Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2024-02-03
Words:
955
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
9
Kudos:
37
Bookmarks:
2
Hits:
555

Why Don't You Love Me?

Summary:

Russia gets rejected.

Notes:

Tell me why writing this felt more self-indulgent than writing smut.

Work Text:

- Don't you want me?

China's eyes widened, in pure surprise. What? What had the other country said? Russia's pale face approached his, an almost pained look in his eyes, breath reeking of alcohol. China felt oddly small like this, being essentially pinned against the wall by Russia.

- ... What? - China spoke, trying his best to keep his voice stern, unwavering.

- You keep saying that I'm so much like my father. - Russia answered. - So don't you want me as well?

- ... No. No, Russia.

The older country felt a bit disoriented. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was what the other had just said to him. He wasn't sure, all that he was sure of is that he didn't want whatever it was that Russia wanted.

- No? - Russia tilted his head. - I remember the way you two looked at each other... I remember. You can't... You can't pretend there wasn't something going on between you two.

He felt a strange feeling in his gut. Yes, he had to admit to himself. Him and Soviet were... Close. Very close. Their pre-1960s "Socialist Fraternal Kisses" were always more than that, even if they never admitted it out loud. Lingering stares, the way he could make Soviet smile when no one else could... Those thoughts only gave him stronger resolve to reject Russia's advance.

- Russia, stop. That's irrelevant. Let me go.

- No... Please, you just got to tell me... - Russia swallowed, his words slurring ever so slightly. - If... If I'm like my father, and you loved him, can't you love me as well?

It was almost nauseating, the combined sensations he felt. A certain panic at being cornered, sadness at remembering the moments he spent together with Soviet, and anger at the mere proposition being made literal inches from his face by... Russia of all people. Not to mention the breaths against his neck.

China turned his head to the side, almost as if trying to avoid Russia's gaze. There was no escape route there, as he had his arms firmly planted on both sides of China's head.

- If I loved Soviet or not doesn't matter, Russia. - He said, gritting his teeth. - I can't reciprocate your feelings.

- Why not?

Russia's tone was almost whiny in a sense. It was one of pure refusal to the situation at hand, yet strangely desperate.

- I knew you when you were a child, Russia!

China tried his best to reason, to state the obvious facts as to why this would never work, why it shouldn't even happen, even if his own brain was slightly fuzzy from alcohol. He could see Russia's expression sour into a frown.

- So? That doesn't mean anything. - He said. - I'm a man now. An adult. And I know what I want. It's... I want you to want me.

He took a deep breath, putting his hands on Russia's chest and trying to push him away. The older country turned back to face the other.

- You don't know what you want, not right now. We've been drinking, and you're not in your best judgment. - China said, shaking his head. - You do want something, but that something isn't me, Russia. You don't want me.

Russia's face morphed into one of sadness. But China wouldn't bear to try to spare his feelings here, he just couldn't.

- It might seem like it now, but I'm not what you need. And I don't want us to have this type of relationship either. I would just be taking advantage of you, Russia, I... I saw you grow up! I don't want to hurt you like that. You're the son of someone I... That I loved, but you're not him.

No answer from the other, so he took it as an opportunity to keep going. The hands beside his head seemed to loosen a little.

- I know that... That we both want to fill a hole left behind by his death, Russia, but... - China lowered his voice. - A romantic relationship isn't it. Especially between me and you. I'm not trying to hurt you, but this is wrong. And you know it.

Eyes darted across his face, almost as of seeming to search for an answer. But China didn't have any more answers for Russia. After some moments, in which practically the only thing the older nation could hear was his breathing, the other sighed. Shakily, he let his arms fall back to his sides.

Russia closed his eyes and leaned forward, putting his forehead against China's shoulders. He didn't protest, just allowing the shaky body to lean against his. It was an admission of defeat.

- I'm sorry... - Russia muttered, his voice muffled. - I don't... I don't know what I was thinking... I just wanted someone to care about me... I just wanted... To... To feel like you loved me like you loved my papa.

China felt a pang of guilt, even if he was right in rejecting Russia.

- I'm sorry that you even felt the need to proposition me like this, Russia. - China replied, placing his hand on Russia's back. - I do care for you, deeply, just not romantically. I want you to know that.

The younger country sniffled, and China could swear that he was crying. But he didn't point it out. China patted Russia's back gently.

- I don't know why I thought... - Russia paused. - I don't know what came over me, China. Maybe... Maybe it's... The alcohol talking...

- Maybe.

Russia wrapped his arms around China as well, turning his head to the side slightly.

- Can we... Just... Just stay like this for a while?

- ... Sure.

China couldn't deny Russia that comfort. So he allowed the other to cry onto his shoulder, to hold onto him tightly, like a child would. He could give him that.