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Yao’s fingers are twitching, a furrow between his brows as he smooths both hands over the covers of his bed. It’s ridiculous, the amount of cleaning he’s done in the past few hours. His laundry is folded and placed neatly in his dresser, his bedroom carpet is freshly vacuumed, and he’s worked at his bed until there isn’t a single wrinkle on the covers.
Yao sinks to the floor with a sigh, toying with the end of his ponytail. God, if Ivan doesn’t get here soon, he thinks he’s going to lose his mind. He hugs his knees to his chest, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. He’s spent all day pacing around the house, checking the clock, and doing random chores to keep himself busy.
He and Ivan have been dating for around a month, and every day, Yao falls a little bit deeper in love with the Russian man. He’s always admired Ivan from afar, but never thought he’d get to do anything more than that. Never thought he’d get to hold his hand and feel their fingers interlock. Never thought he’d get to taste the sweetness of Ivan’s lips on his own. Never thought he’d get to hear Ivan call him sunshine and sweetheart and his little love.
Yao leans against the wall and traces tiny circles on the carpet with the tip of his finger. There’s nothing that can compare to what he feels whenever Ivan’s around. Never in his life has anyone been able to give him that gentle fluttering in his heart, that hot red blush that creeps across his face, that warmth that burns low in his stomach.
He peeks out the window, where the world is covered in a thin layer of white. Icicles glisten as they dangle from the crooked branches of trees, and the light of the sun is muted by a veil of pale gray clouds. Though Yao’s never enjoyed cold weather, he can’t help but deny that the scene is gorgeous.
When the doorbell rings, Yao straightens, a jolt of excitement traveling down his spine. He springs to his feet and rushes out of the room, a massive grin spreading across his face. It’s a miracle he doesn’t trip as he rushes down the stairs, his heart pounding in time with the soft thump-thump of his footsteps. He opens up the front door, and Ivan is standing on the porch, hands shoved in the pocket of his long tan coat.
Ivan grins, takes his hands out of his pockets, and opens his arms wide. “Hi, Yao-Yao.”
Yao launches himself into Ivan’s arms, laughing as he nuzzles his cheek into Ivan’s chest. “Hi, Ivan.”
Ivan slides a hand under Yao’s chin, tilting his head upwards. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The weather’s been so cold lately, so the roads were icy, and…”
Yao silences Ivan by standing on his tiptoes and kissing Ivan full on the mouth. “It’s fine. I’m really happy to see you.”
Ivan crouches down to remove his heavy black boots, his cheeks red from the bitter wind.
Yao reaches out and takes one of Ivan’s hands in his own, eyebrows raising when he feels how chilly it is. “Your hands are like ice, Ivan. Here, let’s go to the kitchen, I’ll make some tea to warm you up.”
Ivan seats himself at the table, resting his chin in his hands. “First snowfall of the season. Driving out of my neighborhood was really difficult, with all the little kids playing outside. Oh, and then there’s the fact that Alfred was throwing snowballs at my car.”
Yao fills his tea kettle with water and sets it on top of the stove. He chuckles. “Alfred. He’s a child in the body of a grown man, I swear.”
Ivan grins, full pink lips parting to reveal his white teeth. “And the thing is… he’s not even my worst neighbor. There’s Heracles with his ten thousand cats, Gilbert, who’s playing guitar and screaming along to rock music every day, and Francis-” Ivan shakes his head. “My goodness. Don’t even get me started on Francis.”
Yao opens the cupboard, takes out two white cups, and sets them down on the counter. “Well, if your neighbors ever get a little too crazy, you’re always welcome to come here.”
Ivan’s eyes are focused on his lap, and there’s a shy smile on his lips. “I’m glad to hear that, Yao.”
Yao turns off the stove, picks up the kettle, and pours both him and Ivan a cup of tea. “I mean, I don’t think my neighbor situation is much better than yours. I’ve got Vash right next door, and he’ll scream at anyone who takes one step onto his lawn.” He carries both cups to the table and sets one in front of Ivan. “Here you go.”
Ivan smiles. “Thank you, sunshine.”
Yao settles down next to Ivan, picking up his cup of tea. He grips it tightly, letting the warmth seep into his fingers. Outside, a gap has formed in the clouds, allowing a few rays of sunshine to pass through.
Ivan blows on his tea to cool it, then takes a long sip. It runs down his throat and warms his stomach, and a deep sense of relaxation washes over him. He shifts a bit in his seat, and he can feel the tiny box stored in his pocket. He sets his cup down and clears his throat. “Ah, Yao?”
Yao’s dark eyes flick upwards to meet his. “Hm?”
“I got you a little something. I know Christmas isn’t for a little while, and neither is your birthday, but I went to this little shop where they sell handmade things, and I found this and I thought it was beautiful.” His pale face is a bright cherry red. He dips a shaking hand into his pocket and pulls out the box. It’s white, tied with a crimson ribbon because he knows it’s Yao’s favorite color. He sets it down in front of Yao and folds his hands together in his lap.
Yao tugs at the ribbon and lifts off the lid of the box. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, is a golden hairclip, adorned with tiny, intricate metal sunflowers. He’s smiling so hard that it hurts, his heart swelling with love as he gazes into the little box. “It’s beautiful, Ivan. I love it so much, I…” Unsure of what else to say, he throws his arms around Ivan, squeezing him so tightly that he gives a small grunt of surprise.
Ivan chuckles and runs his hands up and down Yao’s back. “I’m really happy to hear you like it, sunshine.” Yao sits back down with a soft giggle, shyly twisting his own fingers together. Ivan reaches behind Yao’s head, fingers brushing over his ponytail. “May I?”
Yao nods.
Gently, Ivan tugs Yao’s hair out of its ponytail, the locks tumbling over his shoulders like a rich ebony curtain. Ivan takes his gift out of the box, sweeps some of Yao’s sleek dark hair behind his ears, and clips it into place. He kisses the area right above Yao’s ear, where his hair grows soft and fine, then smiles as he pulls away.
Yao reaches up to touch his hair, his heart pounding deliriously in his chest.
“You look beautiful,” Ivan murmurs. Then, he sweeps in and kisses Yao, drawing a tiny gasp of surprise from the smaller nation. Eventually, his hand winds up in Yao’s hair, fingers trailing over the cool, smooth metal of the little sunflowers.