the top of the stairs, New Zealand was met with a dimly lit study. The floors were questionable but serviceable, with rot and dark mold creeping at the corners of each and every plank. There was a single, bright bulb hanging from above, serving as the only source of light. Strain your ears hard enough, and you could hear its soft buzz. In the middle of the room was a spruce desk, with cabinets and drawers aplenty. Sitting in its adjacent chair, was the man himself. Singapore.
Creases of exhaustion traced Singapore's face, dark moons tainting his red and white face, his usually neat locks of ruby red hair now a faded mess of stray strands and shagginess. His attire was rather alarming too. He dawned a new look. Instead of his old fancy button up, he was now wearing a khaki suit and tie, tattered and torn at the seems as if it had been roughly pulled. Around his neck was a single, steel shackle, which every clearly bit into the man's skin and caused red marks to form on his white neck. New Zealand's heart dropped. He didn't even look like Singapore anymore.
The man flashed New Zealand a weak smile, a rare sight for someone like Singa in the first place, but even more painful to see it when he looked like this. "You came."
New Zealand's brows knitted, practically able to hear the forced hiding relief in Singapore's voice. He resisted the urge to pull the man in for a hug, wanting nothing more than to relive the old days, but he knew he had to be serious. Singapore wasn't with them anymore. He clenched his fist. Because of him, no less.
"Have you taken up the deal?" Singapore's tone quickly returned to his normal, serious one, the one that won him so many good deals when it came to negotiating. "Adjustments can always be mad-"
"No, we haven't, and we won't." New Zealand established firmly, his yellow pupils as sharp as topazes. He could still recall the heinous details of the arrangement the leader of Singapore's new gang had proposed. Needless to say, without touching on details, it really ticked the team off, and tensions were now higher than ever. New Zealand leaned over Singapore's desk, so that now he was looking down at him. "Tell Japan that we aren't going to be peaceful with him if continues to act the way he does."
Singapore took the information with a stone face, though one could notice the glint of fear in his eyes. "Is that all?" He asked without the slightest shift in tone.
New Zealand paused, thinking for a second, his assertive from earlier softening. "Look, Singa, why don't you come back with me." He pushed away from the table. "We all miss you and Mal. We could leave right now, you could-"
"No." Singapore got up, tone suddenly a lot different, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. "No, I can't."
"What do you mean?" New Zealand raised his own voice in response. "You can! Right now we can just leave, get the fuck out of this hellish bend, and be right back home." He gestured to the stairs. "Where you aren't treated like a fucking dog."
Singapore touched his steel collar self-conciously, his teeth gritting. "It's not that simple." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "If I even make the smallest act of treachery, he..." Singapore faltered, falling right back into his chair as his every muscle tensed. "Y-you have no idea what he does in response. If I leave, I put myself, Malaysia and all of you in danger." He glared at New Zealand. "I-I won't allow that."
"So what? Then you let him walk all over you?" New Zealand took a few more steps closer to the man. "Look what he's doing to you! You look like piss!"
"I have no choice!" Singapore shot up, nearly making Kiwi flinch. "But you know who did? You know who could have stopped this all in the first place." Singapore dug a single finger into New Zealands chest, damning him with the weight of the blame. "You." He growled, his voice laced with ice cold fury.
"I had to save Australia!"
"He was fine and you knew it!"
They were practically screaming at this point, hurling so much word vomit at each other it was becoming incoherent. They sounded like two lions in midbattle, each sentence another fearsome roar. Back and forth, back and forth, a vicious cycle of blame-shoving and scrunity, until a single damning sentence pierced the mess.
"I LOST EVERYTHING!!" Singapore bellowed, the echo still ringing clearly in the room. "I LOST MY FREE WILL, MY HONOUR, MY HAPPINESS, MY COMFORT-"
Tears erupted from Singa's eyes. "- ALL MY FRIENDS, MY FAMILY-" His voice broke, now replaced only with guttural sobs. The room went as quiet as as a church, save for Singa's emulation of misery. The walls suddenly got a lot less cold, as New Zealand looked on with debilitating guilt.
"What have you lost?" Singapore spat between sobs, soft and serious once more, as he stared up at New Zealand with puffy eyes.
New Zealand didn't even have to think he just moved. He went around the spruce desk, causing Singapore to flinch, when-
New Zealand embraced the man tightly, streams lekaing from his own eyes. "My future."
